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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Hero
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"Damn it, you son of a...!"
He vented his frustrations nonstop from his mouth. But the elf's hands busily prepared the ingredients.
Washing them in water, slicing the vegetables, mincing the meat.
Then, suddenly, he stopped chopping.
"Haa..."
A sigh escaped him naturally.
It wasn't just the cooking—it was the sheer desolation of having no proper facilities, forced to build a fire on the empty third floor of the tower.
'How the hell did I end up like this...'
The Demon King had sworn on the Standard of the Demon King. So he'd believed. And the Demon King hadn't betrayed that faith.
At least everything he'd said was true. He'd just omitted the more crucial parts.
"You bastard."
Do you know who I am? Even the Elven folk wouldn't treat me like this.
What pissed him off even more was the lingering thought that this was still better than five years of slavery.
'They say you escape one goblin den only to fall into an ogre's lair.'
Granada shook his head vigorously and refocused on the cooking.
He heated the iron pan, coated it with oil, added the minced meat, and once the fat rendered, tossed in the vegetables and spices.
A fragrant aroma wafted subtly throughout the entire tower.
"Wow."
At that moment, someone descended the stairs from the upper floor.
"It smells so good!"
'A human?'
She appeared to be a pretty human girl around twenty years old. He wondered briefly why a human was in the Demon King's tower, then dismissed it.
'Probably ended up in the same boat as me.'
Tricked by the Demon King and turned into a tower slave, no doubt.
"What are you cooking?"
She approached him.
"Just a simple stir-fried meat dish."
"It smells amazing."
"Of course it does. Who do you think made it?"
Granada snorted and shrugged his shoulders.
"But I haven't seen you around before. How'd you get here?"
"Similar to you."
"So you were kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped? Not made a slave?"
Their eyes met.
'...She looks familiar?'
Her snow-white skin, platinum blonde hair, and amethyst eyes that glimmered faintly—they stuck in his memory.
'Where? Where have I seen her?'
At that instant, something peeked out from behind the woman. A pure aggregate of mana—a spirit.
Platinum blonde hair, purple eyes. And a spirit.
The pieces clicked together like a puzzle.
"...The Crown Princess of Hildean?"
"You know me?"
"...This is insane!"
"Quiet down."
The Demon King descended right on cue. Granada shot to his feet and charged over.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Seems to me you're the one who's lost it."
"Kidnapping the Crown Princess of Hildean! What the hell is this?!"
"Oh, that."
"'That'? Hildean must be in an uproar by now! With nothing here, how do you plan to fend off the heroes?"
"I'll handle it. Just finish cooking."
"How can you be so nonchalant..."
"That's an order."
"..."
Granada's face fell as he returned to stir-frying the meat.
Then, he caught something odd he'd overlooked in his fixation.
'...But why'd the Crown Princess come down from the fourth floor—supposedly a prison—instead of being locked up?'
Why was she casually sitting there with a fork alongside the Demon King?
"Why?"
Their eyes met, and the Crown Princess smiled brightly. No matter how he looked at it, she didn't seem kidnapped.
He shot the Demon King a pleading glance full of questions.
"Doesn't matter. Escaping the tower's impossible anyway."
"That's not the issue here."
"She cooperated, so I let her loose appropriately."
"'Let her loose' like this..."
The real problem lay with the Crown Princess, not the Demon King.
No matter how accustomed one got to the Demon King, or how kidnappings often ended in ransom or hero rescues, this was a Demon King and a princess.
Kidnapper and victim.
That casual ease, like she owned the place, wasn't something just anyone could pull off.
Moments later, the food was ready, and Dark Elf Gordon joined them.
"It was delicious."
The Crown Princess rubbed her full belly, scraping her plate clean. Her innocent cheer made Granada wonder if this was really the Demon King's tower or perhaps Hildean's royal palace.
"Now, down to business."
At the Demon King's nod, Gordon dragged the Crown Princess upstairs.
"As you heard, that woman's the Crown Princess of Hildean. How do you think Hildean will react?"
"Obviously, total chaos."
Granada recalled a rumor from before his enslavement.
The First Princess of Hildean's talent was extraordinary—even at a young age, she'd successfully contracted a spirit, leaving the entire kingdom in awe.
With such a Crown Princess kidnapped, they'd be foaming at the mouth in rage.
"They're probably commissioning the Heroes' Guild right now, assembling a massive hero party. Erjest Mountains will block the riffraff as a natural fortress, but Hildean's resolve won't stop there."
Obvious enough.
"You're not seriously telling me to commit suicide against heroes alone, right?"
Granada grumbled curtly.
"Never planned to. Any hero who reaches the tower has already lost."
"Then?"
"I'll send you back to Hortonwalk."
Granada nodded at the explanation that followed.
"So you're having me stir up the human world in your stead."
"In summary."
"Join a group, gain power, buy info to track heroes' movements, interfere where possible to make them fail or delay them as much as I can?"
"Exactly. But first..."
The Demon King rose.
"I need to check your skills."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The third floor.
Facing the Demon King on the empty stage of a floor devoid of anything—or anyone.
Berge had brought Granada to the tower for two reasons.
One: to prove he was the Demon King and earn trust.
The other: to accurately gauge his abilities.
The cooking had just been a cheeky test—cooking wasn't the main goal.
"Long slave life, but your body's held up surprisingly well."
"It's not some body meant for cooking, at least."
"Tasted good. You've got talent."
"..."
Granada tried steering the conversation.
"But this fight's unwinnable for me from the start, isn't it?"
Even if it was a surprise before, he'd already been schooled once. The gap in their levels was clear.
"I won't use one hand. That fair?"
"Still not enough."
"Let's make a bet. Win, and I won't force formal speech. Treat you well as a subordinate, not a slave."
"...No more cooking orders?"
"If you want."
"I'll do my best to blow your head off... I mean!"
The elf and Demon King clashed.
Moments later.
"...I heard freshly summoned Demon Kings are especially vulnerable to interference."
"Think demons don't know what you elves do?"
Why else create the Demon King Academy, selecting only the elite? To ensure even in the worst scenarios—weakened by interference—they retained minimal combat power and wouldn't crumble easily.
That's what made them the vanguard of the demon world: Demon Kings.
"Got the gist."
The Demon King casually helped the fallen Granada to his feet.
"Let's head down."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"An honor to see you again!"
Bark lit up at the sight of the two familiar faces seeking him out.
He didn't know their names, but they were the tycoon who spent money like water and the elf slave he'd bought.
'Was his face always that messed up?'
It felt fuzzy for some reason, but he chalked it up to the booze.
"I want to buy your time."
The rich tycoon spoke bluntly.
"Your entire mercenary group. A year upfront sounds good."
"Uh... what exactly would you have us do for that full year?"
"Keep doing what you do—monster subjugation quests you can handle. I promise no jobs beyond your group's capacity."
Bark pondered. The payout would be massive given the man's spending, but nothing in the world was free. Who could guarantee those confident jobs weren't dangerous?
"Can't decide alone."
Bark was captain of Red Hawk, but it was a fairly egalitarian group.
"Discuss it. I'll match your price."
The twenty Red Hawk mercenaries went into conference.
"Too suspicious."
"But the money's real. Turning down big coin ain't mercenary work."
"What if it's something crazy?"
"He said no overreach? Put it in the contract—reject if it's too much."
"You trust that?"
Then, the tycoon plunked a heavy pouch on the table. Gold and silver coins spilled out, leaving the mercenaries agape.
They exchanged glances and nods.
"Deal."
Too much money to refuse.
"But conditions. If we deem a request unreasonable, we can refuse—stated in the contract. We'll judge objectively by our mercenary rank. And..."
"Fine."
Bark listed several terms; the tycoon accepted them all.
"In return, I have a condition."
"What...?"
"Take Elf Granada as a member of your group."
"...Pardon?"
"Even just on paper. He'll issue orders in my stead."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Humans have hierarchies. And countless organizations.
Magic Towers, Heroes' Guild, Mercenaries' Guild, Free Knights, Artisans' Union, Black Moon, etc.
Some tie to nations, some don't.
But they all share one trait: groups that draw crowds inevitably gain power—even rivaling kings without being one.
I planned to infiltrate one with my subordinate and erode it from within.
One by one, they'd fall into my hands until I seized true blackAct control over everything.
First choice: Mercenaries' Guild.
Low quality but vast numbers rivaling organizations.
Astounding inclusivity, accepting anyone without prejudice.
Yet a guild even kingdoms couldn't ignore lightly.
Above all, a den of money-obsessed madmen gathered for coin.
Plus, convenient ties to a suitable merc and group.
"...Agreed."
Bark nodded after much deliberation.
"We don't take newbies lightly, but as a client, it's doable."
He approached Granada.
"Looking forward to working with you."
"Same here."
Bowing to a recent slave irked him a bit, but money ruled.
"To join Red Hawk, you need the mercenary exam, though..."
Bark tilted his head.
"Where'd you get those bruises?"
Why are your eyes all black-and-blue?
Granada didn't answer.
That day, Granada took the official exam at the Mercenaries' Guild, earned an advanced badge, and joined Red Hawk Mercenary Corps.
The minor incident of him furiously bruising each examiner's eye was overlooked.
And at the celebration for Granada's joining, the mercenaries received their first commission from Berge.
"First job. You heard the Crown Princess of Hildean was kidnapped recently. Find out which heroes Hildean commissioned."
"Why..."
"Pays well."
"Ah."
Heroes' paths draw massive attention and money. Fund them, and if they nab the Demon King, you score tower loot.
Perfectly plausible for mercenaries seeing Berge as a rich tycoon.
"But we're small-time. Better to commission the Info Guild for that..."
Thud.
A money pouch dropped.
"Do it."
"Right away!"
"While at it, dig into Hildean's princesses too."
"Why..."
'If things go south, return the First Princess and nab the 13th instead.'
He'd bluffed tough in front of the Crown Princess, but backup plans beat dead ends. Couldn't say that outright, though.
And cooking up another excuse to sway these humans annoyed him.
"Hear reasons or take the money?"
"Money!"
The mercenaries' eyes gleamed with greed.
Berge reaffirmed: In this world, money was no different from faith to humans.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Knight Kultan instructed his soldiers.
"Surround the hotel. Don't let a single rat slip out."
Dozens of soldiers encircled the area as he ascended with two escorts.
"They're upstairs."
The hotel owner, who'd received prior cooperation notice, guided him personally.
"Status?"
"Enjoying a drinking party."
"With women on both sides, no doubt."
"..."
The staff had cleared the hall. They reached the top floor.
The door to the VIP suite—for special guests only—opened.
Overwhelming booze stench and sweltering heat hit nose and cheeks.
Crunch.
He stepped on shattered bottle shards. The soaked carpet squelched.
Kultan silently opened a window. Cool wind dissipated the heat.
"...What."
"Oh my."
The man, drunk on the warmth, opened his eyes in a slur. The women flanking him trembled.
"Long time no see, Hero."
"Knight Kultan?"
"You ladies, out."
The women staggered away. The man scowled, mood ruined.
"What's this about?"
"Royal decree."
"...The Crown Princess."
"Other heroes fear the name Erjest. Only you can slay that arrogant Demon King and rescue Her Highness."
"Erjest Mountains scare me too."
"Amusing words from the hero who beheaded the Lust Demon King. Who else dares climb Erjest to save her? Not fear—laziness, right?"
"If I refuse?"
"Hero, the kingdom's Crown Princess is kidnapped. You know her importance to Hildean."
Kultan met the hero's eyes.
"This isn't a request. It's a royal command."
Heroes wield immense privileges—and duties.
Kings overlook their excesses somewhat, but when issues arise, they issue edicts to compel action.
Heroes could refuse, but the fallout of making a kingdom an enemy fell solely on them.
"You can refuse. But no more activity in Hildean. Wouldn't want Hildean's hero branded its top scum, right?"
Swish.
Kultan proffered the king's order.
"Take it."
"Even so, I can't solo it."
"You'll command all heroes in Hildean. The local Heroes' Guild pledges full support."
They had no choice either.
"The kingdom spares no aid. Rewards beyond your wildest dreams."
"His Majesty's bleeding badly."
"That's how vital Her Highness is. Thinking of fleeing? Give it up. Hotel's surrounded—if a soldier gets hurt on duty, we gain justification."
"You'd go that far?"
"You won't leave unscathed. I'm not all of it. Plus, we're eyeing social death too."
"Checkmated."
The hero smiled bitterly. Should've left Hildean sooner—instead, he'd lounged on the outskirts.
"I'll take it."
He snatched the decree.
"Great Hero, please save Hildean's foundation."
The knight bowed.