Sacrifices To Jupiter XIV

"Yes. The competition doesn't only involve strength but also, moreso, management capabilities. You conquer territories and various domains, abrim with resources, and lead your troops. The Great Demon race is more about leadership than individuality. More about warring than fighting. More about creation than destruction. Your troops fight and destroy individually in your stead instead," she catalogs the abilities that I don't have.

"So, basically, business acumen?" I ask, tilting my foot left and right.

Man is the floor fucking cold. Should I snatch her shoes too? They probably won't fit…

"You right," Mari says noddingly. "You can, yes?"

Well, I do have experience. Not building a proper organization but rather a crime syndicate. I wonder if that counts. Not like I remember much of it to begin with.

"I see worry in your face," Mari says, clearly fucking blind. "But no worries, Uncle, I got this. I've been praised for my smarts and have read more books than most people have seen in their lives, be they of historical, philosophical, or purely informative nature."

She points at herself with her thumb, smugly, her round chin raised. "I'm really, really, very smart."

Smart? Smart my ass.

Even my ass is smarter.

Stupid people say they're smart.

Smart people usually remain silent.

While intelligent people say they're stupid.

That's why I'm stupid. Because I'm intelligent.

Wait.

"I'll be your strategist and tactician all the same," she says smartly, circling her finger and smiling, smartly, also. "We will tread cautiously while remaining neutral."

The fuck is the difference between strategy and tactics?

Mari follows, walking around the orb with hands clasped behind her, "Those Archdemons have massive ambitions and won't bow before anyone. By playing to all sides and pitting their egos against each other, we will extract the most benefits!"

So she basically wants to become the Switzerland of the World Wars? Maintain official neutrality while engaging in economic dealings with multiple powers?

Did she just come up with it on a whim? Impressive. In theory.

As in practice…

That'd only work if those shitheads had any principles.

Morals, beliefs… Philosophy in general is a very interesting subject.

They help to tell of the person's ideals and personality.

Of their strengths and weaknesses.

But what about those who couldn't give a flying fuck about morals and beliefs and such?

Usually, not only do such people not give a fuck, but they don't give a fuck why they don't give a fuck.

They do what they want, and they make others do what they want.

"That's a shit strategy," I tell her, flicking her forehead when she circles back to me. "I have a better plan."

She stammers back, itching her forehead.

Mari then looks at me expectantly.

Shit, please don't make that face.

As if I'd have a plan.

But her face…

It looks at me so expectantly…

I can't disappoint!

This is the moment that will certify me as either the Stupid Uncle Chan or the Wise Uncle Chan!

Think! What information have I gathered from the meeting? What can I deduce?

Mysterious church dude. Buffed African dictator. Dead inside edgelord. Shorty tree girl. Pimp cringe lord. My beautiful wifey—

Blonde goth chick.

…

"We'll just murder them all, that simple," I declare, flipping my wrist in a dismissive manner.

She gasps, then gapes, her downturned eyes twitching as her forehead twists into deep furrows.

Her nose bleeds.

I think I phrased it wrongly…

I didn't mean to declare war against all. Just five.

All except my comely love, my lovely everything, my blondie. She'll become The Demon Queen—

Mari staggers, faltering, almost falling, waving her left hand to keep balance while clasping onto her bloodied nose.

She looks miserable.

I hold on to her. "Are you fine?"

Her eyes sway, then roll up as her legs shake, then give up.

"Hey!" I shout, shaking her shivering body. "Answer me! Are you okay?! I know— Heal! Use Heal!"

"Uncle…" she whispers, her breaths shallow, limbs limp, eyes unfocused. "I think… you hit me… too hard… back then… on my face…"

Tears well in her eyes.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did I do?! What do I do? What should I do? ThinK!

"I'm sorry… Uncle… Chan…" she snobs, her lips quivering. "Please… don't fall to… your sins— Live… kindly…"

Blood falls over her lips, her eyes losing their life, her jaw—dropping, slack.

"Brat! You cannot die! You must not die! What about your dreams and aspirations?! Was one meager punch all it took to devastate you—"

I shake, and shake, and shake. Yet nothing.

"I am sorry! I won't raise a hand on you ever again! Kid! Kid?! Princess! Mari! Marisella! Hey—"

"You will become the greatest strategist surpassing history! I'll make you one! Don't die—"

"...Really?" Her eyes regain minimal luster, her puffy cheeks pale. "You will really… really appoint me as your… strategist? You really…?"

"Yes! I will! Now use that skill of yours damn it! Mari—"

"You will listen to what I say…? You will give up on… the title of The Demon King… for me?"

Shit! The Demon King title is just too cool to pass on! Way better than some Villain |F|. The fuck is Villain |F| even supposed to be? Villain Fucking? A fucking third-rate-Villain? The Demon King title is the least I deserve—

"Yes! Of course! Who cares about a title?! It's just a title! Nothing! It's only what the holographic boxes tell! We'll establish names for ourselves by our own hands, not rely on this stupid fucking box!"

"...Really… …really?"

"Girl! Don't make me repeat myself! Use that damn skill this instant—"

"Yeahhhh!" Mari shouts with joy. "No takebacks! You understand?!"

Huh?

"Uncle is the best~" Mari muses, standing vigorously, hugging me dearly. "With me, even without vying for the title of The Demon King, you'll still have the most power among Archdemons! I promised, no? That I will help you obtain power at the cost of my life! If I fail even once, you can kill me!"

My hands stiffen, eyes blank. My face morphs into expressionlessness.