"What do you mean, 'no'?" Azoth demanded, furrowing his brows. "You came all this way just to defeat me in one-on-one combat! Now you tell me no?!"

The crestfallen Demon King crossed his arms, clicking his tongue. Surely this hero wouldn't have thwarted Azoth's world-conquering plans at every turn if the connection hadn't been mutual. Right?

"What is it? Am I not your type? Do you not swing this way? I can shapeshift, you know. I can be a woman. Or neither. Or both. Or...something else, I guess, if you're into that. But that might be kind of weird." He gasped. "Don't tell me you already have someone. Who is it?! I will turn their bones to sand, their blood to dust, their skin to ash, and scatter them to the winds! I swear it! Who is the fiend who has seduced you away from me?!"

Azoth couldn't believe this. He'd gone to the trouble of conquering the world—a very arduous task, mind you!—and being as tyrannical as possible to lure the hero into fighting him. He'd bought a ring and a suit and everything! He'd been summarily defeated! Now this hero refused to take him as a husband! Or wife! Or other! That made no sense. Every demon knew that besting someone in combat was an important part of courtship. One did not simply fight to the death without there being feelings involved.

Not only that, he was the Demon King! None were worthy of him but the legendary hero. And who could be more worthy of a legendary hero than a marvelous adversary such as Azoth?! No one, that was who. He was handsome! Powerful! He commanded millions of damned! He was an excellent baker, a masterful dancer, and an all-around spectacular catch.

Sure, maybe he had the habit of leaving his dirty clothes in a pile in the corner of his chambers, and maybe he snored sometimes, and maybe he had a few ex-lovers who wanted him dead, and maybe he'd been a tiny bit cruel to the hero's people, but really, what was a little murder and conquest and tyranny between soulmates?

"You chased me down and defeated me! That's practically a proposal," he huffed.