As dusk fell, the newly appointed Demon Lord Murphy reached a consensus with all the demon lords that very night. By dawn, he had gained a full understanding of the absolute mess that was the current state of the demon race.
When asked about his thoughts on the situation, Lord Murphy had this to say:
"With demons like these, you're telling me they want to go to war with humanity? Fight? With what?!"
"This is outrageous! I mean, even if an ogre hasn't eaten human flesh before, they should at least have seen humans running, right? But the last two generations of young ogres haven't even seen a human! They're all starving so badly they look like oversized skeleton soldiers! How are they still called ogres? They might as well start chewing on tree bark instead."
"And don't even get me started on those shut-in vampires. They're so out of touch they have to smuggle alchemy cauldrons from human lands. The moment a greedy merchant hikes up the price, they're so broke they might as well start selling their own clothes."
"Wait, I misspoke—how would vampires even pawn off their clothes? These idiot demons barely understand money, let alone the concept of a pawn shop!"
[Portions of the interview have been omitted due to excessive language from the interviewee.]
This was a frontline report by Ren Ping'an, special correspondent for our station.
---
Though Murphy had mentally prepared himself for the worst, the reality still hit him hard after the intelligence exchange meeting. Dismissing all demons from his palace save for a single slime janitor, the demon lord found himself spiraling into existential dread within the throne room.
The lords' descriptions of the demon race's decline were nothing short of terrifying. Still, Murphy managed to extract some useful bad news from their reports.
As a pacifist, Murphy knew that victory without conflict was nothing more than wishful thinking. However, the Holy Peace Accord had granted them a rare window of opportunity—at least for the next ten years, there would be only minor skirmishes between demons and humans, no large-scale war.
To take advantage of this time, Murphy's initial plan was simple: isekai farming and merchant trading. He'd monetize some of his brilliant ideas, sell them to the humans, amass a fortune, and—when war inevitably broke out—use his wealth under a pseudonym to manipulate the battlefield, turning war into a grand strategy game rather than a mere bloodbath.
But the more he learned, the worse the problems seemed to get. What had initially felt like an easy, cliché isekai adventure was rapidly shifting into a hell-mode survival challenge.
Farming? Not an option. The very soil of the demon lands was so saturated with dark energy that even trees grew with bulging, muscle-like knots. Who knew what kind of unforeseen mutations ordinary crops might develop? And it's not like he could just kidnap a few passing humans for experimental testing.
As for trade? Two major issues:
First, the demons were too poor to afford pants, let alone start a trading business.
Second, to humans, "the only good monster is a dead monster." Murphy couldn't think of a single unique demon-made product that might be marketable outside their own kind.
With no clear path forward, Murphy decided he needed someone to brainstorm with. After some consideration, he concluded that the Skeleton Lord, Byron, might be his best bet. Being a former human, Byron at least had a better grasp of logic compared to the other high-ranking demons.
So, Murphy ordered a skeleton soldier and a zombie standing guard at the palace entrance to fetch Byron. He'd noticed a peculiar rapport between the two, which made him wonder if they had been close friends in their past lives.
Not that it mattered right now.
After a productive conversation with Byron, Murphy confirmed several of his suspicions. For example:
Ground-up skeleton bones were considered an effective remedy for certain delicate ailments among the human aristocracy. The stronger the skeleton, the more potent the remedy. As the highest-ranking skeleton around, Byron seemed particularly uncomfortable with this revelation.
Low-tier demons like ogres and zombies were often captured by adventurer parties and sold off to work in human mining operations—for a hefty profit.
Some large-scale circuses were even posting high bounties for live werewolves, just so they could jack up ticket prices for their "Full Moon Spectacular" shows.
Murphy sank into deep thought at that last one.
"Byron, tell me... is it possible that they are the real demons here?"
The ever-straightforward skeleton lord dismissed the notion immediately.
Through their discussion, Murphy deduced that Byron had likely been a minor noble in his past life. Under Murphy's subtle prompting—guided by knowledge from his previous world—the skeleton ended up revealing quite a few well-kept noble secrets.
From Murphy's perspective, human nobles had a deeply ingrained need to outdo one another in their endless games of prestige. Since they currently had no demand for demonic goods, his best bet was to manufacture that demand himself.
After all, he was an expert at stirring up trends.
The problem? He was broke.
---
Murphy and Byron sat in silence at opposite ends of the long table. The skeleton remained completely still—no breathing, no blinking. If not for the occasional flicker of soul fire within his eye sockets, he could have passed for a decorative prop.
It was already noon. The demon race thrived at night, meaning this was effectively Byron's bedtime. Murphy had a sneaking suspicion the undead scholar had nodded off, leaving him alone to agonize over financial strategies.
According to Byron, there were two official currencies in the world: man-forged coins (gold, silver, copper) and naturally occurring coins that followed a strict 1:100 exchange rate.
Murphy was baffled by the idea of "naturally occurring currency," prompting Byron to elaborate with a personal anecdote—when he was still human, the first goblin he ever killed dropped fifty copper coins.
Murphy stared at him in stunned silence.
He had long suspected this world's economic system operated on game logic, but hearing a firsthand account confirmed it.
That said, farming low-tier monsters for chump change wasn't an option.
One, as Demon Lord, casually murdering his own subordinates wouldn't be great for morale.
Two, the payouts were laughably low.
---
Lost in thought, Murphy absentmindedly pulled up Byron's status window:
[Name: Byron Reed]
[Race: Reanimated Skeleton]
[Level: 20 (Lord)]
[...]
Murphy sighed.
"No matter the world, skeletons are always bottom-tier mobs. Even a Skeleton Lord is just glorified cannon fodder. Just look at this guy's stats—he's basically an easy EXP pinata for rookie adventurers."
That was when an idea struck him.
Murphy quickly scrolled to the bottom of Byron's panel and found exactly what he was hoping for:
[First Kill Rewards:]
Gold Coins × 1000
Refined Iron Armor × 1
Bone Longsword × 1
Tattered Reed Family Crest × 1
Murphy nearly burst out laughing.
"Of course! The Demon Lord got refreshed, the demon elites got refreshed—but the heroes didn't! No max-level adventurer is going to bother farming these newbie-tier rewards!"
He read through the list again. It was the perfect starter package: money, gear, and even a potential quest item.
And best of all? Nowhere did it specify that the first kill had to be done by a hero.
Any kill counted.
Murphy pulled up his own status panel, scrolling through his skill list until he found exactly what he needed:
[Demonic Resurrection: Advanced Necromancy—Revives a demon weaker than the caster. Revived target loses 5 levels.]
He glanced at the skill.
Then at Byron, still fast asleep.
A warm, benevolent smile spread across Murphy's face.
"Hey, Byron. Wake up."
The skeleton stirred, his soul fire flickering slightly. "Apologies, Your Majesty. As a skeleton, I tend to—"
"No time for that, Byron," Murphy cut him off. "I just need you to answer one question: Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the demon race? Right here, right now."
"Of course, my lord," Byron replied solemnly. "Any true demon lord would gladly—"
"Perfect. Now die."
Murphy plunged a conjured magic dagger straight into Byron's skull.
A minute later, the now Level 15 Skeleton Lord Byron groggily regained consciousness—sitting atop a pile of freshly dropped gold and loot.
The skeleton slowly turned his head toward Murphy.
"Your Majesty... what just happened?"