Glad I Came Along
『...The hero expedition has been postponed. But it won't drag on for long.』
"That's plenty."
Drakson Dolph let out a sigh of relief. At least that was one weight off his shoulders.
『Lately, your behavior has been getting on my nerves. Let me say it again: there won't be a third time.』
"I already told you flat-out that wasn't me. That damn Berge is a real blockhead."
『A prince gets killed by demons in your territory, and you expect me to believe it wasn't you? Unbelievable.』
『If it hadn't been Ormus Kingdom on the other side, we couldn't have smoothed this over so easily.』
Drakson ground his teeth. There was an unbridgeable chasm between him and the figure in the crystal orb.
'Whoever it is, when I catch them, I'll rip them limb from limb.'
The demon who did it—and the Demon King who put them up to it.
"For the next hero expedition, I'll release not just the prince and princess I'm holding prisoner, but all the captives from this one too."
『See that you do.』
Click. The connection cut off.
Drakson irritably tore into a hunk of meat on the edge of the table.
"If I can just stall for time, track down the culprit, and get the tower restored with His Excellency's support..."
There would be some blood loss, but he could survive.
"Not some—massive blood loss."
He knew that accepting monsters and demons from Archduke Alkain would require handing over far more magic points in tribute.
But nothing mattered more than his life, so there was no choice...
"We're in trouble, my lord!"
Casey burst through the door, panting.
"What is it?"
"I-Intruders! Around five hundred humans have entered the territory. With multiple heroes among them, it looks like..."
Boom—!
The table shattered into oblivion.
Casey swallowed hard amid the suffocating wave of demonic energy.
"Those goddamn bastards...!"
The Hero Guild had its public faces—those who brought glory to the organization.
The ten greatest heroes.
People called them the Ten Stars of hope, though the heroes themselves found the term a bit embarrassing and didn't care for it much.
Rozel Charnt was one of the Ten Stars.
Balaf Disrod, who had refused to join this expedition, was another.
Hillun Kargil, recognized not just for his strength but for his honors and deeds—like defeating the Lust Demon King—rounded out the bottom of the list as a Star.
And the man standing before them now.
Ralph Shmitz was a Star too.
The Ralph Shmitz in Berge Dayas's memories was a pesky wall of scrap metal.
A shield bigger than his own body that blocked nearly every attack.
"You alright?"
Hillun quietly called out, sensing something off about Berge.
"...Fine."
Berge forced himself to breathe steadily.
Hearing a hero's name was one thing. Facing one who'd been involved in killing him—and hearing another who'd done the same—was on another level entirely.
Still, he endured. He barely suppressed the boiling killing intent and the magic points threatening to run wild.
'Hold it together. If you don't, you're dead.'
Like Rozel Charnt, Ralph was a powerhouse. Berge couldn't beat him as he was now.
And it wasn't just Ralph. They were smack in the middle of the hero party, enemy territory.
'So...'
What if he struck from behind during the crucial fight with Drakson?
He couldn't guarantee it—not right now. Killing Drakson took priority over everything. No gambles.
"Long time."
"Take care."
"Don't forget our deal."
Ralph exchanged brief greetings with Rozel, then tuned everyone out.
"He's famous for being the strong, silent type."
Silent? More like rude as hell.
With the final member joined, the hero party surged toward the Beast Tower. Maybe because the first expedition had already swept through, monsters rarely charged at them.
They reached the tower—a massive eleven-story structure.
'Never thought I'd end up here as part of a hero party.'
Let alone to kill Drakson himself.
"Moving in. Stay sharp, everyone."
At Rozel's signal, the knights took point. The mages prepared spells for instant casting.
Creeeak—
The tower welcomed its guests.
Floor 1: Dire wolves.
The knights cut them down with a few swings—no need for anyone else.
"Their level's dropped hard. Guess they ran out of time?"
Rozel and Akan's elites cheered.
On to floors 2 and 3. They climbed swiftly.
'By the book.'
The monsters grew slightly stronger with each floor. But for beasts dwelling in a Demon King's tower, they were too weak.
Probably.
"Same strategy as before, looks like."
Hillun Kargil whispered. Just as he said—Drakson was gathering his full forces upstairs for a showdown.
But Berge wasn't so sure.
Rozel Charnt and the heroes would figure that out too.
'Drakson wouldn't overlook it.'
A Demon King Academy graduate who claimed his throne wasn't an idiot. He just couldn't abandon the canon like other demons.
The canon that had become less a habit and more a religion.
As they stepped onto floor 5 with that thought—
"Gaaah!"
"Poison!"
Screams rang out.
Several lead knights' armor was corroding. Acrid smoke stung their noses.
Healer heroes rushed over. Knights formed a defensive circle while some mages cast scanning spells.
Monsters burst from the shadows.
"Enemies!"
"Hold the line! Protect our men!"
"Magic point traces everywhere. This means..."
"They've rigged the place with traps."
'Pulling tricks.'
Alein's Demon Kings sought ways to survive without straying too far from the canon.
This was no different.
'Demon King's Canon, Fifth Rule.'
Place low-level monsters and beasts on the tower's lower floors, gradually increasing strength toward the upper levels. The Demon King must always await the heroes from the summit.
Nothing said not to add traps. Weak or vicious, it didn't matter.
But Berge hadn't expected traps from Drakson. Beastkin were boldly valiant—or bluntly brutish—at the top of the list among demons.
Pre-regression Drakson had revered frontal clashes over traps.
'Laying traps means he'll do anything to win.'
That Drakson, abandoning his pride and stubborn ways. He was that cornered.
'Never thought it'd be easy anyway.'
Dozens of years in Alein wouldn't have been a cakewalk for Drakson.
Still, Berge wondered.
'What kind of face are you making right now...?'
Berge wore a faint smile.
"Daring to stab me in the back!"
Drakson couldn't hold back and crushed the communication orb.
He'd called dozens of times. But all he got were one-sided cutoffs, excuses like "no way" or "we'll look into it"—no further replies.
He had no choice but to conclude it: he was dancing like an idiot in their setup.
"You'll regret this day!"
Drakson roared. After venting his rage, he forced himself calm.
First things first: those vermin intruders.
"Status on the intruders?"
"Yes, sir. Knights, mages, heroes—total of 526. No faction crests on the knights or mages, hard to ID, but elite level for any kingdom."
"Your take?"
"Akan Kingdom. Only they could muster that many elites this fast. Rozel Charnt's likely leading."
"Those magic-obsessed freaks must be after my hide and bones. Any special threats?"
"Rozel Charnt, Hillun Kargil, and..."
That much he'd predicted. Failed heroes grinding their teeth for a rematch wasn't rare.
"Ralph Shmitz."
"...That pain in the ass?"
All heroes were nuisances, but Ralph Shmitz had a rep even among Demon Kings.
The sturdiest wall among heroes. Rumor had it he'd faced a basilisk's breath head-on, advanced, and ripped out its tongue.
Couldn't compare a basilisk to a Demon King.
But denying a major headache joining the party? No.
'Ralph Shmitz and Hillun Kargil will pin me down. Rozel Charnt preps the finisher.'
Ignore him, take out Rozel first.
Visualizing the battlefield, he scanned the tower's interior. Then, a vaguely familiar face caught his eye.
"...Berge Dayas?"
No, not him.
Easy to mistake at a glance, but the hair and eyes were different. And most of all—
"Magic points from that guy in the hero party?"
"None at all."
If it were Berge Dayas, Drakson would've sensed him the moment he entered.
'How can anyone look that much like him...?'
Doubt lingered only briefly—they were closing in. The traps he'd set "just in case" were buying time nicely.
Fortunate they weren't wasted? Or unlucky?
"The demons?"
"All awaiting at the summit."
"Monsters?"
"1,321 in total."
Excluding the weak ones placed with traps to follow canon.
Originally three times that, but the first expedition had hit hard. Nearly 300 heroes then.
"The royal captives below...?"
"Too late for canon play."
Ideally, greet the heroes at the summit with the princess.
Timing botched by the sudden mess.
"Leave 'em."
Drakson flung open the door and stepped out. Floor 11. His kin filled the space around the throne.
"They're coming! Show no mercy to these scum who mock demons. Let none escape alive."
That sufficed. Thick killing intent enveloped the entire floor.
Drakson strode the carpet amid his demons' cheers, ascended the stairs, and seated himself on the golden throne.
And then.
The door opened.
Berge's first impression was nostalgia.
The Demon King seated majestically. Demons at his side, thousands of monster kin around him.
Past Berge had been the same. No—grander. More demons, more monsters, flaunting his authority.
But he didn't miss those days. It had all been a castle of sand, built in ignorance.
All monsters and demons slaughtered, Berge himself slain in the end.
He had no desire to repeat that humiliation and defeat.
It stung that his relationships with those who'd sacrificed for him back then were ruined, but better now.
"......"
"......"
An intense gaze locked on. Drakson Dolph, the tower's master, stared him down.
Berge met it unflinchingly. Drakson looked away first.
"Quick study. Want me to pop your other eye too? Balance it out?"
He snarled at Rozel Charnt, the hero party's leader.
Without signal, monsters roared. Demons gripped weapons and charged.
'He didn't notice.'
Berge confirmed it, scanning the battlefield.
'Four high demons. Eleven mid. Fifty-two low.'
Monsters: roughly a thousand.
No pushover force. But neither was theirs.
Ralph Shmitz charged the Demon King first. Monsters blocked, but the knights trailing him split attention.
Mage support kicked in.
Boom boom boom!
Brilliant flashes rained down.
Monsters screamed.
A demon tore into the knights' shield wall.
The monster ahead fell to Ralph's blade.
The Demon King rose from his throne, heavy bulk shifting.
All in a blink.
Mana and magic points clashed violently. The stench of mingled blood assaulted the nose.
Berge watched calmly. Hillun guarded his side.
"Glad I tagged along. I'd have been kicking myself if I hadn't come."
"What do you mean b—"
BOOM—!
A massive roar. A lump of something grazed right past them.
"Goddamn it...!"
Rozel Charnt rose from a half-dug crater, vomiting blood.
"Close."
Drakson licked his claws.
"Little higher and it'd have been perfect."
A long gash tore across Rozel Charnt's cheek.