Alibuda Era Prequel 7

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I still clearly remember the day Catherine

and the others arrived. I had just finished lunch and was lying on my bedroom/laboratory's only possession—the wooden bed—reading the third volume of the long biography, *The Tale of Lance the Demon King*. At that moment, our great Demon King had just completed the suppression of the free city and was about to launch an invasion of the desert city. Suddenly, the alarm sounded in my ears, announcing an invasion.

It was the majestic *Mardillatte March*, just like the reveille in the castle was *Fate*, lunchtime music was *Don Juan*, bath time was *Swan Lake*, and if you couldn't sleep, you could listen to *Requiem*. Everything changed after my father discovered during a lecture that playing *Polly Road* would boost morale.

"Another invasion?" I wondered. A short nap after lunch aids digestion, one of the few truths known to humans, gods, and demons. Therefore, anyone with a modicum of common sense wouldn't choose to disturb others at this time. While there's the chance of ambushing someone while they're asleep, the anger stemming from sleep deprivation is never a guarantee of rationality if discovered.

These days, anyone daring to defy public opinion is practically a nationally protected rare animal. The other party is either excessively powerful or utterly lacking in common sense. Thinking this, I couldn't help but want to see the intruder's true colors. I dropped the book I was holding and ran towards the source of the alarm in my slippers. But before I'd taken more than a few steps, at a corner in the corridor, "bang!" I bumped into someone.

"Ouch! That hurts."

"Ouch! Sorry." The other person, probably also badly injured, apologized immediately, ignoring the pain.

"Huh?" I then realized that I'd bumped into a kid who had just returned from the battlefield, his left hand still bandaged.

"Wow, lucky me!" I thought to myself. If I'd bumped into a grumpy, horned cannibal, the next moment after crying out in pain... I guess I should just be used as a consolation prize for someone else's pain. But the other person is just a lowly imp. That doesn't matter at all. Not only do I not have to apologize, but I can also boss them around and shift all the blame for the traffic accident onto them.

Mages are paid much more than ordinary imps, so even though they are really powerful after they reach level ten—at least they can beat up a dozen or so low-level mages like me—in this money-driven dark world, I still have the right to order them around.

"Did you just retreat from the invaded area?" To confirm the other person's strength and save my precious time, I thought it best to confirm some things beforehand.

"Oh! Yes. I was painting the walls there when it was invaded."

"So, who were the invaders this time?" I wasn't interested in what the kid was doing, so I continued to ask what I wanted to know.

"They were...a very strange...strange people." The poor kid answered respectfully.

"Strange people?" Hearing this answer, which was different from the norm, I was confused. Could it be that during the collision earlier, the kid's head got smashed? "Explain clearly," I commanded simply.

"It's...it's three women."

"Huh?" I immediately became interested. Hopefully, they'd be presentable. I couldn't help but pray to Satan in my heart. That way, perhaps I could finally have a chance to continue my experiments. After Millie's death, I was deeply affected and, out of boredom, memorized the book of erotic magic. It wasn't that my memory was particularly good; two or three months had passed since that day.

"What kind of women are they? Are they pretty?" I almost blurted out, but then I regretted it. The aesthetic standards of other races are very different from those of humans. The giant spider responsible for cleaning my room, after peeking at another alternate history novel on my bedside table, "Cleopatra," once pointed to the portrait of Cleopatra on the cover created by the greatest painter in the world, Gao Fan, and asked me why anyone would like such an ugly woman. I usually only ask the skeleton soldiers in the castle about these kinds of things; after all, they were once human.

"Oh..." Sure enough, judging from the brat's stammering, I figured Father shouldn't expect it to level up much.

If I continued to entangle myself with this persistent brat, I was afraid the enraged monsters would really tear the intruder who had disturbed everyone's sleep to shreds and devour it whole. "With three women, the probability of them appearing and being used for experiments is quite high." I tried to think positively and got up to continue running towards the scene of the incident. I left the poor, clueless brat alone where it was; after all, its injuries should have healed by now after eating two chickens. This was, after all, an era full of fantasy.

As the saying goes, "The early bird catches the worm, but the early worm gets eaten by the bird." Therefore, Father often said that punctuality was a necessary and sufficient condition for becoming a successful demon. It's probably impossible to verify which historical figure or movie star said this, that Father, who always liked to preach, remembered it so well and repeated it repeatedly at the weekly Monday morning assembly. But judging from the timing of my arrival at the scene, I might be slowly stepping into the ranks of successful demons.

When I arrived, the battle had just ended. No, rather, judging from the situation, it looked more like the chaos of a minor farce being cleaned up.

Our side didn't even have time to send in a mid-level demon like a Wraith Warrior; relying solely on a group of low-level imps and skeletons, the budding disturbance was successfully nipped in the bud within ten minutes. The other side wasn't just lacking in common sense. Such a rookie trying to explore our castle—if my father knew, he'd surely complain that today's youth don't know the rules.

Couldn't they at least find a dense forest, fight a couple of slimes to level up first? In the adventurer's handbook, our castle has always been rated four stars. The quality and strength of the monsters here have never failed to earn praise from the adventurer's guild commissioners who come to assess it. Thinking about it this way, even I, someone who's also just hanging around here and has no real principles, am angry.

Still angry, "Clang!" My foot kicked something hard.

"Ouch!"

"Ouch! My frying pan!"

"Lucy, why are you throwing things around again?! In the name of the Manelli royal family, I said things should be kept safe. Did you even remember what I said?!"

"Hey, cousin. We snuck out, so don't yell so loudly!"

What kind of illogical exchange is this? I now have a real-world understanding of that brat's comments.

"Ah, Famit, you're here." At the same time, someone who was directing things noticed me.

"Ah, good day, teacher." I then realized it was Teacher Sword Demon and quickly turned around to answer.

"How are you? How have you been lately?"

"Ah, thanks to Teacher's good fortune. Everything is fine."

"But if you continue to do nothing like this, things will soon get bad." While exchanging meaningless replies, my attention couldn't help but sneakily glance to the side.

"This time, the prisoners are three women."

"Ah, yes."

"I heard! Get to the point." I was getting increasingly impatient.

"They should be experimental subjects you can use. I was just about to have them tied up and sent to you."

"Ah? Ah, yes, thank you, teacher." I was overjoyed.

Since I began researching the new subject of erotic magic, I requested a batch of classic adult novels from the library under the guise of "references." This request, originally intended as a personal indulgence, unexpectedly garnered me immense popularity throughout the castle. Even with limitations in aesthetic tastes and cultural understanding, I suspect not every borrower will find complete enjoyment in them. However, even the half-orc demons—minotaur and hellhounds—who harbor the deep-seated prejudice that "libraries are only for self-righteous fools to waste their time, and truly good demons should only be training in the training grounds," would greet me with their smiles, more terrifying than tears. It's not surprising that my former valiant knight, the Sword Demon Master, who claims to have even published his own biography while alive, would show favoritism towards me, his incompetent apprentice.

"So, what do you want to do next?"

"Ah, I wouldn't dare trouble you, teacher. I'll just find two people to escort them to my room." Even though I've seen it many times, I still find it hard to accept the teacher's forced, toothy smile. It's only slightly better than the hypocritical faces of priests or politicians when they're trying to incite the masses.

"Ah, I understand." The Sword Demon waved his hand behind him. "Reuenthal, Mittermeyer, you two come and escort the prisoners to Mr. Famit's laboratory."

Behind the teacher, two men, still covered in rotting flesh and clearly recently dead, staggered over with their heads that seemed ready to fall off at any moment, to carry out the task.

"Ah, then so be it. Although they've only recently died, when they were alive, they were known as the 'Twin Pillars of XX,' some kind of trustworthy and promising young men. I think you can rest assured that the prisoners won't escape halfway with them." The teacher patted his ribs and assured me.

"Ah... thank you, teacher."

As the skeletal twin walls trembled and moved to lead the women away, I took a closer look at the women who were about to become my experimental subjects for the first time.

Thank you, Satan. They were truly beautiful. Although their faces and bodies were somewhat dirty from the battle, it couldn't conceal their alluring charm. Although the leading female warrior was wearing what should have been a vibrant, fiery red soft armor, it did nothing to hide her proud and voluptuous figure, and the arrogant expression on her exquisite and captivating face aroused a man's desire to conquer, making him unable to resist the urge to kiss her.

The other two women behind her were in no way inferior to the former. The woman standing on the left, dressed as a priestess, radiated an elegant and intellectual glow, and her delicate face made her even more captivating. On the other side, a woman, head bowed and sobbing, was dressed as a maid. Her petite figure and pitiful expression evoked a feeling of pity, a urge to pull her into my arms and take liberties with her.

"Ah, perfect." I swallowed, even feeling a pang of regret that using them for my experiments was such a waste. But it seemed I was the only one thinking that.

"Hey! Be gentle! Don't pull me so hard!"

"Ah!"

"Ah, I can walk by myself!"

Three exclamations. The skeleton soldiers' almost brutal movements made me shake my head. That guy with the blue eye dangling from its socket, did he have a grudge against pretty women? I sighed, looking at the two skeleton soldiers who seemed utterly incapable of showing any tenderness, and directed them to escort the three women who were still complaining, while the night watchman, chanting "All is well!" to signal everyone could go back to sleep, banged his gong all the way back to my room.

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