128. Red Blade
“Damn it.”
Daphne Philian spat out the snow that had gotten into his mouth.
Screams and roars echoed without end. The acrid stench of blood mixed with the frigid chill numbed his nose.
Fortunately, the empire's knights had regained their composure and were reforming their ranks, charging forward. The kingdom's rangers dashed across the snow, repelling the monsters.
The alliance was gradually regaining its footing.
But that didn't shake the confusion swirling in Daphne's mind.
Four Heavenly Kings?
He'd heard the term before. But that was ages ago, back when demon kings were unfamiliar terrors, and it was just humans' imagined product born of fear—something out of old fairy tales or plays.
These days, everyone—even children—knew demon kings didn't keep lackeys with such childish names.
And yet, they were real?
She's strong.
Whatever the silly title Dark Spirit Summoner, her power was undeniable.
The blizzard she'd unleashed had swallowed everything in its path. The fireballs raining down with it shattered ice walls and crumbled the search party's formation.
What were those things? They looked just like mana cannons.
But a demon king using mana cannons? No way. He hadn't seen clearly through the avalanche and ice barriers.
Daphne nocked another arrow. The mana-infused bolt pierced the heart of a troll lunging at him.
Three more shots followed in quick succession, severing its writhing, regenerating neck and torso.
Damn, too many monsters.
Normally, no issue. But the situation—the environment the demon king had crafted—was the worst.
Everything's deliberate. They're overwhelming us to wipe us out.
Avalanche, magic bombardment, monster hordes. It all flowed seamlessly, naturally.
Of course, the alliance was strong. He didn't doubt they'd hold. But the cost to achieve victory would mount, and knowing the demon king intended that made his teeth grind.
The demon king's schemes...
Then he sensed a flow of mana—tainted with magic points, utterly alien.
He traced it. There was the masked Dark Spirit Summoner. Beside her stood a black-haired man.
Demon...?
Somehow familiar. The guy from their last Erjest climb—the one who'd fooled even his senses.
His face looks...
Like Fail's. Though the vibe was totally different.
Exposed.
An opening. Daphne stifled his presence, drew the string taut, and unleashed the mana in a burst.
A flash erupted.
Kwaduduk—
It closed the distance to the Dark Spirit Summoner's face in an instant. Just as he thought it hit, a hand shot out.
Strong...!
He loosed arrow after arrow. The flashes targeted true, but hands kept intercepting.
Black flames roared endlessly.
Definite. A Flame Demon clansman.
Probably a high demon.
Take him down here. Can't let him escape.
Daphne scanned the battlefield. The avalanche put them at a disadvantage, but Hillon Kargil and the alliance elites were living up to their fame, holding firm.
They're commanding the monsters. Kill them, and we seize momentum.
Daphne bolted toward the snow mound. Then, a horn blared once more.
Ominous dread flashed through his mind.
Krwooooaaar—
A massive roar accompanied a wolf-riding orc-like demon leaping down, hundreds of Frost Orcs in tow.
“...My god.”
Daphne bit his lip and nocked, unleashing a flash at the lead behemoth.
“Hahk, hahk...!”
Daphne exhaled ragged breaths.
The demon was tough. Crude swordplay, but brimming with power; deceptively swift and agile for its bulk.
Still, just a mid demon at best. No reason he couldn't kill it—if not for the Frost Orcs charging suicidally.
Dozens of orc corpses littered around him.
The fight had been brutal; wounds accumulated on his body. Yet the alliance held, and the demon fled on its wolf.
“Are you alright?”
“...Yes. And you, Hillon?”
“I'm fine.”
The battlefield was pandemonium. Red eyes amid blood, fallen bodies strewn between.
The alliance had climbed confidently, only to pay dearly for falling into the demon king's trap.
Still, victory was victory. Cheers of survival rang out.
“Rescue the horses buried in snow!”
“Save the wounded first, then we leave!”
“Recover the bodies!”
But the triumph was fleeting. The alliance swiftly began cleanup.
Daphne used his senses to detect life amid the snow.
“Dig here, here, and there.”
“Yes!”
Daphne himself dug out buried knights. Then—
Melting snow with mana to descend, a hand suddenly grabbed his ankle.
“...Daphne.”
A face emerged, then torso and legs. A pale-faced knight recognized him.
Daphne realized he was one of the third prince's guards.
...Why's a guard knight buried?
Avalanche, sure. But deep unease stirred.
“...We, we must save him.”
“...The prince?”
“Y-yes!”
The knight yelled. As if on cue, voices shouted from outside the pit.
“Daphne! Big trouble!” “The prince is gone!”
The guard drove it home.
“Demons kidnapped Prince Martin and Sir Kawol!”
“...!”
Martin's last memory: his guarding knights, platinum shield mages erecting barriers. Then demons piercing through.
The grip on his nape was irresistible.
Kidnapped...?
Here to find the tower and rescue Kaede, only to get snatched himself?
Less terror at demon king abduction, more absurd frustration.
He was a prince too; entering demon territory meant considering capture. Hence the platinum shield mages and elite guards—yet this mess.
But where am I?
Cold against his back. Sky above.
A shallow pit. He clawed out to a white snowfield.
“You...!”
There—the Dark Spirit Summoner demon.
“Pleased to meet you, imperial prince. As for introductions, I'm the Four Heavenly Kings serving the Demon King: Dark Spirit Summoner.”
She bowed politely, same as before.
“...Why kidnap me?”
Martin forced calm. Why not the tower? Why chatting casually with her? None of it made sense.
“Impatient, aren't we? In times like these, recall the wisdom: the more rushed, the more you circle back.”
“I asked why you kidnapped me. Think the empire will sit idle?”
“Making them sit idle is our job.”
“Our?”
Only then did Martin notice she wasn't alone. Another masked woman.
“Allow me to introduce: my fellow Four Heavenly King serving the Demon King, Dark Knight.”
“Dark Knight?”
Unlike the robed summoner, she was clad in black armor. Mask instead of helmet or visor was odd, but faint magic points emanated.
Their eyes met.
“......”
“...You.”
Somehow familiar.
The long golden hair to her waist.
Emerald eyes like a lake.
Composed aura.
“I am the Four Heavenly King serving the Demon King: Dark Knight.”
And the trembling voice.
Impossible, but.
No way his sister served the demon king.
“I've gathered you here with one proposal.”
His head rejected, but his heart burned.
“...Kaede?”
He blurted it. The words hung unreal even after spoken.
A kidnapped princess working for the demon king...?
“...Yes, that's right, brother. You recognized me at once.”
The Dark Knight removed her mask. Her familiar sister's face appeared.
“...Really you, Kaede?”
“Yes. Jespain Empire's Ninth Princess, Kaede Jespain, greets her brother.”
And simultaneously.
Sring—
Kaede drew her sword. She approached slowly, pressing it to Martin's throat.
“But I am also the Dark Knight serving the Flame Demon King.”
“...What? You've truly become the demon king's lackey? You, an imperial princess?”
“Yes. But I'm not lonely.”
Because.
“Brother will serve the Flame Demon King with me.”
“...Huh?”
“Brother.”
I'm doing this for you.
So.
“You must trust me completely.”
I won't lose you.
The Dark Knight's gaze was resolute.
By the time Berge arrived where the two princes and princess waited, the conversation was in full swing.
Ernan, who had been drawing in the snow at a distance from the royals, greeted him.
“How long's the talk been going?”
“Almost thirty minutes. I was bored to death alone.”
“Bored is good.”
Meant the discussion was dragging on.
A tough sell from the start; short meant definite rejection.
“How's the alliance?”
“They just noticed the prince vanished. Searching everywhere, but won't reach here.”
“Did I do good?”
“You did.”
Ernan had drawn attention perfectly, letting him station monsters nearby for perfect timing.
Her massive blizzard wave inflicted heavy casualties.
Manageable without her, but not this flawlessly. She'd played a big role.
“Then give me what I want too.”
“What?”
“You gave Ravinia scales, right?”
“What do you want?”
“Can I tell you later?”
She'd pulled this before.
“Do as you like. Long as it's not excessive, I'll grant it.”
Unlike Kaede or Elena, Ernan wasn't his subordinate. Their bond started with goodwill; her aid invaluable thus far.
A favor or two? No issue.
“Berge-sama.”
Then Kaede called him.
“The talk's over.”
“Result?”
Berge strode over. Kaede bowed silently; Martin glared.
“If we align, I'm willing to partner with the Demon King.”
“Partner?”
Not subordinate?
“I'm an imperial prince; my goal is imperial supremacy. An emperor ruling the continent's greatest nation can't be a demon king's minion.”
“Refuse, and you won't be emperor.”
“Even if not emperor, I'm a prince. I won't let the empire become the demon king's puppet, even in death.”
“Then die.”
Berge bared killing intent.
“Demon King!”
“I gave you a chance through Kaede—not reaching out, but mercy. Because she begged.”
Yet Martin refused.
“Kill me, and the empire ends you.”
“I fear no empire.”
“Then you wouldn't offer this.”
“I said: for Kaede.”
Intent thickened. Breath stifling, Martin gritted back.
“Nonsense! No demon king sways for a kidnapped princess!”
“Not for a princess, but for subordinate Dark Knight's plea.”
“Even then, if unprofitable, you wouldn't.”
“Naturally. But not your misconception. Just uneasy path versus easier one.”
“Making me subordinate is merely 'easier'?”
“Yes. But you tossed the lifeline, so moot.”
Then obviously, die.
Fwoosh—
Black flames flickered.
They engulfed Martin. He screamed.
Kwaaaah—
Horrid wails tore his lungs. He rolled in snow, flames unquenched.
“Demon King!”
“Wait.”
Kaede bit her lip. Desperate to save brother, but frozen.
Finally, Berge flicked his hand. Flames subsided.
Martin, hair wild, gasped. Eyes lost luster, blank as paper.
“A taste. No second. Decide.”
“...An emperor can't be demon king's lackey.”
Yet he repeated. Commendable will—if Berge were imperial.
“Instead...”
“Instead?”
“I'll leave something else.”
“Something else?”
“Hostage.”
“Kaede's already mine.”
“Not Kaede. My eldest sister.”
Martin had one "eldest sister."
“First Princess?”
“Yes. I'll ensure no issue if you take her.”
“Humans excel at plausible bullshit.”
Berge gripped Martin's throat. He dangled, flailing.
“Pretend hostage, use my hand to purge rivals?”
Who'd he take for a fool?
“Th-then the divine relic! Proof of trust!”
“Divine relic?”
“Empire emperor's sword! Without inheriting from late emperor, no legitimacy!”
Mandatory for legitimacy.
If true, worth more than hostages.
Berge loosened grip.
“Can't be subordinate yourself, but hand that over?”
“Just a symbol. Can't exceed people. But without, any throne lacks legitimacy—suits mutual trust.”
“You can casually yield it?”
“Tell location. With slight aid.”
“Imperial vault, obviously.”
Predictable. No sloppy guard for imperial symbol. Not location, but theft feasibility.
Exposing magic points meddling? Worse backlash than now.
“I have vault access. Then, one guard to entrance. Rest yours—not bad?”
“Depends on the item. Mere symbolic trash...”
“Never! Red Dragon bone-forged blazing sword. Crimson Blade, Barstain. Flame-like red blade...”
Kwak—
Guk, why...!”
“Red what?”
The blade.
Red?