That time I got reincarnated as a Tiefling and knew too much

The doors opened with a low creak, wood and steel humming in harmony as I stepped into the newly completed meeting hall.

Tatami mats, dark lacquered beams, and a gilded gold byōbu screen stretched behind my seat—depicting a rising storm dragon coiled around a mountain. The air was thick with incense and authority, banners bearing the crest of our city lined the upper walls. It looked more like the war chamber of a would-be conqueror than the humble council hall I originally asked for.

I stared at the centerpiece of it all: a long, polished cedar table low to the ground, surrounded by cushions embroidered with swirling flame patterns.

I ran a hand through my hair, groaning under my breath.

"…Yeah, there's no going back now."

Shizu stifled a chuckle beside me, while Benimaru gave a proud nod, clearly pleased with the design.

"I said functional, not feudal intimidation piece," I muttered as I walked toward the central seat—my seat—looming under a sunbeam like a throne crafted from expectation.

Behind me, Shion and Souei took their positions with practiced ease, the former standing tall with arms crossed, while the latter melted into the shadows of the inner corner. Hakuro knelt near the far wall like a monk awaiting his cue to strike. Shuna sat calmly to my left, already pouring tea, as Shizu sat to my right. 

I sank into my cushion with a quiet sigh, eyes narrowing as the soft clack of metal armor echoed into the room.

The guest of honor finally arrived.

Gazel Dwargo entered with the stride of a hero and the calm of a king. His crimson cloak trailed behind him, flanked by his top general—Dolf. The dwarf king paused briefly at the threshold, his eyes taking in the room with the practiced awareness of someone who'd stood in many like it.

His gaze lingered on the dragon tapestry behind me. Then, with a faint grunt, he offered the smallest of nods—whether in approval or warning, I couldn't tell.

I sat up straighter, folding my arms as our eyes met.

"Welcome," I said flatly. "Try not to look too impressed. I had no say in the décor."

Gazel huffed a laugh. "It suits you, Akuma Tempest. For better or worse."

I leaned my cheek against one hand, already feeling the migraine coming.

"Let's skip the dance, Your Majesty. You already saw the town, you already saw the people… so tell me."

My eyes narrowed.

Gazel didn't flinch. He simply gave a short nod and moved with the quiet weight of command, settling into the cushion across from me. The firelight from the hanging lanterns glinted off the rings on his fingers.

"I came to see the one who slew the Orc Disaster, Geld."

A beat passed.

"I see." I leaned back slightly. "I hope you're not too disappointed we got to it first."

Gazel grunted, expression unreadable beneath the thick beard. "Hardly. In truth, I'm relieved. That battle could have claimed half the Jura Forest if left unchecked. From what my scouts reported… there was little collateral damage."

He paused. "And the orcs were spared."

I didn't speak, simply let the silence linger.

Shuna quietly stepped forward, kneeling as she helped a pair of young goblin girls carry in lacquered trays—small dishes of riverfish, pickled vegetables, and sake brewed just last moonrise. Her smile never faltered, gentle and dignified.

Benimaru accepted his dish with a polite nod, while Shion stood watchfully behind me. Shizu remained seated beside me, fingers idly swirling the tea in her cup as she watched the exchange with sharp, knowing eyes.

I took one cup and slowly sipped, the warmth curling on my tongue. Then I lowered it and fixed my gaze once again on Gazel.

"…Is that all?"

Gazel didn't answer at first. His eyes didn't blink. His heroic aura—what most would mistake for simple presence—began to hum, low and steady like the sound before a quake. It pressed against the air, subtle but firm, like steel brushing against steel.

I met it with my own. Not flaring, not roaring. Just… letting mine bleed through the cracks of my restraint. The pressure of a soul that had tasted evolution and refused to stop hungering.

The room didn't tremble. But something else did.

Expectation.

And then he spoke.

"Akuma," Gazel said, voice grave and measured. "Enter an alliance with me."

The warmth of the room turned distant.

Even the flames seemed to still.

The air shifted—not hostile, not tense, just… quiet. Anticipating.

I tilted my head, watching the man before me.

He wasn't bluffing.

Now the only question was—

"That would mean you recognize our gathering as a nation," I said, swirling the cup in my hand, my tone low, unreadable. "Are you sure about that?"

The old king didn't flinch. He met my gaze with the kind of weight only age and war could forge.

"I am," Gazel said plainly. "With your strength—no, with the strength of those who follow you—and the Champion at your side… You already rival the might of a small country. No—larger."

He leaned forward, an elbow resting on his knees. "You've tamed the wilds of the Jura Forest. You've earned loyalty from species that once butchered each other on sight. Goblins, Lizardmen, Orcs… all beneath your banner. And if what I've seen is just the surface, then your reach is far deeper than I imagined."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'll admit it… I'm afraid."

That caught some attention.

Benimaru raised a brow. Shion stilled. Shuna looked down slightly, lips pressed in a line.

Gazel continued. "This isn't fear of war. It's fear of what would come if we don't talk like this. You… are becoming something more than just a monster or a man."

He looked at me again.

"And I'd rather call that something my ally than my enemy."

The room was silent again.

I looked at the people behind me.

Benimaru, arms crossed but expression steady. A friend

Shion, already reaching for her blade just in case I declined. A... guardian.

Shuna, hands folded in front of her, ever composed. A healer and soul.

And Shizu… leaning ever so slightly toward me, unreadable, yet present. A mirror, perhaps.

I exhaled slowly.

This wasn't Rimuru's peaceful little council of delegates playing democracy. This was a throne carved from raw survival, ambition, and blood.

But even so—

…This isn't just my path anymore, I thought, more to myself than anyone else. "It never was."

I raised my head.

"Fine. I accept."

There was a subtle shift in the room. Like the turning of fate's wheel.

Gazel smiled, not wide, not smug—just tired. As if he'd been holding his breath for weeks.

"Then tell me," he said, lifting his cup. "What shall this nation be called?"

I looked out the window—at the glimmering forest whose roots ran deeper than blood, at the rivers carved by will and sweat, at the flickering torches lining a new road.

Everything we've done… every decision made in fire and ash… led to this.

And everything ahead will be just as heavy.

Beginnings and ends… Rebirth and ruin.

My voice was quiet—final.

"Nirvana."

A place where lost souls would find peace.

And monsters would find meaning.

Not heaven. Not hell.

Just… the next path.

A silence settled in the room, as if even the air paused to listen.

"The Nirvana Empire."