The night passed without further incident, unless you count the incident of me sleeping on a bed of rocks and roots, which was certainly an incident for my spine. I woke up with a stiff neck and a new appreciation for memory foam. The demon king hadn't moved from his post, a silent, brooding statue in the pre-dawn light.
"I think there's a stream nearby," Angus chirped, pointing a wing. "We could wash up!"
The demon king stood, stretched, and started walking in the direction Angus had indicated. "Cease your witless noise," he said without turning. "You attract scavengers."
We followed him through the woods, the morning sun filtering through the canopy in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The forest was waking up, filled with the chirping of birds and the rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth. It was almost… pleasant.
The stream was a small, clear ribbon of water that wound its way through the trees. The demon king waded in without a second thought, the water coming up to his knees. He splashed some on his face, then ran a wet hand through his blonde hair, slicking it back from his forehead.
"This is the worst I have ever smelled." He said, a flat statement.
He had a point. I was pretty sure I smelled like a combination of fear sweat, forest dirt, and desperation.
Angus, being an angel, simply flew over the water and hovered. "I don't need to bathe! I'm celestial!" he announced proudly.
The demon king ignored him. He turned to me, a look of profound annoyance on his face. "You stink of fear and weakness. It is an offense."
"Sorry, my magical scent-neutralizing aura is on the fritz," I retorted, wading into the stream. The water was shockingly cold, but in a good way. I cupped my hands and splashed my face, the chill waking me up better than any coffee.
I looked up, wiping water from my eyes. The demon king was watching me. His gaze was so intense, so focused, it was like a physical weight. My brain, that useless, treacherous organ, decided this was the perfect moment to notice the way the water clung to his skin, tracing paths over the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen.
I looked away.
"Your attempt at subtlety is as successful as your attempt at fire-making," he said, his voice laced with a dry, cutting sarcasm.
"I was looking at a fish," I lied, my face heating up. "A very... ugly fish."
"There are no fish in this stream," he replied, his tone flat.
"I can't believe the weather is so...un-weather-y. Yes. The weather." I said. And then immediately gave up on trying to pretend I wasn't looking at the half-naked Adonis. "And you're walking around with all that... out. It's distracting. I'm easily distracted."
"Your lack of self-control is not my concern." He turned away from me, presenting me with a view of his ridiculously well-defined back. "Wash. The stench of your panic is beginning to curdle the water."
"With what soap?" I snapped back. "Did you bring a travel-size bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner from your infernal plane?"
He waded out of the water and grabbed me by the back of my shirt. I let out a very undignified yelp as he dragged me, stumbling, toward the bank. "You are more trouble than you are worth. And your worth is already nonexistent."
"Hey! Let go!" I struggled, my sneakers slipping on the mossy rocks.
He paid my complaint little mind, and before I could even really finish my statement, I splashed into a deeper section of the stream. I went under, bubbles erupting from my nose. The shock of the cold water stole my breath. I came up sputtering, wiping water from my eyes.
He was standing over me, a dark silhouette against the morning sun. The golden necklace sparkling on his chest, a reminder of how I am the one that's supposed to be making all the unreasonable demands. "Clean yourself. The stench is becoming unbearable."
I glared up at him, my clothes soaked and clinging to my skin. The chill seeped into my bones. I could feel my teeth starting to chatter. "You are the absolute worst."
"I am a king," he stated, as if that explained everything. "You are a nuisance. Do not equate the two." He turned and walked back to the shore, leaving me standing in the middle of the stream, soaked and shivering.
Angus fluttered over, wringing his hands. "Oh, Violet! You're all wet! That's not good! You could catch a chill!"
"No kidding," I muttered, wading toward the bank. My sneakers squelched with every step. I squeezed the water from my hair, my fingers numb with cold. "My hero."
The demon king was standing by a large, flat rock, watching me with an expression of profound disdain. "Your incompetence is truly a spectacle. You cannot even manage to bathe without causing a scene."
"It's your fault!" I shot back, my teeth chattering so hard I could barely get the words out. "You threw me in!"
"I guided you. Your lack of coordination is your own failing." He sighed, a long-suffering sound that made my teeth ache. "Now you are dripping. And you will likely catch some pathetic mortal disease and die, forcing me to carry your corpse."
I get the feeling he's hoping for that more than he's really complaining.
And so I glared at him as I grabbed part of my shirt to wring it out. "You're. Not. Supposed. To Bathe. In your clothes."
"And yet I have no desire to see your scrawny mortal flesh. We shall both be unhappy."
I was about to retort with something truly scintillating, probably involving the phrase 'arrogant ass-hat', when a low, guttural growl echoed through the trees. We all froze. The birds that had been chirping a moment ago fell silent. Even the stream seemed to hold its breath.
Another growl, closer this time. A rustle in the undergrowth, off to our left. Something big was moving through the woods.
"Perhaps your stench has attracted a scavenger after all," the demon king said, his voice a low murmur. "How fitting."
He turned toward the sound, his body tensing, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling. His purple eyes scanned the shadows, a flicker of something—interest, maybe—in their depths.
A shape emerged from the trees. It was a pack of wolves, or at least, creatures that looked like wolves. They were larger than any wolf I had ever seen, with mangy, grey-black fur and glowing red eyes. But the most disturbing thing about them was the patches of fur that were missing, revealing raw, red skin underneath that seemed to be moving, shimmering in the dappled sunlight.
[CRITICAL WARNING! 🚨] Angus's text box flashed, the little angel icon covering its eyes. [They're Plague Wolves! Their bites are infectious! A single scratch can cause a magical rot that's incurable! Don't let them touch you! EVER! (╥﹏╥)]
What the hell kind of world is this?!
This has to be the kind of a world you get after multiple isekais, not for my first one. This place is the 'final boss' zone of a game that's already had five expansions.
The Plague Wolves fanned out, circling us. They moved with a strange, lurching gait, their red eyes locked on the three of us. They were silent, save for the wet, ragged sound of their breathing.
The demon king didn't seem concerned. In fact, he looked almost bored. "More pests," he said, his voice a low growl. "This forest is a veritable hive of them."
He looked at me, then at Angus. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "Perhaps this will be a valuable learning experience for you both. A chance to test your mettle. Or, in your case, the complete lack thereof."
One of the wolves, larger than the others, took a step forward. Its lips peeled back from its teeth, revealing gums that were black and swollen. It let out a low growl that was a promise of violence.
"Kill them," I said, my voice tight with fear. I didn't want to waste energy. I didn't want to risk the 'faint and be left for dead' scenario again. I just wanted the wolves to be gone.
The demon king raised an eyebrow. "An order. And so soon after the last one." He tapped the golden necklace. "This will cost you."