<155. The Tower's Legs>

Thud thud thud—

"Be careful moving them! Each one of those is worth more than your lives!"

"You stupid ogre bastard! Don't just toss it!"

Dozens of furnaces belched fire nonstop. Bare-chested dwarf muscles slammed hammers down with vigor.

Countless metals were smelted and hauled out of the workshop. Monsters carried the finished parts outside, where artisans waiting in the snow etched circuits, connected them, and fused them into one.

"Over here!"

"Hurry hurry! The circuit's not fully engraved yet!"

"Whoa, it's tipping! Careful!"

Gigantic legs.

Eight enormous legs, each nearly 22 meters long.

And they were racing toward completion.

In a mere three months.

"...Incredible speed."

Berge marveled from atop a small hillock, watching the spectacle. He'd pushed them hard, but he hadn't expected it to go this fast. He'd figured at least half a year minimum.

"Don't forget my contribution was huge."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Vivian shrugged her shoulders. Her smugness grated, but she was right this time.

The demons she'd brought numbered in the dozens, mostly succubi. And Berge had discovered another talent of the succubi.

They were meticulous. Surprisingly deft with their hands.

A drop in the bucket compared to the dwarves, sure, but plenty sufficient as support labor.

No denying the succubi's addition had greatly accelerated the legs' completion.

"Me too."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Scale."

Berge grimaced but peeled off a piece of scale and handed it to Ravinia anyway.

Thanks to the boosted intelligence from her turning monsters into chimeras, the work had gone much smoother.

Even Cher, who could haul the heaviest loads solo, had been a big help.

But if he had to name the greatest contributors, it was the dwarves.

They were obsessed with finishing—even one day sooner—a contraption they'd never made before and never would again.

That obsession, mixed with Roger's desperate desire to impress Berge, had them pouring their lives into it.

"Glad it's finishing on time."

"Yeah, really is."

Just two days ago, word had come that the empire's hero expedition was ready. At a level even a revived Berge couldn't block.

'Even now, the timing's ridiculously perfect.'

"Demon King! It's done!"

Roger shouted from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠below, directing the dwarves. The eight legs were now arrayed around the tower's base.

They looked attached to the tower at a glance, but they'd only been pressed flush against it. The tower's outer walls were too sturdy to pierce casually.

"It's finished!"

"To think we made this."

"But will it really work?"

"Yeah. Not connected to the core or anything—just pressed tight."

"Shh, you think the Demon King would order something half-assed?"

"I doubted at first, but no core meant it was easier than expected."

"For something 'easy,' your nose is bleeding."

"Yours look like rotten pollack eyes. Why not go sleep it off?"

"Kuhahaha, sleep at the glorious moment of activation? Wanna try me?"

"Not a bad idea. Just remember I've been sleepless for days—my hammer doesn't know moderation anymore."

The dwarves, frayed from three months of abuse, growled at each other.

Berge considered ripping out their impudent tongues but decided to let it slide generously. It was a good day. Thanks to their efforts.

Berge extended his hand.

He felt the chill of Erjest-infused metal.

And then.

The tower had recognized the legs.

'400,000 points per leg, huh.'

Not cheap, but within expectations, so Berge nodded without hesitation.

Crackle crackle—

The tower's magic churned all at once.

But.

"...Wh-what's wrong?"

Roger shrank under the sudden killing intent.

"No, nothing."

Berge clutched his throbbing head. Come to think of it, the same thing had happened assimilating Mana's Phantom.

Because of the dimensional interference Roger the hero had infused.

'At least not ten times worse this time.'

Not just Roger's work, so the interference wasn't that heavy.

Though the sheer scale made the absolute amount substantial.

Berge nodded once more.

Thankfully, the magic he'd steadily stockpiled for the legs was ample.

* * *

"...You think it'll be okay?"

Ernan bit her nails anxiously. Rare for her mask of smiles to crack.

—Try contacting him?

"I did. No answer."

She'd warned him beforehand that he'd be unreachable for a bit due to some big project.

But forewarned didn't mean worry-free. Especially now that the empire had fully drawn its sword.

"I didn't expect this. The empire this desperate."

Just the ninth princess, right?

Even if she'd tried toppling it with a warlock, they'd stopped her.

No nation permits foreign armies under the hero expedition pretext.

Not even against the empire. If anything, especially the empire.

They had a history of toppling nations that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way long ago.

So unless they wanted war with the whole continent, the empire would honor the hero expedition taboo.

Heroes unaffiliated with any nation officially, attack squads, mercenaries.

That was standard.

As the name implied, heroes led against Demon Kings, but you couldn't fill it all with heroes. Three thousand-plus was plenty, but not overflowing.

But the empire had done it.

A five-hundred-strong hero expedition, all pure heroes.

And not just that?

Balaf Disrod, Gillian Aint, Aina Diaphrin, and now newly starred Waton Colro.

Four Stars. Even with hundreds of mana cannons, elves stepping up, and the Lust Demon King as kin—unblockable force.

If they'd been in Alein for over a decade, maybe. But all two years or less as Demon Kings.

—Eh, I'm not worried.

—Doesn't seem like he'll win, but not like he'll die either.

"...Yeah, probably."

—That's why he's unreachable now, right?

—Attaching legs to the tower or whatever.

"Right."

Ernan nodded faintly.

Thinking about it, not a bad sign. He was advancing to escape the worst.

"It'll work out. He always does."

Things always twisted, but he always fixed them. That was the Berge Dayas she knew.

—Yeah, kidnapped eight more princesses at the eleventh hour.

—Went full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rampage maniac.

"...Don't remind me."

A faint crack appeared on Ernan's face.

A few weeks back, under the excuse of maxing Magic Points, Berge had hit kingdoms left and right.

Spared the northern three that could march armies south, but starting with Iasan's four princesses three months ago: Ormus's fourth, Heshen's three, Gainia's first, and Carmenia's first from the Traparta Union.

The continent flipped out, but the empire's threats to stay in line kept them quiet as mice.

—Still, good thing? No princesses like you, Kaede, Elena, Ravinia.

"Like us how?"

—Treating the Demon King's tower comfier than home? Seeing the Demon King as friend and love interest?

"Don't paint us weird."

—You are weird... Though I like it.

—'You were the first to reach out.'

—'The first whose hand I took.'

—'The first princess.'

—Kyaaaa! Too good!

"...Don't you ever get tired?"

—Never! Always thrilling! Always fresh!

"Quiet down. I'm busy with something important."

—How rude!

The deranged water spirit ignored her.

Ernan closed her eyes, plugged her ears. Slowed her breath, calmed her mind.

Moments later, the door opened.

Hillun Kargil, crisp in a suit, bowed slowly.

Ernan raised her head, brushed back her platinum hair gently.

"Your Highness, you look stunning. The dress suits you perfectly."

The pale purple hue was warm yet exotic. It blended seamlessly with her aura.

Her shining amethyst eyes outshone any jewel on the gown.

Subtle makeup highlighted her further.

"No ulterior motives, right?"

"Of course not."

"I believe you."

"Nervous?"

"Me?"

Ernan's lips curved up.

She was. But not about this. About the unreachable Berge.

"Not at all. My brother's the one who couldn't stand the wait and clawed first. Time to enjoy the show."

"Quite a few nobles are waffling."

"Thanks. They're handing us a chance to weed out the bats."

"His Majesty's will too."

"I know Father better. He wasn't thrilled I refused. Hence the petty obstruction."

Not a big deal. Over half the nobles had swung to Ernan Hildean.

Thanks to her talent and dignity.

And Hillun Kargil's popularity alongside her.

Even a noble-heavy kingdom can't ignore the populace entirely.

With the people's will behind Ernan and Hillun, nobles followed for self-preservation.

Yet her brother pulled this as a last gasp.

Unable to watch his slow sinking. Desperate to twist the board.

The silent king's lingering resentment over her rejecting Hillun's marriage played a part too.

But two unchanging facts remained.

Her faction was too solid to crumble on one word from the king.

"Brother's an idiot. To sway Father, only killing me works. But the coward lacks the guts."

"Not lacks guts—he can't. With me guarding you, and you a spirit mage contracted to a high spirit, assassination's impossible."

"If he truly willed it as king, he'd make it happen."

"Even if he succeeded, Second Prince wouldn't survive unscathed."

The other: the king would never abandon Ernan Hildean.

To him, she was beyond crown princess— the light to turn kingdom to empire.

"Time. Shall we?"

"Grant me the honor of escorting you, Your Highness?"

Hillun knelt, offering his hand.

"Gladly."

Ernan took it and rose.

They headed to the banquet hall together.

That day, Hildean Kingdom's royal palace hosted the wedding of the kingdom's second prince and Heshen Kingdom's second princess.

< 155. The Tower's Legs > End