This King's Losing Bet

Raon left the trembling Dorian where he stood and moved among the people collapsed across the peak.

Their condition isn't bad.

"Indeed. They have improved a great deal."

Black holes still pocked the villagers' bodies, but the wounds were not large, and the dark veins had barely begun to surface. It was a world apart from what he had sensed through the Sense of Frost Flowers when he first arrived here.

They did a solid job with first aid.

He had assumed they had only been given painkillers, but the people's condition was far better than he had expected. He was about to ask how they had managed it when a glass vial beside one of the patients caught his eye.

They used this?

"Urgh. What a filthy, repulsive stench."

Wrath wrinkled his face at the vial.

Of course you'd think that. It's Holy Water. And expensive Holy Water, at that.

This was no ordinary Holy Water. It was genuine Holy Water brought from the Kelton Holy Kingdom — the kind of thing you could barely purchase even if you had the coin, and they had used it without the slightest hesitation.

Raon let out a short laugh and glanced back. Even though Dorian was already terrified of the hell waiting for him, he was still going from person to person, feeding water and food to the wounded.

"That boy is too kind for his own good. He has the face of someone born to be swindled."

They read faces in the Demon Realm too?

"Do not look down on the Demon Realm! We have systematized texts on physiognomy! Personality changes according to the length of one's horns!"

You people really do have everything.

Raon snorted and nodded.

Anyway, I can't bring myself to hate him when he's like this.

He was a coward, and a little slow in places, but he was kinder than anyone Raon knew.

When we get back, I'll only make the training four times harder instead of five.

He couldn't just let that "broken human being" comment slide, but he could at least shave a little off the punishment.

"Ah. Is 'not doing it' not an option?"

No.

"What kind of human even are you…"

Wrath's jaw hung open in disbelief.

Raon turned and set a hand on the shoulder of the old man lying in front of him.

All right. Now…

The question was how to get it out.

Dark mana was a yin force. Once it clung to a human body it did not come off easily, and erasing it completely was no simple task.

I'll have to burn it out with the Ring of Fire and the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames… hm?

He was about to trust the purifying power of the Ring of Fire and the purity of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and simply incinerate the dark mana when the Requiem Sword, still sheathed, let out a ringing cry.

You're saying you can do it?

The blade hummed louder, as if to say yes.

Well…

The Requiem Sword had no reason to lie. He decided to test it, and brought the crimson edge to the old man's wound.

A deep, resonant hum rolled out of the blade. Pale gold demonic energy unfurled from the Requiem Sword and began to drink the dark mana nested inside the old man's body.

The blackened veins receded. The pitch-dark hole narrowed, then vanished altogether.

Fresh red blood welled from the wound the moment the last of the dark mana was gone, and color started to return to the old man's face.

"Done."

Raon smiled and drew the Requiem Sword back. Just as it had promised, the blade had swallowed every last trace of the dark mana inside the old man.

I didn't know it could do that…

"Demonic energy, blood energy, dark mana — they are all similar yin forces. A useless talent either way."

Wrath flicked his fingers as if it were nothing worth mentioning.

The Requiem Sword ignored him completely, too busy digesting the darkness it had taken in.

"Dorian."

"Yes!"

Dorian, who had been watching from the side, jumped and came running.

"Stop the bleeding for this man. I'll treat the next one."

"Yes, sir!"

Seeing the color return to the old man's face put light back into Dorian's expression as well. He pulled a coagulant and bandages from his belly pouch at once and set to work on the wound.

Next…

He was turning to the young girl lying behind the old man when a message flared across his vision.

He shut the messages off at once and set the Requiem Sword to the girl's wound.

"You are not going to look? There seemed to be rather a lot of them…"

Wrath's jaw trembled as he glared at the spot where the messages had vanished.

That isn't what matters right now.

This was not the time to celebrate growth. Every moment he delayed was a moment these people went untreated.

The Requiem Sword drank the darkness the way Wrath ate ice cream. By the time the sun began to rise, every last person had been treated.

The blade let out a long, satisfied hum, as if its belly were full, and then fell quietly asleep. It looked to be settling in to digest everything it had swallowed.

"That's everyone!"

Dorian finished binding the last patient's shoulder — a middle-aged man — and broke into a grin.

"What do we do now?"

"We've got two problems."

"Two?"

"The first is that Drake."

Raon pointed to the Drake jammed into the peak just below them.

Ordinarily he would have asked the Black Market to handle the transport, but events had moved too fast and nothing had been prepared.

"Why is that a problem?"

"Hm?"

"It's simple."

Dorian shrugged as if it were nothing at all and climbed down off the peak. He lifted the Drake by the head and stuffed it into his belly pouch.

With a deep, grinding rumble, the enormous Drake slid into Dorian's belly pouch as if it had been hit with shrinking magic.

"Eh?"

"Hahh…"

That whole thing fit in there?

He was too stunned to speak. Watching a Drake more than thirty meters from head to tail vanish into a belly pouch went past astonishment and into something close to horror.

Dorian hopped lightly back up onto the peak.

"See? Nothing to it."

"R-right."

Raon nodded, a little awkwardly.

"Then what's the second one?"

"We have to move the people."

Raon gestured at the unconscious villagers. There were too many of them. Getting every last one back to the village was not going to be easy.

"Carrying them down one at a time would take far too long."

The dark energy was gone, but they had burned through a great deal of stamina. He wanted them down the mountain and resting as soon as possible.

"Could you connect these peaks and make a sloped ice sheet?"

Dorian pointed at the peaks rising like a staircase.

"I can."

Raon nodded. Unlike the heat of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, he had barely touched Glacia's cold. Building a sloped sheet of ice was well within his means.

"Then please make one. We'll go all at once."

Dorian grinned and reached into his belly pouch. When his hand came back out, it was holding an elegant carriage ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— and not a small one. It was a massive coach meant to be drawn by eight horses.

"Th-there is a carriage in there?"

"A carriage just came out of that?"

Raon and Wrath's mouths fell open at the same time.

Wait. Is this even the part I should be surprised by?

A Drake had gone into that pouch. A carriage coming back out of it was not, strictly speaking, any stranger.

Surprising or not…

Having it would make things a lot easier.

If he and Dorian controlled the speed from the front, they could get everyone to the village far faster and more comfortably than carrying them one by one.

"Of course I carry a carriage. It's an essential item."

Dorian smiled as he chained the wheels so they would not slip on the ice.

Raon watched that perfectly matter-of-fact smile and swallowed dryly.

What exactly isn't an essential item to you…

By the time Raon and Dorian reached Weathers Village with the people in the carriage, the sun was already sitting at the center of the sky.

They had meant to start clearing rubble at once so the villagers would have somewhere to rest — but a great many people were already there, putting the village back together.

"It is an honor to meet you, White Sword Dragon. I am Henderson, a direct subordinate of the Branch Manager."

A middle-aged man with half his gray hair swept back stepped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forward and bowed. He was the warrior who had stood beside Denning Rose.

"How did you come to be here?"

"The Branch Manager instructed us to restore the village. She said the White Sword Dragon would rescue the people and return."

"Hah…"

Raon looked at Henderson and let out a disbelieving laugh.

She assumed I would win?

If it was Denning Rose, she would already have known the assassins had moved on this place. The idea that she had expected — no, believed — he would punch through both the assassins and the Black Tower's forces and bring the people back was astonishing.

What an unusual woman.

One wrong choice and every Black Market operative she had sent here could have died. Trusting this side enough to dispatch them anyway was not the act of an ordinary person. She was bold far beyond the usual measure.

"We have also brought a priest and healers. Please leave the villagers' treatment to us."

Henderson gestured behind him. Beyond the workers rebuilding the village stood an old man in priest's robes and several people who looked to be healers.

"Dorian."

Dorian nodded and opened the carriage. He brought the people out of the compressed coach and laid them before the priest and the healers.

"Good heavens!"

The priest sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his head up.

"Th-these are clearly wounds inflicted by dark energy, and yet not even a lingering trace remains! How in the world…"

He examined the people's injuries with his mouth hanging open, as if he could not make sense of what he was seeing.

"How on earth did you treat them?"

"This one used Holy Water at the right time."

Raon pointed at Dorian and smiled.

"After that, I erased the rest with my aura."

He mixed in a lie. He had no intention of advertising the Requiem Sword's abilities.

"Even with Holy Water, wounds never come out this cleanly. Remarkable! I do not believe there will be any aftereffects!"

The priest smiled in relief. He laid blessings over the people's bodies to heighten their recovery, then entrusted the wounds to the healers.

"Truly extraordinary skill!"

Once he had blessed every villager, he came over and took both of Raon's hands.

"Have you any interest in accompanying me? With ability like yours, people may well start calling you the reincarnation of a Saint."

"Haha…"

Raon laughed awkwardly.

He doesn't know who I am, then.

For a priest of this caliber to say something like that, the Requiem Sword must have done its work exceptionally well.

"I'm not that remarkable a person…"

"Priest Camen. This man has been fighting all night. He will be exhausted."

"Ah, my apologies. That was careless of me."

The priest bowed politely and stepped back. He was a little hasty, but he did not seem like a bad man.

"We have prepared a place for the two of you to rest."

Henderson pointed to a tent raised on the right. It had been pitched with the finest canvas — spacious, taut, and without any smell.

"Hm…"

Raon watched Dorian staring blankly at the tent and clicked his tongue.

Dorian should rest.

From climbing the peak with his bare hands, to fighting the Drake, to hauling the carriage — he had to be exhausted enough to drop.

"Vice Captain. Please rest fir—"

Dorian smiled, bowed his head, and toppled over on the spot.

"He is spent."

Yeah.

From the look of him, the tension had finally let go and he had simply passed out.

He really is an entertaining one.

Raon snorted, laid Dorian on the cot inside the tent, and went into his own quarters.

"Huu…"

He sat on the edge of the cot at the back of the tent and let out a long breath.

Fortunately, I did everything I could.

He had stopped Derus's ambush, wiped out the Black Chief and the Black Spirits, and brought every last kidnapped villager back safely. He had even secured the Drake he had come here for. Calling it the best possible outcome was no exaggeration.

"It was a close thing, but not a poor showing."

Wrath nodded.

Then shall we take a look at what I gained?

"Gained? What did you gain?"

The presents you gave me.

Raon smiled faintly and called back the messages he had dismissed earlier.

"This King did not give you any pre— gaaah!"

Leaving Wrath's mouth hanging open, Raon looked over the messages.

The points seemed to be a reward for turning the Black Tower and the Poison Men against each other, and for weathering the combined techniques of the Black Chief and Loctan. But the messages were not finished.

The second set was about the traits he had used this time. He had expected the Sense of Frost Flowers and the Sensory Veil of Frost Flowers to rise. He had not expected Poison Resistance to jump two full stages.

The effect of eating the Ghost Jellyfish's poison core must have erupted while I was blocking Loctan's toxins.

At this level of Poison Resistance, he might be able to endure Loctan's poisons even without circulating the Ring of Fire.

Fire, water, and now poison resistance. He could feel the gaps in himself closing, one after another.

"D-does this make any sense?"

Wrath's lips trembled as he stared at the messages.

"You swatted down those pathetic wretches and it hands you stats and traits like this? How is that reasonable?!"

I did well.

"Did well, my foot! This King could have crushed them with a pinky. No — a flicked booger would have killed them! Handing out stats for that is going too far!"

He insisted a single booger would have been enough, and dug at a nose that did not exist. Come to think of it, Raon had no idea how Wrath smelled anything without a nose in the first place.

"This King refuses to acknowledge it! Be honest. You did nothing. You just sat there and watched the fight!"

I finished it. And what are you going to do if you refuse to acknowledge it? It's already in. Go ahead and burst.

He smiled, savoring the rush that came with the surge of points.

"Ghhhhh! If only I could burst…"

Wrath ground his teeth, glaring at his own belly.

"When This King returns, the first thing I will do is smash that system to pieces and build it again! You blockheaded—!"

……

He wanted to say the blockhead was Wrath, but that would only set off another tantrum, so he held his tongue.

Sorry, but I have something to tell you.

"What is it this time?!"

I don't think we'll be able to eat the raspberry pie and braised chestnuts.

"What kind of nonsense is that?!"

Wrath's eyes snapped around. The look in them was fiercer than when his stats were being stolen, and Raon's fingertips twitched.

People were hurt. People died. I can't go asking for something like that in this situation.

"That is absurd! Why do you think This King even came here?!"

If we were staying a week, maybe. We're leaving in two days. I'll buy you something good at the merchant guild.

"I refuse! This King will eat the raspberry pie and braised chestnuts of this place, and that is final!"

He grabbed the floor and shook his head, insisting they were not going anywhere. It was exactly like watching a child throw himself on the ground in the market, demanding candy.

No. Even if you want them, it isn't possible.

The village was in ruins, and the casualties were many. Even if the people wanted to repay him, they were in no condition to move — not in body, and not in spirit.

"Hmph! You take humans far too lightly."

What?

"You have no intention of taking money from these people, do you?"

Of course not.

"Then let us make a wager, you and This King."

As he said it, Wrath sent a message.

"Well? If you are so confident, accept it."

Wrath pointed at the terms of the wager and snorted.

…Fine.

He could use Wrath now anyway. There was nothing particularly irritating about the bet, so he took it.

But like I said — we leave in two days.

"Agreed!"

Wrath grinned and nodded.

"You are a demon. You do not understand humans."

No. You're the demon…

Two days later.

Just as Raon had expected, the people bowed and wept with gratitude — but nobody brought raspberry pie or braised chestnuts.

Raon glanced at Wrath's scowl and snorted.

I told you. It wasn't going to happen. This is not the time to be making desserts.

"It is not over yet!"

Wrath shook his head, insisting that nothing was finished until it was finished.

There's no point. Like I said, we leave before lunch.

"I am aware."

Raon left the village and swept the surroundings. He spread his senses in case the Black Tower, Derus's Shadows, or monsters were still about, but fortunately he felt nothing at all.

With the warriors the Black Market had sent, he could leave without any real worry.

"Always so cautious."

Better than someone who only thinks about food.

"For This King it is merely a hobby…"

From where I'm standing, food is your entire life.

"It is not!"

He was still needling Wrath when he returned to his quarters and found the village chief of Weathers Village waiting for him.

"Chief?"

"Our savior!"

The chief bowed until his head nearly touched the ground.

"You have come!"

"You really don't have to greet me like that."

It was not just the chief. Every person in the village insisted on greeting him that way, and the weight of it was more than a little uncomfortable.

"No. This is nowhere near enough."

The chief shook his head with an awkward smile. He pressed his lips together, as if to say it was a debt he would spend his whole life repaying.

"I heard you are leaving today. Is that true?"

"Yes. I have important business."

Raon nodded. There was no telling what might happen in the succession struggle. He needed to reach the Sepia Merchant Guild ahead of time and prepare.

"I see. You truly did nothing but help us, and now you are going."

The chief apologized and bowed again.

"If you would at least accept the reward money we collected…"

"Use it to rebuild the village."

Raon shook his head. He had never done this for money. Winning the wager with Wrath was satisfaction enough.

"Then please accept something else, at least."

The chief glanced behind him, and a girl with freckles across the bridge of her nose stepped forward and held out two boxes.

"My granddaughter made these from the finest raspberries and chestnuts left in the village. Please eat them, and visit us again someday."

"Thank you, savior."

The chief and his granddaughter bowed together.

"Ah…"

Raon took the elegantly wrapped boxes, his mouth falling open.

They made these?

They had not even held funerals for the dead yet, and they had still prepared the village specialties for him. He was so floored he could not find words.

"Puhuhehehehehe!"

Wrath clutched his belly and burst into vulgar laughter.

"This King told you! You are a demon. You do not understand humans!"

He carried on calling Raon a demon as if he himself had become one of the humans.

"Th-thank you."

Raon forced his expression to hold and was about to open the boxes when a message rose before his eyes. He bit his lip, certain it would declare his defeat.

Huh?

"Ngh?"

The message was announcing his victory.

"W-what is this?! Has it truly gone mad? Why does it say This King lost?!"

I don't know either.

Raon tilted his head and opened the lid of the box. The moment he saw what was inside, he understood why the message had appeared.

It isn't pie, and it isn't stew.

What sat in the boxes were pink macarons made from raspberries, and candied chestnuts.

"Ah…"

Wrath stared at the two desserts with his mouth hanging open.

"These are the new desserts that will succeed our raspberry pie and braised chestnuts. Please be the first to taste them, savior."

The chief smiled, insisting they would be even better than the raspberry pie and braised chestnuts.

"They look truly delicious."

Raon nodded as he looked at the two desserts. He tried to hold it in, but the laughter kept coming, so he covered his mouth with his hand.

"What is this supposed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be?!"

Wrath threw his head back and howled at the sky, caught completely off guard.

"Why is it always like this?! Why did they have to invent a new dessert now, of all times?!"

They're saying thank you.

"I said to bring raspberry pie and braised chestnuts!"

This was just splitting hairs!

Why did the world hate This King so?!