The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

The light dimmed around the small meadow, ushered away by a succubus’s magic.

Within a flaming portal hovering before me, nothing could be seen but a black swamp.

It oozed and boiled like the surface of a hag’s cauldron. And yet it wasn’t smoke which rose from that unknown abyss. It was something darker. Something fouler. Shadows in the shape of clawed fingers, reaching out to suffocate the very sunlight, urged on by a chorus of ominous whispers. 

In short … a highly promising piece of furniture I could put into the guest quarters!

Enquiries would need to be made. 

To learn that succubuses could craft such things wasn’t what I expected, but I was nothing if not a paragon of efficiency. 

Why, not only could infernal portals replace the cost of maintaining our guest hearths, but the threat of a winged monstrosity stepping through at any moment would significantly reduce the amount of treason they discussed in the night!

There was just one problem.

I wasn’t certain if these portals came with a lock.

The black sheen offered little resistance as it was disturbed by an armoured boot smothered with fiery runes. It gingerly tapped at my grass in order to decide whether or not it was worth despoiling. 

The answer was obvious. And so came my next uninvited guest for the day.

A slender figure encased in lamellar armour. 

Sanguine and gold was the theme. A pair of bold colours utterly surpassed by the fact that much of everything was on fire. 

It boasted a beaked helmet topped with a plume of burning feathers. Pauldrons in the shape of brilliant wings. Gauntlets smothered with gemstone rings. And a cuirass inscribed with the image of a phoenix so true to form that the scales flaked away as dying embers.

Naturally, I was horrified.

Why … it was moulting!

Like a common pigeon! Except it wasn’t feathers which littered my kingdom! It was ashes! … All of which needed to be tidied away before a passing horse ingested it!

“The Ashen Duke,” said the succubus, idly poking at a daisy. “Master of the Smouldering Cycle, Ruler Of Mzerydon, and Heir to the Seventh Plane of the Unyielding Flame.”

The armoured figure offered a nod. 

The portal closed behind him, and yet the meadow only dimmed further, cowed by the flaming armour which shone brighter than whatever hellish forge had crafted it.

Thus, I acknowledged the new arrival with a polite smile … just before turning to the succubus with an appropriate look of overwhelming exasperation.

“Excuse me?! … Did you just summon a demon duke in my kingdom?!”

“This isn’t a summon,” came the reply, the tone defensive. “Merely an invitation. The Ashen Duke is a long-time admirer of mine. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. He won the grand prize lottery for a handshake meeting with me.”

I didn’t bother hiding my groan.

Succubuses.

They were like baronesses if given actual power. They claimed they only wanted less taxes and maybe a pony from the royal stables. But this is exactly what would happen instead. 

A titled demon being summoned just to harass me.

“Well, can you not have this meeting elsewhere?! … This is highly inappropriate! I’ve quite enough regular nobility inconveniencing me! I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to dismiss nobility from the depths as well!”

“My apologies. But I cannot match the sword of a princess who can bring down a wyvern. In fact, I’m worse at anything involving physicality than I am at dancing. That’s quite the claim. To call upon helpers is the best I can do.”

“Your helper is a duke from the abyss?”

The succubus shrugged.

“I’m popular,” she said simply. “But rest assured–the Ashen Duke’s stay is temporary. He’s bound to one task and one task alone. And that’s to prevent your passage.”

“Uwaah~” 

Coppelia nodded as she took in the adversary she’d shortly be helping me with … despite the fact that she was now several steps behind me. 

“That armour isn’t just enchanted,” she said with an enthusiastic smile. “It’s got a living flame inside it! He’s the real deal. This is definitely the guy you fight after beating up all the other guys before him.” 

I pointed needlessly at the flaming figure. 

“You see? My loyal handmaiden who will blink twice if she’s tactically separating herself from me speaks truly! This is hardly a common goon! Can you not obstruct me with a flaming fruit slime?”

“I don’t have access to any flaming fruit slimes.” 

“Well, I suggest you begin looking! Because doorstops summon checklists, not dukes! … This is clearly a discrepancy. I demand you call upon something more appropriate.”

The succubus raised an eyebrow.

“The Ashen Duke is chivalrous. An exceptionally rare trait where he comes from. Moreover, he’s quite enamoured with me. I promise he’ll offer you the least painful defeat you could reasonably ask for, and in the process, save you from meeting the certain doom which awaits beyond this point.” 

The duke in question stood still and tall, the flames from his armour enthusiastically lashing out to rescue me in the way scorching heat famously did.

The only thing I wanted from him was a visitor’s permit. 

Fortunately, I was more than happy to introduce every wayward demon, fae and adventurer to a border inspector–after I was done with whatever debacle awaited within a village of troublemakers.

“Doom wears a receptionist’s uniform,” I said pointedly. “Anything else is unworthy of my consideration. I shall therefore make a suggestion. You close your eyes as I walk by. And then I go offer the boot of authority to whatever gnat seeks to hold you against your will.”

I waited for the nod of agreement.

Instead, the succubus only offered a smile of regret. 

“An almost tempting offer. But one I cannot take.”

“Why not? Would unholy retribution smite you?”

“Almost certainly. My eyes might close. But not those of the audience. I must therefore play the part expected of me. But although you may not appreciate this, know that I do you a severe favour in ensuring you do not pass. There are worse things than demons in this world.”

All of a sudden, the waiting duke stirred.

He spoke no words. But none were needed. Despite the flames which wreathed his armour, a cold intelligence gleaned from his eyes as he spied the sword by my side.

A moment later–

The plume upon his helmet moved.

Like a snake coming to life, it slithered into a waiting gauntlet, twisting and narrowing, before its flames took the shape of a slender sword much like my own. 

And there the duke stood, his newly wrought sword held upright in the stance of a waiting duellist.

I recognised it at once.

A traditional fencing salute … and so I offered the appropriate response.

A jab of my finger.

“No,” I warned the silent, but clearly eager duke. “Perhaps chivalry has a different definition outside of this kingdom, but here, princesses do not duel with nobility.”

“A wise thing,” said the succubus with a nod. “... Unfortunately, you’re correct that chivalry has a slightly different meaning in the depths.”

It was the only warning I received.

My unwanted opponent lunged forwards. 

A rare duke who wasn’t wielding a sloshing glass of wine, but a sword flashing with ravenous flames.

Even so … he still managed to murder decorum just as much as any stain upon a dress did.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I was filled with grief.

The nearby sign was wrong. 

This wasn’t where a witchly village was. It was the grave where standards had gone to be buried.

… Why, it was one thing to be challenged like a squire woken from a hedge, but for that challenge to be issued by foreign nobility was so beyond all expectations that my etiquette tutor’s magical phantom was once again exploding!

The rules were clear! 

If any nobility wished to stab me, then it was to be done via a knife to the back, an assassin hiding in a cake or a maid whose sleeves were obviously weighed down by a blade!

This … This was outrageous!

My family had no shortage of enemies both near and afar! Envy was a force greater than any ambition! But for any duke to personally brandish a sword at me was unthinkable! Without that thin veneer of plausible deniability, there’d be neither royalty nor nobility left–only bloodied carpets!

No … I refused to accept this!

I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would never meet my end through anything as shameful as an earnest challenge! 

If nobility wished to thoroughly murder me, then it needed to be done with the cowardice they were known for! Anything else was a precedent which threatened the very fabric of civilised society!

That’s why–

“Absolutely not!”

All at once, the light which had dimmed throughout the meadow returned as Starlight Grace shone as it left my side.

It was enough to demand the flaming duke’s caution. 

He checked himself with a swordsman’s intuition, deliberately slowing as he eyed the newly drawn weapon.

Then, he filled the distance between us with a measured thrust. 

A testing jab the likes of which my knights in the courtyard did to ease into their duels, for although his aim was true, the blade itself came more slowly than a ruler aimed towards my head.

Pwiing!

I duly obliged, whacking the sword aside with the disregard it deserved–for no matter how brightly it burned, it paled in comparison to a princess’s indignation.

The duke from the abyss paused, the eyes behind his phoenix helmet widening as he took half a step back. His entire posture suddenly changed as he adjusted his balance, his profile narrowing and sword stretching out.

For a moment, all he did was silently regard me.

Then ... with the confidence of one who’d never fought a princess with exactly half a lesson in fencing before, he tossed his sword in the air.

It flashed like a fiery baton, twisting as a swirling ribbon of embers before it dropped into a waiting gauntlet behind the duke’s back. He wasn’t even looking. His gaze was still upon me even as he flicked his sword over his shoulder and into his original hand. 

That was simply the beginning.

A twirl. A spin. A whirl. 

From one hand to the other, he juggled his flaming sword less like a fencer and more a circus acrobat. 

As the blade constantly twisted and turned, so too did his limbs. He pirouetted in a manner which my ballet tutor would offer the compliment of silence towards, before performing what was either a highly unique dance or an undiscovered form of communication. 

It was … well, somewhat impressive.

He didn’t say anything, but he certainly didn’t lack for emotion.

Indeed, as the supposed demonic entity eventually came to a stop, it was with all his finesse and talent having been proudly displayed for my judgement. His sword lowered in expectation of an answer.

I thought for a moment.

“6/10,” I declared with a nod of acknowledgement … just before raising Starlight Grace. “[Spring Breeze].”

Poomph.

A pair of eyes flashed with indignation before the flaming duke was promptly invited elsewhere. 

An invitation he failed to accept.

Because rather than crashing backwards into a rolling heap of infernal armour and sprained limbs, he instead braced himself. His heels dug into the soil, drawing a pair of trenches as he slid backwards.

He straightened his posture.

However, instead of simply returning to air his grievance over my fair and entirely partial scoring, he decided to show off just a little bit more. 

Fwoooooooosh.

All of a sudden, a pair of fiery wings erupted from his back.

Each and every feather was practically melting, the embers dribbling down like infernal snow. 

And then–he rose.

Needing to beat his wings only a handful of times, he reached just high enough that nothing tossed could reach him. Or indeed, stop the sword in his grip from extending into a lance. He held his newly shaped weapon like a javelin above him as all notions of a fair duel were seemingly dismissed.

But that was fine.

After all–I never intended this to be fair.

“[Moonlit Flutter]!”

And neither did Coppelia.

Immediately twisting around, it was all the flaming duke could do to turn his lance to meet the coming scythe and the excited smile. 

He failed to block either. 

Gleaming amidst its own fog of shadow, the scythe swept cleanly through the infernal weapon, then sliced through both a pauldron and a wing. A silent cry was all that was heard as the duke plummeted back down to the ground.

But not without a say in the matter.

Even with a single wing, he angled himself and exactly half a lance towards me. 

Uncaring for his own constitution, he flapped his remaining wing, his weapon once again extending as he dived like a flaming arrow–

Booooomph!

–directly into a newly made crater as I promptly flattened myself in the grass.

The scent of something charred mixed with the fragrance of spring. 

Specifically … a daisy idly tossed upon my head.

“It is folly,” said the succubus, as she readied another daisy to drop upon me. “The Ashen Duke doesn’t wear the sigil of a phoenix for vanity’s sake. You cannot defeat him. Certainly not while he’s still yet to receive a handshake from me.”

“You cannot be serious,” I said, mildly appalled as I brushed bits of grass away from my knees. “Why, that sort of undying devotion is reserved exclusively for princesses!”

The succubus gently laughed.

“A princess among my kind is a rare thing … but to boast a loyal admirer when there’s so much competition is a rarer one. The grand prize lottery wasn’t awarded randomly.”

As I rose from the grass, the truth of her statement was clear.

Amidst the tangled mess of limbs and armour leaking with fine streaks of flames, an elbow twisted together, followed by an ankle and then a knee in much the same manner that I expected of my knights.

In just a handful of moments, the duke from the abyss and a succubus’s #1 admirer rose with scarcely a scratch to show for it. Any dirt which threatened him simply burned away, joining what naturally moulted away from his armour.

The same could be said for any acrimony he held.

If there was a hint of begrudgement over his tumble, he didn’t show it.

Instead, his eyes were alight with a warrior’s pride as the lance in his grip divided into two swords. One for me. One for Coppelia as she hopped down beside me. 

He raised both blades in challenge towards us … just before twirling them … crossing them … and also flipping them, lightly tossing them into the air like salad in a mixing bowl.  

“Ooh, ooh!” Coppelia raised her arm as her scythe rested against her shoulder. “Do you take requests? Can you try juggling?”

The flaming duke paused.

His eyes glowed with clear indignation at the very suggestion.

After all … as he proceeded to easily toss his two swords between either hand, it was clear that such an easy feat was beneath him. 

“More, more! How many can you do? 4? 5? … 6?”

A hint of a snort sounded from the previously silent helmet.

A moment later, all that could be heard was the sound of Coppelia’s wild clapping as the duke sent a grand total of 23 swords high into the air, forming an unbroken ring of flames.

Naturally, I wasn’t so easily taken.

The fact that I was also applauding? Irrelevant. This was more than an impressive circus display. It was a show of both confidence and prowess. 

Indeed, if this juggling demon duke saw fit to entertain his adversaries, then he was doubtless confident in surviving as many falls as could be arranged.

Clearly a problem.

To refuse to be defeated was an even greater breach of protocol than this already was. 

Nothing was worse than insisting upon a princess’s time. Except perhaps the lackadaisicalness in trying to murder me in return. 

After all, if he wasn’t going to fall over, then he at least needed to make good on his own challenge towards me. 

That was the least of expectations. For when it came to the subtleties of murder, demons were hardly known for their sense of restraint. 

So much so, in fact … that it was plain this was more show than substance. 

“Hehehehehehehehe~”

Why, there was even another guest.

From somewhere both near and afar, a girlish giggle decided to fill the air, the unashamed amusement tinkling alongside the sound of applause. 

I was delighted, of course.

For someone unwanted to hurl mockery at their own introduction was highly convenient.

It meant I could save mine for what came later.