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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Dwarf Princess
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"Come on, think about it. The heroes confidently fling open the door, expecting weak monsters. But what if they find something else instead of monsters and a maze?"
"If it's dwarves, they'd become a laughingstock. You're after mockery instead of demonic energy, aren't you?"
"Gordon, if you utter the word 'mockery' in front of me, even you might get your head blown off."
"..."
Gordon snapped his mouth shut at the sudden explosion of killing intent.
"Let me explain again. I'm not talking about the dwarves themselves. I mean the tools they create. What if massive ballistae fire bolts, logs and traps spring into action, and in between, enormous cannons loaded with explosives spew flames?"
"Uh..."
That's pretty good.
"Not just pretty good—it'll definitely work."
The Standard of the Demon King had already been studied and countered by the heroes of Aren.
Countermeasures fitting the heroes' own playbook existed, and using dwarves was a clever way to exploit the gaps.
"Heroes have deep-rooted prejudices."
Weak monsters on the first floor, stronger ones and demons higher up.
"That's their truth."
Demon kings had treated the standard as gospel for centuries. It was no different from inherited wisdom passed down through generations.
"But what if, instead, an onslaught of dwarven masterpieces pours down like a bombardment? Especially if they don't even run on mana?"
"That's... possible enough."
It had potential.
A demon might deny it, but as a human, he saw it differently.
Even the strongest heroes capable of facing a demon king head-on were ultimately human. A hole in the gut or ruptured organs would kill them.
What was a minor wound to a demon was a mortal one for a human.
An attack at a completely unexpected time, from a completely unexpected source—it could wipe them out entirely or at least inflict fatal injuries.
"I'll take that as your agreement."
Gordon, dazedly imagining the scene, hurriedly shook his head.
"Even so, that doesn't align with the standard..."
The demon king was already gone.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Aren was unmistakably a human domain.
Though countless other races lived there, over 70% was under human control, more than 20% remained unexplored wilderness, and the areas inhabited by other races barely reached 10%.
Even those scant territories were divvied up among rival non-human races.
Finding them required venturing deep into remote regions. Humans had claimed all the prime spots.
Among them, dwarves—renowned for their metallurgy—were famous for building underground cities in mineral-rich mountains.
Berge concealed his face beneath a thick hood and stood at the entrance to their underground city. Crossbow bolts trained on him.
"Halt. Who are you, and where from?"
"A mercenary from Puran."
He flashed the mercenary tag he'd gotten from the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps.
"Human?"
"That's right."
"What's your business?"
On the way, he'd picked up a chipped sword and held it out.
"Cheap junk."
"Don't cause trouble."
Rumble—
Inside, a massive device plummeted vertically. A faint mana glow guided Berge underground.
First time.
Before his regression, he'd slain countless dwarves, but he'd never visited one of their cities himself.
Whenever a hero had good gear, it was always some dwarf's handiwork.
That's why he'd sent monsters to wipe out their cities—not just one or two.
The vast wealth and loot were bonuses, but back then, he hadn't grasped money's value. He'd pursued only strength, demonic energy, and the standard.
What an idiot.
That fortune could've bought a kingdom.
The doors opened. A long avenue stretched ahead.
Buildings lined the street in orderly fashion.
A planned city, unlike the haphazard sprawl of human ones. Rigid yet intricate.
Thud, thud, thud—
Gentle geothermal warmth rose up.
Hammer strikes echoed faintly, black smoke drifting toward the ceiling.
Dwarves bustled about in between.
Berge headed to a nearby inn first.
"A human...?"
He endured the diminutive innkeeper's wary glare and the outrageous price of five silver coins for one night.
"Five silvers for a single night?"
"Take it or leave it. No innkeeper would house a human for less."
"It's been ages since the peace treaty."
"A treaty doesn't erase the past."
Not that Berge cared.
"Tell me the city's best smith, and I'll add one more coin."
"A hero here to repair gear?"
"No law says only heroes can fix equipment."
"Two coins."
"Gold?"
"Silver, naturally."
"They say dwarves love money as much as heroes."
"Humans set the precedent."
Berge placed seven silver coins on the table.
"Roger Friedri. Head east from the central plaza for 1km along the main avenue—it's on the right. But you won't get what you want. Too many booked clients. No time for a mere mercenary's trifles."
"You took my money for that info?"
"You asked for the finest smith. That's what I gave."
The dwarf shrugged and handed over a key.
"Third floor, room 303."
"He there now?"
"Rarely leaves the forge, so probably. Though he stays holed up so much, no guarantees you'll meet."
"Thanks."
He climbed to the third floor first. The room was spartan: a small table and rickety bed.
Not that it mattered. He opened the window and slipped out.
He pulled his robe tighter over his face and headed to the forge.
Five massive smokestacks belched thick plumes. Contrary to the innkeeper, no line snaked outside.
Armed guards instead. Dozens at least. Whether the famed smith hired them himself or the city leaders assigned them out of respect, one thing was clear.
Skill.
The innkeeper hadn't lied, at least.
Dwarves are known for delivering value for money.
Unlike greedy humans who often fell short.
Berge slipped into the forge, avoiding dwarven eyes.
Clang, clang, clang—
The hammer strikes, faint outside, now thundered through the building. The heat was suffocating.
Below, shirtless dwarves sweated profusely. Dozens of smiths working the furnaces in unison—a sight to behold.
Which one's... Roger?
He wanted to kidnap them all, but that would expose him for sure.
A revealed dagger is no dagger.
Questions like "Why would the Demon King kidnap dwarves?" would shatter their prejudices about him. He couldn't let that happen.
So, the very best one. Just one.
Then.
Vmmm—
A faint vibration scrambled his senses.
A subtle intruder alarm spell he'd overlooked amid the distraction.
"Intruder!"
"Roger's forge!"
The guards sprang into action.
Hammering ceased amid wailing sirens.
But that was.
Clang, clang—
A boon, actually.
Ahead down the hall. Beyond the door, the only hammer sound persisted. Shouts of "Roger's room" rang in Berge's ears.
"..."
He eased the door open. Scorching heat rushed out.
A dwarf hammered away, rippling back muscles on display.
Glowing red metal spat brilliant sparks. Intense mana infused it. The process was almost beautiful.
But then.
"..."
"..."
The dwarf turned, locking eyes with Berge.
Their gazes met.
"...Demon?"
"...Hero?"
Instinctual hostility surged like a storm.
The dwarf ignited the furnace flames. Fierce fire engulfed Berge, followed by a heavy hammer swing.
But the hammer didn't pierce his flesh. The flames felt like old friends.
Crunch—
A rough hand seized the dwarf's throat.
"For a hero, you're awfully weak."
Weaker than any I'd faced.
Berge grinned slyly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Heroes are guardians.
Demons are invaders.
Heroes chosen by the dimension instinctively detect invaders.
Invaders instinctively recognize their natural predators.
No complex process needed.
The moment a gap appears, they know each other for enemies.
That was why Berge used Granada as his face—his public facade. No matter how he hid, stepping out personally risked encountering a hero and exposing himself the instant he showed power.
Heroes could lurk anywhere, anytime.
"Guh...!"
The dwarf's face paled.
"Weaker than any hero I've faced."
Heroes were vessels of dimensional power. The dimension's will to protect itself ensured they grew strong.
Sure, new heroes might be weak at first. But not a dwarf called Roger.
He had the city's highest acclaim. Not built overnight.
How could someone like that be this feeble?
"Wh-why is a demon here?"
"Who knows."
I came to kidnap you. Originally.
"This complicates things."
I thought he was just a smith. Turns out, a hero.
Reveal myself as the Demon King and kill him?
His combat prowess was laughable, but his fame could shake an underground city. Dwarven gossip networks would spread it elsewhere.
Different from other heroes, but it'd have impact.
Or would it?
A hero's death held value because heroes embodied hope. But was a pathetic weakling like this real hope?
"The door's open!"
"They're after Roger!"
Guards' voices closed in rapidly.
Roger racked his brain desperately.
Why's a demon here?
The tower was demon territory. The farther from it, the weaker demons grew due to interference.
Demons despised weakness and rarely admitted their own decline. Only monsters went out to greet heroes.
Yet one reason demons—or Demon Kings—ventured out:
To kidnap princes or princesses.
No way...!
Lightning struck Roger's mind.
The princess...?
The kingdom's princess had recently arrived in this underground city, Volfner, and was still here. Her goal: the weapon Roger was forging. She'd leave with it once complete.
If the demon knew and came for that?
Roger clenched his fists.
He hated fighting, but he was still a hero. He couldn't stand by while they took her.
"Oh? She was here?"
"Don't play dumb!"
"Relax. I'm kidnapping you."
"...What?"
Thwack—
Roger's vision went black.
"Roger!"
The belatedly arriving guards saw an empty forge—and the princess's weapon melting in the rising heat.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Ugh."
Roger opened his eyes. A shabby ceiling loomed. Bound somehow, he couldn't move or speak.
"Awake?"
A deep voice thick with demonic energy.
"Inn on the city outskirts. I'd like to leave now, but things escalated more than expected. Security's tight. I could force my way out, but I prefer not exposing myself."
Roger rolled his eyes. A bored gaze looked down from crossed legs.
"So, I ask: know any secret passages? I know dwarven cities have plenty. A hero like you must know a couple."
The demon whispered.
"I'll free your mouth. Scream all you want—it won't matter. Go until your vocal cords tear if you like."
Snap—
His stiff tongue loosened.
"...Think I'd tell you? I'm a hero. Why would I help a demon scum like you?"
"I'm giving you a choice. Escape smoothly with me, or watch the princess get kidnapped from the afterlife."
"...!"
So it was the princess!
Roger ground his teeth.
"The kingdom's knights guard her like a fortress. Think a lone demon like you can take her?"
"One correction: I'm not 'a demon.' I'm the Demon King. So yes, knights or no."
"...De-Demon King?"
Not just any demon?
Click—
"Ah, I just thought of something more fun than killing you. Release you, kidnap the princess—what do the dwarves think then?"
"What's your game!"
"A hero captured by demons, survives. Then the princess vanishes. Obvious, right? 'The hero who sold the princess to save his skin.' What a vile hero."
Humans called it social burial.
The Demon King snapped his fingers, muttering. His serpentine tongue drained the color from Roger's face.
That wasn't living. He didn't want to imagine the aftermath. Better to die.
"You vile...!"
"Thanks for the praise. Last chance. What'll it be?"
"...I'll go."
The Demon King and hero ascended to the surface through a tunnel the hero had secretly dug.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Meanwhile.
"..."
The Dwarf Kingdom's princess stared blankly at the half-melted metal lump.
Something neither weapon nor armor.
"...So this was supposed to be my weapon?"
"...It was, Your Highness."
"Shut up. Before I kill you."
The knight fell silent at her growl.
"Explain how this happened. Make it convincing."
"Roger is missing. There was a commotion just before. Soldiers' testimonies confirm it. We're assuming kidnapping—sealed all entrances, searching now."
"Son of a bitch!"
Bam—
Her fist smashed through the table, crumbling part of the floor. Knights staggered; screams rose from below.
"That bastard's a hero, isn't he?"
"A hero, but obsessed with smithing... his combat skills are lacking."
"Find him now! Drag that fucking kidnapper before me!"
"We will, Your Highness!"
"Or this becomes your head."
Creak—
The metal goblet warped beyond recognition in her grip.
The knights paled.