Then the Founder’s Festival officially began. On the morning of the first day, I would hold a speech. Yes, yet another speech, but I needed some kind of event to officially proclaim that I was a demon lord, so this was kind of unavoidable. I suggested skipping this, since everyone knew already, but my advisers all just smiled and said no.
Right after that, we’d kick off the battle tournament at the coliseum. I, however, would not be in attendance. This festival was meant to help VIPs from other nations get to know Tempest, so I couldn’t just sit around watching the preliminary rounds all day.
Instead, my itinerary included a seat at our newly refurbished and extremely fancy-looking theater. Nobody’s told me what kind of performance to expect, which made me a bit anxious, but Mjöllmile seemed really enthusiastic about it. “I feel this will be a chance to show the world that you are a cultured demon lord,” he’d said with a grin.
Shion was smiling right along with him, which did nothing to calm my nerves. But no point stewing over it. If it had Mjöllmile’s stamp of approval, I’d have to trust in him.
After lunch came a technological exhibition, including panels like Gabil and Vester’s history of healing potions, Kurobe and Garm’s grand tour of their weaponry, and so on. This would take place at our museum—which, like the theater, would be open to the general public from day two onward; for today, it was open to nobility only, so they could take their time with everything on display. I thought that staggering the schedules like that would be best for security purposes.
Speaking of day two, that’s when I’d begin to take in the battle tournament. Later that afternoon, I’d also hold a series of chats—or to put it another way, it was some unscheduled free time for me. Basically, I’d be in my VIP box at the arena, and if anyone wanted to talk to me, I’d take their questions one by one. Mjöllmile was arranging all that for me, so really, it’d just be a pleasant distraction as I took in the tournament. Everyone who received paper invites would have a guide provided for them, and they’d be free to enjoy the fest any way they wanted—peruse the stalls, enjoy our luxurious hot baths, or check out the tournament themselves.
Then, on day three, we’d finally open up our long-awaited Dungeon. The final matches of the tournament would take place that morning, and in the afternoon, you’d get to watch as adventurers tried their hand at conquering the labyrinth.
“You’ve completed quite an impressive coliseum while I was gone,” marveled Geld, no doubt impressed that there was a whole generation of talented craftsmen below him now.
“That we have. You and Mildo have a great apprentice in Gobkyuu. It’s a perfectly sound structure; you wouldn’t even know this was a rush project. If our top magic-born fought in here, I’d be worried, but any fights between competitors ranked below A shouldn’t be a problem.”
In terms of safety, the arena could juuuust about withstand a high-level spirit like Ifrit raging inside it. Which, I mean, if someone focused the full brunt of their attacks on the arena itself, I couldn’t do much about that, but I’d be there for the main battles, and I planned on putting a light Absolute Defense barrier over the stadium. Barring a catastrophe, the audience would be perfectly safe, probably.
“Kwah-ha-ha-ha! And I’ve discovered the ultimate in gourmet bliss with my hibachi grill. It will be a can’t-miss delight, trust me on that!”
Oh, I almost forgot. He really wanted to run a stand, so there wasn’t much to do for it except let him participate in disguise. It’s funny, though—somewhere along the line, Mjöllmile and Veldora had really started to get along with each other. All the impossible demands I had given them, and it looked like he was now fully used to things. Amazing. This guy may be more of a monster than I thought.
That was all for Mjöllmile’s rundown. Diablo, Hakuro, and Geld—who weren’t around for all the lead-up work—listened intently to it all, no doubt saddened that they couldn’t be a part of it. I should probably give each of them a reward of some sort. Geld’s could wait until he was done with his current job, but Diablo and Hakuro had wrapped up theirs with flying colors.
Making a mental note of that, I turned to my officials. “So far, everything’s been going smoothly,” I said. “Have any of you run into any issues?”
If nobody had, I was going to turn it over to Soei, but—
“Yes sir!”
That was Ramiris’s cheerful voice sounding out as she raised her hand. Ramiris, huh? I’m sure it’s nothing serious, then.
“What’s up, Ramiris?”
“Well, um, I got a problem?”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Okay, well, you see, it’s about the bottom floors of the Dungeon…”
She fell silent, glancing at Veldora.
“Kwaaaah-ha-ha-ha! Yes, erm, it is nothing serious. You recall the forest installed in Floor 95 of the labyrinth? Well, for some reason, it has started growing its way up into higher floors, and it now covers everything up to Floor 71!” Veldora said.
He sounded so casual about it, too. Floors 91 to 94 were thankfully sealed off, so they apparently weren’t affected. But the rest of the levels were now lush forest, thanks to the plant life making its way up the magicule ventilation ducts.
“Uh, that’s gonna be a pretty big pain in the ass to clean up, isn’t it?”
“It sure is! That’s why I’m bringing it up with you!” Ramiris cried.
I hated to say it, but she had a point. Eesh. If this was anyone’s fault, it was Veldora’s.
“And erm, we do have one more small issue,” the dragon added.
“…What would that be?”
I really didn’t want to ask, but I had to. But what Veldora gave me went far beyond my expectations.
“My boss-level monsters are missing. That
