Too Much to Refuse (1)

Success. Success. An endless string of successes. How could His arrogant mouth stay shut?

"How novel."

To outsiders, it must look like I'd accomplished something truly monumental. Especially from the perspective of the empire's soldiers—I'd have seemed like a grand mage bursting straight out of a portal.

"I hardly know what to call this……."

The bearded imperial officer, Bons, trailed off. Even I could see why he'd be at a loss for words. In less than half a day, the crumbled walls had been perfectly restored. No—towering even more magnificently than before.

"The magic I know isn't like this……."

Indeed. Magic existed on the Arcana Continent, but not all magic was created equal. It was a harsh truth for the empire's mages, but by the Mage Tower's standards…….

Generously speaking, they'd be skilled mages at best? No, most couldn't even match apprentice mages.

Of course, that was just how exceptional the Mage Tower was, hailed as the continent's strongest magical force. It didn't mean the empire's mages were lacking.

"I know not how to express this grace."

Bons and the imperial soldiers offered endless thanks, as did the survivors. I didn't strut about before them. How could I, when my conscience pricked me……!

I never imagined my flailing would pay off like this.

Back in my penniless days, building walls to survive, tearing them down with reversal magic, even engraving stairs—the experience had come in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠handy. And not just once or twice.

Grandfell, who manifested perfectly after a single glimpse, had repeated it endlessly? Naturally, that manifestation was…….

Maybe I could pioneer a whole new school: Architectural Magic.

Monumental, inevitably. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I admired the grand walls. They weren't simply piled up. As the saying goes, only those who've eaten the meat know its true flavor.

Only those who've built walls know how to build them sturdy.

Even if catapults hurled boulders nonstop, they might hold for dozens of strikes, right? That's the impression they gave.

And that wasn't all.

Plus aesthetics on top.

The reason for adding [Aesthetics] was simple. Hadn't I appraised the imperial palace through the lens of aesthetics? Walls as splendid as the palace would symbolize the empire's territory.

In plain terms.

"Actions speak louder than words."

It was just Grandfell's self-satisfaction.

……Yeah, who can I blame?

Truth be told, squandering mana like this was thanks to the halo of the illustrious Claudy lineage. Besides, I couldn't mock forever. I'd received plenty in return!

Even truncating to the nearest hundred thousand, it was billions upon billions. More astonishing than rift clear rewards.

I wasn't new to contribution systems. I'd experienced one during the Frost reclamation. But units like this? Unprecedented.

If Arcana had still been just a game…….

It would've screamed bug.

But it wasn't a game. Time to think. First, I had to brazen it out.

I muttered inwardly.

It's all thanks to my greatness.

Self-praise. Proof that humans don't die from shame alone. Thanks again, everyone in Antonium……!

Anyway. Shifting perspective made it click. To me, it wasn't a big deal, so I'd downplayed it…….

Objectively, though, this was a miracle on the empire's scale.

Something the empire couldn't achieve alone.

The scene before my eyes proved it.

"Goddess……."

A survivor knelt before the walls, hands clasped in prayer. Nothing short of divine intervention explained it.

Grandfell and I are both atheists, but…….

I wasn't tone-deaf enough to preach atheism to awestruck survivors. The imperial soldiers, equally moved, watched them. Speaking for them, Bons opened his mouth.

"We shall not sully the miracle you have wrought."

As a demon hunter, I could tell. Those eyes burned with life. Unbreakable, even against hordes of demons.

But.

I replied.

"Nay, you have done well enough thus far."

"……?!"

Bons looked puzzled at my words. What was this about, all of a sudden?

For walls to stand as walls, they needed soldiers to defend them. Bons and his men had resolved to guard them with their lives.

That's why I said it.

"You need stake your lives no longer."

"!"

Bons asked with disbelief.

"……Has His Majesty ordered our withdrawal?"

He scanned the surroundings with a conflicted expression. The Zero Mountains. Nearby lay the small city of Polsta. With the Zero Mountains spilling into reality, Polsta was isolated on the continent.

Bons knew it well. Yet he declared firmly.

"Even so, we cannot comply."

Snap—

Bons and the soldiers bowed their heads. The meaning was clear.

"If we and our soldiers withdraw from Polsta, these new walls will lose their purpose. Polsta will fall again to demons. Or to wicked men……!"

He wasn't wrong. Most of Polsta's survivors were elderly and frail. I understood—and respected—Bons's defiance.

Not just me; Grandfell would too. Beyond understanding.

"I acknowledge thy pride."

"……?"

Bons's actions were the right answer from a prideful viewpoint. That's why they no longer needed to risk their lives.

"And."

……Boom!

A massive roar interrupted me mid-sentence. Rumble! Or rather, it resonated through the body.

Really, as much as I hate to say it…….

With the Black Dark Dragon Lee Hoyeol legend circulating, what else on Arcana could move with such thunder?

Only one.

I continued.

"Akshan knows thy pride."

"!"

Yes. Akshan's legacy. The Quirnburk Mechanical Tower.

Via High El, I'd asked the dwarves: How many Quirnburk Mechanical Towers were operational? Their status?

The reply came through High El.

Currently, seven-tenths of the total are active.

Given the demons' dominance, it was no wonder they were called Akshan's legacy—their battle record was stellar.

But watching Sword Saint Shegwin, I'd realized: The Quirnburk Mechanical Towers were Akshan too!

Most were silver constructs. Deadly to demons beyond even demon hunters, but vulnerable to non-demonic foes.

In short, missing screws.

Like demon hunters against non-demons.

In that sense.

Stationing Quirnburk Mechanical Towers in reclaimed cities was optimal. The empire had the grit to face any non-demon foe, and the towers slaughtered demons flawlessly.

They complemented each other's weaknesses.

The only issue? Approving it with finicky pride.

Unnecessary worry. Those without pride would've abandoned the empire already.

Still, someone might ask: Would Akshan allow it?

"Akshan……? They……?"

Bons hesitated at the name, flustered. His rank meant he knew the rough story. The empire had offered no aid when Akshan fell.

Hence his concern.

"……How could we imperial soldiers accept Akshan's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aid?"

But don't underestimate Akshan. Our seniors aren't that petty. With their temperament, they'd have purged such trivial emotions through physical training.

Besides, if it meant hunting demons, they'd approve anything.

With that intent, I spoke my way.

"Akshan does not turn from those who suffer at demons' hands."

"……!"

"Even if they be the foe who once let go their hand."

From the last survivor's view, it made sense. Why not cooperate for more efficient demon hunts?

Thud!

Like sentinels. Starting with the tower halting before Polsta, similar messages scrolled before my eyes.

They've reached the other cities too.

Finally, contribution points flashed again. Let's guess before checking. Three hundred million from construction…… at least ten million more, right?

I'd jinxed it by counting chickens. Checking the message, I was floored again.

Ten million, hundred million…… billion……

……Thirteen billion?!!

*

Naysh placed his hand on the empire's magical artifact, the Astrologer's Crystal Orb. To verify the tales from Hoyeol.

He swallowed dryly.

Calm down.

Worry overtook him. The subject was the Black Dark Dragon, a living legend.

……What if he thinks I'm doubting him?

What if he incurred the dragon's wrath? His brother at the tower might call him a frog ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a well…….

Still, Naysh was the empire's top mage. He could sense it—the pure mana emanating from Hoyeol!

His throat burned.

More astonishing than the quantity is the regeneration…….

The surging mana seemed infinite, almost illusory. With such power, his confident declaration made sense.

—"I am enough alone."

Whether His Majesty or others agreed, Naysh knew mages well. Rebuilding city walls and restoring them in half a day was trivial for someone like Hoyeol.

Yet he resented this situation. He understood the unbreakable rules and procedures.

But why did I have to handle it……!

That was his duty. The moment the Black Dark Dragon left the palace, His Majesty had declared.

—"Hearken, ministers. What I conveyed to Sir Hoyeol was no command, but a request. Fitting recompense must follow. I trust you share my view."

No one opposed. Proper rewards for deeds were imperial doctrine.

Even if it's procedure for rewards, it's……!

Overwhelmingly burdensome. At least the dragon understood, nodding magnanimously—un-mage-like mercy.

"If it is procedure, I shall gladly comply."

Only then did Naysh exhale in relief. With trembling hands, he proceeded.

"Then……! I shall use the Astrologer's Crystal Orb."

No need to check every city. Peering at distant Polsta would reveal the rest.

But viewing Polsta, Naysh paled.

"Wha…… what?"

What? Before the emperor and legends, ministers—he'd blurted informally in shock.

Inevitable.

"I-Impossible……."

Antonium's walls, surpassed. Towering, thick, ornate walls encircled Polsta perfectly. And not just that—a Quirnburk Mechanical Tower stood guard.

Naysh fiddled with the orb.

"My apologies, I'll check again……!"

Polsta alone should've sufficed. But now doubt crept in. Simple walls? Understandable. But these weren't simple.

Perhaps he'd devoted all time to Polsta…….

"!"

But Naysh froze. Speechless, he looked to the emperor.

The emperor placed his hand on the orb next.

"Ah……."

Then sighed.

"All in the palace, hearken."

In a resolute voice, he commanded.

"Open the imperial underground archive at once!"

"……!!!"

.

. . .

Yes, give and take. If they'd listened quietly, perfect. But this pride—incorruptible, indifferent to wealth and glory—how could it stay silent……!

Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

"We acknowledge the merit, but……!"

"Opening the underground archive……?"

"Your Majesty, that decision!"

I spoke coldly.

"Think I desire such paltry recompense?"

"……!!!"

Farewell, empire's treasures……!

As I resigned to my usual bluster, the emperor and ministers' exchange turned ominous.

……Wait.

Not just the underground archive, but the deep levels? What was the War Chronicle Archive? They seemed to have misunderstood me entirely?!