The King of Destruction Returns
So that's how it applies.
Raon confirmed the raised stats and allowed himself a faint smile. Two days of deep, unbroken sleep, and every last stat had climbed. It was no different from growing stronger just by lying there with his eyes closed.
All stats have increased by +1.
Cause: Deep slumber (2 days)
— Trait: Sloth —
The table in front of him was crowded with dishes still sending up lazy curls of steam, and the thrill of those raised numbers was spreading through his whole body. Holding back a grin was simply impossible.
"This King had a bad feeling about this…"
Wrath stared at the message, pupils trembling as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
"Raising every stat by one just because he slept well?! What kind of insane nonsense is this!"
A seep of frost lifted off the top of his head the way steam was lifting off the food.
"To hand over a beggarly ability like that! Sloth, you imbecile!"
Wrath was winding himself up toward a full eruption when Raon snatched up a spoon and swallowed a mouthful of seafood stew.
"This King shall make sure you never sleep again for the rest of your life! And as for you, right this instant— mgh!"
The stew swept across his tongue, sweet at first and then clean and briny, and Wrath's rant cut off as if someone had snipped a string.
"Ohh!"
Confronted with a proper meal for the first time in days, the Demon King who had been raising wrath and frost in equal measure froze where he was and let out a sound of pure wonder.
"I-it's good. The first taste is sweet, and the finish is refreshing — it suits This King's palate perfectly!"
He did not even try to hide the way the corners of his mouth were climbing toward the ceiling. He jabbed a stubby finger at the next dish.
"What are you doing! Pick up that fork and dip the cream shrimp at once! If the food runs out, consider your life forfeit — get that shrimp in your mouth now!"
"I thought you said you had no appetite."
"A beast like you who shovels everything down wouldn't understand, but appetite is something that vanishes and returns, appears and disappears."
"Even so, that was a hell of a fast turnaround…"
"Shut up and eat!"
"Fine, fine. I hear you."
Raon snorted a laugh and picked up his fork. His stats had gone up; he might as well fill his stomach in a good mood.
He took Wrath's advice — start light, finish heavy — and worked his way steadily through everything on the table.
"How do you like This King's selections? The taste of the food matters, of course, but so do the knowledge and experience of the one enjoying it."
"I couldn't tell you. It all tastes about the same to me."
"And that is precisely why you are a beast. You don't know the first letter of the word gourmet."
Wrath clicked his tongue as if Raon were a hopeless case.
"In the Demon Realm there is a restaurant ranking called the Machelin. The more skulls a place has, the better it tastes. And This King happens to be one of the judges who decides how many skulls—"
"It's all fine, but the stew's the best."
"—and at every Festival of the Demon Gods they come wrapping up bundles of food just to get on This King's good side—"
"Taste aside, I feel like you don't get full unless there's broth."
Raon let Wrath's words roll past him like a river and muttered only whatever he felt like saying. Their conversation ran on two parallel tracks that never once met.
He kept ignoring Wrath and was polishing off what little food remained when a mutter drifted over from the next table.
"Is that him?"
"Raon Zieghart…"
"That kid beat Lord Horaine?"
"Does that even make sense? He just became a swordsman."
"He cheated. Has to have. You saw it this time too — those drugs that spike your strength and aura for a little while."
"Yeah, that's possible."
"And look at him shovel it down. He's not even one of ours."
Raon looked toward the voices. Faces he had not seen since arriving here — swordsmen of the Heavy Martial Palace, back now that Karun had returned.
They said the damage wasn't that bad yet.
When he had come out of the cave, Urek had claimed the Heavy Martial Palace's losses were still manageable. A little more wrecking would be fine.
"Had enough?"
"This King has been eating light lately. This will do."
Wrath patted a belly that had gone noticeably round.
"……"
Ten bowls, scraped clean, and he called that eating light. This creature was closer to Gluttony than to Wrath.
Raon let out a thin sigh, stacked the empty dishes, and stood.
"He won't last long anyway."
"No backing. Wherever he goes, he'll get thrown away."
"Might die before that."
Even then, the swordsmen at the table kept sniping without a pause.
Raon walked straight over to the table where they were now gossiping in the open.
Destructive force surges into the fingertips.
He set his fingers — charged with the power of the King of Destruction — against the center of the table and pressed. Something gave with a twisting crunch, and a warped hole punched straight through the middle of the wood.
"If you have something to say, don't mutter about it behind my back like cowards. Say it to my face, seniors."
Raon swept his gaze across their faces and smiled, pleasant and thin.
"You said you couldn't believe it a moment ago. Shall we find out in person?"
"What?"
"If you spar with me yourselves, you'll know whether it's real or not."
"Fine!"
The long-haired man sitting at the center of the table shoved his chair back and stood.
"I'll confirm with my own hands whether you really beat the Heavy Martial Palace's swordsmen without any tricks!"
The pressure rolling off him was considerable — Expert High-Class. Pride to match the strength.
"Whenever you're ready."
Raon jerked his chin toward the door.
"No need to wreck the dining hall. Shall we step outside?"
The long-haired man wrinkled his nose and went out first. Raon and the other swordsmen followed. He stopped in the center of the small training hall nearest the cafeteria.
"Draw your sword."
"And aura? How do you want to handle that?"
"……"
The long-haired man narrowed his eyes, thinking it over. The rumor that Raon had beaten Horaine was clearly sitting in the back of his mind.
"We use it, of course. Come at me with everything you have!"
"Squad leader!"
"Th-that's dangerous!"
The other swordsmen tried to stop him. He ignored them and settled into his stance.
"Everything I have…"
You aren't qualified to see that.
Raon smiled, cold, and drew his sword.
"S-spar, begin!"
The long-haired man flicked a glance sideways, and another swordsman raised a hand.
"Hup!"
He kicked off the ground and charged. Elastic muscle and a properly trained footwork art carried him to Raon's face in a blink. The sword came straight out — no killing intent, but a force that looked ready to break something.
That's all, then.
Raon brought his blade down on a diagonal.
A shriek of steel. The sword tore free of the long-haired swordsman's grip. While the man was still staring, Raon drove his left fist into his gut.
A thick, satisfying crack, like a jammed door finally giving way. The long-haired swordsman's eyes rolled back and he went over backward. Even unconscious, he blew foam from his mouth like a crab.
"Hmph."
Raon hooked his sword over his shoulder and looked at the others.
"Uh…"
"H-he knocked the squad leader's sword away in one hit?"
"His palm's split open. What the hell…"
"Th-the thing about his strength being like a troll's was real?"
The swordsmen stared at their senseless squad leader, lips trembling.
Raon crooked a finger at the stunned men.
"Next."
After two weeks away, the King of Destruction had returned.
Urek was hunched over his desk, scribbling through documents at a frantic pace, when the door burst open and Leff came charging in.
"Chief Administrator!"
"I'm busy."
"This is urgent too!"
At the word urgent, Urek lifted his head with a scowl.
"Then say it fast."
"Raon. That lunatic has started breaking things again."
Leff's round cheeks quivered with the look of a man who had seen enough.
"I went over because I heard there'd been an incident, and ten swordsmen who just got back yesterday were lying there unconscious with their eyes rolled up."
"Haa. And the reason this time?"
"Couldn't ask the ones who were out cold. According to that Raon bastard, they picked the fight first and he was only defending himself…"
"That damned brat…"
Urek dragged his fingers hard across the grain of his wooden desk. The part about them starting it was probably true — but he hadn't needed to flatten every last one of them.
Beat one and the rest would have lost the nerve to try. He had smashed them all on purpose. That much was obvious.
"How are the kids."
"Nothing life-threatening. They'll need about two weeks of recovery, though. And…"
"And?"
"During the spar they, ah, broke a wall and a p-pretty expensive tree…"
"A tree? Wait. Where did they fight!"
"The small training hall next to the dining hall. When the wall came down, the tree snapped with it."
"D-don't tell me…"
Urek stared at his desk with empty eyes.
"Yes. It was a Sairan tree."
"Gaaaaah! Raon!"
Sairan wood carried a faint fragrance that cleared the mind, and it sold for a staggering price. The thought that it had been snapped in half left Urek blank for a moment.
"So the damage that brat has caused has finally gone over ten thousand gold coins…"
The number made his head swim. Ten thousand gold was the kind of sum that would make even Karun — who rarely bothered with money — turn a hard eye on someone.
"W-what should we do?"
"Pull everyone back."
"Sir?"
"Do not pick a fight with him. If he comes looking for one, ignore him!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Leff threw something like a salute and bolted.
Urek rapped himself on the head a few times, finished the remaining documents at speed, and headed for Karun's office at the heart of the Heavy Martial Palace.
"Haa…"
He let out a sigh like a sick chicken and looked at the black door, which seemed to radiate weight all by itself.
My hands and feet are shaking.
The man who owned this room, Karun Zieghart, had not gone to a conflict zone and stopped a war. He had wiped one side out entirely.
If Glenn had not issued further orders, Karun would have been back in two weeks, exactly as he had said. He was every bit the monster whose name sat among the very highest of House Zieghart's powerhouses.
That monster, however, was in a foul mood. The air leaking out of the room was uncomfortable enough to raise gooseflesh. Even through this thick door, you could feel that his temper was bad.
Of course it is.
Raon had smashed the Heavy Martial Palace's equipment and training, beaten its swordsmen, and defeated Horaine, vice-commander of the Battle Thunder Squad. The rumors had spread through the entire house. Karun having a pleasant day was not in the cards.
The Heavy Martial Palace's reputation took a hit too.
The Heavy Martial Palace was not called the strongest, but it was called the bravest fighting force in the house. Most of its strength had been away, and even so, a boy who had only just become a swordsman had shaken them down for everything they had. No one was going to say anything kind about that.
The prestige they had earned by completing this last mission perfectly was nothing compared to what a single slippery eel named Raon had cost them.
Damn that Rimer…
At first Urek had wanted to catch whoever started the rumors and cut their tongue out. There had been no need to look. The lunatic red-haired elf had not even bothered to hide who he was. He had gone around telling anyone who would listen.
Urek swore to himself that one day he would catch Rimer and wring him out, then set his knuckles against the heavy door.
"Enter."
The solemn voice came from inside before the second knock could even land. Urek steadied his breathing and opened the door with care.
The moment it swung inward, a savage pressure poured out in sheets, dry enough to feel as if it were shrinking the skin. Urek swallowed hard and dropped to one knee.
"I-I present myself before the Palace Master!"
Unlike Glenn, Karun enjoyed being treated with ceremony. He watched Urek's respectful greeting all the way through, then nodded.
"Rise."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Urek clutched his hammering chest and stood. The voice had been packed with anger.
"Report."
That single word sent a chill crawling up his spine. It meant tell him everything that had happened, without leaving out a syllable.
"I-I prepared it in writing."
"Say it with your mouth."
Karun flicked through the documents Urek had made, then set them down on the desk.
"Y-yes, sir. First, as the Palace Master instructed, in order to assess Raon's abilities…"
Urek bent his back like an old man and laid out everything Raon had done, making himself look as pitiful as possible.
He slipped in, here and there, that he had only been following orders, and that Leff had acted on his own — stressing, as much as he could, that almost none of it had been his doing.
"…And so at present the boy has come out of Cave One and is resting."
At the mention that Raon had endured Cave One, a chilling light stirred in Karun's eyes.
"F-fortunately, the Palace Master's instructions have been more or less completed. His strength and agility are at a troll's level, and if he uses aura he can defeat even an Expert Peak-Class. He has not reached Master, but the wall is right in front of his face. That much is certain."
Urek kept talking, watching Karun's face out of the corner of his eye.
"The way he endured Cave One — where the mana is warped — without any trouble at all suggests he has trained in a martial art with some special property. I would advise against using formations that induce dizziness or tangle a person's mana."
Karun seemed to agree. He said nothing, but his eyes gleamed faintly.
"And this is the important part. The boy has a weakness."
"A weakness?"
Karun's mouth, which had looked sealed shut, opened for the first time.
"Yes!"
Urek nodded at once, seizing what he thought was a way out.
"In his spar with Horaine, a little exposure to frost aura was enough to give him frostbite. His hands were red in the cave as well, so it's certain. He is extremely vulnerable to cold."
"Cold…"
"Everyone has forgotten it now, but Raon was originally born with mana circuits blocked by frost. This will be a dagger that definitely lands."
Urek took a step closer to the interested Karun and clenched a fist.
"If we use cold, we can deal with him at very little cost."
"So it would seem."
The oppressive killing intent rolling off Karun slowly receded. The reality that he might live through this settled in, and Urek felt his back go damp.
"Then what would you have us do with him now?"
"Don't touch him. Leave him be."
Karun flicked his hand lightly.
"Anyone who beat Horaine would take a Master at minimum to put down. And if we actually sent a Master, we would only be cursed for crushing a seventeen-year-old with raw force. There are only a few days left. Let him do as he likes. He won't live much longer anyway."
"A most excellent judgment, sir."
Urek had thought the same thing, but he still made a point of lifting Karun up. The admiration, at least, was real. Even in the middle of his anger, Karun had made a cold, clean decision.
"Prepare all the same."
"Prepare, sir…?"
"Once we turn that brat into a cripple, we will need a scarecrow to pin it on. Will we not?"
"Ah!"
"Eden. No — even that Balder brat would do."
Karun's eyes shone with a nasty light, the look of a man willing to use even his own younger brother as a piece on the board.
"I-I will begin drafting a plan."
Urek bowed his head, gooseflesh standing up along his arms and legs.
"Ah, and the youngest young master in Cave Five…"
"I don't need to hear about him."
Karun cut him off with a firm sweep of his hand.
"I thought his skill had improved a little. Then he came back with those ruined eyes."
"Uh…"
Urek's shoulders jerked at the unexpected words.
"No venom. No malice. Soft as a lamb. I tried raising him because he had a scrap of talent, but with that mind and that level, he is not worth the attention."
"Th-then at the Selection Ceremony…"
"That's right. I have no intention of picking him. Handle it the way you did the third and the fourth."
"……"
The way you did the third and the fourth meant there was no place for the boy in this Heavy Martial Palace. Urek did not understand it. But the god of this place was Karun, and there was nothing to do but obey.
"And clean up the idiots who walked into Raon's provocations half-prepared this time."
"Yes, sir."
Urek bowed with care and left the office.
Cold enough to be frightening…
Which was exactly why he was a man worth following.
Raon tried to start a second round of King of Destruction work, but after the first day there was nothing to harvest. No one came looking for a fight, and even when he provoked them from his side, no one took the bait.
If he smashed fixtures and made it look like an accident, Urek or Leff would come out and stop him — but the squad leaders, vice-leaders, and unit commanders, the real powerhouses, had vanished as if they had gone into hiding.
He killed time pretending to train, knocking apart a few pieces of equipment and a few more fixtures along the way, and before he knew it five days had passed. The training period was over.
"You have all worked hard this past month, and going forward…"
Raon narrowed his eyes at Leff, who was stumbling through a clumsy speech from the wing of the platform.
Clever.
Karun had understood that picking a fight, or taking one, was meaningless, and had ordered the Heavy Martial Palace's swordsmen to ignore Raon entirely.
Not a bad method.
To control him you would need a Master — a squad leader, a vice-leader, a unit commander. Win, and you broke even. Lose, and you were a laughingstock. Pulling everyone back so there was nothing to collide with was a sound approach.
Well. I still did everything I meant to do.
By a rough count he had cost the Heavy Martial Palace close to fifteen thousand gold coins, and the swordsmen he had put on the ground numbered well past twenty. He had dealt all the damage he intended to deal and taken all the reputation there was to take. There was nothing to regret.
He was curious about the look on Karun's face, but the man never showed himself, not even at the end. A truly small-minded human being.
"The stress must be well and truly gone. You smashed things to your heart's content."
Wrath muttered that he had seen enough and shook his head.
"…I hope that, building on what you have learned here, you will set an example as swordsmen of House Zieghart."
Leff's tedious speech ended, and the handful of swordsmen present offered a scatter of applause. It was not for Raon, of course. It was for Burren, standing beside him.
"Heading back right away?"
Burren turned his head and asked.
"I should. There's nothing left for me to do here."
"Then talk with me a minute."
He pointed toward the empty small training hall, a gesture that said follow me. Raon nodded and went after him.
"I know you hate my father."
Burren put his back to the wall at the far end of the hall and turned around.
"He started it. Being angry is only natural."
His eyes, unlike the rough set of his brow, were remarkably clear.
"So what is it you want to say? Don't fight him?"
Raon spoke evenly and met Burren's gaze.
"No. You didn't start it, but ending it is something you should do. However…"
Just as Raon was thinking that was not what he had expected, Burren went on.
"That man is my father. I still can't forget the day I was five, when he put a training sword in my hand himself and taught me the sword."
"……"
"From that day on, my goal has been to earn his recognition. I haven't done it yet. But someday I will make him look back at me."
"I see."
Raon only nodded. The way he himself stood up for Sylvia when the entire house condemned her — Burren seemed to look at that petty, small-minded Karun and see an excellent father.
People were all different. In his previous life he would not have understood it. After seeing and living through so much, he could grasp at least some of what Burren felt.
"That's why, if you pick a fight with my father, I will stop you. And even if it's the other way around."
"The other way around? You'll stop him even if your father comes at me with a sword?"
"Yes."
Burren nodded, unyielding.
"I don't know how you'll take this, but you're my rival. And my benefactor."
"You can forget the part about me saving your life."
"You did save my life. But more than that, you're the benefactor who broke my stubbornness. Don't ask me anything beyond that. It's embarrassing."
Burren dropped his head. The tips of his ears had gone red; he really did look mortified. Perhaps because they had something in common, being called a benefactor did not feel bad.
"Anyway. I will stop any fight between the two of you. Remember what I said, and get yourself ready for the Selection Ceremony! Scout offers are going to come at you from all over!"
With that he used his footwork art and left the training hall behind.
"Now that the venom's gone from Glare-boy, he's no fun at all."
Wrath snorted, thoroughly unimpressed. Before, he had disliked the boy for being arrogant. Now he disliked him for this. A Demon King's tastes were truly hard to please.
Raon watched Burren's receding back and clicked his tongue. He was sorry toward Burren for saying all that — but he had no intention of leaving Karun alone.
No. Even if he did leave the man alone, the blade would come from the other side first. He did not know when. But it would end, cleanly.
With Karun's death.
"Apple meat pie, pineapple cookies, pineapple…"
Raon was on his way back to the Annex, Wrath singing a hymn of everything he wanted to eat, when it happened.
"Hm?"
A tall, middle-aged man was standing in the middle of the central road, which until a moment ago had been empty.
Broad shoulders, a squared jaw, a face cut along masculine lines. The presence rolling off him was so vast it raised the hair on Raon's arms.
A Master — and one who had set foot in that realm a long time ago. The powerful martial artist came forward, blue eyes flashing.
"I am Iond, leader of the White Lotus Squad. I'll be blunt. Raon Zieghart. Join the White Lotus Squad and become my sword."
Raon shook his head before Iond had even finished speaking.
"…What?"
The icy composure on Iond's face, which had looked as if it would never crack, shattered in an instant.
"Telling someone to become your sword the moment you meet them is a bit sudden."
"I-I heard you liked people being direct?"
He tipped his chin slightly, as if something about this did not add up.
"I like being direct with other people. I don't like other people being direct with me."
Raon shrugged, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Huh…"
He had clearly never imagined a refusal this flat. For a moment Iond's eyes went slack.
"Of course he's confused, if he doesn't know."
Wrath poked his head up over the bracelet and snorted a laugh.
"This one was already crazy — and then he went crazy one more time."
"Doesn't that just make him normal?"
"……"