What Are You Doing
It had been a week since Hillen Cargill came to see Martin.
Surprisingly, there had been no interference from the other royals.
"Hillen Cargill hid himself well. It may not be perfect, but unless someone deliberately exposes it, the secret should remain safe for the time being."
"Good. Let the people around him know to keep their mouths shut."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And Hapstline—what of it? Is there anything unusual, as Hillen Cargill said?"
"It's difficult to say if it's unusual or not."
"Difficult?"
"As you know, Hapstline is a restricted zone."
Not quite on the level of the tundra or Ergest, but Hapstline Gorge was still a monster-dominated area.
A place that refused human footsteps.
Naturally, the Empire had built fortresses nearby to stop monster incursions and continued to guard against them.
And they had always monitored the monsters of Hapstline closely.
"They say they didn't feel any unusual disturbance of magic power like Hillen Cargill mentioned. But over the past ten years, the number of monsters has steadily decreased. Especially those driven mad by magic power."
"Monsters corrupted by magic power are decreasing?"
In Hapstline, there were occasionally monsters who, influenced by residual magic power, lost their sanity and rampaged.
Each time, the Empire dispatched teams to investigate whether a new Demon King had descended, but no tower was ever found.
Instead, they discovered that faint magic power lingered in some areas.
For reasons unknown—though the Empire assumed it was due to the overlapping coincidences of five Demon Kings and their towers.
When monsters swallowed that overlapping magic power by chance, they rampaged. Another coincidence upon coincidence.
"Yes. So they dispatched an investigative unit."
"And the result?"
"They say the magic power has significantly decreased."
"That shouldn't be possible."
Magic power was the force of another dimension—the Demon Realm.
Because its very properties were foreign, it could not be absorbed into this world.
It never vanished naturally, and even artificially, it could not be completely removed.
That was the Empire's conclusion, and so they had long left it alone.
Tampering with leftover magic power from dead Demon Kings could cause greater catastrophes, so they focused only on blocking monsters.
Years passed, and despite many investigations, not once had the magic power decreased.
But now—
It decreased?
In the realm of Martin's knowledge, that was impossible.
Unless someone intentionally absorbed it.
"Don't tell me…"
"Count Travian made several attempts to find the cause, but found no trace of a Demon King."
Count Travian was the commander responsible for sealing the gorge.
"And the heroes?"
"Yes. They commissioned several heroes to investigate, but they also said they had no idea… So that region is assuming the magic power must have decayed after so long and become something closer to mana."
"Perhaps."
Under normal circumstances, the 3rd prince would have dismissed it.
But then there was Hillen Cargill—a wild card.
If Hillen were simply lying, everything made sense.
But would he, of all people?
He sought Martin out personally.
"…I must meet Hillen Cargill."
Martin rose from his seat.
***
"It has only been a week, Your Highness."
"I was remiss in ignoring my guests."
"It's alright. You were busy."
"I sent people based on what you said. Reports have come that Hapstline is changing little by little."
"Yes."
"No one knows what it is. Among those investigating were knights, mages, even heroes. All of them agreed—perhaps the magic power is simply fading naturally."
"I understand the sentiment. But magic power does not disappear naturally."
"That's what we believed until now. But what if it's simply that we were ignorant?"
"If Your Highness believed that, you wouldn't have come to see me."
Hillen smiled. Silence briefly lingered.
"Do you truly believe something is there?"
"Yes."
"Even other heroes failed to notice it. Some of them were Stars like you, men who boasted as you do."
"Your Highness, I do not know why they failed.
I do not know why I succeeded.
I can only assume that after killing two Demon Kings, I may have become… more sensitive."
"So that's your bragging."
"You honor me."
Martin disliked the arrogance, but he could not deny it.
Slaying even one Demon King caused a hero to grow dramatically. The power held by a Demon King was immense—then how powerful would a hero be who had slain two?
Other heroes failed to notice it, yet only Hillen perceived it. In the end, Martin could only trust him.
For in this generation, only Hillen Cargill had slain more than one Demon King.
"What did you discover?"
"A tremendous amount of magic power."
"That is not what I asked."
"A human."
"A human?"
"A human carrying an overwhelming amount of magic power."
Hillen's eyes sharpened.
"A human. A black mage."
***
Originally, black mages were those who offered their souls to a Demon King in exchange for power.
In most dimensions, they were Demon King lackeys and figures of terror—but not in Arein.
Since Demon Kings were weak here, there was no real need to rely on them. Naturally, black mages became obsolete, faded out, and eventually vanished from the continent.
Thus, black mages were largely dismissed.
But Martin did not dismiss Hillen's words. Even if it was "just" a black mage, he wouldn't have mentioned it without reason.
"You truly believe he will become a great threat to the Empire?"
"I am certain."
"I am a prince of the Empire. My words carry responsibility.
To act, I need evidence that what you say is true."
"If Your Highness wishes, I will retrieve it."
"And what do you require?"
"If I bring back proof, I ask that Your Highness support the subjugation of the Flame Demon King."
"If circumstances allow, I shall."
"Thank you."
Just as they had entered the capital discreetly, Berze and Hillen slipped out just as quietly.
"..."
On the highway not far from the capital, after making sure no eyes were on them, Hillen released a breath he'd been holding.
"What are you doing?"
"…Is it true?"
"...?"
"Is that black mage truly in Hapstline Gorge?"
"How insolent. Are you implying I lied?"
"I've bet everything on you, my lord Demon King—and I staked everything before the prince.
I have nowhere left to retreat."
"If I hadn't helped you, your head would still be decorating the Tower of Frost."
"...."
Hillen could not deny it.
"Then at least tell me this—
Is it dangerous?
Even if true, I can't imagine one person truly threatening the Empire…"
"A black mage is not just any black mage, and magic power is not just any magic power."
"I understand that the black mage in question must be outrageously talented."
"It's not simply outstanding.
Magic power is a force granted only to demons.
He mastered it through talent alone and became a black mage entirely by himself."
"That is remarkable, but…"
"No—you still don't understand.
That magic power is not ordinary demon-kind magic, nor is it monster magic.
It is the essence of the magic power that once formed a Demon King's Tower.
Even as residue, it is the Demon King's own remnant.
Do you think it makes sense for a mere human to comprehend and control such a thing?"
"...!"
"And he succeeded—and has spent countless years beneath the gorge waiting for the right moment.
Can you imagine how powerful his army must now be?"
"Don't tell me he—"
"No."
Berze shook his head.
"It is tempting, yes, but I have no intention of devouring it.
It's a poisonous mushroom—beautiful only on the outside."
If the gorge were near a Tower, it might be different—but this was the Empire.
The very heart of it.
Thousands of soldiers constantly defended the gorge, and the distance from Ergest was immense.
"And more importantly, giving it to the Empire is the wiser choice for now."
Grant the 3rd prince a chance, ignite a real civil war, shake the Empire from its foundations—that was more profitable.
"What do you plan to do, then?"
"What do you mean, what? He's a black mage."
"Yes."
"And I am a Demon King."
"...Excuse me?"
"The Demon King meets a black mage.
There is only one proper course of action, isn't there?"
Discipline the insolent thief who dared covet what belonged to the Demon King—and carve obedience into him.
"That is the proper relationship between a Demon King and a black mage."
"My lord Demon King… you truly are a Demon King."
"Thank you for the compliment. Speaking of which—what happened to those guys?"
"Those guys?"
"You know—the ones I released with you, the ones I made into black mages and black knights.
Aside from Aman, I haven't paid them much attention."
"I have no idea.
Even a slight mistake would cause their magic power to leak out.
If I stayed connected with them, I'd get caught too."
"Well done.
They aren't very useful anyway.
But—they're still alive, right?"
"You should know better than I do, my lord."
Black mages and black knights bore the brand of obedience.
When minions died, the soul-bound brand forced their souls to drift back to the Demon King.
"They aren't tightly linked to you, are they?
Could it be that—"
"I can hear the gears turning in your head from here."
"It was simple curiosity."
"Do not get your hopes up.
You will never escape my hand."
"I wasn't implying that."
"You absolutely were."
He looked exactly like a jackal wanting to tear someone apart.
Berze snorted and returned to the main topic.
"They're alive then."
No soul had returned to him, after all.
"See? My lord Demon King does know."
"Is it yeti fat?"
"Pardon?"
"Spending a month or two in the warm South has softened you.
You've gotten too comfortable—grease has coated your tongue."
"It was so cold up north my tongue nearly froze off."
Hillen shut his mouth.
They moved southward immediately.
Per the 3rd prince's request to leave no trace, they avoided teleportation arrays and instead pushed straight through remote mountain paths.
"To think a prince dared command the Demon King… I'll have him repay that debt."
"Isn't that debt how he'll help you attack your own Tower?"
"..."
"My lord Demon King?"
"Now that I think about it, it's infuriating."
To help the hero who would attack him,
To ask him for help in assisting that same hero,
To fulfill the request the other side demanded as a condition—
Why?
Why?
Because destroying the Empire was the priority.
Ultimately for conquering Arein—for living better than before regression.
He had to endure this cursed contradiction.
Even without teleportation, a hero and a Demon King were fast.
Within a few days, they arrived.
"...It feels loose."
Hapstline Gorge.
A gorge in name, but large enough to match a small country.
A nest of monsters.
The Empire had built four fortresses to seal it off.
Meaning the fortresses should always be in high alert for monster swarms—
But Alcan Fortress, as seen by Berze, had no such tension.
Many soldiers and mercenaries were present, a few heroes as well, but that was all.
There was none of the urgency or desperation he had felt in the tundra.
"I believe the answer lies in Your Highness's conversation."
"I've guessed as much."
It was the black mage entrenched in the gorge.
Absorbing magic power reduced the number of rampaging monsters.
Turning monsters into undead reduced their numbers further.
If that continued for long, the defenses would naturally relax.
It wasn't a bad thing—
Because the relaxed defenses made it far easier for Berze and Hillen to bypass the fortresses and slip into the gorge.
Once deep enough that no hunters or knights could be seen, Berze suppressed mana and activated magic power.
His red hair burned darker, his pupils turned black.
He exhaled a thrilled breath.
"Good."
Magic power was abundant.
It felt almost like being in a Tower.
Of course, it wasn't the same.
Even overwhelming magic power didn't weaken the interference of the world.
But compared to elsewhere, it was far better.
Walking slowly, he spread his magic power.
The layers upon layers of coincidental remnants began reacting to the Demon King's force.
"Found him."
"Already?"
"I am a Demon King."
There were many reasons black mages evaded detection from heroes:
They were inherently human, thus capable of nearly perfect suppression of magic power until they actively used it.
And in a gorge overflowing with magic power, the innate hostility heroes felt toward magic power blurred their senses—everything felt unpleasant.
But Berze was a Demon King.
Magic power was his fuel.
He was one of the rare demon-kind capable of becoming the core of a Tower.
A black mage gathered magic power.
Therefore, finding the place where magic power clustered was as easy as sipping soup.
"But are you really going to do it?"
"Obviously."
"Will the black mage obey?"
"His will is irrelevant."
Because Berze was the Demon King—
And the other was a black mage.
Berze leapt.
Hillen followed behind.
***
The heart of the gorge.
A crack between stone walls led down a sloping corridor.
The passage descended into the earth—dark, damp, cold.
At the end of it lay a massive cavern.
A cavern that resembled a hellscape.
Mountainous heaps formed a grotesque landscape—
Piles of corpses, and yellowed bones rotted so deeply they seemed melted.
Bairif lay atop the bones, one leg crossed lazily.
A droplet fell from a stalactite far above.
Then—
Clack—clack—
A spindly skeleton rushed in from the entrance.
"What is it?"
Clack-clack—
"Intruders? Imperial dogs came this far?"
Clack-clack—
"Magic power and… a hero?"
The skeleton nodded violently.
A combination that should not coexist made Bairif frown.
But a subordinate skeleton could not lie.
Did the Empire hire a black mage to hunt me down?
No, his premise was wrong—
The Empire didn't even know he existed.
Then—
I'll just capture them and find out.
Bairif rose.
"How many?"
Clack—clack—
"Two?"
Small. Far too small.
Which meant those two were confident.
A Star, perhaps?
It didn't matter.
Down here, Bairif could defeat anyone.
It didn't matter.
At least here, he was confident he could defeat anyone.
Step… step…
Footsteps echoed from beyond the passage.
Bairif leapt down from the mountain of bones.
Two presences approached.
One radiated the unpleasant aura of a hero.
The other oozed thick magic power—undeniably a black mage.
A black mage of this caliber exists?
Which idiot contracted with a Demon King?
No—why were a hero and a black mage moving together?
"Who are you?"
Bairif muttered quietly.
The footsteps stopped.
Even in the darkness, Bairif's eyes—accustomed to the gloom—quickly traced their figures.
Strong.
The hero radiated a rejection stronger than any hero he'd encountered.
Magic power roiled violently within Bairif.
But what shocked him more was the other.
The man was unmistakably a black mage—
And yet Bairif could not see into him at all.
All the magic power Bairif had gathered and refined over ages…
It completely failed to pierce the man's depths.
Chills crawled along his spine.
"Answer."
No answer came.
"…Very well."
Bairif stirred his power.
Ruuuuumble—
The mountain of bones and corpses he had been resting on began to quake.
Cracking, merging, reshaping themselves.
Dozens, hundreds… perhaps thousands.
Countless peaks rose—everything bone and corpse.
His legion.
Thick, suffocating necrotic energy dominated the cavern.
Thousands of undead troops surrounded the two intruders in an instant.
"If you cannot answer… then I'll force one out of you.
Tell me who you are and how you came here, or I'll—"
"You insolent creature."
The black-haired man cut him off.
Their eyes met.
A shiver shot down Bairif's spine.
His instincts screamed—
Run. Run now.
Cold sweat poured down his face.
"Who am I?"
The man asked lazily.
He flicked his hand.
Magic power crushed down upon Bairif.
"Gah—!"
His own magic power surged out of control.
It thrashed inside him as if trying to tear free from his body.
"W-why?!"
He couldn't control it.
For the first time in his life, magic power was disobeying him.
"W-who… who are you…?"
The rampaging magic power wreaked havoc within his spirit—
Bairif coughed blood.
"Well now."
The man tapped his fingers playfully.
He began walking forward, unhurried, unbothered.
"In the Demon Realm, I was called Berze Deias."
One step.
Bairif stepped back, trembling.
Black flames flared around his body.
"Since descending to Arein, I've been known as the Demon King of Ergest."
Another step.
"And more recently—
the Flame Demon King."
Another step.
Thud.
His back hit the cavern wall.
Bairif's face drained of color.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
"And now…"
The man smiled.
His chill gaze pierced everything Bairif was.
"I will be your master."
They stood extremely close.
An arrogant gaze looked down upon him.
A pale white hand pressed down on Bairif's head.
"What are you doing?"
The man whispered.
"Not kneeling immediately?"
Thud—!
Bairif's knees slammed into the ground, burying deep into the stone floor.
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