Reactions
The Imperial Palace.
Ever since the pursuit force had departed, a suffocating tension had hung over its grand halls.
An armed imperial unit had been dispatched to apprehend the Hero's party—the supposed champions of humanity and the predestined nemeses of the Demon King. Lacking even the faintest historical precedent for such a scandal, the empire's highest leadership remained on knife's edge.
Count Necker, the Minister of Justice, practically lived in the palace these days. It was not born entirely from his venomous hatred for the Hero; having suffered total ruin in the speculative crash, he had been forced to surrender his District 1 residence and relocate far outside the capital's center. Though the Imperial Household provided him with an official carriage as a token of monarchical favor, his daily commute had lengthened considerably.
Yet he threw himself into his duties with far greater ferocity than ever before, meddling even in state affairs well outside his purview.
"...Your Majesty. We have covertly reinforced our garrisons across four fiefs along the northern border. An operation conducted so close to the frontier risks provoking the Demon King's forces into retaliation."
"And what of the Goddess's wrath? Are there not chronicles recounting how a nation that laid hands on a Hero suffered her divine curse—plagued by ruinous droughts, famines, and floods?"
The Emperor pressed a hand to his furrowed brow, his voice heavy with weary apprehension. To agonize over divine retribution before receiving confirmation of the Hero's capture might have seemed laughably premature to an outsider, but it was by no means an idle concern. After all, the Goddess was the very sovereign being who summoned Heroes from other worlds and bestowed them upon mankind.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that was an exceptional circumstance," the Minister of Justice replied, his face ashen and hollow. "Two hundred and thirty years ago, the Aether Kingdom—a dominant superpower of that era—sought to trap and butcher the contemporary Hero in cold blood. Since that tragedy, humanity has maintained an unblemished record with the summoned champions."
"Indeed. Internal discord has occasionally flared within the Hero parties themselves, but never between the realm and the champion. ...Yet will the Goddess comprehend our political necessity?"
"Considering the monstrous abominations Kwon Hee-jin has committed, I believe even the Goddess would condone our judgment. And frankly speaking..."
...I resent the Goddess with every fiber of my being for summoning such a wretched beast and hailing him as our savior.
The thought stuck in Necker's throat, swallowed back into silence. Though he had long been an indifferent, lukewarm believer at best, hurling curses directly at the Goddess remained a line he dared not cross aloud.
The Emperor regarded the Minister of Justice with an expression that plainly said, I know precisely how you feel.
"Count Necker. You need not reproach yourself. Given the depths of the Hero's depravity, it is far more likely that he deceitfully hoodwinked the Goddess herself."
"Haha. ...I desperately pray that is the case, Your Majesty."
"It is good to see you smile."
The Emperor was not normally a man given to casual familiarity. Even after beating the Second Prince black and blue and exiling him to the Holy Kingdom, his sovereign authority remained absolute. Stripping an imperial prince who once commanded tens of billions of liras of his royal birthright and reducing him to a destitute pauper overnight was a feat only an absolute monarch could achieve.
Yet after days of agonizing suspense alongside his ministers, waiting on tenderhooks for news of the pursuit unit's success, the monarch had adopted a surprisingly unassuming demeanor—if only temporarily.
"Your Majesty, if you would retire to your bedchambers, we can handle—"
"No, I shall wait here."
The Emperor clearly believed the very fate of the Empire rested upon the outcome of this hunt.
And Count Necker sympathized entirely with his sovereign's impatience.
If his capture is delayed any longer, who knows what calamity will unfold.
The Kodana Exchange had taken an ominous turn.
Lately, the Minister of Justice had stationed a mage with a communication crystal in the exchange's reception parlor, listening in secret to every tremor and murmur rising from the floor.
It was not that he harbored lingering attachments to his ruined coins; rather, genuine warning sirens were ringing out.
Even now, commoners were flocking to the exchange floor in swelling numbers.
Today, their sudden influx had even nudged the market into a stagnant consolidation, though trading ultimately closed around 26 million liras.
"Their individual losses may be negligible compared to the nobility's, but ordinary people are abandoning their livelihoods, lingering for hours on the trading floor hoping to scalp quick profits."
"......"
"Some even attempted to erect street stalls right outside the exchange entrance. We had to mobilize the Imperial Guard just to disperse them."
"Good grief... To think it has come to this."
The Emperor pressed his temples, muttering that his skull was splitting. Under ordinary circumstances, even the slightest sign of imperial discomfort would have prompted courtiers to scream, "Your Majesty!" and summon the high priests. Now, no one batted an eye. From the monarch to his ministers and the grand chamberlain, everyone present was nursing a throbbing migraine.
"Haaah. What in the world are we to do?"
Everyone in the room understood that the late entry of commoners—the foundational pillars of the empire's productive economy—spelled utter catastrophe for the realm's future.
"We must steer the populace away from this madness. The intelligence bureau is currently running information campaigns to dampen sentiment, but perhaps more aggressive interventions—"
"The timing is not right," the Emperor cut in sternly. "We must secure custody of the Hero first. What if the cur slips through our fingers and pulls another stunt? Dull as I may be at forecasting financial markets, even I know it would trigger an uncontrollable catastrophe."
"Forgive my presumption, Your Majesty."
"We wait until word arrives that he is in chains."
The Emperor issued his decree and closed his eyes. The Minister of Justice and the Court Minister bowed their heads in respectful silence.
An agonizing interval dragged on.
Fortunately, before the empire's supreme command could succumb to stress-induced alopecia and acute indigestion, the communication crystal flared with a pristine, radiant light.
The caller was Eric Wellesley, Inspector of the Borderlands. The recipient was Count Necker, Minister of Justice.
"Report, Inspector."
At the command, Eric Wellesley delivered his concise dispatch.
"The Hero and his harem have been apprehended. All five are alive, disarmed, and securely bound. ...Furthermore, the Hero has been rendered completely combat-ineffective."
"I apologize for the delay in transmission. Immediate withdrawal from the frontier was paramount following the capture."
"We expect to arrive in the Imperial Capital within four days. I shall conduct the interrogation of the Hero en route."
When the brief report concluded, a heavy stillness enveloped the private chamber.
No one broke the quiet with wild cheers or exuberant shouts. There were no dramatic embraces between the Emperor and his ministers, nor cries of long live the realm. Such theatrics were far beneath men of their standing, and an overwhelming mountain of crises still awaited their attention.
Instead, each man exhaled a silent breath of profound relief in his own way.
"...A blessing," the Emperor murmured. "Withhold any public announcement until the Hero is at the city gates. But it must not be kept entirely in the dark, either."
"We shall leak the news in gradual increments, Your Majesty," Necker replied. "Only by softening the blow can we mitigate the economic shockwave. We will do everything in our power to stem any further influx of commoner investors."
While the Emperor and the other ministers conferred in subdued tones, the Minister of Justice quietly rose from his seat and slipped out of the office.
Truth be told, he had barely managed a proper meal over the past several days. Every time he attempted to swallow solid food, bile rushed up his throat and a sickening cramp seized his gut, rendering even a scrap of bread unbearable. He had survived entirely on thin, watery gruel.
Now, with the suffocating tension vanishing in a single breath, the blood drained from his cheeks. His face felt ice-cold and numb, yet beneath his ribs, a hot, overwhelming surge rose like a tidal wave.
Wobbling on unsteady knees, he dragged himself out onto the secluded terrace. Only when the cool evening air struck his face did an absurd, wheezing laugh escape his lips: "Heh... heh-heh..."
Then came a shuddering sigh of pure relief.
"...Whew. Haaah."
To any onlooker, he would have appeared thoroughly ridiculous.
He knew it well, but Count Necker had neither the dignity nor the composure left to care about aristocratic decorum.
The faces that floated before his vision were his wife, who had been agonizing over every copper coin to slash household expenses, and his children, who no longer dared to ask for their allowances.
He remembered his father-in-law, who had journeyed all the way to the capital with a grim countenance, looking down at his disgraceful son-in-law before asking, 'I heard a relief fund was established using the assets confiscated from the Second Prince. Could you pull a few strings on our behalf?' The old man's domain had suffered terrible harvest failures this year, plunging the estate into dire straits.
Capturing the Hero wouldn't bring back a single lira he had lost. So why did his family's faces flood his mind so vividly?
Who knows... Not even I can say.
Sniffling softly, the Minister of Justice wiped his nose with a foolish, weary chuckle. It was an undignified display, yet he felt no shame. Once the Hero's capture became public knowledge, there would be countless men across the capital sobbing just like him.
Necker vigorously rubbed his eyes, cleared his throat, and turned back toward the council chamber. There was still far too much work to be done.
First and foremost, they had to prepare for the inevitable fallout the Hero's arrest would inflict upon the Kodana market.
By all common sense, the fall of the Hero should herald the absolute demise of Kodana, but the Kodana market had long since transcended human reason.
When only nobles held the coins, the damage could be roughly calculated and contained. But now, the sheer number of coin holders had exploded—to the point where shutting down trading by imperial fiat was virtually impossible.
They had to exhaust every conceivable measure to cushion the impending shock.
...Just as a faint glimmer of warmth returned to the Imperial Palace,
In the borderland forest where the pursuit force and the Hero's retinue had clashed, Beast King Leoneo stood looking down at the mangled corpses of his kin.
A stature that dwarfed even typical lizardmen into insignificance, armaments forged from ancient dragon fangs, and a colossal aura of battle-thirst that radiated effortlessly even while standing motionless—
Yet despite his fearsome, towering presence, his slit-pupiled eyes were drowned in sorrow.
Filthy mongrels.
He had been stationed at the Demon King's Castle when word of the border skirmish arrived, prompting him to fly northward in a frantic frenzy. To make haste, he had commandeered a high-speed wyvern directly from the Demon King's personal stables, but by the time he breached the canopy, the tragedy had already played out to its bitter end.
Scarcely a few months had passed since hundreds of his brethren were slaughtered in the Margrave's lands. How could another catastrophic trial strike them so soon?
A tempest raged within him, tempting him to unleash total, unbridled war against the human realms.
It was not mere vengeance driving his bloodlust.
Just moments ago, he had extracted critical intelligence from a captive human villager: "It seems the Hero fell out of favor after committing atrocities, and the imperial army dragged him away." The border villagers possessed an ambiguous, neutral disposition; guaranteed his life, the terrified wretch had spilled everything without hesitation.
If they did not strike now, when would they ever find a better chance? The Beast King immediately channeled mana to contact the Demon King's Castle—for he was fully capable of casting magic—and urged immediate military mobilization.
Yet the Demon King's chief of staff insisted on patience.
The Beast King had roared in outraged protest, only to fall silent at the words that followed.
"In truth, under His Majesty's orders, we resumed espionage operations against the Empire several weeks ago. The recent upheavals within their borders, as well as the incident that transpired today, seem to have piqued His Majesty's curiosity. There may exist a means to strike a devastating blow against humanity without expending our own forces."
Those words gave Leoneo pause.
The Demon King—who had long insisted that war with humanity was an eternal, unwinnable stalemate and contented himself with ruling supreme over the Demonic Realm—had finally turned his gaze toward the human lands.
Though far from satisfactory, it was undeniably a forward shift in posture. At the very least, it signaled an intent to act.
We shall see.
Swallowing his boiling fury, the Beast King cast a sorrowful, heavy gaze over the gruesome corpses of his fallen brethren. Though he vowed vengeance for the days to come, the grief clawing at his chest could not be quieted today.