The Young Sword Demon
Raon stepped into a restaurant called The Eastern Cockscomb, towing along Wrath, who was so excited he was dancing in midair. For all the building's imposing exterior and its reputation, the interior was nearly empty, and not even the fragrant aroma of cooking hung in the air.
"Welcome to—huh!"
A middle-aged man with slightly drooping eyes—apparently the manager—swept his gaze over Raon, who stood at the head of the group, and his mouth fell open.
"C-could you be Raon, the Young Sword Demon?"
"Young Sword Demon?"
Dorian sidled up and whispered, "Word's gotten around that the young sword demon who held back the Wave at Habun Castle is our vice leader. People have started calling you the Young Sword Demon these days."
Young Sword Demon, huh...
It was a rather underwhelming epithet for a swordsman who'd taken down an Apostle, but there was nothing to be done about it. Anyone who already carried the title of Sword Demon was a powerhouse who'd reached Grandmaster.
"Our savior! My name is Twell!"
The manager, having introduced himself as Twell, suddenly bent at the waist and bowed his head.
"Savior?"
"Thanks to you, my daughter made it home unharmed. Thank you so much. Bell!"
Still bowed, he shouted toward the kitchen, and a woman emerged with her hair wrapped in a white kerchief. Her drooping eyes resembled the manager's.
"Oh? Oh!"
The woman called Bell took one look at Raon's face and rushed over.
"R-Raon, sir! You've woken up!"
"You know me?"
"I was there when you fought the Apostle."
"Ah!"
If she'd been there, she must have been one of the hostages who couldn't flee once the situation turned ugly.
"Were you injured at all?"
"You were so considerate, sir. You kept drawing the fight away so none of us would get caught in it."
"Mm..."
Raon clicked his tongue softly. During the fight with the Apostle, he'd deliberately steered the battle toward empty ground so the other swordsmen and hostages wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. Apparently, she'd noticed.
"Thank you so much. Because of you, I made it home."
"I thank you as well! Our savior!"
Father and daughter bowed their heads at the same time. Their hands trembled so visibly that the sincerity of their gratitude needed no words.
Hmm...
A warm itch spread through his chest. The gratitude of people who said they'd lived because of him struck far deeper than the praise of strangers calling him great or strong.
I could skip the meal entirely.
He hadn't eaten yet, but he already felt full.
"Cease that nonsense and place an order."
Wrath scowled, telling him to cut the crap.
"Savior. Please, tell us anything we can do for you!"
Twell spread his hands as if to say Raon need only speak the word.
"There's no need. Your daughter is safe. That's more than enough."
Raon offered them a smile, and both of them rounded their mouths in surprise. Clearly, they hadn't expected him to decline without asking for a single thing.
"But even so..."
"Then just prepare a meal for us. We all came here to eat, after all."
"Ah, of course. Though, well..."
"Yes?"
"We can't serve our restaurant's signature Ranslang chicken stir-fry right now. We've run out of ingredients entirely."
Twell bit his lip, looking genuinely sorry.
"You've run out of ingredients?"
"When those White Blood Cult bastards set fires on their way out, the food warehouse that we and several other restaurants shared went up in flames."
"Ah, so that's why..."
He'd thought it strange that the restaurant was empty. Apparently it was because they'd run out of cooking ingredients.
"Grrrk..."
A groan like a wounded beast spilled from Wrath's mouth.
"Again? Agaiiin? AGAAAAAIN?!"
Just as he had when they'd first met, Wrath ballooned in size, radiating a massive surge of frost and fury.
"The ingredients burned?! Why is This King never allowed to eat?! This King asked for just one meal—why does interference arrive every single time?! Does the world itself despise This King?!"
There's nothing I can do about it. They burned, didn't they?
"This is all your fault! If you'd been guarding this place instead of wasting time catching that pathetic wretch, none of this would have happened!"
Don't be unreasonable.
"Unreasonable? This King would have turned those two into blocks of ice in an instant, then come here and put out the fire!"
I'm not you.
"Exactly! Hand over the body, then! Whether it's the White Blood Cult or the White Shit Cult, This King will round them all up and separate their bones from their flesh!"
That's ridiculous.
"Uuuugh..."
Wrath deflated like a punctured balloon and sank to the floor.
"This is the end. This King shall never again believe a word you say, nor grant any of your requests."
There's still ice cream left, you know.
"......"
Even the mention of ice cream drew no reply. Wrath snapped his head away, making a show of being angry.
I already confirmed the bead ice cream shop is open, so two combo sets of...
"Dad. We still have the Rantix."
"Ah! That's right!"
Just as Raon was about to soothe Wrath with ice cream, the owner clapped his hands.
"We don't have Ranslang chicken, but we have something even better."
"Something even better...?"
"When the mountain next to us collapsed, eight Rantix chickens that lived there were caught."
"Rantix chicken?"
Raon tilted his head. He'd never heard of Ranslang either, and Rantix was equally unfamiliar.
"It's a chicken so rare it's called the phoenix of ingredients. The flavor is extraordinary, but it's so hard to obtain that even royalty only get to taste it once or twice a year. The large ones have meat that pulls apart in perfect strands, and they're so rich with fat it's a delicacy among delicacies."
"Ooooh, such a chicken exists..."
Before Raon knew it, Wrath had leaped up and planted himself in front of the manager, white frost streaming from his mouth.
"The aging is already finished, so how about we make the stir-fry with Rantix instead?"
Twell pressed his hands together, pleading for even a small chance to repay the debt of a life saved.
"Hmm, that sounds like a precious ingredient. You really don't have to go that far..."
"Ahem!"
Just as Raon was about to decline, Wrath covered his mouth and cleared his throat.
"Refusing what is freely offered is no virtue. Even humility becomes poison in excess."
Wrath squinted, still covering his mouth with his hand.
"Not at all! You didn't just save my daughter—you saved our entire village. A few Rantix chickens are nothing! We'll prepare it at once, so please wait just a moment!"
"Please, take your seats."
Twell and Bell bowed, then both dashed into the kitchen.
"Hnnf!"
At the sound of a giddy little laugh, Raon looked sideways. Wrath was trembling, his mouth still covered.
You're laughing, aren't you.
"What are you talking about. Do not speak to This King."
Wrath was still pretending to be angry, but he couldn't hide the laughter in his voice.
Let's see...
Raon pulled Wrath's hand away from his mouth. The little demon's lips were curved so high they looked ready to touch the ceiling.
He sulks and then gets over it instantly. What a featherweight of a Demon King.
Watching Wrath's anger evaporate in less than ten seconds, Raon let out a disbelieving chuckle.
"Sh-shut up. Go sit down already."
A flush rose on Wrath's face, as if even he found it embarrassing.
Hah...
Raon shook his head and sat at the center table. The rest of the Light Wind Squad took their seats as well.
"Please try this while you wait."
From the kitchen, Twell brought out stir-fried pork, liquor, and a few light side dishes.
"Ahem. They stir-fry well, just as This King had heard. High heat, vegetables and meat properly tossed without burning."
Wrath sampled the stir-fried pork and smiled in satisfaction. The way he smacked his lips while staring at the kitchen made it obvious how much he was looking forward to the chicken.
About twenty minutes of enjoying the pork and liquor later, an enormous platter of chicken arrived—a dish so large a grown man would struggle to lift it.
"This is Rantix chicken stir-fry, something you can only taste today! Please enjoy!"
"Enjoy your meal!"
Twell and Bell offered their thanks at every table as they set down the food.
"It smells amazing."
Dorian inhaled the aroma of the chicken stir-fry and licked his lips.
"It really does."
The sweet-and-spicy fragrance drifted up so invitingly that saliva pooled on the tongue of its own accord.
"H-hurry! Try it already! Hurry!"
Wrath panted with his tongue hanging out like a puppy, repeatedly tapping Raon's shoulder as if he couldn't wait another second.
Hold still!
Raon shoved the rampaging Wrath aside with his elbow, then picked up a piece of the chicken stir-fry. He piled the finely chopped vegetables on top of the meat and put it all in his mouth at once.
The sharp bite of garlic and the clean heat of chili sparked across his palate—and in that same instant, the sweetness of the sauce coiled around his tongue, mellowing the spice. Then the crispness of the chicken skin and the tenderness of the meat beneath it came together, and a small explosion went off in his mouth.
"Wow..."
Raon let out a breath. He'd never had chicken like this. No wonder even royalty rarely got to eat it. It was a flavor worth dozens of gold coins without a second thought.
"Whoa!"
"Mmh!"
"Th-this is actually incredible?"
"I've never eaten anything like this!"
Dorian, Runaan, and the other swordsmen all widened their eyes at the first bite of Rantix chicken stir-fry. None of them could hold back. They buried their faces in their bowls and started inhaling the food.
How about you?
Raon glanced at Wrath beside him. The little demon had his arms spread wide and his eyes closed, as if he were about to ascend. His whole body trembled with what looked like rapture.
"This King is glad to be alive. The pinnacle of stir-fry cuisine is contained in this single bowl."
Wrath slowly opened his eyes, wearing a smile of utter contentment. It was the smile of an angel, not a Demon King.
"Brat. Did you see?"
See what?
"This King fought the world's obstinacy and won. The heavens themselves tried to obstruct This King, yet This King punched through the wall and laid this celestial flavor upon the tongue."
You didn't do anything.
Raon frowned. The Rantix chickens had shown up because Rimer and the 10th Apostle had collapsed the mountain, and they'd received the chickens because of Raon himself. He had no idea what Wrath thought he'd contributed.
"That is all because This King stood at the center. This is charisma. This is what it means to be the Monarch of Wrath."
Monarch of Wrath or not, you didn't do a single thing!
Two days later.
Fully recovered, Raon and the Light Wind Squad left Forvan City amid the cheers and thanks of its people.
"Hrmm..."
Mayor Oweist clicked his tongue as he watched the Light Wind Squad's receding figures.
"Is something the matter, sir?"
His secretary, Bezen, approached Oweist's side.
"You've had that troubled look ever since your conversation with the Light Wind Squad's vice leader."
"Troubled? Of course I'm troubled."
Oweist nodded slowly.
"What? D-don't tell me they added more demands?"
Bezen seized Oweist's sleeve in alarm.
"Just fulfilling what we've already agreed to is making the treasury groan! We'll have to use every last coin of the budget we saved last year!"
Every request Raon and the Light Wind Squad had made was the expensive kind. There had even been a demand for an ice cream shop, and Bezen still couldn't believe how lucky they were that it had been withdrawn.
"Ah, it's not that."
Oweist waved a hand.
"It's something more difficult. More worth agonizing over."
"Just what did you discuss...?"
"It's simple. He proposed that from now on, Forvan send all its requests for incident resolution to Zieghart alone."
"Excuse me?"
Bezen's mouth fell open.
That's asking us to come under them.
Telling Forvan to send its mission requests exclusively to Zieghart meant granting them a monopoly on the city's contracts. It was a different matter entirely from using a portion of the city budget to pay bounties.
Forvan sat between the Balkar Kingdom and Zieghart, and it wasn't far from the Owen Kingdom either. Backing a single faction from a crossroads like that was not a decision to be made lightly.
"I oppose it. Our city's position, wedged between multiple powers, means that granting a monopoly to one of them is likely to sour our relations with the other kingdoms."
Bezen shook his head in clear dissent.
"There's nothing to agonize over, is there? Our city has always maintained neutrality. I think we're fine as we are."
"You're right. We have. But..."
Oweist's gaze settled on Raon's back as he passed through the city gates.
"Hmm..."
Bezen followed Oweist's gaze to Raon.
"I know he defeated an Apostle, but surely a certain amount of luck was involved."
"That's probably true."
"On top of that, there's a rumor that Balkar has a next-generation archmage who's mastered the four great elements and combat magic besides. We don't know how things will unfold. Aligning with one side is too dangerous."
"That's true as well."
"Then there's nothing to agonize over..."
"But."
Oweist's eyes sank deep.
"I wasn't looking at the Raon of today."
"Sir?"
"The future. I was trying to see the size of the mountain that man will climb."
"And could you see it?"
"No. It was so distant I couldn't see it at all."
In all his years as mayor of Forvan, Oweist had met countless renowned powerhouses and royalty of the continent. But he had never encountered anyone as impossible to gauge as Raon. He couldn't estimate where the young man would go, or how high he would climb.
"Th-that much?"
"Yes. If I'd been told to invest my money, I would have poured my entire fortune into that young man."
"Hah..."
Bezen let out a breath. Oweist had a friendly, gentle demeanor, but when it came to money and investment he was a cold man. Bezen had never heard him evaluate a person to this degree.
"I understand your thinking, Mayor, but wouldn't it be fine to stay as we are? A city of our stature doesn't have to bow to anyone..."
"There's a far better place nearby, isn't there. Camelun."
"Ah..."
Camelun's trade volume was several times Forvan's, and its resident population even more so. It was a city of an entirely different caliber.
"If we stay as we are, we'll never surpass it."
"......"
Bezen nodded in silence.
"Keep gathering information on Raon Zieghart."
"Information, sir...?"
"Where he's been, what missions he's taken, who he's defeated. Compile it in detail, and make it certain."
Heat gathered in Oweist's eyes as they caught the pouring sunlight.
"There might be a ladder in that information that lets our city climb higher."
The Light Wind Squad returned to Zieghart.
Ordinarily, Squad Leader Rimer should have been leading his members from the front, but he was swaying like a zombie, so Raon had no choice but to bring everyone to Zieghart's main gate himself.
"Finally, some rest."
"Forvan was nice, but home really is the best."
"Ah, I'm heading to the bathhouse first. I want to wash up already."
Having successfully completed their first mission, the squad members were smiling at the thought of a well-earned rest.
"Squad Leader."
Before Zieghart's main gate opened, Raon dragged Rimer forward.
"We've arrived at the house. Please give the order to end the mission."
"Eh, so, uh..."
Rimer lifted his head, swaying like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Look at that slack-jawed face."
Having enjoyed both exquisite cooking and ice cream, Wrath snickered at Rimer's unfocused eyes.
Hmm...
Raon clicked his tongue as he looked at Rimer.
I'll have to give him a few gold coins.
If left like this, the man looked ready to wither away on his feet. Even if it would all vanish into gambling, it seemed Raon would have to share some of the reward money.
"Th-the mission is over. Rest as you like. And if anyone has money, lend me a little..."
Just as Rimer tried to issue the rest order and beg for cash in the same breath, Zieghart's massive main gate split down the middle, and a towering figure like an iron tower strode out. It was Iliun, the Outer Chief Butler who oversaw the house's exterior.
"I'm sorry, but you have somewhere to go before you rest."
Iliun swept his gaze over every member of the Light Wind Squad, a gleam of satisfaction in his fierce eyes.
"The Family Head has summoned all of you."
He lifted his chin, wearing a refreshing smile.
"It seems he intends to give a gift to those of you who have raised the name of the house."
"A gift? Money? Gold coins?"
Rimer's dead eyes flared to life.