< 161. Gone >
He'd really come after all.
Martin clutched his throbbing head.
No one could imagine it. A Demon King who had turned the entire continent upside down and become the empire's public enemy was casually sipping coffee right in front of a prince.
"You look genuinely surprised that I'd show up."
"Of course I am. What Demon King in the world walks straight into the heart of the empire on his own?"
And alone, at that.
"Do you know the hero party is on the move again, searching for your tower?"
"I know. They're pitifully wasting their efforts."
"...How the hell did you hide the tower?"
"If I told you, I might have to take your head."
"Forget it. Then what's with that appearance?"
"Strange?"
"...Strange? It's way too strange."
His face was the same. His build was identical. But the hair color, the eye color, the aura he exuded—they were all different.
Not a trace of mana could be felt, making it impossible to even think of him as a Demon King.
"What method did you use?"
"None of your business."
"Can other Demon Kings wander around like this too?"
"Getting a bit too greedy, aren't you?"
"What do you want?"
Berge flashed a sly grin.
"You really want to know that badly?"
"This is a serious matter."
"I could tell you if you want. Depends on what you can offer."
"I hear you like money."
"I do."
"What does a Demon King even do with money?"
"Now that's extra. Price just went up."
"...Spill it."
"I want a merchant guild."
"A merchant guild?"
"If you can't provide one, then you don't get to hear it."
It was a necessary precaution.
Since he'd sensed Jason's tentacles reaching for the Golden Moon Guild, he couldn't just sit back and take it.
Even if Golden Moon collapsed, he needed a replacement.
"I own a few guilds. I'll give you one."
"One you could just wipe out on a whim if you felt like it?"
A puny little guild like that could be erased by an imperial prince anytime he wanted.
Especially if he framed it as rooting out a Demon King's lackey?
Martin Jespain was just someone who'd allied temporarily for his own gain—not someone you could trust with your back.
"As a blood relative of the great empire, I will honor my word."
"Confident that honor extends to a Demon King?"
"...Naturally."
"Not quite convincing enough to sway me."
"Then what do you want?"
"A prince like you must have at least one or two guilds in foreign lands, right?"
"That's..."
"Don't bother with lame lies. Unless you want to bow out of the succession race early."
"...I do."
"Traparta Union?"
"Two under the Aintscheil marquisate."
"Hand one over. Completely sever ties with the Aintscheil marquisate. Oh, and of course, it can't look like the ownership changed on the surface."
"Those two guilds aren't that big."
The Traparta Union was a trade hub. A wealthy nation drawing vast money and people, but flooded with guilds as a result.
Traparta favored guilds tied to its petty kingdoms, so the White Rose and Hyacinth guilds barely clung to survival, serving mainly as informants funneling Union intel.
"Then hand over both."
"...Highway robbery?"
"You know better than anyone it's worth that much."
Oh, and one more thing.
"Invest more into the guilds too. That'll determine not just the answer to this question, but the level of future cooperation I offer you."
"You could've been a great politician instead of a Demon King."
"High praise."
"I'll invest 5,000 gold. The maximum I can scrape together right now."
"Not bad."
With big chunks like 100,000 or 60,000 coming in, it felt small—but enough for a minor guild to launch several new ventures.
Not one, but several.
Who was it that said business is done with other people's money?
"Now talk."
"No other Demon King but me can hide their mana perfectly and roam freely."
"And?"
"You can guess, right?"
"Guessing and certainty are different."
"Sponsorships. Supporting the struggling and desperate."
"Not out of pure goodwill, I assume."
"Obviously. Demon King-backed agents are scattered far and wide across the continent."
Berge subtly planted a bomb.
No nobles under his sponsorship. But plenty under Jason's, no doubt.
If the third prince dug into those Jason-noble connections, it would be quite the show.
"...Expensive intel."
"Cheap, compared to living in constant paranoia, assuming every Demon King can do this."
"Can't deny that."
Truth be told, revealing this face wasn't ideal for Berge either. He'd come boldly anyway because he held Kaede hostage—and because he wanted to inspect that sword, even at the risk.
If it truly was the blade that pierced his heart, it was worth it.
"Your turn now."
"Brought the token?"
"Right here."
"Hand it over."
"After I hear your plan. Before coming here, I got details on the imperial vault from Kaede."
The vault was built when the empire was founded, but took its current form 700 years ago, after a grand mage with nine engravings emerged.
"The vault has a chamber and two doors. One leads to the overseer's space, the other to the vault itself. Right?"
"...Yes."
"The token reacts only to imperial blood. Non-imperials can't enter even with it—escort knights max out at the chamber. The overseer guards the vault, and imperials can take only one treasure out. Correct?"
"...Yes."
"Well then."
Berge grinned. He exuded no pressure. No harsh words or expressions.
Yet Martin's skin crawled. He felt like prey before an ogre.
"That empire's symbol you mentioned can't be wielded by the unqualified either?"
"...!"
Martin clamped his mouth shut.
"...Kaede?"
"Didn't expect you'd ask your own sister? Showing that kind of sloppiness?"
Or perhaps.
"Didn't expect her to spill everything when you asked?"
"...How the hell did you manipulate my sister?"
"Not the point. Convince me, or I might do something rash."
Worst case, kidnap every imperial royal. Afterthoughts? Why worry when his tower was sunk in the ocean?
"...The empire won't stand idle."
"The hero party heading to Erjest Mountains doesn't have imperial backing, does it? What you need isn't empty threats—it's a viable alternative to convince me."
"......"
As if such a thing existed.
In truth, Berge showing up like this already derailed Martin's plan.
He'd never imagined a Demon King hiding mana perfectly and boldly seeking him out.
Once he took the token.
And imperial blood.
He'd botch it against the overseer and grand magic arrays.
Not waltz into the capital as a guest.
Martin bit his lip.
"You still haven't answered."
The Demon King pressed him.
"...Yes. No one's lifted it in centuries, and I'm not confident I qualify."
"Yet you so boldly offered it to me."
"You're a Demon King—maybe you have another way. You took the token and my blood, so why follow proper procedure?"
"Hoping I'd fail and spring the trap?"
"...That's."
"Think Kaede wouldn't mention the grand mage's defensive arrays, constantly reinforced?"
"Why the hell..."
"You should thank your sister instead. Martin Jespain. She did it to save you. If I knew nothing and your scenario played out..."
Berge's eyes turned ice-cold.
You'd be.
"Dead."
"......"
"Last chance, Martin Jespain. Try toying with me once more, and you'll meet an end worse than you imagine."
Don't think I'll keep sparing you for Kaede's sake.
"...I'll remember that. But."
"Still more excuses?"
"You knew all that—why come?"
"To confirm."
Facing the vault's defensive arrays and overseer while pulling a heist in the capital? Worst possible move.
Unless he shed all dimensional interference and reclaimed full power—which current Berge couldn't—total impossibility.
His only real hope was Martin claiming Barstaine legitimately. But he wasn't optimistic.
A sword masterless for centuries suddenly choosing Martin? Too optimistic.
Still, he'd come to confirm.
Great if he brought it out. If not, get precise clues on Barstaine in the capital to verify if it was the heart-piercing blade.
"What the hell is Barstaine to you? It's slumbered in the vault for centuries."
"None of your business."
And if, by some chance, he brings it out.
Snatch or destroy it by any means.
That red-bladed sword was one possibility. A blade that could kill Berge.
Forged from dragon bone, it had shredded his scales, flesh, and bones mercilessly.
Even in ordinary hands, it showed fearsome might—but in exceptional ones, it grew stronger.
Back then, that moment.
Defeat might've been inevitable anyway.
But at least.
Without that sword in the hero's hands, it wouldn't have been so pathetic and hollow.
He could've at least torn the bastard's throat out in mutual destruction.
Eliminating that possibility alone made destroying the sword worth the risk. If not destroy it, at least claim or hide it.
"Remember two things."
One: bring out the sword and hand it to Berge.
"If you can't claim ownership, at least record its appearance so I can verify."
"...Understood."
Berge growled. Martin nodded.
The imperial vault admitted only royals.
Only token-bearers, and only once in a lifetime.
The treasures within were exquisite artifacts, but only one could be taken.
Yet every artifact had requirements.
Noble relics chose their masters, rejecting the unworthy.
"Some royals emerged empty-handed, they say."
"Don't play games. Hide it after selection, and my mercy ends then."
"...Just mentioning a possibility."
"Shut up and enter the vault." "Not escorting?"
"I will."
Up to the entrance, but a chance to scout the vault and its overseer.
"Very well."
Thus, Martin got the emperor's permission. Berge followed as escort knight.
"Welcome, Your Highness. I've been waiting."
The vault delved deep underground. A vast chamber and door appeared, guarded by a waiting man.
"Vault overseer, Jaxion."
"Pleased to meet you, Duke Jaxion."
"Escort knight, you cannot proceed further."
"Fine."
Berge replied while relentlessly scanning the chamber and Jaxion.
Strong.
At least high demon—maybe beyond in some ways. Gordon at full Ma-gye power level.
Not just that. Magic arrays blanketed the vault, linked to Jaxion.
Instant combat: they'd amplify him, suppress Berge.
Fight now?
Eight-out-of-ten loss. No need to gamble.
"Your Highness, please insert the token here."
"Got it."
Martin slotted the token into the door's groove. Click. Perfect fit. Then a small cut, blood dripped.
Woooong—
Door and token resonated. A deep groan as it slowly opened.
"Only one item may be taken."
"I know."
Martin entered the vault.
Awe at the array: artifacts that could turn mortals into powerhouses.
But he bypassed them all, heading center. As heard, the empire's symbol should crown the middle pedestal.
"...My god."
But.
Unlike the opulent surroundings.
"...The Red Dragon Sword."
The most crucial spot was empty.
"...Gone."
The Red Dragon Sword, Barstaine, had already found its master.
End of < 161. Gone >