098. This is Our Chance, to Leave a Deep Impression on the Snake

The river flows majestically onward, and so does the world, never pausing. While tragedy unfolds at the eastern edge of the continent, a princess is born at its southern tip. In the same vein, as the Red Anvil Mine suffered through the awakening of the fire demon, the Martine Territory pressed on with reconstruction amid the chaos.

The death of the Tiger Marquis cast a vast shadow over his domain. Gerard Martain had become a hero through force of arms, but his heroism wasn't forged by might alone. He was a powerhouse in the noble council, his political footing as unshakeable ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as his blade. Had it not been for the unprecedented calamity of the Monster Wave from the Great Forest—had there been no covert royal schemes to sacrifice the capital's defense— even that hero might have survived.

Gerard's death was a blow, yet Martine retained its storied legacy and strength. "Make Martine Great Again!" But with all direct blood heirs dead save for the girl from Grayrim Territory, Lania Grayrim—

—What cruel misfortune.

—Their unyielding banner in battle sowed the seeds of this doom.

The power struggle between the countess and Gerard's siblings—the collateral branch—was inevitable.

Lania Grayrim, now burdened with the fate of becoming Lania Martaine. Her expression was far from bright.

"Hoo..."

Sighing as he watched over her was none other than Oliver. He'd sought refuge in Grayrim, but never imagined things would spiral this far. After safely escorting her to Martine, he planned to vanish quietly. Yet seeing her plight, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

She'd lost her mother, her grandfather, and the hometown she'd known all her life. Her father, the viscount, had been released by fortune's grace, but rebuilding the ruined territory would consume the rest of his days.

The marquisate stood vacant; the marchioness ruled as regent. She insisted Lania, as Gerard's direct blood, was the rightful heir.

Opposing her were Gerard's brothers and sisters. Collaterals who once dared not eye the title now swarmed the lord's castle under the banner of reconstruction, backed by powerful, elder retainers. They snarled at the marchioness.

"Poor girl."

Murmuring so was Zain. He went by Jarein here.

"Jarein, you're the pitiful one."

"Why me?"

"You could've been a full knight of a famed order, yet here you are, babysitting a headstrong miss. You'll never use your real name again. If they learn you're alive, an execution order might drop."

Oliver and Zain... they had, in a way, grown close. They stayed by Lania's side, volunteering as her guards. At her earnest plea, with no one else she trusted left.

Zain—no, Jarein—didn't snap back. Instead, he replied calmly.

"Who knows? Might be for the best."

"What?"

"True, I've wanted to be a knight since I was a kid. But... that place wasn't where I could become the knight I envisioned."

The Iron Lion Knights' three tenets: valor, obedience, diligence. He'd broken obedience, making him little more than an excommunicated knight. Yet it felt like a weight had lifted from his chest.

"Lucky bastard."

Oliver clicked his tongue. Waiting in the garden, he glanced through the window at Lania. She was enduring a lecture from a professor summoned from the capital. It should have been one-on-one, but her uncles and aunts insisted their own children join, leaving Lania subtly scorned by the younger ones.

"It'll get better once she enters the academy. I'll stick around till then."

Oliver spoke thus. Lania had been accepted into the royal academy, Emerald School.

"That wraps ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up my duty."

"Got something waiting outside?"

"..."

Oliver ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fell silent. Jarein eyed Lania worriedly too. She was pinching her thigh to fight off sleep.

"Here's an interesting fact."

The lecturer was Professor Million, an authority on religious history. The subject was notoriously dull. Though utterly uninterested, Lania feigned curiosity.

"Between your family's history and that of the Light Knights, which is longer?"

The Light Knights belonged to Martine. Logically, the Martaine lineage predated them—but no such obvious question.

Light Knights, probably.

As Lania pondered, her cousin Hermit shot up his hand beside her.

"Me!"

"Oh ho, Hermit, speak."

"The Light Knights!"

"Ooh, correct!"

Lania felt bored. But Hermit smugly turned to her. She wanted to snap so what? but held back.

"And the reason?"

"Uh, the reason?"

Hermit faltered. Professor Million smiled understandingly.

"The Light Knights originated as demon hunters. Once, the Church of Light clashed most fiercely with demons, and the Martaine line began when that era's captain was knighted."

An ancient history even Martine scions barely knew. Lania perked up slightly.

"The first Martaine led demon hunters to slay a plague demon that razed a village. Knighted for it, he fell days later."

Slayed a demon, then why?

"They say he forgot an old hunter's precept: even the ashes of a burned demon must be burned again."

Lania, once obsessed with monsters and hunts, took interest in demons too.

"That plague fiend was kin to Asmodeus. The demon noble avenged it."

"How?"

Lania asked.

"The plague-slain corpses all rose. Necromancy, or zombies... As nobles of Martine, you may face demons someday."

The next marquis would lead the Light Knights. Faces shifted variably.

Professor Million scanned the children amusedly, then fixed on Lania.

"So remember: slaying a demon with a master demands extra caution afterward."

As a religious historian, he was a demonology expert.

"Lest the demon noble rage."

His voice echoed ominously.

The assembled dwarves. A moment of silence for the dead Bluebeard.

But honestly, he wasn't worth mourning!

We learned the truth only after the crisis settled. Spraying potion on Dungkel's raw palms, Rozena suddenly approached and apologized.

"Sorry, Dungkel."

"...Yes?"

To our shock, Dungkel was Bluebeard's son. A prince of sorts.

It had been hidden, but Rozena's apology had cause.

"For always looking down on you."

"Ah... nah, you never did anything to me."

"Kids are more sensitive than adults think. You knew I didn't like you, right?"

"...Everyone's like that anyway."

"Your mother wasn't a dwarf of Red Anvil. She was from outside."

"..."

Dungkel seemed aware.

"Bluebeard returned from travels with you in tow. Said you were his kid. That's why I split with Jenjero."

Shocking tale. Bluebeard was a legendarily twisted bastard.

"Then he abandoned you. I should've pitied you, but I hated you too."

"Haha..."

Dungkel's bitter smile tugged at Rozena's heart. She crushed him in a hug.

"I have no sons, but I'd treat you like one."

Dungkel froze, unsure. Heartwarming.

As I patted his calf, Rozena yanked me into the embrace.

"You too. Be my kid?"

Sss. No thanks. Dwarf mom (bearded and super strong) is a pass.

The plan to douse the fire demon with water worked. Bluebeard leaped into the boiling pit ablaze and perished. The kill message confirmed it.

But self-sacrifice meant less demonic essence than expected. Or maybe his soul was already demon-sold. Anyway, fresh achievement unlocked.

From Guard Captain Slayer, Hero Slayer, now Demon Slayer. My titles grow ever grander.

Regrettably, the perks felt lackluster. I'm immune to mental attacks anyway. And that last line nagged...

—Hmm, Paimon, Paimon...

Pellelian muttered incessantly. His spell's failure on Bluebeard bruised his ego. My trust in him dipped too.

—Snake.

Thus, he seemed eager to restore his dignity.

'Why.'

—Greater rewards demand greater risks.

'Suddenly?'

With the lucksteel sword nearly forged, he dropped an ominous hint.

—If that fire demon was truly Paimon's kin, backlash looms. Paimon meddles in the mortal realm more than most demon nobles.

'Then what... Wait!'

I checked near the lava lake (formerly). The boiling had stopped, cooling steadily—yet now it bubbled furiously.

Saaak!

I warned the resting dwarves. But events accelerated.

Me? A watched feeling prickled. Slimy chill...

It faded. Instead, the cooled water vaporized instantly below. Something fiery rose.

"Uh, uhhh!"

A lizard-like beast sculpted from flame. Horrifying: its head mimicked Bluebeard's, horned forehead and all.

Second Terminal trait after the key snake. It scaled the cliff at blinding speed. Dwarves screamed back to their senses.

Thankfully no fire hypnosis this time, but fearsome regardless.

"What fresh madness is this—!"

Rozena bellowed, hurling her warhammer. Skull-crushing force.

Splat!

It embedded in the temple. But no shattered skull, no brains. Untouched. The hammer melted slowly, handle dropping. It radiated intense heat.

I rushed to Dungkel. Without instruction, he knew: spun the celestium bucket and flung it.

Clang!

It looped the horn, snagging. We dwarves latched onto the chain. Celestium resisted melting.

"Argh!"

But the lizard's strength exceeded expectations. Chain-holders dragged toward it. Most let go.

"Chase it, all together!"

Rozena led the pursuit. Naturally, I gripped solo. Frail dwarves.

How to catch the flame lizard? As I pondered, Pellelian spoke.

—Let it go. For now!

Let it escape outside first.

'Really?'

—Touching it now just worsens damage here. If it rampages in this sealed space, we're done!

Made sense.

—Let go, trust me!

Pellelian urged firmly. The lizard scrambled upward, hellbent on surface.

Not peacefully: fleeing dwarves screamed. It spat flames everywhere, melting structures instantly.

'That?'

—Some sacrifice for greater good.

Fair enough. Finally, the collapsed mine entrance.

The lizard gaped—

Whoosh!

Flame pillar blasted it open. Sunlight poured in. As it leaped out—

Déjà vu. Like the key snake kidnapping.

—Now!

Once was enough.

As Giantification surged—biggest, heaviest. Father-sized. Bigger than that puny lizard.

I braced the breached entrance. Chain tautened, yanking the horn.

Clang!

The lizard's head snapped back, crashing earthward.

—Demon kin must face under the sun.

The Bluebeard-like lizard roared at me.