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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Have You Gone Mad?
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Thud thud thud—
The sound of fists colliding was so explosive it was hard to believe it was just flesh against flesh. Roger's hair whipped wildly in the shockwave.
What should I do?
Roger weighed his options. His future boiled down to two paths.
Either side with the Demon King and go down in history as a traitor to humanity.
Or get handed over to the princess and rot as her slave for life.
Debating which was better was pointless. Both were the worst of the worst.
But if he had to pick the lesser evil, it was the former.
The Demon King isn't as vicious as the rumors make him out to be.
He was incredibly peculiar, but that peculiarity gave Roger a sliver of breathing room.
The princess, on the other hand...
The princess's madness was infamous even within the kingdom. Her obsession with fine weapons and jewelry—especially the craftsmen who made them—bordered on insanity.
If she catches me, she'll squeeze me dry.
He'd get squeezed by the Demon King too, but not to the same degree.
Especially since Berge's identity as the Demon King hadn't been exposed yet. To the world, Roger was just a craftsman who'd fled rather than make weapons for the princess—not a betrayer of humanity siding with the Demon King.
And above all...
Roger touched the necklace around his neck. The moment he sided with the princess, it would kill him. The Demon King wouldn't let him go that easily.
With his mind made up, Roger crawled toward the magic tool on his belly.
Even at top speed, it'll take at least ten minutes.
He had to sever the connections wrapping around the entire workshop along the walls.
I can't take the roots too. First, just grab the main body...
Roger's hands moved frantically. But without any tools, progress was agonizingly slow.
If only I had a knife or an axe...
As long as the main body was safe, it didn't matter if he disconnected it properly or hacked it apart with an axe—the result would be the same.
That's when he spotted the half-finished lump of metal in his peripheral vision. It was meant to be a sword.
The problem was that it lay smack in the middle of the Demon King and princess's battlefield, rolling around.
Gulp.
If he went for it, he'd end up as Roger-paste.
"That sword! I need that sword!"
In the end, begging was his only option.
Fortunately, the Demon King understood. The problem was, so did the princess.
"How dare you..."
The Demon King and princess locked eyes. Both reached for the blade at the same time.
The princess grabbed the blade first. But a kick came flying right after.
Thwack—
She swallowed hard. Even through the dizzying impact, she didn't let go. That was her misfortune.
Her opponent was the Demon King. He showed no mercy just because she was a princess.
Crack.
Her fingers shattered under the vertical heel drop. A small scream escaped her—"Aaah!"—as the unfinished blade flew away, passing through the Demon King's hand and into Roger's.
"Thank you!"
What followed was the best outcome for Berge and the worst for the princess.
Her fixation on the blade had led to her fingers breaking all too easily, drastically reducing her combat power.
One-sided offense and one-sided defense.
The flow of battle was the same as before, but the roles had reversed.
"...!"
Wounds began accumulating on the princess's body, one by one. Against that thick killing intent, all she could do was resist and lash out wildly.
And fortunately, her lashing out worked.
"Your Highness!"
"Enemies!"
The knights who'd rushed in at the commotion drew their weapons.
"It's done!"
Right on cue, Roger shouted. The Demon King kicked the princess in the gut, sending her flying. Then the massive magic tool vanished without a trace.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Your Highness...! Your hand!"
"..."
The princess gazed mournfully at her fist. It was small. Unlike the burly hands of other dwarves, hers was delicate and refined—even half-broken as it was.
It hurt. But the mental distortion outweighed the physical pain.
If only it hadn't been so small.
If only it had been as large and thick as the other dwarves'.
She wouldn't have lost it so pathetically.
Wouldn't have broken and been defeated so pathetically.
Her aimless rage naturally turned toward her guards.
"What the hell were you doing?"
"...We're sorry."
"Why didn't you come until I was practically dead?"
"...We're sorry."
"Does 'sorry' fix my hand? Does 'sorry' mean go catch those bastards right now? Instead of apologizing, chase them down that passage. Order the lord to find those scum no matter what!"
"Understood!"
A few knights threw themselves into the passage. Messengers raced toward the lord's castle.
"...We're heading back to the capital."
"Your Highness?"
"I need to see Father."
It wasn't Roger who'd done this to her. But his voice echoed clearly in her mind.
—I need that sword!
If she hadn't gotten distracted and fixated on the blade because of that, her hand wouldn't have broken so pointlessly.
She wouldn't have been beaten so stupidly.
To begin with, none of this would have happened if that damned Roger hadn't abandoned his weapons mid-forging and vanished.
The princess ground her teeth.
"Roger Friedri dared defy and deceive this princess. He will pay the price."
"I'll beg Father myself and capture him personally."
She'd make him regret today for the rest of his life.
Without fail.
She vowed it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The dwarves' pursuit was relentless.
Their short legs moved with surprising speed and agility. But their opponent was the Demon King.
Those tasked with kidnapping princes and princesses prioritized stealth above all.
Tracking the Demon King through the wilderness was impossible for them.
"...I might really never be able to go back to the kingdom now."
Roger whimpered gloomily.
"Your premise is wrong. It's not 'might'—you straight-up can't. The moment you set foot there, you'll be thrown into the capital's underground prison. Execution's unlikely, given your talent. They'll keep you around to use. As a royal slave, or maybe the 2nd Princess's personal slave, locked in a workshop all day."
"..."
The horrific future painted itself in his mind, draining the color from Roger's face.
"...Y-you think so?"
"Absolutely. If it's the 2nd Princess I know."
"You seem to know a lot about Her Highness."
"I know enough."
It was a rather stubborn bad blood between them.
Heroes were warriors chosen by the dimension itself to fight invaders, but not all powerhouses were heroes.
Heroes were simply those granted powers suited to battling invaders. Not being a hero didn't mean they were weaker.
Dwarves were rare in that regard, but the 2nd Princess of the Dwarf Kingdom was one such exception.
"Doesn't matter much, does it? I don't let things that come into my hands go easily anyway."
"...Of course, my lord."
It was the moment the dwarf hero's last flicker of hope—for some slim "what if"—was snuffed out.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Three months had passed since the hero's journey began.
Hillun deliberately advanced north at a snail's pace, meeting with people along the way.
Their numbers kept growing.
And no enemies stood in their path.
On the surface, it was a smooth hero's march. People mocked that the Demon King, terrified of Hillun's fame, wasn't sending any monsters.
But Granada realized discord was brewing within the group.
"Damn it, what kind of hero's march has zero monsters?"
"Where are they? If an ogre pops up, hundreds swarm it and split the loot—but we barely get a rusty axe?"
"Even that goes to the strong, high-level guys. Are we here for charity?"
"At least the feasts are frequent. That's nice."
Hillun had met with local lords and nobles, lavishing gifts on them. It was minor friction, but Granada saw it as hugely significant.
It's proof Lord Demon King's hunch wasn't entirely off.
Any Demon King thinking this way would build on it for a deeper scheme.
Granada nursed his drink with that thought. This very banquet was hosted by a noble who'd invited the heroes.
They dressed it up as the proper hospitality for a hero, but the goal was shares—of the treasures from conquering the Demon King's tower.
I wonder what faces they'll make if they learn there's nothing.
Granada chuckled softly.
Then Bark, nicely tipsy, approached him.
"Boss, you hear the rumors about the Demon King?"
"Demon King?"
Granada flinched for a split second.
Did they find out I'm one of his subordinates...? No way.
The Demon King had hidden his identity thoroughly. As far as he knew, there were no leaks.
Sure enough, his worry was unfounded.
"They say the Demon King who built the tower in the Erjest Mountains wields fire."
"Fire?"
He did wield fire. Granada had seen those black flames up close.
But never in front of humans, as far as he knew.
"Where'd you hear that?"
"It's buzzing among the nobles right now. Even spread to folks who've joined the hero's march. They're saying we need gear for it."
"Flame-resistant equipment, huh?"
"Probably. With Hildean Kingdom's backing and merchant sponsors, it's doable."
"Is it confirmed the Demon King uses fire? No one's even seen him."
"Dunno the details. Just hearsay for me too. But lots of people are treating it as fact."
Granada rested his chin on his hand.
It was suspicious no matter how he sliced it.
I should contact Lord Demon King.
He wasn't thrilled, but elves were a race that gave their all—even to enemies—once they'd sworn an oath.
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"Rumors that I'm wielding flames?"
Berge furrowed his brow. The report awaiting him upon returning to the tower was far from pleasant.
He didn't need to ask how.
He hadn't been spotted by humans.
Only demons who knew better—and among them, only one who'd maliciously spread rumors to screw him over.
"That filthy beast bastard."
"It can't just be Drakson Demon King's idea."
Gordon bit his lip.
The Beast Demon King was Archduke Alcaine Blamif's most loyal dog. If he'd acted, it was on his master's orders or intent.
Gordon recalled right before departing for Aren.
The Archduke had wished for Berge's death. That curse dripping with malice had already cast him out.
Damn it, how did my life end up like this...?
Normally, topping the academy with hard work opened doors to glory. But he was spiraling deeper into the abyss.
"What will you do? This could be a major threat..."
"Nothing."
"Pardon?"
"You know what's on the first floor, flame resistance aside, right?"
"Ah."
Mana cannons and dwarf-made traps. Some spewed flames, but they were a minority. Rush in cocky with just flame resistance, and you'd end up a pincushion.
"The Erjest Mountains are blanketed in blizzards year-round. They'll realize soon enough how pointless flame resistance is there."
The weakened prey would be warmly welcomed by the monsters.
Those who broke through would be greeted by mana cannons and traps.
And if they overcame even that...
"They'll meet the princess."
"Even if the hero comes, you'll just leave the princess there?"
"Imagine a hero who climbed all that way meets the princess... and she backstabs him. What happens then?"
The thought alone was thrilling.
"...You're not planning to pit the princess against the hero, are you?"
"..."
"Forgive my impertinence, but... have you gone mad?"
"That's rude."