014. Not a Prince, But a Hero
“Uh...”
Roger's gaping mouth refused to close.
“You're going to... let me go?”
“I never said anything like that.”
“B-but you clearly said you'd show me mercy...”
“I said I'd let you live.”
And right now, you're still breathing.
“......”
Not a single word was wrong.
Roger's face drained of color.
“Ahh...”
His short legs buckled, and hot tears plummeted onto the frigid snow.
The Demon King had known all along.
He'd seen right through Roger's pathetic ploy to play the spy just long enough to slip away.
“Tears of joy, I take it?”
“...Y-yes, of course.”
“On your feet. We've got a long way to go.”
“...Yes, sir.”
It was cold. Piercingly so—even through the dwarf-forged fur coat renowned for its insulation. The chill seeped in relentlessly, and Roger found himself muttering about the Erjest Mountains under his breath.
“Um, so... where exactly are we headed?”
“The summit, naturally.”
“You mean... the tower's up there?”
Roger had lived in isolation lately, crafting weapons for the princess. He'd been oblivious to the new Demon King's descent.
Oblivious to the kidnapping of Hildean Kingdom's crown princess.
But he did know one thing: Demon King towers were built in reasonably perilous spots—places humans could theoretically reach, but rarely did.
The summit of the Erjest Mountains?
It was bizarre, but Roger wasn't bold enough to question it outright.
They climbed for what felt like hours. His stubby legs slowed them down, but years at the forge had built his stamina.
“M-monsters are... parting for you.”
“Obviously. I'm a Demon King. You think some puny monsters would dare block my path?”
“D-does that mean the whole mountain belongs to you...?”
Berge didn't answer. But silence could speak volumes, couldn't it?
Is it really...?
A foreboding chill slithered through Roger's mind like smoke. He swallowed hard.
They finally reached the summit. The tower lay hidden in a secluded valley, camouflaged from easy discovery.
“Take a good look. This is where you'll be putting your skills to work for me.”
“...Me? For the tower? How...?”
“You'll figure it out in time.”
The tower door swung open.
Roger squeezed his eyes shut.
The first floor might house weaker demons, but they were still demons. He'd never seen one alive—not since becoming a hero, not ever. Terror gripped him.
“What are you doing?”
“Ah, well...”
Chided by the Demon King, he cracked his eyes open. And stared into an empty cavern.
“Uh...? Is it supposed to be like this?”
“For now. We'll fill it up eventually.”
“Ah, got it. That explains why the new Demon King hasn't stocked it yet.”
Relief washed over Roger. No demons to face—at least for now.
“Follow me.”
They ascended to the second floor, then the third. More empty spaces, much like the first. But the fourth floor stunned him for an entirely different reason.
A scene utterly at odds with any Demon King's tower.
“Spirits...?”
Spirits frolicking in the mana-scarce interior of a tower?
“Oh, you're back?”
A human popped out among them, amplifying Roger's shock. She didn't fit here at all.
“And who's this...?”
“Who're you?”
“This is Hildean's princess. And this is the dwarf you'll be rooming with. He's a hero.”
“...Princess?”
“...Hero?”
“You'll both stay on the fourth floor. You'll be seeing plenty of each other, so introduce yourselves.”
The Demon King headed to the fifth floor.
Left alone, the princess and the hero eyed each other in heavy silence.
“You're not here to rescue me, are you?”
“...Not exactly.”
“Were you kidnapped too?”
“......”
“You're not... a prince, are you?”
“......”
“...You are a hero, right?”
“...For now, yeah.”
Roger hung his head.
He had zero pride as a hero, but this was mortifying all the same.
“You want me to renovate the first floor?”
Sharing space with the princess had gone from awkward to suffocating. That's when the Demon King summoned Roger.
And the first order was downright baffling.
“Didn't you say you'd use your talents for me? Was that a lie?”
“N-no, sir!”
“Then consider this your chance. To put your lowly craft to glorious use for me.”
“So... the first floor, however I want...?”
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
Balistas and cannons in a Demon King's tower...?
Traps instead of demons? Unthinkable.
I figured he'd want weapons or armor...
Demons wielded weapons and wore armor too. That's why he'd assumed that's why he was brought here.
But turning the first floor into a dwarf's trap-filled deathtrap?
“If you're backing out now—saying you can't kill fellow heroes—go ahead and say it.”
“For real?”
“Of course.”
Roger wasn't that dense. He felt the killing intent leaking out.
“N-no! I really want to do it.”
His own life mattered more than faceless heroes.
“Can you actually pull it off?”
“I'm one of the top artisans in the dwarf kingdom. If you wish, I'll go beyond basic cannons and balistas—I'll show you the pinnacle of dwarven ingenuity!”
“Good attitude. Need anything specific?”
“Depends on how we renovate the first floor.”
“The whole thing. The entire first floor is yours—do whatever you want.”
“The entire first floor...? Then, may I draft some blueprints?”
“You have two days.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
The Demon King leaned in close. Those pitch-black eyes loomed, and Roger collapsed.
A whisper slithered into his ear.
“Feel free to try something sneaky. Just don't forget—this is a Demon King's tower. The moment you do, it'll be your worst nightmare.”
“Hic!”
The Demon King vanished. Roger remained, soaked pants and all.
“Sniff.”
Pathetic.
“I can accept the dwarf.”
Not fully, but compared to this, it was a thousand times better.
“But a hero?”
Heroes were the enemy.
Guardians against invasion. Obstacles that had to be crushed for dimensional conquest.
Recently, Alein's peculiarities had led to some Demon King-human collusions, but they remained irreconcilable foes.
“No Demon King brings a hero into their tower!”
“Then I'll be the first.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told you—I brought a dwarf. Need me to recap the plan?”
“But he's a hero.”
“And a top-tier artisan from his kingdom.”
“Still...!”
“You gonna build it yourself?”
“......”
Berge quelled Gordon's complaints with a sip of bitter tea.
“Worry about sourcing the materials he needs.”
“...Simple. Go shopping yourself.”
Gordon snapped curtly.
“Elaborate.”
“Splitting purchases across kingdoms prevents the worst-case scenario.”
“And what's that?”
“Getting caught buying materials. Then they trace it back and figure out what you're planning.”
“Countermeasures?”
“Scatter the flow across kingdoms—they won't connect it to you. Humans track logistics; you'll use subspatial storage, so impossible to trace.”
“Not bad. Then why the sour face?”
“What's wrong with my face?”
Everything. It was so irritating he wanted to smash it.
He hadn't been like this pre-regression. What changed?
“It might become a problem soon.”
“......”
Gordon grinned wide at the Demon King's fist. Hideous.
Berge tapped the table.
A bit of a hassle, but it's the smarter play.
Dwarven traps thrived on secrecy.
Unexpected traps at unexpected moments.
Even without that, letting humans sniff out his moves wasn't ideal.
“Fine. Draft a plan for the best materials and sources.”
“I don't even know what he needs.”
“Is that a real question? Ask the hero, obviously.”
“Ah.”
“Don't want to work?”
“...No, sir.”
“Rebelling?”
“......”
“Top of Demon Clan Training Academy, my ass.”
“...That's not it.”
“Whatever. I'll handle the blueprints. Go check on Iasin's status.”
“...Yes, sir.”
Berge vanished. Alone, Gordon punched the wall.
Back in his adjutant's quarters, Gordon flopped onto the bed, fuming.
It burned him up.
His fault, sure—he'd been so fixated on the dwarf being a hero that he'd overlooked the obvious.
But tracing it back, it all stemmed from Berge.
“I tolerated the tower on Erjest Mountain.”
“Hiding it? Tolerated.”
“Letting the princess roam the fourth floor instead of a cell, redecorating as she pleases? Tolerated.”
“Spending precious Magic Points on human money? Tolerated.”
“Using that slave elf for shady dealings? Tolerated.”
“Even letting a dwarf fill the first floor? Tolerated.”
He'd overlooked every deviation from the Demon King's Canon, every un-demonic act. Because he was the Demon King. The lord he served.
But kidnapping a hero?
Handing the tower entrance to one?
“Damn it.”
This wasn't the Demon King and adjutant ideal he'd dreamed of.
Not why he'd studied a decade at the academy.
Not why he'd graduated top.
“No more...!”
Gordon unclenched his fist with a heavy sigh.
He had to endure.
Their bond was hierarchical. Demons prized order above all.
Defiance meant death—the natural punishment. Stricter in the tower than in Ma-gye itself.
“Damn it, if he weren't the Demon King...!”
But he was. And Gordon was adjutant.
He pulled out his communication orb. Infusing it with mana, it glowed faintly and connected.
『You're back.』
『Demon King showed up, huh? Faster than expected.』
“Are Demon Kings always like this?”
Gordon vented his pent-up rage.
『Anger in your voice.』
『I get it. Gotta serve 'em, but they piss us off sometimes.』
『I wanna hear what happened.』
“He won't listen to a word I say. Everything's his way. Why keep me as adjutant then?”
『Same here. Mine listens sometimes, but mostly does whatever.』
『Mine listens to me fine.』
『Aina, shut up.』
『You shut up, Cocoon. No class.』
The voices that seemed sympathetic quickly devolved into bickering.
“If he'd listen just once, I wouldn't feel this disillusioned.”
『Demon King Academy's top grad, huh? Living up to the hype.』
『Right, Gordon—you were academy top too? First top-grad in Alein; must feel weird.』
『Mine too. Not sure if I'm adjutant or just background noise.』
“Exactly! If he weren't the Demon King...!”
『Don't say that to his face.』
『Looks feisty—head rolls instantly.』
『Gordon-head? Could be fun.』
“Don't even joke.”
Alein had a communication network for Demon King adjutants.
And channels opened mostly when someone was venting about their superior.
Adjutant comms were private, but ultra-loyal ones snitching to superiors wasn't unheard of.
“Knew it.”
Drakson tore into raw meat, chuckling.
“First punk to glare at me like that. Even after graduation mockery for insulting the canon, he'd been top dog. Arrogant as hell.”
Even non-tops grew cocky as Demon Kings. Demon nature.
“Your take?”
“On the Demon King? Or adjutant?”
“Adjutant. Could be lying.”
“Didn't seem like it.”
The fury through the orb was genuine.
“No demons, no summons—and bad blood with his one adjutant. Confirmed.”
Drakson smirked intriguingly. That intense first meeting hinted at something, but maybe just bluff.
No, there's more.
“What about that slave elf?”
Selling mana for human cash to buy slaves? Suspicious. He stayed vigilant.
One minion busted, but ongoing.
“Heading south with Red Hawk Mercenaries.”
“Destination?”
“Not yet...”
“Adjutant won't spill?”
“Grumpy, but no details on what Berge is doing.”
“Still loyal, then?”
Not loyalty. Just too shameful to admit his Demon King handed a floor to a princess and recruited a hero.
“Keep chatting, probe gently. Report anything odd.”
“Yes.”
“Eyes on the elf too.”
“Understood.”
“The hero?”
“Hillon Kargil left Hildean, through Endain Kingdom. Heroes up to 40; with mercs and merchants, 141 total.”
“Faster than expected. Wonder how many more by Erjest. Especially against him.”
Desperate bid to survive backfired spectacularly.
Too dangerous for riffraff. Forced kingdoms to hire their best.
Root cause: kidnapping the crown princess. Arrogance, no doubt.
“Hillon Kargil.”
True hero who'd beheaded the Lust Demon King.
“Absorbed Tyrus's fame and power—unimaginable strength now.”
“Might be Berge's first and last hero encounter.”
“Thrashed like a thunderbolt, now he'll get his. Still uneasy—poke more?”
“How...?”
“Heroes love strategies. Intel, methodical takedowns.”
Drakson snapped his fingers.
“He wields flames, right?”
“Yes, black flames.”
“Leak it to the heroes. Subtly—no ties to us.”
“Yes.”
Humans knew zilch about Berge. No prep, no plans.
Flames intel alone would shift the battle.
Toward certain defeat.
Kuhhuhuhu.
Drakson grinned slyly.