< 049. It Was Quite Something >
Alein was the worst dimension.
There were too many heroes, and the humans were strong. They'd endured invasions for ages.
Humans had adapted, and Demon Kings were no longer absolute.
Those aspiring to be black mages or dark knights had vanished, and the Demon Kings' foothold shrank day by day.
But adaptation wasn't just for humans.
Time was fair. Amid endless deaths, the first to change was Jason Cockmondo.
He'd survived in Alein for over a century, sharing his wisdom. Other Demon Kings' survival rates rose as a result.
Not everyone followed suit, though.
A true Demon King wouldn't listen to others. Some repeated past mistakes; others adapted.
False, Frost, Diamond, and Beast. Those four seats held for decades, but the fifth constantly shifted.
Humans misunderstood because of it.
Due to the ever-changing Lust seat—those who couldn't adapt, couldn't build power, and died—they thought Demon Kings were nothing special.
The foolish notion that heroes and humans were unconditionally stronger than Demon Kings.
Demon Kings were weak because of dimensional interference.
They couldn't bring legions freely.
Recent humans hadn't faced Demon Kings who'd overcome those limits over time.
Of course, that didn't mean absolute superiority for Demon Kings.
Otherwise, they'd have conquered the world already, and Berge Dayas wouldn't have failed in his past life.
Heroes were strong. And numerous. In some ways, comparable to Demon Kings. They just couldn't be everywhere.
Far off, Ralph Shmitz raced desperately toward them.
His shield was scratched but still solid. It could withstand some of Drakson Dolph's attacks. But it lacked the speed to chase a Demon King who was serious about escaping.
Rozel Charnt, bleeding, wielded flames that could incinerate even a Demon King. But she had no means to block a Demon King's assault.
At best, a specialized mage's defense spell endured one or two hits—powerless before a Demon King.
Together, they were more complete. But when the Demon King shook them off deliberately, cracks formed.
Ralph chased the Demon King's tail frantically; Rozel thrashed to survive the onslaught.
It was one-sided. Victory for the Demon King seemed inevitable.
"But I can't miss that spectacle."
Hillon Kargil. Calling his name brought him forward.
Here, only three—not two—could hold the Demon King even briefly.
Hillon's sword targeted Drakson's back. The beast turned, claws clashing.
Claaang—
Hillon staggered back two steps. In that instant, Ralph blocked between Rozel and Drakson.
"Right, you—the one who killed Tyrrus, Hillon Kargil."
Drakson's gaze shifted to Hillon, then beyond to Berge.
For a split second, he hesitated—then bared his fangs calmly.
'Filthy, revolting mana. No way that's Berge.'
Pure mana, diametrically opposed to magic points, triggered instinctive revulsion.
He decided.
'Kill Hillon Kargil first.'
Among the gathered humans, the strongest three were Ralph, Rozel, and Hillon—but Hillon was the weakest of them.
The Demon King lunged at Hillon, still recovering from the impact.
Boom!
Sword met claw. Hillon retreated a step. The glancing claw sliced toward his forearm.
"Ngh!"
Hillon deflected it forcibly. Ignoring the throbbing wrist pain, he cast with his other hand.
Ultra-fast casting—lightning crackled instantly.
Crackle—
Lightning struck. Drakson froze, just briefly.
Hillon dove in, thrusting his sword. Sharp aura pierced the hide.
"Tickles."
Blood flowed, despite the words. Thick claws gripped the blade. Surging magic points shattered the aura.
Thud—
Hillon reeled.
Then, flames erupted. Pure, thus utterly repulsive flames.
It resembled Berge. Drakson's face twisted.
"A non-hero dares."
Heroes could kill Demon Kings not just from strength, but from dimensional interference—a natural counter to demons.
The same spell amplified by interference was poison to demons.
Plain hot flames were merely annoying, not absolute.
But Berge's goal was just to draw attention briefly.
Clank—
A massive shield rose against the Demon King.
Aura-clad, it was a brutal bludgeon in itself.
Claaang—
Claws raked air. The aura shield cracked. A grunt escaped. But Ralph held without retreating an inch.
And through that gap.
"Mages wield stronger spells using their blood as medium."
Scorching heat rippled.
"Thanks for providing it yourself, you mangy mutt."
The grand mage's inferno roared.
Sharp enough to pierce Demon King magic points.
Hot enough to scorch beast fur.
Drakson wanted to dodge. If not for the iron wall blocking retreat.
One side walled, the other lightning-flashing. Decision swift.
'Shield's tough to breach. Lightning? Just tank it.'
He kicked off the ground. Lightning fizzled against his hide. He roared at the blocking Hillon Kargil.
"Die!"
Exploding magic points blasted everywhere.
Hillon desperately raised his sword.
Claaang—
The blade tip shook. Shattered aura fragments scattered.
Boom!
Ralph's shield slammed his back. Hillon swallowed dizzying pain. A momentary wound to remove one blade? Worth it.
He kicked out. Chest-hit, Hillon spat blood, retreating two steps. Impressive leg wound in that brevity.
But that was it.
"Pity. Too weak for Tyrrus's killer."
Not fully absorbed yet?
Mockery slipped out amid urgency. How arrogant after slaying a Demon King.
How ignorantly he'd known demons.
Drakson detonated all magic points. Storm-force shoved Ralph back. Hillon staggered. Drakson's strike dove in.
Whoosh—
Unexpected flames assaulted then.
Tail-bound fire drew a groan.
'When?'
Distracted by heroes, yet unnoticed?
Doubt brief—no issue. Flames parted. He slipped through.
"Such flames can't—?"
Then he sensed wrongness.
Grayish. No—black.
Crimson flames blackened.
Repulsion turned familiar.
Red hair blackened.
Worn ruby eyes turned obsidian.
Everything changed.
Mana vanished. Viscous magic points writhed.
"...Ber...ge?"
The unknown man was now Berge Dayas.
"Seeing you like this makes it even nicer."
Berge smiled.
His emergence wasn't chance.
Rozel Charnt was strong. Ralph Shmitz was sturdy.
But not pre-regression Rozel Charnt. Nor Ralph who'd blocked his near-unshackled strikes.
Confident they couldn't overwhelm Drakson, he'd suppressed presence, biding time.
The perfect moment to emerge—and shake Drakson.
"Your magic point burst hid mine."
"Your bulk blocked their view."
"Just as they poised for your gap."
Right now, no?
"You bastard...!"
Roar—
Black flames engulfed Drakson.
"Tail okay? Told Hillon your weak spot."
"Noooooooom!"
Black waves crashed everywhere.
Berge fed magic points into the wave, riding it.
His role ended in a flash.
Melted some of Drakson's magic points with black flame.
Drew eyes, freezing movement briefly.
Like a knight stripped of armor.
Seasoned heroes didn't miss it.
———!
Flames piercing Demon King barriers erupted.
Heat meaningless before due to misses now shone.
Burning magic points, exploiting weakness.
Drakson screamed. Steel knight swung shield.
One massive impact slowed him. Knight's skill sealed the wobble.
Flames scorched Drakson. Shield battered.
Tough hide burned. Solid muscle crushed. Agony overwhelmed.
Yet Drakson ignored. Rage boiling to his skull numbed reason.
"Die!"
He charged distant flying Berge.
Rozel Charnt's crimson flames chased from behind. Berge's from front.
Broke through lightly.
Then, Hillon Kargil's sword gleamed.
Throat-aimed slash—Drakson couldn't ignore.
Even weaker than the others, an elite hero.
Sharp enough to pierce his neck.
Drakson twisted torso mid-stance. Blade grazed shoulder barely.
Rozel's flames overlaid.
Heat and dimensional force burrowed, wrecking flesh.
Agony wrenched screams.
"Hillon!"
You must die by my hand!
Berge swallowed the rest.
Enough. Hillon's magic struck. Sword followed.
Drakson dazedly watched the blade descend on his head.
Wanted to block—but melted body lagged.
Shunk—
"Ah."
Short gasp.
Cold metal pierced mouth, choking throat.
Upside-down world, shadows neared.
"Oh right."
Berge whispered.
"That Phoenix corpse you wanted. It was quite something."
"You...!"
Drakson's pupils widened. Residual magic points surged.
But soon.
Crunch—
Cold blade grazed neck.
Head fell, focus lost.
Uncontrolled magic points scattered.
Some flowed to Hillon Kargil, who finished the Demon King.
* * *
"Found it!"
Gordon Dirik shot up.
How to lure scammer Jetoson into the Golden Moon on his own.
Long pondered—answer found.
Key: strip support base. Ruin the shop.
Desperate, no money source? He'd recall tossing 1 gold to Berge Dayas.
"Obvious, really."
Ruin solution came early. Hard part: naturally bankrupt Akan capital shop without revealing demon identity.
Long thought—conclusion reached.
"I was overthinking! Doesn't need to be natural!"
Just bankrupt it, any way. Overcomplicated.
Obsessed with grand perfect plans.
"As long as demon side stays hidden, unnatural's fine!"
Yes—smash, burn, natural disaster.
Key: make Jetoson a beggar.
"Cleanest: burglary. Or accidental fire. Or thugs beat him, massive hospital bills."
Many ways, many means.
Gordon had Berge's connections.
"Annoying dealing with that elf..."
Mercenaries best for deniability.
"Can't reveal demons, so roundabout. Bribe random human in one city, send to another kingdom..."
Then that human bribes another for guild request in target kingdom.
"Perfect."
Tedious, but Granada's job. He'd grumble but obey Maou-sama's orders.
Then.
"Gordon-nim."
"Aman?"
Golden Moon heir and dark knight Aman.
"Do you know someone named Jetoson, by chance?"
"...Jetoson? Why Jetoson."
"This guy came wanting work at Golden Moon. Says from the mountains. Maou-nim sent him, right?"
"......"
Gordon quietly tore up the plan.
Fuck.
"Yes. Take him in well. Maou-nim has high hopes."
"Understood."
Link cut. Gordon gave a hollow laugh.
"...Training him after initial sass?"
Or why lay traps then make pointless moves?
Felt deliberate—Gordon ground his teeth silently.
"Gordon-nim."
Another orb rang.
Red Frost tribe chief, Krutoo.
"What now."
"'Now' implies...?"
"No, never mind. What is it?"
"Debated reporting, but humans climbing Erjest Mountains lately."
"One human, why bother?"
"One, but unignorable level."
Not "mere." Freely traversing Erjest meant top-tier strength.
"Lost subordinates too. Can't beat him myself—ordered distant surveillance and evasion."
"Good call. Guess his goal?"
"Appears in different range sections daily, vanishes. Not unfounded worry, but..."
Krutoo hesitated before continuing.
"Drawing closer to Maou-nim's tower. Probably hunting it."
"......!"
Alarms blared in Gordon's head.
< 049. It Was Quite Something > End