I'm The Demon Lord???

The potion in my hand shimmered a brilliant blue, swirling with power. A masterpiece. A triumph. The result of three months of painstaking alchemical refinement.

I set it down next to the others—one gold, one green, one deep red, and one that… well, it was still smoking, but that was probably fine.

I rubbed my hands together, proud of my work. These potions could change lives. The gold one would grant unparalleled strength. The green one would enhance agility beyond human limits. The red… well, that one had looked like a healing potion at first, but it melted through the table, so I labeled it “Caution.”

The blue, though—this was my finest work yet. If my calculations were correct, it could restore vitality to even the most broken body. Maybe even reverse illness entirely.

Before I could test it, the massive double doors to my hall burst open with a deafening boom.

“Dark Lord Magnus! Your reign of terror ends today!”

I blinked.

Standing in my doorway was a woman clad in silver and black armor, her sword drawn and pointed directly at me. She was tall, strong, and her dark hair spilled over her shoulders in loose waves. Her gray eyes burned with determination, and her stance was battle-ready, like she fully expected me to throw a fireball at her.

I tilted my head. “I’m sorry, my what?”

“You heard me, villain!” she shouted. “For too long, you have ruled these lands with an iron fist, spreading fear and destruction! But I, Elaine Voss, will put an end to your dark reign!”

I stared at her. Then at my potions. Then back at her.

“… Are you sure you have the right mansion?”

Elaine hesitated. Just for a second. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this!”

“I’m not trying to talk my way out of anything,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The doors swung open again, and my three trusted advisors—Garrick, the strategist, Hugh, the ex-knight, and Mari, the diplomat—came rushing in.

“My lord!” Garrick panted. “We heard shouting.”

“Yes. So did I,” I said, gesturing to the woman currently threatening my life. “Apparently, I’m a dark lord now.”

The three exchanged guilty glances.

“Well…” Mari started.

“That do you mean Mair?” I ask looking at the others.

“It’s… not wrong,” Hugh admitted, rubbing his neck.

I felt something inside me crack. “I beg your pardon? Hugh?”

Garrick sighed. “Alright, look. You technically rule the region.”

“I do not rule anything Garrick!”

“You do, though,” Mari said brightly. “Trade is flourishing, crime is practically nonexistent, and the people think you’re some sort of mysterious, powerful overlord who keeps the peace from the shadows.”

Hugh cleared his throat. “Also, because of all the, uh… side effects of your potions, we’ve had to establish an entire economy based on antidotes. It’s been very profitable.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re telling me that while I’ve been minding my own business, making potions in my lab, you three have turned me into a dark lord?”

Elaine looked between us, her sword now halfway lowered. “Wait. So you’re not some kind of evil overlord?”

“Obviously not!” I snapped.

Mari smiled. “To be fair, my lord, you do live alone in a creepy mountain mansion.”

“It’s not creepy!”

“It has gargoyle statues.”

“They’re for aesthetic!”

Elaine crossed her arms, studying me with a sharp gaze. “So… you’re saying you’re not some terrible tyrant?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Then will you help me?”

That caught me off guard. “With what?”

She straightened. “My mother. She’s fallen into an endless sleep from the plague. No healer or priest has been able to wake her, and I’ve searched everywhere for a cure. You’re my last hope.”

The fire in her eyes was different now. Not fury—determination. Strength.

I exhaled. A sleeping illness… that was no ordinary affliction. But if anyone could create a cure, it was me.

I crossed my arms. “Fine. But two conditions.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“One: You stop calling me ‘Dark Lord.’”

She hesitated, then nodded. “And two?”

I pointed at her sword. “If you stab me, you’re on dish duty.”

She blinked. “You have dishes?”

“Of course I have dishes! What, did you think I drink potions straight from the cauldron like some kind of lunatic?”

Mari coughed into her hand. Garrick and Hugh both suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Elaine smirked. “Fair enough. Then we have a deal, Magnus.”

I sighed.

My peaceful life was officially over.

The potion in my hand shimmered a brilliant blue, swirling with power. A masterpiece. A triumph. The result of three months of painstaking alchemical refinement.

I set it down next to the others—one gold, one green, one deep red, and one that… well, it was still smoking, but that was probably fine.

I rubbed my hands together, proud of my work. These potions could change lives. The gold one would grant unparalleled strength. The green one would enhance agility beyond human limits. The red… well, that one had looked like a healing potion at first, but it melted through the table, so I labeled it “Caution.”

The blue, though—this was my finest work yet. If my calculations were correct, it could restore vitality to even the most broken body. Maybe even reverse illness entirely.

Before I could test it, the massive double doors to my hall burst open with a deafening boom.

“Dark Lord Magnus! Your reign of terror ends today!”

I blinked.

Standing in my doorway was a woman clad in silver and black armor, her sword drawn and pointed directly at me. She was tall, strong, and her dark hair spilled over her shoulders in loose waves. Her gray eyes burned with determination, and her stance was battle-ready, like she fully expected me to throw a fireball at her.

I tilted my head. “I’m sorry, my what?”

“You heard me, villain!” she shouted. “For too long, you have ruled these lands with an iron fist, spreading fear and destruction! But I, Elaine Voss, will put an end to your dark reign!”

I stared at her. Then at my potions. Then back at her.

“… Are you sure you have the right mansion?”

Elaine hesitated. Just for a second. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this!”

“I’m not trying to talk my way out of anything,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The doors swung open again, and my three trusted advisors—Garrick, the strategist, Hugh, the ex-knight, and Mari, the diplomat—came rushing in.

“My lord!” Garrick panted. “We heard shouting.”

“Yes. So did I,” I said, gesturing to the woman currently threatening my life. “Apparently, I’m a dark lord now.”

The three exchanged guilty glances.

“Well…” Mari started.

“That do you mean Mair?” I ask looking at the others.

“It’s… not wrong,” Hugh admitted, rubbing his neck.

I felt something inside me crack. “I beg your pardon? Hugh?”

Garrick sighed. “Alright, look. You technically rule the region.”

“I do not rule anything Garrick!”

“You do, though,” Mari said brightly. “Trade is flourishing, crime is practically nonexistent, and the people think you’re some sort of mysterious, powerful overlord who keeps the peace from the shadows.”

Hugh cleared his throat. “Also, because of all the, uh… side effects of your potions, we’ve had to establish an entire economy based on antidotes. It’s been very profitable.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re telling me that while I’ve been minding my own business, making potions in my lab, you three have turned me into a dark lord?”

Elaine looked between us, her sword now halfway lowered. “Wait. So you’re not some kind of evil overlord?”

“Obviously not!” I snapped.

Mari smiled. “To be fair, my lord, you do live alone in a creepy mountain mansion.”

“It’s not creepy!”

“It has gargoyle statues.”

“They’re for aesthetic!”

Elaine crossed her arms, studying me with a sharp gaze. “So… you’re saying you’re not some terrible tyrant?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Then will you help me?”

That caught me off guard. “With what?”

She straightened. “My mother. She’s fallen into an endless sleep from the plague. No healer or priest has been able to wake her, and I’ve searched everywhere for a cure. You’re my last hope.”

The fire in her eyes was different now. Not fury—determination. Strength.

I exhaled. A sleeping illness… that was no ordinary affliction. But if anyone could create a cure, it was me.

I crossed my arms. “Fine. But two conditions.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“One: You stop calling me ‘Dark Lord.’”

She hesitated, then nodded. “And two?”

I pointed at her sword. “If you stab me, you’re on dish duty.”

She blinked. “You have dishes?”

“Of course I have dishes! What, did you think I drink potions straight from the cauldron like some kind of lunatic?”

Mari coughed into her hand. Garrick and Hugh both suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Elaine smirked. “Fair enough. Then we have a deal, Magnus.”

I sighed.

My peaceful life was officially over.