Dwarf Princess
"Now, think about it. The Heroes swagger in, opening the door confidently, expecting some weak monster. But what if, instead of monsters and a maze, something else was waiting?"
"If it's just Dwarves, they'll become a laughingstock. Is mockery what you seek rather than demonic energy?"
"If you utter the word 'mockery' in front of me again, Gordon—even you might lose your head."
"..."
Gordon shut his mouth at the murderous intent that exploded for an instant.
"I'll explain again. I didn't mean the Dwarves themselves. I meant the tools they create. Imagine: a massive ballista firing bolts, logs and mechanisms whirling to life, and between them a gigantic cannon stuffed with explosives spitting fire?"
"Uh…"
That was… something.
"Not 'something.' It would be decisively effective."
The Demon King's patterns had already been studied and dismantled by Arein's Heroes.
In turn, a 'Hero's standard tactics' existed as well, and using Dwarves was a brilliant way to exploit a blind spot.
"Heroes have a deep-rooted preconception."
On the first floor are weak monsters; higher up come stronger monsters and demons.
"To them, that's a truth."
Because Demon Kings had treated that pattern as sacred and unchanging. It was no different from centuries of indoctrination.
"But what if, instead of that, the Dwarves' masterpieces all poured out at once like a bombardment? And what if they didn't even run on mana?"
"It's certainly…"
It was possible.
If it were demons, they could deny the idea. But humans were different.
Even Heroes strong enough to confront a Demon King were still human. If their stomachs were pierced and their organs ruptured, they died.
A minor wound to a demon became a severe injury to a human.
If the attack came at a completely unexpected moment, in a completely unexpected form, the entire party could be annihilated—or at the very least critically wounded.
"Then I'll take that as your agreement."
Gordon, who had been dazedly imagining the scene, shook his head in a panic.
"No matter what, that goes against the established—"
But the Demon King was already gone.
The dimension called Arein was unquestionably a human one.
Countless races lived there, but more than 70% of the land had fallen into human hands, over 20% remained undeveloped, and less than 10% belonged to the other races.
And even that tiny portion was divided and fought over by the various nonhuman races.
Thus, to find them, one had to go quite deep into the wilds. Humans had already taken all the good places.
Among them, the Dwarves—known for their superior metallurgy—were famous for establishing underground nests in mountainous regions rich with ore veins.
Berze stood before the entrance to their underground city with his face hidden beneath a thick hood. Crossbow tips were aimed at him.
"Halt. Who are you and where do you come from?"
"A mercenary from the Pullan side."
He presented the mercenary token he had taken from the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps.
"Human?"
"Yes."
"Your business?"
He held out a chipped, worn-out sword he had picked up on the way.
"You use cheap junk."
"Don't cause trouble."
Clack—
As he stepped inside, a massive platform dropped vertically. A faint mana aura guided Berze downward.
'A first.'
Before regression, he had killed countless Dwarves, but he had never actually visited one of their cities himself.
'Whenever a Hero had a fine weapon, it was always the work of those dwarf bastards.'
So he had wiped out more than a few of their cities by sending monsters.
The enormous wealth and spoils were a bonus, but at that time he hadn't understood the importance of money. He sought only strength, demonic energy, and the standard strategies.
'I was a fool.'
With that wealth alone, he could've bought an entire kingdom.
The door opened. A long avenue stretched ahead.
Buildings lined the road in strict order.
It was a planned city, unlike the messy human ones—rigid yet delicate.
Bang, bang, bang—
A gentle geothermal warmth brushed against him.
Hammering rang faintly; black smoke curled upward toward the ceiling.
Short, stubby Dwarves bustled to and fro.
Berze first entered a nearby inn.
"A human…?"
The short innkeeper eyed him warily and charged a shameless five silver coins for a single night.
"Five silver for one night?"
"Take it or leave it. But no innkeeper will house a human for less."
"We signed the peace pact ages ago."
"A pact doesn't erase the past."
Well, not Berze's concern.
"I'll give you one more silver if you tell me who the best craftsman in this city is."
"Come to upgrade a Hero's gear?"
"Heroes aren't the only ones who repair equipment."
"Two silver."
"Copper?"
"Of course silver."
"They say Dwarves are as greedy as Heroes."
"Because humans are greedy."
Berze set down seven silver coins.
"Logar Freedly. Go east from the central plaza and walk about a kilometer; it'll be on your right. But it won't matter—you won't get what you want. Too many reservations. He has no time for some random mercenary's request."
"And you sold me this information gladly?"
"The question was only to tell you the best craftsman."
The Dwarf shrugged and handed over a key.
"Third floor, room 303."
"If I go now, will he actually be there?"
"He rarely leaves his workshop, so probably. Whether you can meet him is another matter."
"My thanks."
He went up to the third floor. The room was shabby—just a small table and a worn bed.
But that didn't matter. He opened the window and slipped outside.
He pulled the robe tighter around his face and headed for the workshop.
Five massive chimneys belched thick black smoke. Contrary to the innkeeper's words, there was no long line.
Instead, there were armed guards. Dozens of them. Whether hired by the craftsman himself or assigned by rulers who valued him, Berze didn't know.
But one thing was certain:
Skill.
At least the innkeeper hadn't lied about that.
'Well, Dwarves are known for being worth every coin.'
Unlike greedy humans who demanded much but delivered little.
Berze slipped past the Dwarves' gazes and infiltrated the workshop.
Kang, kang, kang, kang—
The hammering that wasn't loud outside now shook the entire building like thunder. The heat was incomparable to earlier.
Below, shirtless Dwarves drenched in sweat hammered away. Dozens of artisans working in unison over a molten forge—it was quite a sight.
'Which one of them is…'
Logar?
He wanted to kidnap them all, truthfully. But that would certainly blow his cover.
'A dagger already seen is no dagger at all.'
If people began wondering why the Demon King was kidnapping Dwarves, their fixed ideas about the Demon King would crumble. So he absolutely couldn't allow his identity to be exposed while stealing Dwarves.
Thus, he needed the single best one.
At that moment—
Wuuung—
A faint vibration muddled his senses.
He had failed to notice a detection spell—an intruder alarm.
"An intruder!"
"It's Logar's workshop!"
The soldiers were in an uproar.
The siren blared; the hammering of the artisans stopped.
But that—
Kang, kang—
—actually helped him.
Ahead, beyond a door in the corridor, a single hammer continued ringing. Soldiers' shouts—"Logar's room!"—echoed in Berze's ears.
"..."
He quietly opened the door. A wave of scorching heat washed over him.
A Dwarf was hammering, the muscles of his back writhing beneath the skin.
The red-hot metal spat brilliant sparks. Powerful mana seeped into it. The sequence of movements was as beautiful as it was intense.
But then—
"..."
"..."
The Dwarf turned toward him and stared directly at Berze.
Their eyes met.
"…Demon?"
"...A Hero?"
A storm of instinctive hostility roared between them.
The Dwarf flared the furnace flames. A violent blaze surged toward Berze. Through the flames, a heavy hammer came crashing down.
But the hammer couldn't pierce his body. The furnace's heat felt almost like an old friend.
Crunch—
A rough hand wrapped around the Dwarf's throat.
"For a Hero, you're awfully weak."
Weaker than any Hero he had ever faced.
Berze's lips twisted into a sinister smile.
A Hero is a guardian.
A demon is an invader.
A Hero chosen by the dimension instinctively senses invaders.
And invaders instinctively recognize their natural predator.
No complicated reasoning was needed.
At the slightest opening, both sides realize: the other is the enemy.
That was why Berze had bothered putting Granada forward as his public face. No matter how well he hid his appearance, if he personally stepped out and even slightly revealed his strength before a Hero, his identity would be exposed.
In this world, you never knew when or where you might run into a Hero.
"Ghhh…!"
The Dwarf's face turned deathly pale.
"Weaker than any Hero I've fought."
A Hero, by definition, bore the dimension's power. They carried the will of the world itself to protect it—so they could not help but become strong.
If the Hero was newly chosen, they might be weak. But the Dwarf called Logar was not such a case.
His reputation was praised as the greatest in the entire city. That kind of fame wasn't built in a day or two.
How could someone like that be this weak?
"W-why is a demon here?"
"Who knows."
He had originally come to kidnap him.
"Well, this is troublesome."
He had assumed he was just a craftsman, not a Hero.
'Should I just reveal myself as the Demon King and kill him?'
Logar's combat strength was pathetic, but his reputation filled an entire underground city. And knowing Dwarves, news would spread to other cities quickly.
It wouldn't be like killing a human Hero, but the effect could still be significant.
Or… would it?
A Hero's death was meaningful because Heroes were their hope. But would a Hero this feeble truly be considered hope?
"The door is open!"
"He's targeting Lord Logar!"
The soldiers' shouts approached rapidly.
Logar wracked his brain.
'Why would a demon be here?'
The Tower was the demons' domain. And the farther they were from it, the weaker they became due to interference from the world's dimensional laws.
Demons despised weakness and would never willingly expose themselves in a weakened state. That was why only monsters ever came to meet Heroes.
There was only one reason a demon—or Demon King—would come in person.
To kidnap a prince or a princess.
'No way…!'
A bolt of realization struck Logar.
'The Princess…?!'
The kingdom's princess had recently arrived here, in the underground city of Wolfner, and was still staying. She had commissioned Logar's weapon, and would leave as soon as it was completed.
If the demons knew this and came here because of it—
Logar clenched his fists.
He hated fighting, but he was still a Hero. He could not simply watch the princess be kidnapped.
"You fiend! You'll never lay a hand on the Princess!"
"Oh? So the princess was here?"
"Don't play dumb!"
"Don't worry. I'm going to kidnap you."
"...What?"
Thud—
Logar's vision went black.
"Lord Logar!"
When the soldiers finally burst in, all they found was an empty workshop—and the princess's half-melted weapon sagging in the roaring heat.
"Mmgh…"
Logar opened his eyes. A shabby ceiling came into view. He was tied up, unable to move or speak.
"You're awake?"
A deep voice, thick with demonic energy.
"We're at a small inn on the city's outskirts. I want to get out of the city now, but things have gotten bigger than I expected. Security is tight. I can force my way out, of course, but I'd rather not reveal my identity."
Logar rolled his eyes. He saw the demon above him, legs crossed, staring down at him lazily.
"So I'll ask. You know any secret tunnels? I'm aware Dwarf cities have several. As a Hero, you should know at least one or two."
The demon whispered:
"I'll free your mouth. You can scream if you want—though it won't matter. I'll let you keep screaming until your vocal cords tear."
Snap—
A light flick of the fingers, and Logar's stiffened tongue regained movement.
"…And you think I'll tell you? Like you said, I'm a Hero. You think a Hero would help a demon like you?"
"I'm offering you a choice. Help me leave quietly. Or watch the princess be kidnapped while you rot in the afterlife."
"...!"
So his target was the Princess!
Logar clenched his teeth.
"The kingdom's knights guard the Princess with an iron wall. You think one demon like you could kidnap her?"
"Correction. I am not 'a demon.' I am the Demon King. So yes—your little knights won't matter."
"...D-Demon… King?"
Not just a demon?
Glup.
"Oh, and I thought of something more entertaining than killing you. If I let you go, then kidnap the princess… what do you think the Dwarves will assume?"
"What twisted scheme are you—?!"
"A Hero was captured by demons and survived. Then the princess disappears. Isn't it obvious? 'The Hero sold the princess to save his own life.' Truly despicable."
Humans called this "social death," he'd heard.
The Demon King snapped his fingers, muttering with the tongue of a cunning serpent. Logar's face turned pale.
Living after that shame would be worse than death. The aftermath was unthinkable.
"You villain…!"
"Thank you for the compliment. Now, I'll offer one last chance. What will you do?"
"…I'll guide you."
And so the Demon King and the Hero ascended to the surface through a tunnel the Hero had secretly dug.
Meanwhile—
"...…"
The princess of the Dwarf Kingdom stared blankly at the half-melted lump of metal.
Something that could no longer be called a weapon or armor.
"…So this is supposed to be my weapon?"
"…It was your weapon."
"Shut it. Before I kill you."
At her growl, the knight clenched his mouth shut.
"Explain it in a way that makes sense. Why is it like this?"
"Lord Logar has vanished. There was great commotion right before he disappeared. We have testimony from the guards. So we have assumed he was kidnapped, sealed all entrances, and begun a full search."
"Son of a—!"
CRASH—
The princess slammed her fist down. It smashed through the table and shattered part of the floor beneath. Knights staggered; screams rose from below.
"That bastard was supposed to be a Hero, wasn't he?"
"He is a Hero, but he devoted himself entirely to smithing, so his combat ability is somewhat…"
"Find him right now! Bring that damned kidnapper to me alive!"
"We will capture him without fail!"
"If not, that'll be your head instead."
Screee—
The iron cup warped beyond recognition under her grip.
The knights turned deathly pale.