"That was damn incredible."
Arein is the worst of all dimensions.
There are many Heroes, and humans are strong. And they have endured invasions for countless ages.
Humans adapted, and the Demon King was no longer absolute.
Those who wished to become dark mages or dark knights disappeared, and the Demon King's standing shrank by the day.
But adaptation wasn't something that applied only to humans.
Time is fair. Amid endless deaths, the first to change was Jayson Cocmoond.
He survived over a hundred years in Arein and shared his wisdom. Through that, the survival rate of other Demon Kings rose as well.
But not all of them did.
A Demon King who listens well to others is no Demon King. Some repeated the same mistakes as before, and some adapted.
Lies, Cold, Diamond, and Beast—the four seats remained for decades, but the remaining one changed endlessly.
And so humans misunderstood.
They misunderstood because the ever-changing seat of Lust—where those who failed to adapt and died without time to grow stronger—made them think Demon Kings weren't a big deal.
The foolish belief that Heroes, that humans, were unconditionally stronger than Demon Kings.
When the Demon King is weak solely because of dimensional interference.
When he cannot summon his legion freely.
In recent ages, humans had never experienced the true violence of Demon Kings who had freed themselves from those restrictions over long periods.
Of course, that didn't mean the Demon King had absolute superiority.
If that were so, Demon Kings would've already conquered the world, and Berze would not have failed in the past.
Heroes were strong. And numerous. In some ways, they stood equal to the Demon King—just not everywhere at once.
Far off in the distance, Ralph came rushing urgently.
His shield was scratched, but still sturdy. He had the defense to endure part of Draxon's attacks. But he lacked the speed to chase a Demon King who intended to outrun him.
Rozel, who was bleeding, possessed a flame of magic that could even burn a Demon King. But she had no means to block his attacks.
At most once or twice—defensive magic specialized for offense-type magicians was meaningless before a Demon King.
Together, the two became more complete. But once the Demon King decided to shake them off, cracks formed.
Ralph had to chase after Draxon's tail, while Rozel desperately struggled just to survive his brutal assaults.
It was one-sided. And at this rate, the Demon King's victory was all but inevitable.
"But I can't stand watching that."
Hillen. When his name was called, he stepped forward.
Here, the only ones who could even slightly hold the Demon King in place were not two—but three.
Hillen's sword aimed for Draxon's back. The beast turned, clashing his claws against it.
CLAAANG—
Hillen stepped back two paces. In that fleeting moment, Ralph blocked the space between Rozel and Draxon.
"So, there you are—Hillen Cargill, the one who killed Turrus."
Draxon's gaze moved from Hillen to Berze behind him.
For a moment, he hesitated—but soon regained his calm and bared his fangs.
'Disgustingly foul mana. No way someone like that is Berze.'
It was pure mana—standing in perfect opposition to demonic energy—so his instincts felt revulsion.
He decided.
'Hillen Cargill dies first.'
Among the humans gathered here, the strongest three were Ralph, Rozel, and Hillen—but the weakest among them was Hillen Cargill.
The Demon King, having made up his mind, moved. He leapt at Hillen, who was still absorbing the shock.
BOOM!
Sword and claw collided. Hillen stepped back. A claw scraped past the sword and swung toward his forearm.
"Kh—!"
Hillen barely parried the claw. Enduring the throbbing pain in his wrist, he cast magic with his other hand.
Super-speed casting—lightning flickered instantly.
CRACKLE—
Thunder exploded. For the briefest moment, Draxon's movements halted.
Hillen dove into his guard and thrust his sword. The sharp aura pierced through hide.
"Tickles."
Despite the words, blood spilled. A massive hand gripped the blade. Swelling demonic energy shattered the aura.
THUD—
Hillen's body staggered.
At that instant, flames surged up—pure to the point of revulsion.
It resembled Berze. Draxon's face twisted.
"A mongrel who isn't even a Hero dares?"
Heroes could kill Demon Kings not only because they were strong, but because they possessed the special power of interference—the natural bane of demonkind.
Even the same magic, when reinforced with interference, became poison to demons.
A flame that was merely pure and hot was annoying—but not absolute.
But Berze had only intended to draw attention for a moment.
CLANK—
A massive shield rose toward the Demon King.
A shield armed with aura was, in itself, a monstrous blunt weapon.
CLAAAANG—
Claws carved the air. The aura coating the shield cracked. A faint groan escaped. But Ralph did not take a single step back.
And through that gap—
"A magician is stronger when using blood as a medium."
Heat pulsed violently.
"Thanks for giving me some of your own blood. You bastard."
The Archmage's flames roared.
Sharp enough to pierce the Demon King's demonic energy.
Hot enough to burn beast hide.
Draxon tried to evade it. He would have—if not for the iron wall blocking his retreat.
On one side was a wall. On the other, lightning sparked. His judgment was swift.
'The shield won't break easily. But lightning—I can just tank it.'
He stomped forward. The lightning dissipated upon failing to pierce his hide. He roared at Hillen Cargill, who stood in his path.
"Die!"
The Demon King's surging demonic energy detonated outward.
Hillen raised his sword in a panic.
CLAAAANG—
The tip shuddered. Shattered aura fragments scattered everywhere.
BOOM!
Ralph's shield slammed into Hillen's back. He swallowed the dizzying pain. A brief injury was worth removing a blade.
Draxon kicked. Hillen was struck in the chest, coughing blood, stumbling back two steps. But the cut he managed to carve into the Demon King's leg in that instant was commendable.
But that was all.
"A pity. For someone who killed Turrus, you're far too weak."
Haven't absorbed him properly yet, have you?
Even in urgency, mockery flowed naturally. How proud he must have been after killing a Demon King.
How lightly he must have regarded demonkind.
Draxon exploded all his demonic energy. The storm-like force pushed Ralph back. Hillen stumbled. Through that opening, Draxon's attack surged.
FWOOSH—
At that moment, an unexpected flame came flying in.
Fire clung to his tail—he swallowed a groan.
'When?'
Even if he'd been focused on the Heroes, he should have noticed that.
But only for a moment—no real problem. The flames split apart. He slipped through the gap.
"With this pathetic fire, you think you can—?"
That was when he noticed.
Gray. No—black.
Crimson flames were turning black.
A disgustingly familiar sensation.
Red hair turning black.
Ruby-red eyes turning obsidian.
Everything was changing.
Mana vanished. Thick, writhing demonic energy rose.
"...Ber…ze?"
The unknown man had become Berze Deias.
"Seeing me like this—does it make you happier?"
Berze smiled.
He hadn't acted out of coincidence.
Rozel Charnt was strong. Ralph Schmitz was solid.
But they were not like Rozel Charnt before regression. Nor like Ralph Schmitz, who once endured nearly all of Berze's unrestricted power.
So he was certain they would fail to corner Draxon. He hid his presence and waited.
For the perfect moment—when he could strike, when he could shake Draxon.
"When your demonic energy explodes and hides mine."
"When your massive body blocks their vision."
"When they're ready to strike at your opening."
Isn't right now perfect?
"You—!"
FWOOSH—
Black flame swallowed Draxon whole.
"How's your tail? I told Hillen about your weakness."
"YOOOUUUUUUU BAAASTAAARD!"
A black tide surged everywhere.
But Berze withdrew his demonic energy and let the tide consume him.
For a fraction of a second—his role was complete.
He had melted a portion of Draxon's demonic energy with black flame.
And he had drawn the Demon King's attention—just long enough to stop him from moving.
This creature—if only for a brief moment—was no different from a knight whose armor had been stripped away.
And the battle-worn Heroes did not miss that opening.
───!
Flames powerful enough to pierce a Demon King's defensive barrier erupted.
The heat-blaze that had been pointless because it could never land a direct hit finally began to show its true worth.
It burned demonic energy, burrowing into the weakened gap.
Draxon screamed. Through that opening, the steel knight swung his shield.
One heavy impact slowed Draxon's movements. The knight's skill sealed even the slightest trembling.
Flames burned Draxon. The shield struck Draxon.
Tough hide caught fire. Hard muscle was crushed. Agonizing pain flooded in.
Even so, Draxon did not care. The rage boiling to the top of his skull completely paralyzed his reason.
"Die!"
He charged toward Berze, who had been blown far away.
Rozel Charnt's crimson flame surged from behind him. From the front came Berze's heat-blaze.
He tore through the blaze with ease.
At that instant, Hillen Cargill's sword burst with light.
Draxon could not ignore the slash aimed at his throat.
Even if Hillen was inferior compared to the other two, he was still an exceptional Hero.
Sharp enough to pierce Draxon's neck.
Draxon twisted his upper body without changing his stance. The sword's tip narrowly grazed his shoulder.
And Rozel's flames swallowed over it.
With the heat came dimensional force digging inward, destroying his flesh.
In unbearable agony, he screamed.
"Hillen!"
You must be the one to kill him!
Berze swallowed the rest of the words.
That alone was enough. Hillen's magic exploded forward. His sword followed immediately after.
Draxon blankly watched the sword blade cutting toward his head.
He wanted to block it, but his melting body moved far too slowly.
STAB—
"Ah."
A short final gasp.
Cold steel pierced through his mouth and jammed his throat.
As the world flipped upside down, a shadow approached.
"Oh, right."
Berze whispered.
"That Phoenix corpse you were trying to claim—it was truly incredible."
"You…!"
Draxon's pupils shot wide open. The little demonic energy left in him surged violently.
But soon—
CRACK—
The cold blade sliced across his neck.
His unfocused head fell with a dull thud.
Uncontrolled demonic energy scattered in all directions—
And a portion of it flowed into Hillen Cargill, the one who finished the Demon King.
****
"Found it!"
Gordon jumped to his feet.
How could he make that swindler Jetoson walk into the Golden Moon on his own two feet?
It had been a long-standing problem, but he had finally found the answer.
In the end, the key was just one thing.
Destroy his support. In other words—destroy the shop.
If he had nowhere left to turn, desperation would force him to remember the 1 gold Berze had thrown at him.
"Obviously, that's the core."
Truthfully, the "destroy the shop" solution had been on the table from the start. The problem was how to ruin a shop in the royal capital of the AcanKingdom naturally, without revealing that he was a demon.
He had thought about it for a long time—and finally reached a conclusion.
"I was thinking about this the wrong way! It doesn't need to be natural!"
He just had to ruin it—by any means. He had overcomplicated it.
He had been trapped in the mindset of creating a grand, perfect plan.
"As long as they don't find out I'm a demon, it doesn't matter if it's unnatural!"
Right—whether the shop gets smashed, burned down, or hit by a natural disaster—
All that matters is turning Jetoson into a beggar.
"The cleanest way is theft. Or maybe an accidental fire. Or getting beaten half to death by some local gangsters and ending up with enormous hospital bills."
There were many methods. And he had many means.
Because Gordon still had access to the connections Berze created.
"It's annoying to talk to that damn elf, but…"
Mercenaries were indeed the best when it came to avoiding suspicion.
"To hide that I'm a demon, I just have to keep circling around the issue. Find some random human in a random city, coax him, send him to another kingdom…"
And in that kingdom, have that human bribe another human, who would then submit a request to a guild in yet another kingdom.
"Perfect."
A little tedious, but who cares? Granada would be doing the actual work anyway. If it was "a command from the Demon King," he'd grumble but obey.
Just then—
『Gordon.』
His communicator rang.
"Aman?"
It was Aman, the successor of the Golden Moon Merchant Group and a dark knight.
『Do you happen to know someone named Jetoson?』
"…Jetoson? Why him?"
『He came to the Golden Moon looking for work. Says he came down from the mountain. Did the Demon King send him?』
"..."
Gordon quietly tore up the plan he had just crafted.
…Fuck.
"Yes. Treat him well and keep him there. The Demon King has high expectations for that one."
『Understood.』
The communication cut off. Gordon let out a hollow laugh.
"…Is this punishment for talking back a bit earlier?"
Or why else would he set everything up perfectly, only to force me into this nonsense?
It felt too deliberate. Gordon gritted his teeth silently.
『Gordon.』
Another communicator rang.
This time, it was Krutu, chieftain of the Red Frost Tribe.
"What now?"
『What do you mean, "now"?』
"No… never mind. What is it?"
『I hesitated on whether to report this, but… recently, a human has been climbing Mount Ergest.』
"…Just one? Why bother?"
『It is only one, but not someone I can ignore.』
It was neither "just" nor "only." Moving freely through Ergest meant they were extremely strong.
『Many of my warriors have died. But even I cannot defeat him, so I ordered my people to keep their distance and simply observe.』
"Well done. Do you have any idea what his purpose is?"
『He appears in different areas of the mountain range each day, then disappears. And this may sound like needless worry, but…』
Krutu hesitated, then continued.
『He is getting closer to the Demon King's tower. I fear he may be searching for it.』
"…!"
Warning bells exploded inside Gordon's mind.
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