Despite incidents like Nero’s outburst, the atmosphere in the venue was pleasantly tipsy, and everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the party.
Good, the celebration wasn’t ruined after all.
Thinking such thoughts, I was alone on the balcony, cooling off in the night breeze. The Moon of Azure corresponds to October in Japan, but it wasn’t yet cold enough for the autumn wind to bite.
The grand hall is on the first floor of the castle, so stepping out onto the balcony doesn’t offer a view of Spada’s magnificent nightscape. During the day, you’d probably see the beautifully maintained garden, but at this late hour, it was completely shrouded in darkness.
Turning away from the monotonous black scenery toward the bright venue, I saw the lively students, their cheerful laughter and light melodies filling the air.
The one playing the music was none other than Wil. A guitar—or perhaps not exactly a guitar, but a string instrument that the automatic translation made sound like a guitar. Despite being drunk, Wil skillfully played the instrument.
“Fahahaha! Music is a pastime of the royal nobility! I may not have had talent in martial arts, but my musical talent, as you can see, is quite impressive, right? Shal was so bad at it that she cried and broke her guitar!”
Amidst his rock performance and the revelation of his sister’s embarrassing story, I was greatly surprised by Wil’s unexpected skill.
However, as he said, “a pastime of the royal nobility,” it seems many people learn music. Despite Spada’s martial image, they seem quite accomplished in the arts as well.
Meanwhile, as Wil happily strummed the guitar, the young girl Lily danced adorably to the rhythm.
True to the idol image of fairies singing and dancing, Lily seemed to instinctively perform with grace. Well, as a young girl, her dance felt more like a kindergarten recital—or so I thought, until she surprised me with agile moves and dynamic performances like triple axels. Well, she’s cute, so anything she does is fine.
By the way, Fiona was dancing with Lily. With her usual sleepy expression, she performed a strange dance. It was so mystifying that it felt like some kind of witch’s ritual.
Lily is cute, but if Fiona asked for my opinion on her dance, I’d be at a loss for words… It’s a unique dance. Yeah, that’s what I’ll say.
In any case, thanks to my temporary absence as the source of terror, a large crowd had gathered around the two. Lily is already popular at the School of the Gods, and Fiona might make some new friends through this opportunity.
I hope Fiona has a wonderful encounter that can make up for her gray school life. Well, I’ve only made two friends in Spada so far, so I can’t really talk.
“Are you enjoying the party?”
While I was lost in thought, I suddenly heard a voice.
I thought no one would approach the balcony because of my presence, but judging from the tone, it was clearly not a student.
If so, who could it be—turning around, the answer was immediately clear.
“King Leonhart…”
Standing there was a giant man who gave the impression of a red lion, unmistakably the king who had awarded me the medal earlier that day. He wasn’t wearing his flamboyant red cloak but the black military uniform of the Spada Army, but there was no mistaking such a striking figure.
Wh-why is he here? And is it okay for him to be without his attendants? Questions swirled in my mind.
“At ease, I won’t hold any discourtesy against you.”
I almost stood at attention, but I relaxed upon hearing those words. Though the tension remained.
“Thank you. The party is very lively and enjoyable.”
“Is that so?”
Silence followed. The cheerful rhythm and singing from the grand hall felt strangely distant. My tension grew even more.
Unlike Wil, King Leonhart seems to be the quiet type. This silence is a bit, no, quite uncomfortable. Should I try to start a conversation…
“I wanted to thank you personally.”
As if sensing my distress, the red king spoke.
“No, I’ve already received the medal. That’s more than enough.”
“That was the gratitude of the King of Spada. Now, as a father, I want to thank you. Thank you for saving my son.”
“Y-you’re welcome…”
Faced with the shocking sight of a king bowing deeply, I could only give such a mundane response. Even as a modern Japanese person unfamiliar with class systems, I understand that a king bowing is a big deal.
Rather than feeling happy about being thanked, I was more worried about someone seeing this and causing a commotion.
Fortunately, no one made a fuss while King Leonhart raised his head. Good, I don’t want any more strange rumors.
“You and your party will receive appropriate rewards from me and the Adventurer Guild in due time, but that is merely an official response. As a personal token of gratitude, I’d like to grant you one wish. Is there anything you desire?”
I was even more surprised by this sudden offer. However, even if he says he’ll grant a wish, it’s probably within reasonable limits. Still, having the chance to make a request to a king is an extraordinary opportunity.
I almost reflexively said, “Your gratitude is enough,” and it’s true that I don’t need anything more… but I’m not just living as an adventurer.
What should I ask King Leonhart for?
Should I ask to be made a knight? Do I want a powerful cursed weapon? Or a great magical tool? If I ask, I might even get land and a mansion. Simply asking for an increase in the reward would be a legitimate request as an adventurer.
No, none of that. I must have something more important.
Alright, I’ve decided. My wish is—
—
Compared to the grand hall, the room was much more subdued in decor, but it was one of the private rooms for the Spada royal family within the castle.
Here now were the parent and child of the Spada royal family.
“So, what did Chrono wish for?”
One was Wilhart, the Second Prince of Spada. Though the banquet had ended and he had consumed a fair amount of alcohol, his tone was clear and showed no signs of drunkenness.
Behind his newly acquired monocle, his golden eyes shone with an intellectual brilliance.
“He said he wanted information on the Crusaders,” replied Wilhart’s father, King Leonhart of Spada.
The giant man, sitting heavily on a black leather sofa, exuded an overwhelming presence. Facing him was the slender Wilhart, making the king’s imposing figure stand out even more.
“Hmm, Chrono is being too reserved. If he had asked me, I could’ve provided plenty of information…”
“Wil, you’re still a student. Don’t meddle too much in state secrets.”
“Oops, my bad.”
Leonhart regretted a little that he had assigned an assassin from the intelligence department as Wilhart’s guard maid.
However, though he couldn’t say it openly, there were several cases he’d like to hand over to Wilhart for analysis. Both he and his wife, as well as the next king, Eisenhart, were not good at such intellectual work. It always gave them headaches.
To be honest, he genuinely wished Wilhart would graduate soon and become his secretary.
“By the way, I sent you a letter earlier, Father. What do you think about the threat of the Crusaders?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not underestimating them. Above all, when I visited Galahad, I saw the figure of a white being with the power to defeat even Gavinal.”
“Hmm, that person might be called an ‘Apostle,’ the strongest warrior the Crusaders possess.”
“An Apostle?”
As he asked, Leonhart felt a bit frustrated that his son seemed to know more about the Crusaders’ inner workings. He had just warned him not to meddle in state secrets, and here they were.
“They are twelve chosen warriors who have received the power of blessing from the White God, said to be even more fearsome than the God of Arc. Their power is said to far surpass even Chrono, who defeated Raspun and Greedg.”
“…I see.”
“Father, please don’t get too fired up here.”
“My apologies.”
As a swordsman, it’s impossible not to get excited hearing about a strong enemy—or so he couldn’t say. If he did, his son would just chide him to “consider the time and place.”
“You didn’t challenge Chrono to a duel, did you?”
“Wil, do you doubt your father?”
“Every time you award a medal to someone for their achievements, you sprinkle some powder on it. Mother and Brother may not know, but I do. You probably hinted to Chrono that you’d like to test his strength if given the chance, didn’t you?”
To think that the King of Spada would be doubted by his own son to this extent—how lamentable… but since the accusation was true, Leonhart couldn’t retort.
Later, he’d have to reassure Chrono, “Don’t mind the king’s words,” and refrain from such behavior in the future, Wil said with a slightly exasperated tone before returning to the topic.
“—But I’m relieved to hear directly from you about the response to the Crusaders. Sending General Geisenburg of ‘Rampage’ to Galahad Fortress and gathering aerial forces seems to be more than just a show.”
“…How do you know all this?”
“I just happened to overhear a few things.”
Seeing his son’s sly smile, Leonhart truly felt defeated and ran a hand through his wavy red hair.
“Even without that, considering that no pegasi, flying dragons, or winged beasts came to Ischia Castle, it’s clear they were gathered at Galahad.”
“That was unfortunate. If even one of them had been mobilized, we could’ve provided swift rescue.”
Whether it’s faster to send a message to the knights with flying abilities stationed at Galahad or for Leonhart to lead the knights from Spada directly to Ischia Castle—considering communication, distance, preparation, and other factors, the latter is undoubtedly the quicker solution.
But in the end, without Chrono’s efforts, the castle would’ve fallen. The fact that the rescue was too late remains unchanged.
“It’s in the past. Your decision wasn’t wrong. We, the students of the School of the Gods, are not just children. We all fought well and managed to withstand the monster’s massive assault.”
“Indeed, you all did very well.”
Leonhart couldn’t help but think that Spada’s future was bright. When he was a student, he could never have endured such a siege.
Back then, he was foolish, but more than that, the executive candidates were corrupt. They were the epitome of incompetent, lazy nobles.
Spada has changed, and the School of the Gods has changed under the leadership of Sophia Sirius Percival. Seeing such reliable young people, he felt once again that entrusting her was the right decision.
“However, not everything went smoothly. I understand that ‘Wingroad’ helped the castle hold out until that day, but I can’t help but feel, deep down, that they acted recklessly at the last moment…”
Even so, Wilhart’s attitude of outwardly understanding their actions and not publicly criticizing them was far beyond what one would expect from a student. At this age, his son already possessed the steely spirit to endure humiliation.
He didn’t remember spoiling him, but he also didn’t remember raising him so strictly. Children are truly mysterious.
“Prince Nero’s actions are something to be grateful for as a father. But as a king, they are far from commendable.”
He had already heard about what happened at Ischia Castle.
At the last moment when the monsters launched their full-scale attack, ‘Wingroad’ left the castle. It was an action that could’ve been seen as desertion in the face of the enemy…
“If I were a student, I would’ve done the same as Prince Nero. I can’t criticize him too much.”
No, in fact, he would’ve snuck out of the castle alone to target the enemy leader. Back then, he had no intention of protecting the other students, and he even thought it’d be fine if all the executive candidates died. The situation was slightly different, but it was still problematic behavior.
“Orders—”
Will’s words are always pragmatic.
“If the students had criticized Wingroad, it would have become a problem that we couldn’t punish them… But since I bowed my head and diverted their dissatisfaction, it was a cheap price to pay.”
I heard the story of Will, who, in a pitiful state, cried and prostrated himself to see off Wingroad as they left the castle.
He played the fool to avoid lowering the students’ morale and didn’t make Wingroad the enemy. In fact, they managed to maintain their morale and held out until Chrono and Nel’s reinforcements arrived.
However, if Will, when he rubbed his head on the ground, had foreseen even the problems that would arise after everything was resolved and executed the act of prostration—then it’s increasingly doubtful that he is my son. No, this is something to be praised without reservation.
Yes, if no one else will praise him, then I, as his father, must commend him.
“Will, your actions as a prince and as a leader were correct. You skillfully navigated through a difficult situation, and you should be proud of that.”
“Thank you, Father. Those words alone are more than enough for this Wilhart.”
His attitude is as formal as a subordinate, but this is just his way of hiding his embarrassment as a son.
“Anyway, the battle at Ischia has ended safely. The policy of maintaining maximum vigilance against the Crusaders must never be changed.”
Leonhardt deepens his conviction as he emphasizes this.
Wilhart, General Emelia, and Chrono—all those who know the Crusaders show a strong sense of crisis. Such an opponent lurks far beyond Galahad.
Leonhardt’s keen intuition tells him that a tough battle is likely ahead.
“By the way, Father, may we get to the main topic now? It’s pitiful to keep Sharl waiting any longer.”
“What… Stupid brother…”
Until now, it was just a conversation between father and son, but in fact, there are three people in this room. The third princess, Charlotte, though looking somewhat pale, bravely glares at her brother.
“Sharl, be quiet for now.”
“Ugh… I’m sorry, Father…”
Charlotte sits right next to her father. Her small stature next to Leonhardt makes her look like a rabbit caught by a lion. Her somewhat frightened demeanor is quite fitting.
“I’ve heard the general situation. Will’s decision to choose a siege was correct. First, understand that. Then, Sharl, I’ll allow you to speak. Explain your reckless decision to leave the castle and go after Greedg.”
Charlotte had been strictly ordered to stay by her father’s side since Leonhardt arrived at Ischia Castle with the Knight Corps. Even during the victory parade, she did not walk with her party, Wingroad, but instead rode on Leonhardt’s red eight-legged horse.
It was the scene the Spada PR wanted—the father saving his daughter—but it was not just a performance to keep Charlotte in check.
Leonhardt was angry after hearing the details of the battle at Ischia Castle. But the punishment has not yet been meted out to his daughter.
Until this moment, Charlotte had to wait in fear, not knowing when her father’s punishment would come. And now, finally, the time has come. It has arrived.
“I… I’m not wrong!”
Charlotte, with tears welling up in her round golden eyes, trembles as she forces out her words.
“I’m not wrong! If this stupid brother had listened to me from the start, everything would have gone well! Wingroad could have defeated Greedg! There wouldn’t have been any unnecessary casualties from the siege!!”
As she finally bursts into tears, shouting her justification, Wilhart is left speechless, stunned. In contrast, Leonhardt remains expressionless, not moving a single eyebrow.
Leonhardt understands. Wilhart’s wide-eyed shock is not because he’s appalled by his sister’s foolishness.
“F-Father, Sharl is still immature, so please forgive her—”
Her brother, sensing that his foolish sister has provoked their father’s wrath, pleads for a lighter punishment. As siblings of the Spada family, they know better than anyone the terror of their father.
“Sharl… you—”
“Father!?”
Wilhart leans forward to stop him, but it’s already too late. Leonhardt, still seated, raises his arm and clenches his fist.
“—You utter fool!!”
With a roar that shakes Spada Royal Castle, the king’s fist is swung.
Leonhardt, the Sword King, possesses the power to rival a dragon king despite being human. Even without a sword, the force of his fist could shatter a steel golem.
The speed of the swung fist is something neither Wilhart, who is watching from the side, nor Charlotte, who is facing its terrifying destructive power, can comprehend.
“Ah… ah…”
The Sword King’s fist stops just before touching Charlotte’s delicate cheek.
A moment later, the pressure from the fist causes Charlotte’s bright red hair to flutter. Her trademark long twin tails are blown back dramatically. The wind pressure is immense.
“If you were my son, I would have hit you. Be grateful you were born a girl.”
It’s likely Wilhart who breathes a sigh of relief, not Charlotte. She herself is wide-eyed, crying, and in a daze.
“Sharl, Charlotte, it seems I need to teach you the difference between confidence and overconfidence from the beginning. But before that, you must be punished. You must atone for even a fraction of the mistakes you’ve made.”
“F-Father…”
Charlotte bursts into tears like a dam breaking. Even in the face of her pitiful crying, Leonhardt’s resolve does not waver, as his cold golden gaze is the clearest proof.
“Will, return to your room. No matter how much Sharl calls for help, do not come to stop me. Tell Ike the same.”
“…Yes, Father.”
There is no answer other than compliance.
The wise Wilhart would understand. If he were to intervene, his father’s leniency might soften the punishment.
What Leonhardt regrets most now is not Charlotte’s foolishness, but his own leniency in indulging her every whim until now. It’s not just him—the entire family has spoiled Charlotte too much.
Now, the consequences have come back to haunt both the daughter and the father.
With a look of sorrow, as if making a bitter decision, Wilhart leaves the room.
For once, Charlotte watches her brother’s back with a gaze that seems to cling to him, as if to say, “Big brother, help me.” She doesn’t say it, perhaps out of her last bit of pride.
But Leonhardt has already decided.
He will personally shatter the pride Charlotte has built on her misplaced confidence and overconfidence. He will break it completely.
“Sharl.”
“Sniff… ugh… y-yes, Father…”
“Take it off.”
“…Huh?”
Charlotte’s pitiful crying face freezes. She doesn’t understand what’s being said—or rather, she doesn’t want to understand.
“I said, take it off. You’re not a child anymore, so you should understand what I mean.”
Charlotte’s body stiffens as if jolted, but Leonhardt has no intention of letting her escape.
“You’re a girl, so I won’t hit your face. But you must be punished, to the point where you regret being born a girl.”
“N-no… that’s a lie, Father… surely not…”
“I won’t say it a third time. If you refuse to listen, I’ll tear that glorious red mantle off you myself.”
Charlotte, like a helpless girl facing a brute, tightly hugs her body with both arms, trembling in fear.
Even in the face of his beloved daughter’s pitiful state, Leonhardt, having made up his mind, glares at her with the eyes of a beast facing its prey.
How fortunate it would be if this were just a brute. Even if a gang appeared, Charlotte’s proud lightning magic would easily cut them down.
But what’s coming is the Sword King Leonhardt. No woman in Spada has ever survived a serious attack from him.
Charlotte, understanding this well, quickly realizes that resistance is futile, and even begging for mercy is meaningless.
Like a newborn fawn, she trembles on her slender legs and stands up from the sofa.
“I-I’ll take it off… I’ll take it off, so…”
So, please don’t tear the Royal Spada Academy uniform and the glorious red mantle, the symbol of an Executive Candidate, that envelops her body, forcing her to be naked. A desperate and servile plea seems to echo.
After a moment of silence, Charlotte, as if resolved, reaches for the hem of her pleated skirt.
Charlotte, who is lively in both battle and daily life, always wears short spats under her skirt to prevent it from riding up. She starts by taking them off.
The smooth black fabric slides off her legs, revealing her white, jade-like skin.
Thanks to the spats she usually wears, the loss of just this one layer makes Charlotte feel terribly exposed.
However, she is about to experience a humiliation that will overshadow this small sense of shame.
“Sniff… ugh…”
Leonhardt waits silently for his daughter to remove the last piece of clothing herself.
After another moment of silence, Charlotte reaches into her skirt again.
Her fingertips touch the white panties made of heavenly silk, undergarments of the highest quality befitting royalty.
She tries to pull them down with force—or so it seems, but with her face flushed red and trembling, Charlotte awkwardly struggles to slide them down her slender legs.
When the spotless, dazzling white panties reach her knees, Leonhardt, unable to wait any longer, grabs his daughter’s body with his strong arm.
“Eek!? S-Stop, Father—”
Charlotte lets out a high-pitched scream, but if that were enough to stop him, Leonhardt wouldn’t have taken such action.
Pulling the half-undressed Charlotte onto his lap, Leonhardt pins her small body face down, not allowing even the slightest resistance.
As she is forcibly placed on his lap, her short skirt flips up from the sudden movement, exposing her cute white bottom to Leonhardt.
“No! Stop!!”
Leonhardt already has Charlotte restrained with one hand. He has her arms crossed behind her back, holding her wrists, perfectly immobilizing her.
No matter how much she struggles, it’s futile. Even if she were to unleash her lightning magic with all her might, this restraint would not loosen in the slightest.
Feeling the feeble resistance of the mage-class girl with his left hand, Leonhardt slightly lifts his knee, positioning her to expose her bottom further.
“No! Stop! No, no, no!! I’m sorry, Father! Father!!”
Charlotte finally cries out, begging for forgiveness. The sight of her immature yet smooth, pure white bottom bouncing is endlessly stimulating to a man’s sadistic tendencies.
The trembling maiden’s soft skin, the innocent bottom of his beloved daughter, is now about to be trampled by Leonhardt’s own hand.
“Reflect deeply on your sins, Charlotte. One hundred spankings.”
“Nooooooo!!”
May 20, 2013
To commemorate the second anniversary of “Black Demon King,” we’re holding our first reader-participation event!
For every comment that says “Pan!”, Papa Leonhardt will give Sharl’s peach bottom an extra spanking! Let’s give the spoiled brat a good OSHIOKI! Pan! Pan! (←Two extra spankings)
※Just a note: Please don’t comment multiple times or make it too hard to count with too many “Pan! Pan!”s. Around ten times per person would make counting easier, and we’d appreciate it!
Counting will end with the next update on May 24, 2013, so if you want to spank Sharl, please do so soon.
If no one participates, the spankings will end at one hundred as planned.