Lord of Entertainment C22 Demon King

Lake of Fire - Nirvana

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As the last notes of my song faded away, I was met with a wave of cheers and applause. The energy in the theatre was electric, a far cry from the hostile atmosphere at the beginning of the show. I couldn't help but smile as I leaned into the microphone.

"Who wants some more?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

The response was immediate and enthusiastic. "Me!" "Please go on with the dirty music, demon!" "I want to hear more!" The shouts came from all corners of the theatre, particularly from the younger members of the audience.

I grinned, basking in their enthusiasm. This was going even better than I'd hoped.

Suddenly, a young man in the crowd magically amplified his voice and called out, "I don't really understand anything, but please continue, Demon King!"

I paused, caught off guard by the unexpected title. Chuckling, I responded, "Demon King? Haha, that's a proud title to have. If the demon king in the land of Anatolia heard that, I'd be in trouble."

The audience laughed along with me. Seizing the moment, I added, "If the crown prince knew that a nobody demon suddenly gained the title before him, who knows what kind of expression he'd make?"

This drew even more laughter from the crowd. But then, to my surprise, they began to chant, "Demon King! Demon King! Demon King!"

I deliberately put on a troubled expression, which only seemed to amuse the audience more. They were eating it up, and I was more than happy to play along.

"Please perform more barbaric demonic songs!" someone shouted.

I nodded, "You got it, man." Then, remembering my collaborators, I added, "But before I perform..." I gestured to the band and the elves behind me. "Please give them a round of applause! Without them, the music wouldn't be nearly as good."

The crowd responded with enthusiastic applause, whistles, and cheers for my fellow performers. It was a moment of unity I hadn't expected but deeply appreciated.

As the cheers began to die down, I spoke again. "Okay, let's go on." I began to strum my electric guitar once more, the unfamiliar chords filling the theatre.

The band began to play, filling the theatre with a sound unlike anything the audience had heard before. The melody was haunting, with a raw, almost primal quality that seemed to resonate deep within everyone present.

The twang of the guitar strings and the steady, ominous beat created an atmosphere of anticipation and unease.

I took a deep breath and began to sing:

"Where do bad folks go when they die?" I started, my voice carrying a mix of melancholy and defiance. "They don't go to heaven where the angels fly, they go down to the lake of fire and fry."

The crowd was visibly moved by the performance, their eyes wide as they took in the vivid imagery of my words. Some began to sway to the rhythm, while others stood still, transfixed.

"Won't see 'em again till the fourth of July," I continued, the haunting melody supporting my vocals.

As the music played on, I could see the impact it was having on the audience.

The song's theme of judgment and consequences seemed to strike a chord with many, perhaps reflecting some of the complex feelings they had about demons and the afterlife.

"I knew a lady who came from Duluth,
She got bit by a dog with a rabid tooth,
She went to her grave just a little too soon,
Flew away howling on the yellow moon."

***

(Rocky POV)

I couldn't believe my eyes. Young Arthur had actually managed to captivate the audience, making them dance to his unconventional tune.

Initially, I had harbored severe doubts about Arthur's plan to disguise himself as a demon. While the audience seemed satisfied with the illusion, I knew that anyone sensitive to auras could easily see through the disguise. Even if that weren't an issue, I had been skeptical that a mere "demon" could truly entertain this crowd.

But as the show progressed, Arthur continually surprised me. He performed increasingly interesting and unconventional music - gritty, dirty, and unlike anything I'd heard before. At first, I wasn't sure whether to consider it "art" in the traditional sense, and I remained doubtful about its ability to win over the crowd.

To my astonishment, they loved it.

A smile crept across my face as I watched the audience's enthusiastic response. They were genuinely enjoying this new form of art, experiencing music from a fresh perspective. It was a revelation to see how this unconventional approach could resonate so deeply with people.

"Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly,
They go down to the lake of fire and fry,
Won't see 'em again till the fourth of July."

As I observed the diverse crowd - humans, elves, and dwarves all united in their appreciation of the music - I realized that something truly remarkable was happening here.

***

I continued to sing, my voice carrying the weight of the lyrics:

"The people cry and the people moan.
Look for a dry place to call their home.
Try to find some place to rest their bones.
While the angels and the devils try to make their own."

As the band played on, the audience's enthusiasm grew. When I repeated the chorus, something magical happened - the crowd joined in, their voices blending with mine:

"Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly,
They go down to the lake of fire and fry,
Won't see 'em again till the fourth of July."

The sound of hundreds of voices singing in unison was incredible, filling the theatre with an energy I'd never experienced before. As the song came to an end, the audience erupted into applause. The feeling was indescribable - a mix of elation, pride, and a sense of accomplishment.

***

(Priest Maxwell POV)

After two hours, the "demon concert" finally came to an end. It was remarkable how quickly the time had passed - the audience seemed to share this sentiment, many expressing wishes for the performance to continue.

I found myself surprised by how much I had enjoyed the unconventional music style. However, a glance at Deacon Ivan beside me revealed that he did not share my appreciation.

As the audience began to rise from their seats, preparing to leave, Ivan suddenly leapt up and rushed towards the stage. His actions caught everyone off guard, causing a ripple of shock through the crowd.

"What's he doing?"

"Is that man from the church?"

"I think he has some problem with that 'demon' out there."

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder as confusion spread.

I quickly used my magic to amplify my voice, calling out, "What are you doing, Deacon Ivan? Get back here!"

But Ivan shook his head, pointing accusingly at the performer. "No! This guy must be brought to the church for questioning!" he shouted, his voice filled with anger.

Before I could intervene, members of the audience began to speak up in defense of the performer. "Hey, church guy, leave the man alone. The church has nothing to do with him," one shouted.

Ivan, clearly frustrated, retorted, "Are you hearing yourself? Look, he looks like a demon!"

To my surprise, his argument was quickly countered by others in the crowd. A young voice rang out, "I am a top student of Arcana High School - and even I can tell that he is a human pretending to be a demon!"

Another joined in, "That's right. Even I, an ordinary man that didn't even get to university, knew that he is not a demon! The church has nothing to do with him!"

What followed was a cascade of revelations.

More and more people began to admit that they had known all along that the "demon" on stage was merely a human in disguise.

It became apparent that the majority of the audience - hundreds of people - had seen through the illusion but had chosen to embrace the performance anyway.

This turn of events left me astounded. The entire concert had been a shared experience in willing suspension of disbelief.

I watched Ivan's face contort with confusion and anger.