< 167. He Must Be Killed >
Berge spread his wings and took to the skies.
The dragon wings, which should have been pitch-black, were cloaked in a faint crimson glow.
He surveyed the land below with haughty disdain.
There, far beneath him, sprawled a massive city, tiny from this height. At its heart stood the headquarters of a single merchant guild.
A smirk curled his lips at the sight of the foolish humans below, oblivious to the peaceful daily life about to shatter.
Berge swung his hand.
Space tore open.
A colossal sub-dimensional pocket unfurled its ravenous maw.
Hundreds of ice statues—no, monsters frozen in ice—poured forth.
Snap.
With a light snap of his fingers, the essence of flame adhered to each monster at their master's command.
They began gnawing away at the cold ice binding them.
Kraaaaaargh!
By the time they reached the ground, they were no longer statues. They were living, breathing beasts brimming with destructive urge.
"Come on, then. Let's see what you've got, future crown prince."
Would he win this time, or would I?
"And behind you..."
Would there be a Jason Cockmondo?
Or not?
For the first time since his regression, Berge—now free from worries at his back—unleashed his true nature.
"Yawn."
Jerry, an executive of the Black Toad Merchant Guild, stretched to fend off the encroaching post-meal drowsiness.
Savoring the bitter warmth of his coffee, he refocused on the documents.
"Tch, still denying it to the end. Pointless."
The papers detailed the Golden Moon Merchant Guild's affairs—the ongoing proceedings.
The Iasian royal family had pulled their investment, and the nobles who'd poured in funds alongside them had followed suit.
With the nobles gone, wealthy commoners began abandoning them one by one. The guild teetered as massive sums fled, clinging to Hildean Kingdom's steadfast investment as their sole hope—though consensus held it wouldn't last, dooming the guild to bankruptcy.
"Hillun Kargil isn't an idiot. No way he'd keep propping up those unethical scum."
It was common knowledge among the informed that Hillun Kargil had invested in Golden Moon. They'd milked that rumor for all it was worth.
But now, it had become poison.
How long would a hero cloaked in the mantle of "justice"—who'd kidnapped rival guilds' artisans—stay tied to such trash?
In Jerry's view, not much longer.
A hero who soared on wings had no need to wade through filth.
Hildean's funds, which he'd secured, would likely withdraw soon. And his own investment would demand repayment. That would spell Golden Moon's end.
Then it happened.
—!
A faint tremor. His coffee cup rattled.
"What the—?"
His bewilderment lasted only a moment.
——!
This one was bigger. The cup crashed to the floor, shattering with a clang as its contents soaked the carpet.
"Mr. Jerry! Disaster!"
"What the hell is it?!"
"M-monsters! They're attacking all over the city...!"
"This is the heart of the empire! It's been ages since we cleared the local monsters—how absurd...!"
Rumble—
The ceiling caved in. Jerry and the merchant screamed, collapsing amid the falling debris.
Shadows loomed.
Grrr...
"...My god."
Through the half-collapsed roof loomed a head. Glowing yellow pupils.
A drake—the monster that should have ruled the distant mountains—here at guild HQ?
Crunch.
Before he could react, massive jaws swallowed Jerry whole. Blood sprayed. His mangled lower half slumped uselessly.
"Aaaah!"
The merchant fled in tears, but drake flames reduced him to ash amid screams.
Kraaaaaargh!
The drake smashed the building with its tail, roaring. Similar chaos erupted across the headquarters.
"Is this even possible?"
Alfons, captain of the Red Lion Knight Order, let out a hollow laugh. His iconic red armor, long dyed blackish from monster blood, gleamed darkly.
"Cleanup complete."
"Casualties?"
"171 dead, 715 injured."
"Unbelievable. The knights?"
"Two Red Lions dead, fourteen injured."
"Tell the injured to return to the fief and prepare themselves. Anything else?"
"Most buildings, including the guild HQ, are destroyed. Civilian deaths around 1,000, but with over 3,000 missing..."
"Insane."
The Black Toad Merchant Guild was directly under Duke Osrian. Operated by Count Britan, a vassal, its HQ lay within the duke's domain.
That guild had been attacked. Not just it—the monsters had swept through surrounding areas, plunging the city of Britan into panic.
Security forces annihilated, magic barriers shattered. Citizens massacred, the city a lawless ruin.
Duke Osrian had swiftly dispatched the Red Lion Knights with a subjugation force, but the damage was too vast to contain fully.
No monsters nearby had made the city's lax defenses a fatal flaw.
"Where the hell did these monsters even come from?!"
Alfons gnashed his teeth.
Hundreds of them—each dwarfing orcs in power.
They'd descended from the sky like rain, assaulting the city. No traces of approach anywhere.
"...They fell from the sky."
"What?"
"That's ridiculous!"
"It's ridiculous, but that's what happened."
"...You mocking me?"
"All survivors say the same. Hundreds poured from the sky like rain."
The knight looked aggrieved. He found it absurd too, but unanimity forced belief.
"...Damn it, does that even make sense?!"
Alfons scratched his head furiously.
Astronomical loss of life and property. Worse, the count—guild overseer and fief lord—was dead.
Yet no clear origin for the monsters, just absurd reports of falling from the sky.
"No, wait. In a way, it's obvious."
Alfons sought agreement from his subordinate.
"Exactly. That's it."
Thinking it over, it was plain. Monsters from the sky—high-tier ones that could crush orcs or trolls effortlessly.
Impossible in normal circumstances.
Normal ones.
But artificial?
If someone maliciously targeted Duke Osrian?
The answer was simple.
"Demon King. A Demon King dared claw at House Osrian!"
"But which...?"
"Does it matter? A Demon King's stirred—that's key. We report to His Grace and await his judgment."
Alfons declared resolutely.
"...We will have vengeance."
The devastation in Count Britan's domain and the annihilation of Black Toad HQ reached Duke Osrian and the crown prince swiftly.
Boom!
The table splintered under the impact. Rufus Jespain could barely contain his boiling rage.
"Confirmed? Monsters from the sky—Demon King's doing."
"Yes, every survivor says the same. Unless they were all mind-controlled en masse, which showed no traces."
"What of His Grace?"
"Dispatching troops to restore the site. Vowed to behead any Demon King involved. He's entered the capital to meet His Majesty."
"As he should! Absolutely!"
Crunch.
Blood trickled from his crushed lip.
"Cooperate fully with His Grace to hunt the culprit. Send cooperation notices to the Hero Guild."
"Yes."
"Dismissed."
The count left. Rufus manipulated the bookshelf behind him. With a low rumble, a gap appeared.
He entered, descending stairs to a secret chamber housing a communication orb.
Infusing mana, he awaited response.
"Your Highness."
"Heard the news? No need—you must have."
"I have."
"Insolent Demon King bastards. Know your place. I spoiled you, and now you dare grab my hair?!"
"Calm yourself first, Your Highness."
"Shut it!"
Rufus growled.
"Be grateful I'm not wiping your tower off the map right now."
"Of course, Your Highness."
"Tell me. Your doing?"
"Why would it be?"
"Who, then."
"Berge Dayas."
"The one humans call the Flame."
"Lying pathetically to dodge blame. Balaf Disrod and the heroes are hunting him. You expect me to believe a cornered wretch defending his tower soiled the empire's honor?"
No, more likely...
"You're the one pulling strings—it fits better."
"Calm down and trust me."
"Trust you?"
"Just a century and a half ago, you sowed discord between Korzen and Horton, sparking war. Fabricating evidence, inciting—your specialty, right?"
"The empire orchestrated that."
"No, you. That's why your alias is 'False,' isn't it?"
"The empire spread that too. Framed me as False."
We joined hands, then you stabbed me in the back.
"Jespain suits 'Empire of Lies' better."
"So you struck first, fearing betrayal?"
"Precedents exist, but I'm not the culprit."
"The past is past. I've worked to mend ties with your fractured empire, leading here."
"I'd never ruin it myself."
"Always such slick words."
"And above all."
"I lack the power."
"Not just me—the Frost Demon King humans call, nor the Diamond one. None could."
"Only the Flame Demon King could."
"Meaning?"
"Sub-space is advanced spatial magic—the pinnacle of space-rending spells. Without specialization, even demons falter in scale and potency."
No Demon King, however mighty, could hold a sub-space for hundreds of monsters.
Directionality differed, beyond mere strength.
"Nonsense. The Flame's no space mage? Plenty witnessed his black flames."
"True, but one race wields sub-space innately, beyond magic."
"Born with immense authority and power."
"Insatiably greedy, hoarding every treasure."
"Arrogant, fearing nothing, deeming themselves supreme."
"...No way."
"In Alein, they're called dragons."
"The Flame Demon King is a dragon?!"
"Dragons aren't Alein-exclusive."
"Alein dragons and Ma-gye's Berge aren't identical."
Regardless.
"The Flame Demon King, Berge Dayas."
"Is Ma-gye's strongest race: a dragon."
Only he.
"Could stuff hundreds of monsters into sub-space."
Only he.
"Dares wage war on the empire."
Thus.
"He must be killed."
"...!"
Rufus recoiled instinctively. Cold sweat beaded.
The eye beyond the orb, adjusting its monocle.
Too cold, too alien.
Killing intent filled the chamber, though none should be felt.
"Do you understand?"