020. Can I Trust Her?
“Take you as my familiars?”
Monsters had their own ecosystem.
The law of the jungle.
Though they had branched off from magical beasts and partially escaped the influence of the Demon World, they inherited the traits of their ancestors.
They fought and struggled.
They preyed and were preyed upon.
To survive, they had to fight and grow stronger.
Yet, ironically, no race had as clear a place in the hierarchy as magical beasts and monsters.
Orcs couldn't beat trolls.
Orcs couldn't beat yetis.
Orcs couldn't beat ogres.
Orcs couldn't beat basilisks, cockatrices, gargoyles, or wyverns.
The orc race boasted the highest population and superior breeding rate among demons, but their limits were clear.
Weak, numerous, and looked down upon even by humans—that was the orc.
Of course, there were hierarchies among orcs as well.
Pale orcs ranked at the top among them; even a small group could devour ogres and weren't to be trifled with by humans. But everything was relative.
In the harsh wilds of the Erjest Mountains, pale orcs were just ordinary orcs.
They were at the bottom of the ecosystem there.
They had to do anything to survive.
The spirit grass was their hope to break those limits.
“So you dared resist even my command and refuse to hand over the spirit grass? And you want me to understand?”
Berge let out a hollow chuckle. Did these idiots even realize what they were saying?
“We don't seek your understanding. They paid the price for their foolish choice. We only ask that you recognize our tribe is different.”
“You'd better be. If you were the same, you wouldn't dare flap your jaws in front of me.”
The orcs trembled at the faint killing intent.
“Did you know I was coming?”
“We heard recently that the Fierce Wind tribe was wiped out. That they lusted after the spirit grass and were massacred by Your Majesty.”
“And?”
“We realized Your Majesty wanted the spirit grass. Our tribe found it and figured you'd come for it someday. So we moved the tribe and waited.”
“Not too far from the tower. But you didn't come to the tower?”
“We thought you wouldn't want that...”
Pretty sharp. If they'd come to the tower and caused a fuss, he'd have ripped their heads off.
“We humbly beg you to take us as your familiars.”
“Take us as your familiars!”
The pale orcs slammed their heads to the ground again.
“What's your name?”
“Krutoo, chieftain of the Red Frost tribe.”
“How many orcs in your tribe?”
“153. Half are warriors.”
Berge fell into thought.
Cases like this weren't unheard of.
Among monsters intelligent enough to converse, some voluntarily sought to become a Demon King's familiars.
Because it was another way to break their species' limits.
Absorbing the Demon King's and the tower's magic to leap to the next level.
Technically, reclaiming their original form—but it was undeniably appealing.
Were pale orcs useful? No. It was because of Krutoo.
Why else were they called monsters?
Not just because they spawned from magical beasts.
Because they lacked intelligence and relied on instinct.
Because conversation was hard and they didn't feel like intelligent beings.
If all orcs were like Krutoo, humans might classify them as heteromorphs, not monsters.
Demons, not magical beasts.
And that wasn't all. The aura emanating from Krutoo was distinctly different from other orcs.
Yes, this guy already...
“You ate the spirit grass.”
“Yes. Long ago, my father saved one, and I luckily got to eat it.”
“Fine. I'll accept you.”
“Thank you!”
“Don't celebrate yet.”
Familiars accepted by a Demon King absorbed magic through the tower. Like a steady salary from humans, it steadily consumed magic points.
Monsters aimed for that when becoming familiars, but with his magic points critically low, Berge had no intention of accepting them wholesale.
Thus.
“I'll only take you as my familiar.”
He painted the big picture.
“...Here.”
Krutoo looked around wildly as he entered the tower's interior.
“A pale orc this time?”
Gordon spotted Krutoo and asked.
“Who's this?”
“My adjutant, Gordon.”
“It's an honor to meet you, Sir Gordon. I am Krutoo, chieftain of the Red Frost clan.”
Gordon blinked at the fluid, natural demeanor.
“An orc...”
The orcs he knew couldn't speak so fluently.
“You'll be my first familiar since descending to Alein.”
“...You're unconditionally welcome.”
The first normal monster. Not a princess or dwarf hero, but a proper monster.
Gordon had no reason to object. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter.
“But a dwarf in the tower...?”
Krutoo's gaze shifted to Roger, who was so absorbed in trap-making he hadn't noticed the homeowner's arrival.
“Does that matter?”
“No. Thinking about it, you travel with a human woman too.”
“Listen. I had no intention of taking familiars for a while—precisely, I didn't before.”
Magic points were limited, and he didn't want to waste them on useless orcs.
“What changed my mind was solely you.”
“An honor.”
The potential in Krutoo.
The potential in the pale orcs led by Krutoo.
“However, though I'll take you as a familiar, I won't make you part of the tower's crew.”
“...Different?”
“Yes. I'll take you as a familiar. You'll control your entire tribe relying on you, their chieftain. So run across the snowy mountains with your tribe.”
Orcs were a race that roared their ferocity while racing across wide plains. It was utterly inefficient to confine such beings in a cramped tower, magic or no.
That was why orcs weren't popular familiars among Demon Kings.
“You've struggled in the Erjest Mountains for ages.”
“Leaping from peak to peak, preying and being preyed on by countless monsters.”
“You know the mountains' terrain and the monsters' territories. Right?”
Krutoo nodded at Berge's rapid-fire questions.
“Yes.”
“Through you, I've seen the future.”
Berge's face lit with ecstasy.
It wasn't a lie. In his imagination, pale orcs bounded across mountains, roaring at the hero party climbing to kill him.
The sight of mountain monsters they'd desperately dragged in ambushing the heroes through blizzards was thrilling.
“Take this.”
It was the Ia Shinss.
It had lost its original chill and purity.
Now infused with the thick, murky aura of the Demon World.
“My familiars must be worthy of my greatness.”
“They must support me from behind.”
“Shatter my enemies.”
“And lay down their lives for me.”
If they did that.
“Then I shall bestow upon you as well.”
“Ahh.”
Krutoo dropped to his knees. He bowed his head, raised both arms, and carefully received the corrupted Ia Shinss.
“An honor...!”
Berge placed his hand on Krutoo's head.
Pale Orc, Krutoo. Accept as familiar?
1000 Magic Points will be consumed.
A hefty price. That meant this one was worth it.
Magic churned. The slave seal engraved on Krutoo's soul.
The dormant magic within him awakened, drawn by the tower's aura.
Black horns sprouted. Tougher gray hide faintly covered parts of his skin.
Krrrr—
His pupils turned black. A small black dragon emblem symbolizing Berge etched onto his chest.
Krutoo trembled in ecstasy.
He exhaled ragged breaths.
“My liege, your command.”
“Go. Grow your tribe. Devour and conquer other tribes to increase your numbers. And bide your time.”
There was no rule saying he had to fight heroes only inside the tower.
If they took maximum damage climbing the mountains, dealing with them would be easier.
“As you command.”
The magical beast, partially awakened to its Demon World form, bowed to the loyalty surging from his soul's depths.
[182pt]
Completely broke.
Berge couldn't hold back a sigh.
His pre-regression self had been glorious.
He'd kidnapped princesses from kingdoms, slain many heroes and even more humans.
His infamy spread across the continent, and the negative emotions from humans never ceased.
Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of points always at the ready.
“...But I still died in the end.”
Infamy brought points but created equally numerous enemies.
Heroes came to the tower daily. He welcomed them with magical beasts summoned at great cost, but they all became fodder.
“Back then, I thought I'd won like an idiot.”
Every hero wave consumed his beasts. Some heroes escaped alive, and Berge mocked them as rats, not bothering to pursue.
He'd thought even skill-less pests were tenacious after repeats.
Never realizing it was all a play.
Pffft.
A self-deprecating laugh escaped. The anger engraved in his soul began to rear its head.
'Still, I've done just about everything I can for now.'
He'd sown division among humans by stripping their spoils and wealth.
Released pale orcs into the mountains.
Mana cannons prepped on the first floor.
And beyond all that, the princess they came to save would turn hostile.
'While they're distracted by the princess...'
He'd smash their unguarded backs himself.
That was the highlight.
Berge hoped the heroes would reach the fourth floor. Just imagining their dumbfounded faces was delightful.
“...Busy?”
Speak of the devil. Ernan peeked through the half-open door.
“What is it?”
“I knocked, but no answer...”
“I asked what it is.”
“Gordon said you called for me.”
“Ah.”
Right.
Berge rummaged and pulled out a fruit. One of the two protected by the Red Frost tribe. Alroje, was it?
Unlike Ia Shinss, it grew as fruit on a tree.
“The tower corrupts elixirs with magic. Better eat it quick.”
“Thank you! And um...”
“Speak.”
“You said you wanted me to block the hero personally?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly how do you want me to do it?”
Berge shut his mouth. He couldn't grasp her intent.
“No, nothing specific, but you must have something in mind? Better to be clear.”
“Didn't expect you to step up so eagerly.”
“I got paid, so I should do my best. That's proper.”
Did human notions of propriety apply to demons?
Whatever. If she'd work hard, great.
“You can't beat Hillun Kargil anyway. But you can distract him.”
“Aha, honey trap? I can do that.”
“......”
“...Not that?”
Ernan's wink faded into disappointment.
“Any method works, as long as you make it intuitively clear you're hostile to him. He won't imagine the princess he's here to save fighting him.”
“And you'll exploit that opening.”
“Yes.”
“Then...”
Ernan pondered, then her eyes sparkled.
“What if I introduce myself as your subordinate? Bigger shock, right?”
“Good idea, but.”
Really?
“If I think of something better, I'll let you know.”
'Why does she look so happy?'
He couldn't understand. So he didn't try. Crazy women weren't meant to be understood, as the saying went.
“Do as you like.”
He waved her off. Ernan left with a bright smile.
'Can I trust her?'
He worried, but the dice were cast. Berge turned to what he could do now.
He fetched a root of magic-corrupted Ia Shinss from storage. Popped it in his mouth and chewed.
Molten magic raced through his body.
His pupils blackened.
“We've now arrived at Hotenwork. We'll start climbing the mountain soon.”
Time passed, and at last, the hero party led by Hillun reached the Demon King's front yard.