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

For the first time in what felt like ages…

I was finally lounging in my own room.

A room—no, the manor—that they'd insisted on completing first before anything else. While the rest of the city still had scaffolding and half-finished rooftops, my residence stood tall, pristine, and more luxurious than anything I'd ever lived in before.

The floors were polished dark wood, warm underfoot. Intricate golden motifs wound through the support beams like living vines, and a soft breeze swayed the red silk curtains drawn to the sides of the full-length windows. My desk was made of imported enchanted oak, the bed large enough to drown in, and the ceiling high enough to echo. Even the walls had delicate murals of the Jura Forest and painted portraits of mine.

Honestly? It was too much.

"I still don't get it," I muttered, lounging on a velvet chaise with a cup of steaming herbal tea in hand.

Shizu, seated on the couch across from me, raised a brow, lips quirked around her own teacup. "You're the one who wanted a place for yourself, what did you expect?"

I gave her a flat look. "...I just wanted to complain,"

"You reap what you sow."

I groaned.

"It's because Lord Akuma must be special," Shuna chimed in sweetly from beside the teapot. "That's what everyone says."

I looked between them. "That's not how city planning works."

They just smiled. I gave up.

"Guess I'll just enjoy the peace while it lasts," I sighed, sipping the tea slowly. The blend was warm, fragrant—something between mint and lavender. I stared out the window at the gently swaying trees, the sunlight catching the pond just outside.

For a moment…

Silence.

Peace.

Calm.

Boom.

A tremor ran through the ground. Somewhere in the distance—just outside the northern edge of the city—something fell. Hard.

I blinked once. Sipped my tea again. Looked at the smoke rising faintly in the distance.

I pretended I didn't see it.

Nope. I just got here. I'm not moving.

This is fine.

Everything's fine.

Then I felt a hand grab the back of my chair.

"Don't," I said, still holding my teacup.

Shizu stood behind me, calm as ever. "Time to work."

"No."

"Akuma."

"The tea will get cold."

"Just reheat it later."

"…You monster."

Before I could protest, she dragged me—chair and all—toward the door. My slippers scraped against the pristine floor. My teacup wobbled.

Shuna giggled behind her sleeve. "Please be careful, Lord Akuma~"

"I WAS BORN FOR PEACE!" I cried softly, defeated.

-

The sun was still high when we made our way toward the smoke trail curling into the sky. The air smelled faintly of scorched earth and overturned trees, but no one seemed panicked. Not yet.

Beside me, Shizu walked casually, cradling a small clay jar of honey like it was the most natural thing to bring to a potential disaster zone.

"…Are you sure it's going to be fine?" she asked, glancing sideways at me.

"Nope," I replied without missing a beat, hands tucked behind my head. "But man… she really is on an entirely different level, huh?"

I frowned a little as we walked, my thoughts drifting to Milim Nava—one of the oldest and strongest Demon Lords, a walking calamity with the attention span of a child and the power to casually destroy countries when bored.

And now she was here.

Weeks earlier than I'd anticipated.

"Tch… so much for planning," I muttered.

Almost on cue, Benimaru and Souei appeared ahead of us, walking in sync like they'd been waiting for me to arrive.

"It really happened just as Akuma-sama predicted," Benimaru said, nodding with a sort of impressed grimness. "A massive magical pressure just dropped into the forest like a meteor… and there she was. That insane power could only belong to someone like her."

"She's currently… examining the trees she blew up," Souei added, his voice flat. "And laughing."

"Of course she is…" I sighed.

"She's stronger than any of us," Benimaru continued. "Even from here, her presence is like a weight pressing down on everything. If you hadn't warned us to expect her, I might've fired a preemptive strike."

"Speaking of," another voice cut in.

Mz trotted up from the side of the path, a heavy satchel slung over his shoulder. He pulled something from it—a matte black, long-barreled rifle with glowing runes etched into the side.

"I got it right here, boss," he said, loading a shimmering cartridge with a soft click. "Should I fire first if things go south?"

I gave him a look. "You're not shooting a Demon Lord, Mz."

"Aww," he groaned. "But you had Kurobe forge this for me with magic-absorbing silver core and everything!"

True. I had asked Kurobe to make it—part curiosity, part paranoia. A gun powered by magic rather than gunpowder, inscribed with enchantments to adapt and switch elemental loads mid-fire. It was the prototype of what I wanted to call an Arcgun.

But this? This wasn't the time to test it.

"You fire that thing, and she'll probably think it's a toy and want one," I muttered, stepping over a broken tree branch.

"...Noted," Mz said with a serious nod, slipping the rifle back into its enchanted sheath.

The trees began to thin.

The pressure in the air thickened.

And there, in the middle of a crater that had once been a quiet glade, stood a girl.

Pink twin-tails swaying, bright smile stretched across her face, and hands planted firmly on her hips like she'd just completed a personal challenge.

One of her feet was on top of a boulder she'd clearly shattered for no reason.

"…Well," I exhaled. "There goes my quiet afternoon."

Milim Nava had arrived.