Chapter 9: When the gates of Hell open

"Ugh, what a pain... You can’t even go for a peaceful walk without risking some demon popping up out of nowhere," Camila grumbled.

She was clinging to Lars as they walked toward Miskatonic High School.

One arm was wrapped around his, while in her other hand she held a croissant overflowing with custard.

"I mean, couldn’t you just give up the title of Demon Lord and let them fight it out among themselves?"

"It’s not something you can simply give up by declaring it. You become the Demon Lord by killing the previous one, and you stop being one only when someone kills you. So no, I can’t give it up. And even if I could, I’d have no intention of doing so."

Camila let out a long huff. Then she took a huge bite of the croissant, getting custard all over her face.

"I get that after a few millennia, anyone would get bored... but seriously, couldn’t you find a better hobby than fighting every other day?"

"Believe me, I’d gladly do without it. But I’d rather spend millennia defending my status as Demon Lord than eternity serving someone else."

Camila suddenly stopped chewing and stared at him with the blank expression of someone who hadn’t understood a single word.

"Ah, right. I’m not surprised you don’t know. After all, you didn’t even know I could turn into a bat."

"How am I supposed to know if you’ve never told me? Big bro, sometimes you’re seriously unbearable!"

"If you’d stop interrupting me, maybe I could actually tell you about it. How about that, huh?"

Camila ran two fingers across her lips, still smeared with custard, pretending to zip them shut.

"Without getting into unnecessary details, the day will come when the Fallen Angel—"

"The Fallen Angel? What’s that?"

Camila’s promise to stay quiet lasted less time than a Black character in a horror movie.

Lars shot her an annoyed glare.

"Didn’t I tell you not to interrupt me?"

She lowered her gaze, looking genuinely ashamed.

"You’re right, big bro. Sorry. I won’t do it again."

She said it in such an exaggeratedly heartbroken tone, and her eyes grew so glossy and red, that Lars almost felt guilty for a moment.

But as soon as he started talking again, that sudden melancholy vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Yeah, it was all an act.

"The Fallen Angel. Satan. The Devil. Lucifer. Over the centuries, he’s been called by a thousand different names. In short, he is the creator of all demons. When the gates of Hell open and his legions pour onto Earth, the Demon Lord will be the one to rule this world. To make that possible, the Fallen Angel will grant him the power he needs to impose his dominion over Earth."

Lars’s voice turned so serious that Camila almost seemed afraid to even breathe.

"At that point, there will only be two choices left: obey the Demon Lord or die by his hand. That’s why, even if I could, I would never give up that title for any reason."

Lars turned his gaze toward Camila.

Silence.

She stood perfectly still, the croissant still clenched between her teeth. She had even stopped chewing.

Lars watched her for another few seconds.

She still didn’t move a single muscle. She looked like she’d somehow ended up in the middle of a game of Red Light, Green Light.

"Are you planning to stay like that all day?"

The moment he said it, Camila let out a long gasp. She really had been holding her breath the entire time.

"C-Can I... can I talk now, big bro...?"

Lars gave her a light bonk on the head with his fist.

"You’re my wife, not my slave. I only told you not to interrupt me, not to keep your mouth shut all day. Go on, ask."

She took a deep breath before speaking.

"That thing you were talking about, Hell on Earth and all that... that’s basically the Apocalypse, right?"

"Basically, yes."

"Got it. And when that happens, you’ll become the king of this world."

"Barring complications."

"That means... I’ll become the queen of the world!"

"There’s still time for me to change my mind."

"Awww... I can’t wait to be the queen of all demons!"

Camila started bouncing happily like a little girl on Christmas morning.

"So, when is it happening? I can’t exactly be caught unprepared. How embarrassing would that be? I need at least two days’ notice to do my makeup, get my hair done, and pick out a dress!"

"It could happen today or a thousand years from now. No one knows. Any day could be their last chance to take the title of Demon Lord from me, and they know that very well. That’s why, until the gates of Hell open, there will always be someone trying to kill me."

The seriousness on Lars’s face gave way to his usual impassive expression as soon as they were just a few steps away from the gates of Miskatonic High School.

"Anyway, this isn’t exactly the time to be talking about demons and the Apocalypse. More importantly, wipe your face. You’ve got custard all over it."

"You finally noticed! I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you to do it yourself! Every girl dreams of having her big bro lovingly wipe her mouth..."

A mischievous little smile spread across Camila’s face.

"...with his tongue."

"Quit talking nonsense and wipe your face."

"Ugh... fine..."

They had barely set foot in the courtyard when Jessica, Emily, and Mia — Camila’s three best friends — immediately came over to them.

The four girls wrapped each other in their usual over-the-top group hug, showering one another with sappy remarks as if they hadn’t seen each other in a thousand years.

It was a pretty embarrassing sight, but Lars had expected as much.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was to see Niall Al O’Tep hurrying toward him with his usual stupidly cheerful grin plastered across his face.

"What does that idiot want with us?" Camila hissed, without the slightest concern that Niall might hear her.

The other three girls were staring at him as if he were the biggest social outcast imaginable.

It was obvious that his reputation as a hopeless clown had spread far beyond the classroom walls.

"Hey, buddy, ready for another fantastic day at school?" Niall greeted him, waving enthusiastically at everyone.

Lars turned the other way.

"You pathetic loser, what do you want with my brother?" Camila grumbled, shooting him a hostile glare.

In response, Niall slung an arm around Lars’s neck and pulled him close with far too much familiarity.

"What’s so weird about that? My dear Liam van Allen and I are already great friends! Come on, tell them, Liam!"

Right then, Lars wanted the Apocalypse to come even more than Camila did.