< 091. New Family Members >
Ravinia Akan caressed the core crafted by the dwarf.
"Boom."
"Pardon?"
"Shoddy work."
The dwarf pulled a long face, but she wasn't exaggerating.
Magic points and mana were bizarrely mingled, dragging down the core's quality. And it wasn't even functioning properly. They'd half-assed the modifications to accommodate magic points, turning it into an expensive hunk of scrap.
"The mana cannon. How's that?"
"A mana cannon and a golem core are worlds apart!"
A mana cannon was simple: just encase a refined mana orb in a shell, load it, and fire. The power source—mana or magic points—didn't matter much. If anything, the wilder magic points boosted the destructive force.
"...Hmm. Sorry to say it to you, Roger, but this is scrap not even worthy of the name 'core'..."
"You're not sorry at all, are you?"
Raymond averted his eyes from Roger's glare.
"No, that's not true. I respect you, Roger. But this core's design is a bit outdated. Like something from the kingdom thirty years ago..."
"I'm not a specialized golem artisan!"
The dwarf who had lined the first floor of the Demon King's tower with hundreds of mana cannons bellowed.
The golem artisan hurriedly tried to backpedal.
"But the durability is incredibly solid! As expected of Roger!"
"Too late!"
Roger flicked on the power to a mana cannon propped nearby. It hummed to life, lights flickering on.
"S-sorry!"
"Be more careful next time. Got it?"
Raymond groveled. Roger snorted and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Golem. Level?"
"What level of golem do you want?"
"The best."
"You."
"Yes, Princess."
Raymond replied.
"Blueprints."
"Right away, I'll sketch some—"
"Latest."
"...That's top secret in the kingdom. I can do something a bit older—"
"Latest."
"...Give me a little time, and I'll draw them up."
As he'd said, the latest golem blueprints were classified strategic assets, not to be carried out. But Raymond had been directly involved in their design and creation. It took three days to commit the intricate diagrams from his head to paper.
"Oh, this is..."
Roger took the blueprints and marveled. He was a master craftsman, but no golem specialist. Naturally, his knowledge fell short—but these blueprints, infused with Akan's essence, ignited his artisan's soul.
"Beautiful! Gorgeous! To think I'd lay eyes on something like this...!"
"Make it."
"Of course! Akan might lead in golem design, but no one beats me at crafting them!"
Roger tossed tainted mana stones into the Demon World's forge. The bloodfire stones that devoured magic points began belching intense heat.
"Connect it."
"Pardon?"
"Engravings. Circuits."
A golem core wasn't solved by just hammering ore. It required magic circuits and engravings built around high-purity (tainted) mana stones.
That was the golem artisan's craft.
"Urgh... Understood."
The dwarf and the golem artisan holed up in the workshop. Until the core was done, Ravinia had little to do.
Instinct told her exactly what her role was.
Completely replace the golem's mana-based energy source with magic points—and iron out every flaw in the process.
That meant waiting for a proper core to run experiments.
"Cher."
Ravinia called her friend.
The titan thudded over and bowed its head. She patted it.
"This."
Grur?
She opened her subspace and pulled out a twitching tail—the succubus queen's, taken as payment for cooperation.
"Attach it."
Cher shook its head furiously.
It had known Ravinia long enough, and though chimeric now, at its core it was a titan demon.
A macho titan instinctively recognized the tail as succubus—and wanted no part of grafting a lust demon's appendage onto itself.
But.
"Attach it."
It had no choice.
Grrraaaah—!
Cher bolted wildly.
"Stop."
Ravinia grabbed the tail and gave chase.
It had been over a year since descending on Alein.
Much had happened.
Ernan Hildean of the Hildean Kingdom.
Elena Hildean of the Hildean Kingdom.
Kaede Jespain of the Jespain Empire.
And Ravinia Akan of the Akan Kingdom.
Three princesses kidnapped.
One princess bargained with.
One hero rampage thwarted.
Hillon Kargil, the hero who slew two Demon Kings, made a limb.
Compared to his previous regression, things were better. The tower aside.
Back then, fresh one-year-old Berge had kidnapped two kingdom princesses and devoured countless idiot heroes and raiders who underestimated the newbie.
His tower had shot to six floors in no time.
He'd graduated top of Demon King Academy, with a thousand summoned beasts and hordes of demon academy grads drawn to his talent. A different start entirely.
A virtuous cycle: devour cocky heroes, summon stronger beasts, fortify the tower.
He'd been an invincible sun.
But he didn't want to go back. He knew that ending better than anyone.
'The first floor's nearly done.'
Mana cannons almost installed. Add golems, and it was perfect.
'Second floor...'
On hold until enough magic points for a balrog. Third: nothing yet, so hold.
'Fourth...'
The princesses' floor—but really Ernan Hildean's.
Her spirit-made environment ruled by summoned spirits dominated it.
'Incredible talent.'
The tower naturally corrupted all mana to magic points. Yet the fourth floor stayed lush green.
Ernan's doing. She suppressed the corruption with her power.
Her willing allegiance was fortune. It let him convince Kaede, kidnap Elena.
The synergy piled magic points scarily fast. Balrog summon in under a month, debts cleared.
'And Elena's as promising as Ernan.'
Currently comatose on the third floor like a corpse, but once mana stabilized, magic lessons could begin.
The moment she controlled her mana via spells...
The world would awaken to a new archmage.
'But first, need a mage teacher...'
Two new arrivals, but one was a mad chimera maker, the other a golem artisan. Neither fit for Elena.
Then.
"Demon King."
Gordon knocked.
"Word from Granada. He's arrived near Hotenwork with the elves. Avoiding eyes, so not entering town. Orders?"
What he'd been waiting for.
Parting from Cain, Granada headed straight for the Golden Moon Merchant Company. There, he met the elf slaves.
The elves had grown to thirty-three—and stopped, post-migration.
"We scoured the continent's slave markets, but no more elf slaves."
Not surprising.
With interracial slavery banned by treaty, elf and dwarf slaves steadily dwindled.
"Good."
And only thirty-three? It pleased Granada immensely. No joy in seeing kin enslaved.
Now, turn these thirty-three into the Demon King's minions. He hoped no more.
The initial thirty-three looked surprisingly tidy.
Amani, following the Demon King's orders, had treated them as free folk. Easing their wariness.
Amani gathered the working elves.
Granada took a breath and opened the door.
"Greetings. I am Granada of the Maple Tribe."
"...An elf?"
Eyes locked on. Thirty-three pointed ears stirred nostalgia, like returning to Elven.
More than that.
"...Granada?"
"Sharlot?"
An elf from true Elven days.
"It really is you?"
"Why are you here...?"
"Looking for you, and..."
"Good lord."
The unexpected reunion stunned Granada. One he hadn't wanted.
"You saved us?"
"No. Not quite."
He rubbed his face.
"What do you mean?"
"Regrettably, I must force a choice on you. Listen once."
Granada hesitated, then gritted his teeth.
"You must swear loyalty to the Demon King for the next century."
"...!"
Sharlot of the Maple Tribe felt despair.
Her head understood. Her heart didn't.
'Serve a Demon King.'
The blazing Flame Demon King, no less.
She, an elf sworn to protect the World Tree and lead the demon purge—now off to pledge to one.
The other elves shared the gloom.
They'd agreed, but doubts lingered.
"Is this truly right?"
"It is."
Granada offered no comfort. His persuasion mattered, but it was their choice.
The responsibility was theirs; time would dull it.
"Any elf want to return to slavery?"
None.
Misery had been recent reality.
A brief taste of freedom as elves made it sweeter. None would trade honey for nightmare.
Betraying the World Tree stung less with one elf already sworn.
Especially with freedom guaranteed after mere century.
"That's it."
"Even so, without you, Granada, no elf—me included—would serve a Demon King, slavery or not."
"Thanks."
"But you, of all people, serving a Demon King..."
"Not like the usual ones. Tower's got one dark elf demon, no beasts. Instead, dwarf heroes and princesses."
"Still weird. Are you sure it's a Demon King?"
"Feels odd saying it, but yes."
"Talking nonsense while I'm gone, eh?"
An unfamiliar voice cut in.
Sharlot instinctively swung. Granada blocked.
"Stop. It's the Demon King."
"...Demon King?"
Red hair, red eyes—like roaring flames. Intense heat radiated.
No demonic magic points aura.
Spirit-like, if anything.
"...?"
Elf eyes turned to Granada.
"Hard to believe, but he is. Hiding magic points for now."
"Possible?"
"Like this."
Instantly, red hair turned black. Black eyes gleamed.
Pure spirit mana vanished.
Viscous magic points asserted his presence.
"Believe I'm the Demon King now?"
"...How?"
"Does it matter?"
"No."
Doubts evaporating like a joke, Sharlot stepped forward for the thirty-three.
"We've resolved to serve. But one question first."
"Ask."
"Truly free us after a century?"
"Of course."
"Swear on the revered first Mahwang and Demon King's Canon?"
To her bold query.
"I swear on the great first Mahwang and the Canon."
No hesitation.
"Freedom after a century."
Sharlot knelt.
"By the great World Tree, I swear a century's loyalty to the Demon King."
"We swear!"
Elves prostrated as one.
The Demon King smiled in satisfaction.