The Crushing Oath
It was a tale from when the king of the dwarves was still alive.
What toppled the dwarf king, who was like a mountain, was neither an elf nor a dragon—it was merely a tiny imp.
“Your Majesty. Are you not taking this absurd tale far too seriously…?”
Because it was so small. Because it didn’t even seem like a threat to a mountain.
That initial failure to swat it away became the root of all evil.
“Silence. Tales from the outside like this are not something one hears every day.”
Dwarves, who had little contact with the Arcana Continent. The imp earned the dwarf king’s trust by using news from the continent as an excuse.
The stories it told reeked of impure motives.
“The humans fear the dwarves’ technology while envying it. Right now, the humans are busy fighting among themselves. But who knows what the future holds? And there’s something I saw, you see…”
True? False? But the dwarves had no way to discern the truth.
In the end, falling prey to the imp’s malice was as predictable as fire burning.
“Shut your mouth.”
“Do not interrupt Our amusement.”
“Yaaawn. Internal affairs? What a dreadfully boring topic.”
The mountain withered away at a frightening speed. The dwarf king was no more. There was only a puppet dancing to the imp’s whims.
The dwarves huddled together in anguish.
“Is there truly no way to sway our lord’s heart?”
“Damn it…”
“He won’t even listen to us.”
“At this rate… it’s like looking at a completely different person.”
Technology rivaling the Mage Tower’s magic. Brilliant minds that built a splendid mechanical civilization.
Yet even pooling those minds yielded no answers.
“But what that thing said… it could be true, couldn’t it?”
“…What? What are you saying?!”
“No, I’m not saying we should dismiss it as nonsense.”
It even sparked division among the dwarves themselves. Their torment dragged on.
Then one day.
“Your Majesty, why are you alone today…?”
The imp that had always hovered by their lord’s side had vanished. It should have been cause for joy.
But they couldn’t rejoice.
“!”
Why? Their lord’s pitch-black pupils seemed darker, denser than before. The way he spoke was unmistakably different from a lifetime of familiarity.
“Yes. Speak your piece today as well.”
“…?”
“Our mood is particularly refreshed today. So go on, prattle away to your heart’s content.”
“!”
It was certain. That was the imp’s speech pattern.
Others noticed the change too. But it wasn’t something they could voice easily.
“Treason is awfully convenient, isn’t it?”
“…?”
“If someone’s insolent, you can just kill them and call it treason.”
How were they supposed to resolve this? Pitch black. A bottomless pit of despair with no escape.
It was simply unbelievable. That all this stemmed from a single tiny demon.
So no one could even imagine it.
“A man, you say? How could a human find our homeland?”
Until the soldier’s report.
“According to the man, he’s a demon hunter from Akkshan. He tracked a demon’s presence during a hunt and ended up here.”
“…!”
That a single man would resolve this situation.
“…What have I done all this time?”
From that day forward, the awakened dwarf king forged a pact with Akkshan.
It was no different from an alliance for demon hunting.
“Demons are more dangerous than anything.”
The Quirnburk Mechanical Towers erected across the Arcana Continent were the symbol of that pact.
Even after the king lived to a ripe old age and closed his eyes, the dwarves never forgot his legacy.
The Holy War. On the eve of the great war, the pact between dwarves and Akkshan remained firm.
They thought they could finally repay the debt they owed Akkshan.
But they couldn’t.
As if by a lie, contact with Akkshan was severed.
“…No reply from Akkshan.”
They couldn’t exchange telepathy like mages, but they had a machine mimicking it between them and Akkshan. A machine they, the dwarves, had built.
It wasn’t a performance issue. They were certain.
“Unless the continent’s ends are cut off. No matter the region, the voice should reach… We were conversing just fine until last night, weren’t we?”
Something terrible might have befallen Akkshan. Like the dwarves, they sent letters to the Holy War factions.
Asking if they’d heard anything about Akkshan.
And they realized.
“…Something’s gone terribly wrong.”
The Goddess Church and others turning overnight. By the time they grasped the severity, it was too late.
“Impossible…! How…!!”
In a single night, Akkshan vanished from the continent.
…
In the Holy War, the dwarves vowed never to show themselves to the Arcana Continent again. To humans.
Whether schemes wove around the Holy War or not, with Akkshan gone, humans were a race unworthy of dealing with.
Yes.
Whether the Arcana Continent was trampled by demons. Whether imperial soldiers were annihilated. It was none of their concern.
Clank!
Until the symbol of the pact. The decisive weapon they developed for Akkshan.
The Quirnburk Mechanical Tower activated.
“Demon hunter! We’ve found an Akkshan survivor!!”
The dwarves’ leader, Chainwalker Hardrock.
Chainwalker was certain.
“…That one.”
The silver-haired man pouring magic onto the demon king. He was surely the demon hunter who activated the Quirnburk Mechanical Tower.
Thanks to the lingering afterimage in his memory.
“Do you not see it? The demon trembling in fear.”
In the past, the dwarf king. No, the imp wearing the king’s guise.
On its knees before the demon hunter, begging pathetically.
—“I-I was wrong. Spare me. Please!!”
It overlapped with the one pleading before the earthly demon king.
But then and now.
The demon hunter showed no mercy.
“Akkshan, we owe you yet again.”
So Chainwalker didn’t hesitate.
“Iron Castle Ho, descend altitude immediately!”
This was the moment to honor the pact with Akkshan.
*
Squelch.
Demon legion commander, Etio.
Kichi pulled the dagger from the nape of its neck.
Gurgle, gurgle.
She flicked off the surging blood without blinking.
At least when wielding her dagger, Kichi was crueler and colder than anyone.
Yet even her eyes widened in shock.
“Th-that insane stunt again…!”
With the best of them. Kichi had magical knowledge rivaling most mages.
Mages on the Arcana Continent were despised for many reasons. Requests for their heads, even at exorbitant prices, came often.
“Pouring it out like that… you can’t even dodge.”
But the magic Hoyeol unleashed was on another level.
No, precisely, magics.
A symphony of simultaneous spell activations too fast for even Kichi’s sharp eyes to track.
“Indeed.”
Marcelo knew of the magic tool, the White Wings.
Magic storage tools were rare even in the Mage Tower.
But he’d deemed its utility low.
Even if it skips the casting process via storage.
The user bore the full backlash of interference and activation.
Storing a hundred attribute magics meant nothing if the user couldn’t draw them out.
No need to look far—Marcelo himself could barely manage a dozen.
Yet.
“There is likely no one who can wield that tool as well as you, my lord.”
It was mere worry for Hoyeol.
Marcelo allowed himself a small smile.
“With you here, I can rest easy.”
…
Damn.
Even with Grandfell’s body optimized for tricks.
The backlash this time was no joke.
…This level of brute force is a first for me too.
Chugging potions like water. Stacking mana regen items.
Still, unleashing a hundred spells at once wasn’t easy.
And these weren’t ordinary spells. A hundred attribute magics that guzzled mana like hogs…!
Mana exhaustion. Debilitating fatigue binding his body.
Yet I.
Fixed my unwavering gaze on the demon king, Phlauroth.
Light magic softened its skin. Flame magic scorched the tender flesh.
Fierce winds fanned the blaze higher. Judgment lightning rained from the sky.
Demon king’s pride be damned—who wouldn’t dodge if they could?
But these were stored for crushing suppression.
Of course, among them.
The one pinnacle spell I could cast.
Absolute Zero
“Demon who dares call yourself king.”
“…?”
“Bear the weight of your arrogance.”
“…!”
‘Freezing’ occurs on Demon King, Phlauroth.
Absolute Zero. The ultimate temperature halting even molecular motion.
The pinnacle of ice magic, a strangeness even flame magic’s zenith, Karimgjebajo, couldn’t touch.
It couldn’t resist. Naturally.
Soon, messages appeared before my eyes.
…A whopping Lv.850 boss monster.
Whether fair fight or trickery.
The fact remained: I felled it alone.
I’d gained enough experience to blow past the exponentially rising requirements per level.
And moreover.
Demon King Phlauroth vs Dwarves
📍 Demon King and Dwarves. Who will emerge victorious?
🎁 Hunter’s Castle and Airship. What symbol remains?
All rests on your judgment.
Seize the rewards of victory by merit.
─Win the war against Demon King, Phlauroth. (Success)
●Slay Demon King, Phlauroth. (Success)
Quests couldn’t be overlooked.
The goal was victory aiding the dwarves.
But I’d achieved the bonus: slaying Demon King Phlauroth.
Yes, and the merit tallied from that…
─Current Merit: 1,000,000p
Exactly one million points.
Of course, I was the only player on this quest.
No one to compare merits with.
But I’m not clueless. Process aside, I soloed a demon king.
So the rewards should be worth expecting, right?
Suddenly recalling the Frost Recapture quest.
Its reward: relation/influence boosts unlocking Frost’s authority functions.
But with dwarves, who needs mere relations or influence?
Our bond is forged in a deeper oath.
At least different from Frost’s rewards.
Rewards or not, I owed the dwarves.
Rare minerals in my inventory. Precious Iron for ego gear materials.
So much to discuss on many fronts.
You have successfully completed the quest.
I raised my stiff neck toward the dwarves’ airship.
Quest cleared. Ideally, meet the dwarves now. Enjoy a leisurely tea time chat.
You have cleared the Hunter’s Demon King Castle rift.
Rift clear message.
Crack.
The Strangeness space began collapsing. Reality’s scenery poured in.
Kichi glanced at the airship, then asked me.
“…Is it okay to part like this?”
She’d entered rifts before. Knew reuniting was hard.
But not for me.
“High El.”
I had High El Crisade… etc., omitted.
High El, Arcana’s eyes and ears.
“High El responds to your call.”
…But seeming even more elegant? Its form changes each time—almost mistook it for a spirit growth spurt.
But I knew from senior spirit mage Payan Lot.
Naming it High El evolved it to unique spirit.
“…Y-you even contracted a spirit?!”
Marcelo exchanged brief eye contact with High El.
Kichi greeted with a hiccup.
No time for casual hellos. The rift was collapsing.
I sent telepathy to High El.
It grasped my intent instantly, gaze toward the airship.
Then bowed gracefully.
“I shall obey your will.”
Summoning plus telepathy.
…Mana truly at its limit!
Scraped every last drop. For real.
So I turned without regret.
Flutter.
Grateful now for the flashy, flowing White Wings.
They’d hide my trembling legs…
Kichi, barely stopping her hiccups, asked.
“Um, that… no loot to grab?”
Grandfell: incorruptibly pure. Beyond greed.
Not me, Lee Hoyeol.
Me forgetting spoils? Demon king drops?
Already safely in my inventory.
…
Hunter’s Demon King Castle.
Players hesitating to enter finally resolved.
“…Yeah. With Hoyeol there, not some other player!”
Thanks to Hoyeol’s track record.
They could decide.
Hoyeol always pioneered appropriate-level rifts first, fearlessly.
Faith in him led to the choice.
Just over 10 minutes.
So unimaginable.
A fully prepped player suddenly halted.
“…W-wait a sec!”
Exploding chat.
But misunderstanding cleared quickly.
The angle showed players’ faces pale.
Pouring light. Vanishing rift.
From the intense light emerged Hoyeol and two others.
Yes.
After Hoyeol entered Hunter’s Demon King Castle.
Exactly 10 minutes 41 seconds later.
The Hunter’s Demon King Castle rift cleared.
Post-regular update.
Three Demon King Castles appeared.
Three demon kings felled in just over 10 minutes.
One word summed up this event.
Yes.
Pure.
Crushing suppression.