Gonna Be a Demon King!
Chapter 81: Neuro-Machinae

Chapter 81: Neuro-Machinae

Clinic 4, Ward 26

Cinder Region Outpost

Ohlion Continent

April 19th

Year 9025

Early the next morning, a tired-looking man in a white lab coat stained with both mud and blood walked into the clinic ward. When he spotted Xaren and Ilya, he blinked in confusion for a moment before recognition dawned on his face.

"Oh, that’s right. You two were here."

Given the boldly printed number ’26’ on the ID card hanging from his neck, it was clear that he was the doctor in charge of this ward.

Judging by his dishevelled appearance, dirtied coat, heavy eyebags, and eyes practically begging for sleep, it was obvious he’d been running on fumes.

There were numerous demons in critical condition among the injured, which meant every available hand was needed. As a result, all the doctors had been dispatched to assist at the other clinic buildings where those injured had been taken.

Before Xaren or Ilya could get a word in, the man began speaking, letting out intermittent yawns.

"Guess...I should send word that you’re awake...so your handler can come pick...you up."

The man walked past their beds, grumbling under his breath as he did.

He trudged past their bed while grumbling under his breath.

"You’ve had your chance to sleep, but I haven’t had mine in 36 hours..."

From the demonic energy he gave off, Xaren estimated the man to be at least Level 300. While someone of that level could usually go that long without sleep just fine, the mental strain of carefully tending to numerous patients over that stretch of time clearly weighed heavy on him.

Healing magic was within his capabilities, but it couldn’t fix everything—especially not when some of the wounded demons still had chunks of shrapnel, broken sword fragments, or even entire spears lodged in their bodies.

Still grumbling under his breath, the doctor walked over to the desk at the edge of the ward, picked up the landline, and tapped in a few numbers before pressing it to his ear.

After a few seconds, there was a beep, and he immediately began speaking.

"Cinder Outpost Clinic Building 4, Ward 26. I’m calling in to report the awakening of the two Private-First Classes who were brought here by noon on the 17th."

Despite their superhuman hearing, Xaren and Ilya couldn’t catch what was being said on the other end of the line, which got Xaren very curious.

’Is it a magical effect? Or technological?’

While he was lost in thought, the doctor was wrapping up his call.

"Okay, thank you, sir."

He put down the landline and sighed once more, before turning to the two young demons.

"Your free time’s up in 30 minutes. I see you’ve already discovered your pouches, good. Showers are over there, so clean up and get into your uniforms."

After saying that, the man tossed off his stained lab coat and plopped down onto the bed right next to his desk.

Within seconds, he was out like a light.

◇　◇　◇

The doctor remained in a deep sleep for almost 30 minutes while Ilya and Xaren quietly packed up their belongings. After that, they occupied themselves with reading the Grimoires Xaren had picked up in Zlego the night they retrieved the spirit.

Just as Xaren was about to turn the page of his Fire Magic Grimoire, the doctor’s eyes suddenly shot open, and he snapped his gaze toward the door.

He rose to his feet almost instantly, mere seconds before Xaren and Ilya’s eyes widened, having just sensed what he had.

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps and voices filtering through the gap in the door.

"Are you sure this is the right ward?"

"For the last time, Floch. The doctor said Clinic 4, Ward 26. Do you not see the massive numbers ’2’ and ’6’ printed on the door?"

"The 6’s a bit faded, so I might’ve missed it."

"..."

Though the second voice didn’t reply, Xaren and Ilya could practically hear the eye roll in the silence.

A moment later, the door swung open, and in stepped the familiar, 7-foot-tall Fire Demon. When he spotted Xaren and Ilya, he broke into a grin and spoke.

"Once again, I’m picking you two up from a hospital!"

Contrasting his cheerful tone and wide smile, all three demons who had been in the ward immediately stood at attention and saluted.

With the three stars gleaming on his shoulder, marking his rank as a Colonel, how could they not?

Floch waved them off with a dismissive gesture and closed the distance between them in just a few steps. He infused demonic energy into his eyes, leaned in close, and studied Xaren and Ilya with a hand on his chin before nodding in approval.

"Good. Your bodies have adapted."

The demonic energy faded from his eyes as he rubbed his chin and continued,

"Well, that’s expected. We demons usually have quick adaptation to our powers."

His choice of words made Xaren raise an eyebrow in light confusion.

’Usually?’

Xaren didn’t get to voice his question as Floch continued speaking with barely a pause.

"I wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. That’s way below my pay grade. But since I happened to be nearby, I figured I’d give the poor Sergeant some free time."

When he said this, Xaren and Ilya noticed the Mid-Rank demon who had walked in with him rolling her eyes before heading toward the doctor to ask for some documents.

"Oh, right. Your sword got broken, didn’t it?" Floch asked, casually revealing he’d been watching their battle with the half-giant even before Xaren’s weapon retired.

As he spoke, he opened his long jacket, revealing a grid of pockets on the inside—three per row, three rows in total, making a total of nine pockets on the inside of his jacket.

He began digging into them while murmuring some questions to himself, and judging by how deep his hand sank into each one, it was obvious that, like Xaren and Ilya’s pouches, they were enhanced with spatial expansion magic.

"...I could have sworn I kept it in one of these pockets..."

Floch rummaged through the first three with no luck in his discovery, but when he reached the fourth, his expression brightened up.

"Aha! There it is."

"Aha! That’s where it was."

With that, he pulled an entire broadsword out of the spatial pocket. Holding it up, he gave it a quick once-over—it was a blade clearly sized for someone of his height and build.

"It’s a bit too big for you," he said casually.

Calling it ’a bit’ too big was definitely an understatement, after all, the sword was longer than Xaren was tall.

Speaking of Xaren, Floch casually tossed the giant blade to him without a word of warning.

"wha-?!"

Xaren hastily lightened the weapon with gravity magic, barely managing to catch it and almost stumbling backwards in the process.

The sight had Floch chuckling lightly as he spoke.

"There was no need to lighten it. It’s not that heavy."

’Not for you, maybe!’

Xaren tactfully kept his retort to himself, silently placing the oversized weapon down.

It had a towering 20cm-thick blade that gradually tapered into a sharp edge. Its surface gleamed with dark steel plates layered like shifting armour, each joint etched with faint glowing lines.

The hilt was bulky, reinforced with piston-like parts and rotating cores that hissed faintly. It looked less like a weapon and more like a machine built for war.

Floch pointed at the sword and instructed.

"Think about your preferred weapon specifications and infuse your demonic energy into it from the hilt."

"..."

Without a word, Xaren followed the instruction, placing his hand on the grip and letting his demonic energy flow. The dark red energy coursed through the etched lines, and in seconds, the black blade lit up with circuit-like patterns glowing in the same crimson hue.

The sword’s body began to vibrate as it shifted with a series of mechanical clicks and whirrs. Plates retracted and rearranged, the blade shrinking in size and compacting its mass.

In moments, it had transformed into a form that was a perfect fit for Xaren’s height. The blade was 80 cm long and 10 cm wide at its base, tapering to a sharp point, its mechanical structure still visible in the shifting contours.

"Ooh, this thing looks cool every time," Floch muttered as he admired the weapon’s transformation sequence, before turning to the shocked Xaren and adding.

"Anyway, it’s yours now."

"...what?"

Xaren’s reaction was perfectly reasonable, all things considered.

Judging by the stunned expressions on both the doctor and the other Mid-Rank demoness, the sword was clearly VALUABLE—the kind of weapon someone like him probably had no business even touching.

Did Floch know that? Of course!

Did he care about that? Of course not!

Ignoring their stunned expressions, Floch reached into his pocket once more, pulling out another broadsword which he tossed to Ilya this time.

She was caught off guard just like Xaren was but still managed to catch the sword without stumbling.

"I had one of those captive elves put wind runes on that one. You know what to do. Infuse your demonic energy."

Floch paused for a moment, then added, "Oh, and add some magic power too—wind attributed, so it calibrates the runes to your energy signature."

Just as Floch finished speaking, a hand reached out from behind him and grabbed him by the ear.

Naturally, it was the demoness who had come with him. From the badge on her shoulder, she was a Lieutenant Colonel, most likely Floch’s Aide. Despite that, she dragged him down to her eye level, screaming in his ear.

"Are you crazy!? Are those not Neuro-Machinae?! Where did you get them?! And more importantly, why did you give them to these kids??!!"