012. The Dwarf Princess
“Now, think about it. The heroes confidently 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 be a laughingstock. You’re after mockery, not magic points, right?”
“If you utter the word ‘mockery’ in front of me, Gordon, even you might lose your head.”
“······.”
Gordon clamped his mouth shut as killing intent exploded outward in an instant.
“Let me explain again. I’m not talking about dwarves themselves. I mean the tools they create. Imagine massive ballistae firing bolts, logs and traps springing into action, and enormous cannons loaded with explosives spewing fire amid it all.”
“Uh···.”
That’s pretty good.
“Not just pretty good—it’ll definitely work.”
The Demon King’s Canon had already been studied and countered by Alein’s heroes.
They even had their own heroes’ canon in response, making dwarves a clever way to exploit the gaps.
“Heroes have deep-rooted preconceptions.”
Weak monsters on the first floor, stronger ones and demons higher up.
“That’s their truth.”
Demon kings had treated the canon as gospel for centuries, no different from dogma.
“But what if, instead, an onslaught of dwarf-engineered masterpieces rains down like a bombardment? Especially if they’re not powered by mana?”
“It could···.”
Work.
A demon might deny it. But as a human, Gordon knew better.
Even heroes strong enough to face a demon king head-on were still human. A gut wound spilling entrails would kill them.
What was a minor injury to demons could be fatal to humans.
An attack at an utterly unexpected time, from an utterly unexpected source—it could wipe them out or at least inflict mortal wounds.
“I’ll take that as agreement.”
Gordon, dazedly picturing the scene, hurriedly shook his head.
“Even so, that goes against the canon···.”
The demon king was already gone.
The dimension of Alein clearly belonged to humans.
Though countless non-humans lived there, over 70% was under human control, more than 20% remained unexplored wilderness, and non-human territories barely reached 10%.
Even those scraps were divvied up among warring subraces.
Finding non-humans meant venturing deep into remote areas. Humans had claimed all the good spots.
Among them, dwarves renowned for metallurgy were famous for building underground cities in mineral-rich mountains.
Berge hid his face under a thick hood and stood at the entrance to their subterranean city. Crossbows trained on him.
“Halt. Who are you and where from?”
“A mercenary from Puran.”
He flashed a mercenary badge obtained from the Red Hawk mercenaries.
“A human?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s your business?”
He held out a chipped sword he’d picked up along the way.
“Using junk like that.”
“Don’t cause trouble.”
Dr-r-r-
Inside, a massive contraption plummeted vertically. A faint mana pulse guided Berge underground.
First time.
He’d killed countless dwarves before regressing, but never visited a city himself.
Whenever a hero’s weapon impressed me, it was always some dwarf’s handiwork.
That’s why he’d sent monsters to massacre their cities—not just one or two.
The vast wealth and spoils were bonuses, but back then, he hadn’t grasped money’s value. Strength, magic points, and the canon were all that mattered.
What an idiot.
That fortune could’ve bought a kingdom.
The doors opened. A long avenue stretched ahead.
Buildings lined it in orderly rows.
A planned city, unlike the chaotic sprawl of human settlements. Rigid yet intricate.
Thud-thud-thud—
Gentle geothermal warmth rose up.
Hammer strikes echoed faintly, black smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Stout dwarves bustled about.
Berge ducked into a nearby inn first.
“A··· human?”
He endured the short 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 accord.”
“Accords don’t erase history.”
Not that Berge cared.
“Tell me the city’s finest craftsman, and I’ll add one more.”
“A hero here for gear repairs?”
“No law says only heroes can repair gear.”
“Two more.”
“Gold?”
“Silver, obviously.”
“Dwarves love money as much as heroes, they say.”
“Humans made us that way.”
Berge placed seven silver coins on the table.
“Roger Friedri. Head east from the central plaza for 1km along the avenue; it’ll be on your right. But don’t expect much. He’s booked solid—no time for a mere mercenary’s trifles.”
“And you took my money for that intel?”
“You asked for the finest craftsman. That’s him.”
The dwarf shrugged and handed over a key.
“Third floor, 303.”
“He there now?”
“Rarely leaves the workshop, so probably. Though he’s such a hermit, who knows if you’ll even meet.”
“Thanks.”
He headed upstairs first. The room was spartan: a small table, rickety bed. Nothing important.
He opened the window and slipped out.
Robe pulled tight over his face, he made for the workshop.
Five massive smokestacks belched black fumes. Contrary to the innkeeper, no line.
Armed guards instead. Dozens at least. Whether hired by the famed artisan himself or posted by admiring city lords, one thing was clear.
Skill.
The innkeeper hadn’t lied.
Dwarves are known for delivering value for money, after all.
Unlike greedy humans who often fell short.
Berge slipped inside the workshop, avoiding dwarven eyes.
Clang-clang-clang-clang—
Hammer strikes, faint outside, thundered through the building. Scorching heat dwarfed the entrance’s.
Below, shirtless dwarves sweated rivers. Dozens of smiths working furnaces in unison—a grand sight.
Which one’s··· Roger?
He wanted to kidnap them all, but that’d expose him for sure.
A revealed blade is no blade.
Heroes’ fixed ideas about demon kings didn’t include abducting dwarves. Getting caught would shatter that.
So, the very best one. Just one.
Then.
Wooong—
A subtle vibration tickled his senses.
A stealthy intruder alarm he’d missed in distraction.
“Intruder!”
“It’s Roger’s workshop!”
Guards scrambled.
Sirens wailed; hammers fell silent.
But that was.
Clang-clang—
A boon.
Ahead in the corridor. Beyond the door, the only hammers rang. Guards’ shouts of “Roger’s room” echoed in Berge’s ears.
“······.”
He eased the door open. Searing heat rushed out.
A dwarf hammered away, rippling back muscles flexing.
Glowing metal spat brilliant sparks. Intense mana infused it. The process was almost beautiful.
But then.
“······.”
“······.”
The dwarf turned, locking eyes with Berge.
Gazes met.
“···Demon?”
“···Hero?”
Instinctual enmity boiled like a storm.
The dwarf ignited the forge. Raging flames engulfed Berge. A heavy hammer followed.
But the hammer didn’t pierce flesh. The flames felt like old friends.
Crack—
Rough hands seized the dwarf’s throat.
“For a hero, you’re awfully weak.”
Weaker than any he’d faced.
Berge grinned wickedly.
Heroes were guardians.
Demons, invaders.
Dimension-chosen heroes instinctively detected invaders.
Invaders instinctively recognized their predators.
No complex process needed.
The slightest opening, and they knew: enemy.
That’s why Berge used Granada as his face. No matter the disguise, showing himself risked exposure the moment he met a hero and flexed power.
Heroes lurked everywhere, anytime.
“Kuh···!”
The dwarf’s face paled.
“Weaker than any hero I’ve faced.”
Heroes were dimension-empowered. The world’s will to protect itself ensured their strength.
Newly minted ones might be weak, but not this Roger.
City’s finest, his fame no recent fluke.
How could someone like that be this feeble?
“Wh-why’s a demon here?”
“Who knows.”
To kidnap you. Originally.
“This is a problem.”
Thought he was just a smith. Turns out, a hero.
Reveal myself as demon king and kill him?
Weak in arms, but famous enough to shake the city. Word would spread to others via dwarven networks.
Different from other hero kills, but effective.
Or would it?
A hero’s death mattered because heroes were hope. But was this frail wretch truly hope-inspiring?
“The door’s open!”
“They’re after Lord Roger!”
Guards’ voices closed in.
Roger desperately racked his brain.
Why’s a demon here?
Towers were demon bases. Farther from them, dimensional interference weakened demons.
Demons loathed weakness, denied their own decline. Only monsters greeted heroes.
Yet demons—or demon kings—ventured out for one reason.
To kidnap princes or princesses.
No way···!
Lightning struck Roger’s mind.
The princess···?
The kingdom’s princess had visited this city, Volfner, recently and stayed. Her goal: Roger’s weapon, to depart upon completion.
If the demon knew and came for her?
Roger clenched his fists.
He hated fighting, but as a hero, he couldn’t stand by.
“You bastard! You won’t kidnap the princess!”
“Oh? She’s here?”
“Don’t play dumb!”
“Relax. I’m kidnapping you.”
“···What?”
Thwack—
Roger’s vision went black.
“Lord Roger!”
The late-arriving guards saw an empty workshop—and the princess’s weapon melting in the rising heat.
“Ugh.”
Roger opened his eyes. A shabby ceiling. Bound somehow, unable to move or speak.
“Awake?”
A deep voice, thick with magic.
“Outskirts inn. Want to slip the city, but things escalated. Heavy guards. I could force it, but not keen on exposure.”
Roger rolled his eyes. A bored gaze looked down from crossed legs.
“So, question. Know any secret passages? Dwarven cities are riddled with them. A hero like you must know a couple···.”
The demon whispered.
“I’ll unseal your mouth. Scream all you want; won’t matter. Go till your vocal cords shred, if you like.”
Snap—
A light snap. His stiff tongue loosened.
“···Think I’d tell you? I’m a hero. Why would I help a demon like you?”
“Giving you a choice. Smooth exit together, or watch the princess get kidnapped from the afterlife.”
“······!”
The princess after all!
Roger gnashed his teeth.
“The kingdom’s knights guard her ironclad. Think a lone demon can take her?”
“One correction: I’m not ‘a demon.’ I’m a Demon King. Knights or no, it’s doable.”
“···De-Demon···King?”
Not just any demon?
Click—
“Ah, thought of something more fun than killing you. Release you, kidnap the princess—what’ll dwarves think?”
“What’s your game!”
“Hero captured by demon, survives. Princess vanishes. Obvious, no? ‘Hero who sold the princess to save his skin.’ Vile hero, eh.”
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. The aftermath was unthinkable. Better dead.
“You vile···!”
“Thanks for the praise. One more chance. What’ll it be?”
“···I’ll go.”
The demon king and hero ascended to the surface via a tunnel the hero had secretly dug.
Meanwhile.
“······.”
The dwarf kingdom’s princess stared blankly at the half-melted metal lump.
Neither weapon nor armor.
“···So this was my weapon?”
“···It was.”
“Shut it. Before I kill you.”
The knight fell silent at her growl.
“Explain how this happened. Satisfactorily.”
“Roger’s gone missing. Big commotion right before—guards confirm. Assuming kidnapping, we’ve sealed entrances and begun searches.”
“Fuck!”
Bam—
Her fist smashed through the table, crumbling the floor beneath. Knights staggered; screams rose from below.
“He’s a hero, isn’t he?”
“Hero, yes, but obsessed with smithing—his combat skills are··· lacking.”
“Find him now! Drag that goddamn kidnapper here!”
“We’ll get him!”
“Or this becomes your head.”
Creak—
The metal goblet warped beyond recognition in her grip.
The knights paled.