Chapter 818: The Golden House Crumbles, Indomitable Will Remains
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 818: The Golden House Crumbles, Indomitable Will Remains
The man was a silver-tongued orator. He knew how to weave a compelling narrative, and Encrid found the tale quite amusing.
He felt like tossing the fellow a few copper coins. After all, every good storyteller deserved a patron.
Of course, the man hadn't come here to perform.
The core of his story was clear. In the Demon Realm, various high-ranking demons had established their own factions. Rather than revealing their true names, they operated under aliases—titles meant to project power, bestowed upon them with reverence by those who feared them.
The Burning Crow, the Promiser of Abundance, the Companion of Heat, the Pure White Destroyer, and the Loner of Distrust.
These were five of the six rulers of the Demon Realm.
"And finally, the Father of the Dead."
The merchant’s smooth eloquence washed over the room.
"He is also known as the Gate that Ends Life. His name is the most widely recognized across the continent, is it not?"
There was a group called the Devil's Womb, named so after their failed attempt to gather mages and form an organization called the Tower of Wisdom. Through them, demons and twelve Balrogs had spilled onto the continent. It was a cataclysmic event that had scarred the land, comparable to the time the Demon Realm Holy Land Cult summoned the Salamander, a fire-breathing monstrosity from another world.
Now, all six of those supreme demons had taken an interest in a single human.
The Balrog had been a rogue—a heretic even among demons, one who pursued a different path. And that Balrog was dead, slain by a human hand.
This was why the powers of the Demon Realm were so desperate to identify the one who had lit this fire.
As soon as the Balrog fell, Krais had imagined several worst-case scenarios. This was actually one of the better ones.
Krais spoke to the merchant, whose eyes were nearly swallowed by the fat on his cheeks. "So, the reason you’ve traveled all this way is to make an offer to our captain?"
The merchant nodded instantly, his expression remarkably cheerful. "Yes, that is correct."
Krais narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing. Unless this merchant was half-mad, he wouldn't just blurt out such secrets.
Why?
If his suspicions were becoming reality, he had to grasp the truth. He needed to deduce the opponent's intentions and understand why beings like demons acted the way they did. Even if they were entities beyond human comprehension, there had to be a logic to it.
Krais recalled the catalyst for this visit. The Balrog's death was a shock even to the denizens of the Demon Realm.
The Demon of Struggle. The soul-collecting battle maniac. These were the terms used to describe the Balrog—an oddball who had gone so far as to split his own soul, scattering fragments of his ego to wander and collect souls even at the cost of dividing his own power.
That was the implication behind the merchant's words. And such a being was dead.
Because Encrid hadn't boasted of the deed, the news hadn't spread across the continent, but within the Demon Realm, the word had traveled fast.
It’s a shocking event, certainly. But is their reaction normal?
Krais turned the thought over. Even if the one who killed him is exceptionally skilled, why go to such lengths to recruit him?
He pieced together the merchant’s stories, his own deductions, and the reaches of his imagination. He sought the full context. It all clicked in an instant.
They are at war.
Just because they were neighbors in the Demon Realm didn't mean the demons were allies. They established territories and rejected one another. What if they were fighting among themselves, just like Naurilia and Azpen?
And what if, in the middle of that conflict, a powerhouse capable of shifting the tide emerged from a small city they had never noticed?
If the captain had sided with Azpen instead of Naurilia, the outcome of our war might have been entirely different.
A war between demons likely followed the same principles as a war on the continent. The tide of battle was decided by a handful of elites—exceptional individuals who broke the mold.
"Hmm."
Krais nodded, his thoughts organized. This was why they were here. They wanted to bring the man who killed the Balrog over to their side.
They might want more than just the captain; they might want the entire order of knights.
While Krais was lost in thought, the merchant spoke again.
"Human life is finite. If you follow my master's will, you shall be granted eternal life. There is a saying that even rolling in a field of filth is better than being in heaven. Eternal life—I believe it is a highly attractive offer."
He discussed the reward before even mentioning the duties. Normally, one might scoff, but when the reward was this grand, humans tended to waver. The merchant spoke with the confidence of a man who knew the price of a soul.
The mage among the visitors thought it was his turn to step in, but Krais beat him to it.
"Is that all?"
The atmosphere, previously warmed by the merchant's tale, instantly turned frigid. Krais had thrown cold water on the entire negotiation.
Offering eternal life just to place someone at the vanguard of a demonic civil war... Krais had already seen through the ploy.
"...Eternal life is hardly 'all,'" the merchant grumbled, his confidence flickering. It was offensive to him that something of supreme value was being treated as worthless.
"Hmm." Krais remained unimpressed. He crossed his arms and gave a slight shake of his head.
"Of course, if you wish, there is plenty more we can offer. If necessary, I could even give you enough gold coins to fill an entire room, but..."
The merchant's voice trailed off. If the opponent could be lured with mere Krona, there would have been no need for him to come in person. People worshipped demons because they bestowed the impossible: eternal life, unnatural beauty, and forbidden power.
In that context, the value of Krona was insignificant. At least to the merchant. Could overflowing gold buy back time? No. Therefore, it was worthless. What he desired was to return to his youth and live forever.
However...
"Hmm?"
Krais’s brow smoothed out. His ears perked up.
The merchant was flustered by the reaction, but his businessman's instincts took over.
"What is a single room? If you wish, I could build you a house out of gold bars!"
It was a figure of speech, a promise of astronomical wealth. No one would fail to understand the metaphor.
Krais uncrossed his arms, his eyes widening. "Ooh."
His cheeks flushed as if he were drunk. At this rate, wouldn't it be worth participating in a local skirmish as a mercenary just once? No matter how much the Border Guard grew as a trade city, their expenses were equally massive. The military expenditure alone was dizzying.
But a house of gold bars? That was pure profit.
A house of gold bars for a single mercenary gig...
Demons were demons, but surely a deal could be struck?
Poke.
Nurat, his lover and guard, poked Krais sharply in the ribs. Her former superior, Deputy Commander Garret, had been an oddball, but her lover was even worse. It was obvious from his eyes that he was seriously contemplating a deal with a devil.
"Ahem." Krais cleared his throat and glanced at Encrid.
Encrid’s face showed absolutely no interest in Krona. Krais found that deeply regrettable.
We could just play along, squeeze them for everything they've got, and then send them packing.
Couldn't they just pretend to be swayed? It would be even better if they went as mercenaries, held back their strength, and sowed discord among the demon ranks.
Of course, demons wouldn't be easy to trick. If they rashly applied human logic to such beings, they would suffer. Krais knew this, but he had fallen into a brief fantasy of financial security.
The house of gold bars collapsed in Krais's mind.
"Why are you acting like this when you know he's not the type to be swayed by money?" Abnayor whispered, having read Krais's thoughts perfectly.
"This shouldn't be a bad offer for you," the man holding the greatsword interrupted. "If not eternal life, then what do you want? Land? Is it this continent you desire? If so, we shall give you the entirety of it. We can grant you omnipotent authority to do whatever you wish."
It was a grandiose proposal. They were offering to make him the king of all intelligent life, including the Empire.
Encrid remained unmoved. Just because they offered a crown didn't mean he would actually wear it. Was this the arrogance of the Demon Realm? Or was their military might so overwhelming that they truly looked down on the continent as a mere plaything?
Both, Encrid decided.
"What use is eternal life or land?"
This time, the mage stepped forward. He believed the other two were offering the wrong things. Those called demons referred to themselves as demi-gods—beings on the path to divinity.
What he truly desires is the truth.
To reach that truth, one had to become a god—an omniscient and omnipotent being.
"We shall show you the path to becoming a demi-god," the mage said.
There could be no better offer. Encrid's martial prowess and his victory over a Balrog pointed to one fact: the man was climbing. The further he advanced, the thirstier he would become for the peak. What if someone showed him a shortcut?
"I have come by the order of the goat-horned ruler known as the Burning Crow." Resonance filled the mage's voice, lending it a solemn, divine air. It was a minor trick, but effective at swaying the weak-willed.
Encrid turned his head toward the man with the greatsword. "One is the Burning Crow, and that one over there is a devotee of gold. What about you?"
"The Companion of Heat is with me."
Encrid nodded, then asked a simple question. "And why should I let you live?"
The weight of his words was singular.
"...A refusal?" The mage was astonished. Shouldn't he at least be agonizing over the choice?
He looked toward Esther. As a fellow mage, she should have had a different perspective, but she remained lost in her own thoughts, refusing to even meet his eyes.
They did not know Encrid. They did not know his desires, nor did they understand his dream.
He wished to be a knight. He wished to be the sword and shield for those behind him. To do that, he intended to end the war and erase the Demon Realm from existence.
He was an indomitable spirit whose mind did not erode despite repeating the same day over and over. They could not comprehend the human standing before them.
Encrid heard the ferryman's mocking laughter in the back of his mind.
“Eternal life? Demi-god? Ah, this is exactly when you say ‘bullshit is in full bloom.’ It’s a Western expression.”
The mockery of the beastman, who lived a true eternal life of repetition, was laced with genuine anger.
"Can I kill them now?" Dunbakel asked, unable to hold back any longer.
The mage shouted, "I am not the main body! What I sent here is merely a fraction of my clone. Killing me is meaningless. You shall regret this for the rest of your life!"
The mage tried to cast a spell, but he was too slow. The beastman, who had approached unnoticed, smiled and drove her heel into his chin. Planting her hand on the ground, she spun her body in a fluid, terrifyingly natural sequence.
Pop!
The head vanished. Black blood sprayed into the air before dissolving into tiny, writhing insects. It was an execution carried out the very instant Encrid gestured his permission.
“I shall make you regret this!”
The mage's voice lingered in the air—another minor trick. Esther casually waved her hand. She had already prepared the ground. Among the many formulas she had woven into the area were several designed to neutralize other mages. One activated, severing the lingering mana. A bracelet Esther wore shattered into dust.
His skills are as sharp as ever, Esther noted silently.
“You, Star Child. Have you forgotten that there are many who will seek you out and tear you to shreds?”
It was a threat, but a clumsy one.
As the mage's body dissolved into ash, the man holding the greatsword reached for his weapon. It was a futile gesture. Pel and Ropode, who had returned to the scene unnoticed, flanked him.
"See? I told you he was weird."
"Who said otherwise?"
Pel spoke first, followed by Ropode. In a synchronized blur, they severed both of the man's arms. One cut rose from bottom to top; the other fell from top to bottom. The two lines were near-identical mirrors. Their skills had reached a level where the demon's vessel couldn't even react.
While Encrid had dealt with the Balrog, these two had fought through hordes of monsters and the souls of the damned. They had risked their lives, endured, and evolved.
The warrior, arms gone, coughed up blood. The liquid surged like flames, forming the shape of two eyes and a mouth in the air.
“Are you... serious about this?”
Encrid’s insightful eyes glimpsed the true presence behind the blood. This was no petty trick; it was the crushing pressure of a true demon. The air grew heavy, threatening to incinerate everything in the vicinity with a single breath. Its majesty was towering.
"Yeah," Encrid replied, his tone light and dismissive.
“Fine. We shall meet again.”
With that, the manifestation dispersed.
The merchant looked around, his eyes trembling. He muttered a string of incomprehensible words, and black soot began to rise from his skin as his form began to fail.