We walked for another hour, or maybe it was two. Time had started to blur, a meaningless concept measured by the steady, rhythmic ache in my legs and the slow, creeping descent of the sun through the canopy. The forest had returned to a state of what I was beginning to accept as normal: a dense, green, and vaguely menacing wilderness that seemed determined to trip me at every opportunity.
The demon king was a relentless, driving force. He never slowed, never faltered, never showed the slightest sign of fatigue. He was a machine, a perfect, infuriatingly efficient engine of destruction that was currently set to "annoyed walk."
[We should stop! Soon!] Angus's text bubble appeared, a desperate plea in the quiet afternoon. [The sun is getting lower! And you look like you're about to fall over! Again! (￣□￣;)]
I was. I felt like a puppet with its strings cut, my limbs heavy and clumsy, my thoughts a sluggish, disjointed mess. The thought of stopping, of lying down on the soft, mossy ground and just… not moving, was the most appealing thing I had ever conceived of.
I opened my mouth to suggest it, to beg for a moment's rest, but the words died on my lips. The demon king had stopped.
He was standing perfectly still, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something. I held my breath, straining my ears. At first, I heard nothing but the usual forest sounds: the rustle of leaves, the chirp of a distant bird. Then, I heard it. A faint, rhythmic sound, a steady thump-thump that vibrated through the soles of my boots.
It was a drumbeat.
"Is that... music?" I asked, my voice a hesitant whisper.
"It is the sound of civilization," the demon king said, his tone unreadable. "Or what passes for it in this wretched world."
He started walking again, his pace quicker now, more purposeful. The drumbeat grew louder, a steady, pulsing rhythm that seemed to call to us, to pull us forward. I followed, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by a surge of nervous energy.
The forest began to thin, the dense canopy giving way to a clearer view of the sky, a brilliant blue streaked with wispy white clouds. The drumbeat was joined by other sounds: the low, melodic hum of voices, the clanging of metal, the cheerful, braying call of a... donkey? It was a cacophony of life, a stark contrast to the silent, brooding wilderness we had been traversing.
The difference between this and the relatively quiet swamp town was night and day.
This was...
Bustling.
The trees opened up completely, and we found ourselves standing on a low hill overlooking a sprawling town. It was built in a wide, natural clearing, a collection of wooden buildings with thatched roofs clustered around a central square. The square was alive with activity. People bustled about, stalls were set up selling everything from brightly colored fabrics to skewers of smoking meat, and children ran in laughing, chaotic packs. It was the very picture of a fantasy village, a vibrant, bustling hub of life.
I...
It wasn't what I expected. And I wasn't sure what I expected. The swamp town had been so quiet and insular, I had assumed that most places in this world were the same. But this... this was something else entirely.
"So. Sylverhaven?" I asked, looking at the town with a mixture of awe and trepidation.
"It is," the demon king confirmed. "Our destination."
I didn't see any sign of any demons or any kind of evil. There were no giant spiders, no corrupted trees, no ominous black slime. Just people. Normal, ordinary-looking people going about their day. They wore simple clothes of leather and linen, their faces were sun-browned and their hands were calloused from work. They looked... real. Not like NPCs in a video game, but like actual people with lives and hopes and probably very boring problems like paying taxes and fixing leaky roofs.
The Demon King stared down at the town, his expression one of profound disdain. "A monument to mediocrity," he said, his voice a low, disgusted murmur. "Look at them. Scuttling about like ants, content in their ignorance."
"They look happy to me," I said, a surprising note of defensiveness creeping into my voice. I didn't know why I felt the need to defend these people I had never met from his scorn. Maybe it was because I, too, had been a contented, ignorant ant once. Or maybe it was just the knee-jerk reaction of arguing with everything he said.
Honestly, both were equally compelling reasons.
I'm not sure I could pick just one if I tried.
"Happiness is the delusion of the weak," he said, turning his back on the town and looking at me. "A comfortable lie they tell themselves to avoid facing the vast, uncaring emptiness of existence."
"Wow. You're a real bundle of joy at parties, aren't you?" I retorted. "I bet you're a blast on a first date. 'Hello, my name is Tall, Dark, and Naked, and your entire existence is a meaningless blip in the cold void of the cosmos. Want to get dinner?'"
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine annoyance in their purple depths. "I have no interest in taking you to dinner under any circumstances."
That was seriously what he got from it?!
He wasn't even going to comment on my description of him?
"I was joking. Obviously." I rolled my eyes. "You have all the personality and charm of a rabid badger."
"And your humor is that of a particularly witless magpie." He gestured down the hill. "Let us go. The sooner we are through this pit of pleasantries, the sooner we can be on our way."
"On our way? To where?" I asked, not moving from my spot. "I thought this was the destination."
"This is a waystation. A place to gather information," he said, his tone impatient. "The demon lord's influence is here, but it is hidden, subtle. I need to know where his seat of power lies. And to do that, I must interact with these... people."
He spat the word 'people' like it was a curse.
I couldn't really determine if it was because he looked down upon these simple folk in particular, or if he just hated people that much in general.
Honestly...
Both were equally as likely.