047. Mortal Enemy (Free until here!)
“Welcome!”
The Red Flame Assault Team had rented out an entire mansion in the capital city of Ortarn for their stay.
Heroes everywhere I look.
I’d love to snap every last one of their necks.
Berge endured the disgust and rage emanating from all directions with superhuman patience.
The strongest hero among them spread his arms wide in welcome.
“Come on in. We’ll be working together again, like it or not.”
Hillon Kargil bowed silently at the blatant undertone.
“This is our assault team’s vice-captain, Franz.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Franz.”
“Peyl.”
“...?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sir Peyl, aren’t we meeting for the first time today?”
“So?”
“Doesn’t that mean we should observe at least the basic formalities between strangers?”
“Rozel Charnt didn’t bother with that.”
“...”
Franz’s head snapped around. Rozel averted her gaze slyly.
“Captain, a word over here.”
Franz dragged Rozel to the back.
“What the hell is this?”
“What’s what?”
“You didn’t tell me he was that kind of guy!”
Treating a stranger like an old buddy from the jump, with zero intention of fixing it.
To Franz, who valued teamwork above all, this was the type of person they could never afford to accept.
“One of him is more than enough.”
“We’ve got one like that in our team?”
“...”
“...Wait. What’s with that look?”
“It’s nothing. But he’s still a newbie. No matter how much you like him, Captain, that kind of behavior undermines discipline.”
“Discipline is strength. Formalities are trivial. You think monsters will skip you if you stand on ceremony? You think the Demon King won’t take your head?”
“We’re not monsters or Demon Kings!”
“Ugh, whatever.”
“This damn...!”
“Why don’t you show some decorum? I loosen up a bit, and suddenly you forget what to say and what not to.”
Franz shut his mouth at her gentle yet unyielding firmness.
“And don’t judge by appearances—look deeper. Feel that mana.”
Rozel grabbed Franz’s face and turned it. There was Peyl, chatting amiably with Hillon.
“Focus hard. Tense up those eyeballs.”
“...You’re right, Captain.”
It burned hot. Pure as could be. Mana so vivid it felt like staring at a spirit incarnate. A gasp of admiration escaped him.
Franz couldn’t sense the ‘latent potential’ Rozel mentioned, but the sheer quality of the mana told him Peyl was no ordinary man.
“How can a person have...”
“Maybe he’s not entirely human.”
Half-elf or some rare mixed blood? It happened, if rarely.
“Point is, I don’t want to let him slip away.”
God, I want him.
Rozel licked her lips.
“...Playing dumb is exhausting.”
Her stare was blatant as hell.
Berge ground his teeth, though he’d blocked the sound with mana manipulation. That piercing gaze was impossible to hide.
“Don’t explode.”
“I won’t. Can’t ruin the plan over trash like this.”
This level of humiliation was nothing compared to what the Red Sword Hero had put him through right before his regression—a mere paper cut.
“Talk’s over. Let’s head to my room.”
Moments later, Rozel led Berge and Hillon inside. Franz tactfully excused himself at her glance.
Click.
The door shut, and a faint alchemical scent stung their noses.
“Sit. Nothing to offer but water.”
Two glasses of cool water hit the table.
“Now, let’s talk.”
“Talk?”
“More like an interview.”
“Didn’t I already pass?”
“In my heart, you’ve passed a hundred times over. But my body’s rejecting you? My instincts are crawling—can’t accept that.”
“Offensive. You’re the one who recruited me.”
“I know. Just think of it as formality.”
She pulled a document from a drawer.
“Name: Peyl, from Hildean. Which part of Hildean, exactly?”
“Do I have to say?”
“You do. ‘Cause it says here there’s nothing on you. Zilch.”
“Background check, huh.”
“Don’t take it personally. What if you’re a spy here to sabotage the hero expedition? We’d all be screwed.”
It happened sometimes. Ancient history from centuries ago when all eyes were on hero expeditions, but small assault teams still dealt with it occasionally.
“You approached me first.”
“I may rush in headfirst, but I like clean follow-through.”
“No reason to tell. No reason to accept restrictions.”
“No. If I say you need to, then you do.”
“Then I’m out.”
He couldn’t bail. Berge had to join this hero expedition and confirm Drakson’s death with his own eyes.
But he could play hardball because he was sure she wanted him just as badly.
Judging by how she dragged me in and that look in her eyes, no way she lets me walk.
Sure enough, her brow twitched in disbelief at his refusal.
“You’d throw away a chance to join the Red Flame Assault Team?”
“Not a big deal to me.”
“You begged to speed up the expedition for a reason, didn’t you?”
“Sounds more like you.”
Rozel’s lip curled. Her gaze shifted sideways.
“Hillon Kargil. Can you vouch for Peyl’s identity?”
“Of course.”
“Stake your neck on it?”
Hillon hesitated briefly, then nodded.
“...This is surprising. What’s your deal that you’d risk your life?”
Hide his identity even under pressure like that?
“Fine. I trust you.”
“Can I trust Hillon?”
“Not trusting Hillon. Trusting his career and the reputation he’s obsessed with.”
The Hillon she knew was fixated on honor and appearances more than anyone.
“Betray us, and it all crumbles. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her sharp gaze swept over Hillon.
Spot on.
She flashed a bright smile.
“But I’ve got conditions.”
“Conditions?”
“Overlooking the sketchy bits means I deserve something in return, right?”
“I thought I was joining as a favor to you.”
Anyone’d think I begged.
“Weird, huh? You must want something too, pushing to start the expedition early.”
“...What do you want?”
“Your mana, blood, and a lock of hair.”
From their first meeting to now, Rozel Charnt had one goal.
Berge’s mana—dense as a spirit’s, scorching hot.
She wanted it. If she couldn’t have it, she’d make it hers.
She held out a crystal orb.
“Mana storage orb. Fill it up.”
“Refuse.”
“What?”
“No telling what you’d do with my blood and hair. Mana’s fine, though.”
Phoenix power masked his magic points, but his body was still demon. A grand mage like Rozel would uncover it with research.
Mana, however, was pure phoenix—no issue.
“Mana alone won’t tell me how you got this power...”
“Twice instead. Once now, once after the Demon King dies.”
“...Deal. I’ll settle for that for now.”
“...For now?”
Rozel nodded. Something felt off, but Berge extended his hand.
He closed his eyes, releasing mana carefully to avoid touching his magic points.
“...You’re really going for the kill.”
“Rare chance.”
Infusing took longer than expected. The orb’s capacity was absurdly huge, belying its size.
Rozel grinned wickedly. Berge pulled back, a slight dizziness hitting him.
“Good.”
“Your turn to hold up your end.”
He steadied his breathing.
“Perfect timing.”
Rozel shrugged. At that moment, a massive mana wave swept the mansion.
“...Must be rolling in cash.”
“Akan Kingdom’s always loaded.”
Clank, clank.
Heavy armor echoed down the hall.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened. A knight in silver full plate bowed.
“Hail, great hero Rozel Charnt. Sir Jenoi and 301 knights, plus 152 mage troops, have arrived.”
“Welcome.”
Rozel stood, offering Berge her hand.
“Up.”
Berge met her eyes.
“The second hero expedition starts now.”
“...I like the sound of that.”
Berge took her hand.
Silently.
And swiftly.
That was Rozel Charnt and the Akan Kingdom’s plan.
Before other kingdoms caught on.
Even if they did, they’d be done and gone by then.
Hundreds of handpicked elite troops teleported into Ortarn’s mansion via magic circles.
The mana stones alone cost a fortune, but Akan valued the gains from Demon King hunting far more.
“Tower treasury covers it.”
“Can’t miss this shot.”
The magic kingdom of Akan always craved rare monster parts, demon byproducts, and treasures.
Their value was limitless, fueling countless magical achievements built on monster and demon blood.
So they committed.
To something impossible under normal circumstances.
The prior expedition had failed but damaged the tower greatly. Without Ormus’s urgency to erase it, without Rozel Charnt’s burning zeal, it’d never happen.
Under Ormus’s tacit approval, the secret second hero expedition began.
“Golden Lion Knights, Crimson Tiger Knights, White Wolf Knights. My god—the Blue Meteor Mage Corps, Golden Galaxy Mages, Red Sun Mages too...”
Hillon marveled at the troops pouring through the magic circles.
All top-tier forces in Akan, countable on one hand. It showed how seriously Akan took this.
With Akan’s elites replacing them, Red Hawk mercenaries and such were cut.
Secrecy was paramount.
Blue Meteor Mage Corps, huh.
They’d assaulted Berge’s tower once before.
Towers matched their Demon King’s element. Berge’s was fire-heavy, sweltering. Blue Meteor specialized in ice magic.
They never reached the top, but they’d been a pain—many monsters died.
Six military units total, plus Red Flame Assault Team and 71 heroes Franz recruited separately.
Berge exchanged no greetings. Some mages sensed his mana and gawked, but they ignored him too.
To them, he was just an outsider.
With curt, perfunctory hellos, the second expedition left Ortarn.
“Confident?”
Berge flew alongside Rozel Charnt, who led the way.
Solid force, he’d admit. But doubt lingered.
Even after one failed expedition, could this kill Drakson?
Drakson had endured Alein’s dimension for nearly a century. No pushover to fold after one or two tries.
“Naturally.”
Rozel smirked confidently.
“Mages plan. This plan’s flawless.”
“Didn’t feel that way last time.”
“If Balaf that dog hadn’t jumped us, or if Hillon Kargil matched his fame...”
“Demon King’s the crux. Got someone to hold him?”
“Obviously. You think I’d trust Hillon Kargil twice?”
Speak of the devil.
She muttered.
A presence approached from afar. A ‘hero’ with massive presence, rivaling Rozel’s, charging in.
The group halted. New hero joined.
“Meet Ralph Shmitz. Weaker than me, but you’ve heard the name?”
The heavy-armored hero dismounted. Removed his helm.
Instantly.
“...!”
Berge’s eyes locked on him.
Handsome face.
Radiant blond hair.
Ocean-blue eyes.
Muscular build clashing with those features.
Berge’s skin crawled. His heart pounded wildly.
“Hey.”
Rozel nudged him, sensing the weirdness.
“...What’d you say?”
“Asked if you know Ralph Shmitz.”
“I do.”
How could I forget.
That bastard.
That son of a bitch.
Hero Ralph Shmitz.
“Very, very well.”
One of the heroes who’d smashed his tower and mocked him to his face right before regression.