Chapter 17 : Have You Perhaps Lost Your Mind
Chapter 17: Have You Perhaps Lost Your Mind?
Bang bang bang—
With shockwaves so sharp it was hard to believe they came from fists colliding, Roger’s hair fluttered wildly.
‘What should he do?’
Roger weighed his options. Only two futures lay before him.
Be remembered as a traitor to humanity by siding with the Demon King.
Or fall into the Princess’s hands and rot as a slave for the rest of his life.
The question of which was preferable was, in truth, meaningless. Both were the worst of the worst.
But if he had to choose the lesser evil, it was the former.
‘He was the Demon King, but he wasn’t as cruel as the rumors claimed.’
He was extremely peculiar, but that peculiarity had granted Roger a sliver of breathing room.
‘The Princess, on the other hand…’
The Princess’s madness was well-known even within the kingdom. Especially her desire for good weapons and fine ornaments, and the near-fanatical obsession with the craftsmen who made them.
‘If she caught me, I would be squeezed dry.’
The Demon King would squeeze him too, but not to the same degree.
More so now that Berje’s identity as the Demon King had yet to be revealed. At this moment, Roger was nothing more than a craftsman who had fled because he didn’t want to forge the Princess’s weapon—not a traitor who had sided with the Demon King against humanity.
‘And above all…’
Roger stroked the necklace around his neck. The moment he chose the Princess’s side, he would die. The Demon King would never let him leave peacefully.
Resolute, Roger crawled toward the magi-device.
‘Even if he did it as fast as possible, it would take more than ten minutes.’
He had to sever the conduits running along the walls and encasing the entire workshop.
‘I can’t take the entire trunk. I will have to settle for the core…’
Roger’s hands moved frantically. But without any tools, he could only work so slowly.
‘If only he had a blade or an axe…’
As long as the core survived intact, it didn’t matter. Whether he detached the connections or chopped them off with an axe, the result would be the same.
Just then, his eyes fell on a lump of metal he had been working on—a blade that almost became a sword.
The problem was that it lay right in the middle of the Demon King and the Princess’s battlefield.
Gulp—
If he went there, he would be minced into paste—into Ro/ger.
“That blade! I need the blade!”
In the end, all he could do was beg.
Fortunately, the Demon King understood him. The problem was that the Princess did as well.
“How dare you…”
The Demon King’s and the Princess’s gazes clashed. Simultaneously, they reached toward the blade.
The first to grab the unfinished edge was the Princess. But a kick flew in right after.
Thud—
She gasped. Despite the dizzying shock, she did not let go. And that was unfortunate.
For her opponent was the Demon King—one who granted no mercy simply because his opponent was a princess.
Crack—
Her fingers snapped beneath the vertically stomping heel. With a small shriek, the half-finished blade flew up, passed through the Demon King’s hand, and landed in Roger’s.
“Thank you!”
What followed was the best possible outcome for Berje, and the worst for the Princess.
Her obsession with the blade caused her to let her fingers break far too easily, drastically weakening her combat power.
A one-sided offense and a one-sided defense.
The flow of battle remained the same as before, but the roles had reversed.
“……!”
Wounds began to accumulate across the Princess’s body. Under the heavy killing intent pressing down on her, all she could do was resist and flail.
And fortunately, that desperate flailing worked.
“Your Highness!”
“Enemies!”
Hearing the commotion, knights rushed in and drew their weapons.
“It’s done!”
Right on cue, Roger shouted. The Demon King kicked the Princess’s abdomen and sent her flying. Immediately after, the massive magi-device vanished without a trace.
* * *
“Your Highness…! Your hand!”
“…….”
The Princess sorrowfully looked down at her fist. Small. Her hand was distinctly smaller and more delicate than those of the burly other dwarves, half-broken.
It hurt. But the mental distortion outweighed the physical pain.
If it hadn’t been this small.
If it had been big and thick like the hands of other dwarves.
She wouldn’t have let it slip away so pathetically.
Wouldn’t have lost—wouldn’t have broken so shamefully.
Her misplaced anger naturally turned toward her escorting knights.
“What exactly were you doing?”
“…We are sorry.”
“Why not wait until I’m dead before showing up?”
“…We are sorry.”
“Does your apology bring back my injured hand? If you’re sorry, then catch those bastards right now! Instead of apologising, chase them down that passage. Order the lord to find them without fail!”
“We obey!”
A few knights hurled themselves into the passage. Messengers sprinted toward the lord’s keep.
“…Let us return to the capital.”
“Your Highness?”
“I must see Father.”
Roger had not done this to her. And yet his voice lingered clearly in her mind.
— I need that blade!
If she hadn’t become fixated on the sword because of those words, her hand wouldn’t have broken so pathetically.
She wouldn’t have suffered such a stupid defeat.
‘In the first place, if that damned Roger hadn’t abandoned his work and disappeared—’
None of this would have happened.
The Princess ground her teeth.
“Roger Friedrich dared to defy and deceive this Princess’s command. He will pay the price.”
“I will beg Father to let me be the one to capture him.”
And she would make him regret today for the rest of his life.
Without fail.
She vowed.
* * *
The dwarves’ pursuit was relentless.
Fast and swift, surprising for their short legs. But their quarry was the Demon King.
They were hunters who required exceptional stealth above all—after all, they abducted princes and princesses. With such skill, tracking the Demon King out in the wilds was impossible.
“…I really might never be able to return to the kingdom.”
Roger whimpered gloomily.
“Your assumption is wrong. It’s not a matter of ‘might not.’ You cannot return. The moment you do, you’ll be thrown straight into the underground prison of the capital. They probably won’t execute you. You’re talented—they’ll use you for a long time. A slave directly under the royal family, perhaps even the personal slave of the 2nd Princess. Most likely you’d spend your days locked in a workshop.”
“…….”
Roger’s face turned pale as he imagined that horrifying future with ease.
“W-would… would it really be like that?”
“Certain. Knowing the 2nd Princess, that is.”
“You seem to know Her Highness the 2nd Princess quite well.”
“I wouldn’t say I don’t.”
Their connection was a stubbornly persistent one.
Heroes were warriors hand-picked by the dimension itself to fight the invaders, but not every strong individual was a hero.
A hero was simply someone blessed with the right authority to battle invaders—being not a hero didn’t automatically make one weaker.
The number was small, but the Dwarven Kingdom’s 2nd Princess was one such individual.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t easily let go of what ends up in my hands.”
“…Y-yes, of course.”
In that moment, the last faint hope of the dwarven hero dreaming of a “what if” was shattered.
* * *
Three months had passed since the hero’s march began.
Hillan deliberately moved northward at a very slow pace, continuing to meet people along the way.
More people gathered.
And no enemies appeared to block their path.
On the surface, it was a smooth hero’s march. People mocked that even the Demon King feared Hillan’s reputation enough not to send a single monster.
But Granada realized that discord was gradually forming within.
“Damn it, what kind of hero’s march doesn’t have a single monster show up?”
“Monsters? When an ogre pops out, hundreds fight over it and all I get is a toenail!”
“And even that gets taken by the strong ones. What are we, unpaid volunteers?”
“At least the banquets are frequent. Can’t complain about that.”
Hillan had treated local leaders and nobles generously. The scale was small, but Granada felt its existence carried great significance.
‘So the Demon King’s reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong.’
If the Demon King had thought this far… wouldn’t he devise an even more developed strategy based on this?
Granada sipped his drink as he entertained these thoughts. The current banquet was also hosted by a noble who invited the heroes.
He acted as if generosity toward heroes was natural, but the true goal was stakes: shares of treasure once the Demon King’s tower was conquered.
‘What expression will he make when he learns there’s nothing?’
Granada let out a brief chuckle.
Just then, drunken Bark approached him.
“Boss, did you hear? There’s a rumor spreading about the Demon King.”
“The Demon King?”
Granada flinched involuntarily.
‘Don’t tell me it’s about me being the Demon King’s subordinate… No, impossible.’
The Demon King had concealed his identity thoroughly. As far as Granada knew, nothing had been revealed.
Indeed, his fear was unfounded.
“They say the Demon King who built the tower in Ergest handles fire.”
“Fire?”
He did handle fire. Granada had seen the black flames himself.
But as far as he knew, the Demon King had never used them in front of humans.
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s spreading among the nobles. Already reached the people participating in the hero’s march. Everyone’s saying equipment should be prepared accordingly.”
“Equipment with fire resistance, you mean?”
“What else? With all the support from the Kingdom of Hilderan and funding from merchants, it’s well within reach.”
“Are they certain the Demon King handles fire? No one’s even seen him—how would they know?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just what I heard. But plenty of people already treat it as fact.”
Granada rested his chin on his hand.
No matter how he thought about it, it was strange.
‘I’d better contact the Demon King.’
Unpleasant as it felt, elves were a race that fulfilled their oaths—even toward their enemy—with utmost sincerity.
* * *
“There are rumors that I handle fire?”
Berje frowned. The report he received upon returning to the tower was far from pleasant.
He didn’t bother asking how.
Humans had certainly not discovered anything.
Anyone who would know consisted only of fellow demons—and among them, only one bastard would spread rumors with malicious intent to trouble him.
“That filthy beast dares.”
“It can’t be solely the will of Demon King Draxon.”
Gordon bit his lip.
The Beast Demon King was the most loyal dog of Archduke Arkaine. If he had acted, it meant there was a command or intention behind it from his master.
Gordon recalled the moment right before he had departed for Arein.
The Archduke had wished for Berje’s death. The curse dripping with malice had been rejection in itself.
‘Damn it, how did my life end up like this…’
Normally, after great effort, becoming top-ranked should lead to a good life, yet he was sinking further into ruin.
“What will you do? At this rate, great danger—”
“I will do nothing.”
“…Pardon?”
“Putting aside fire resistance, you know what I plan to place on the first floor.”
“Ah.”
The magic cannons and dwarf-made traps. Some of them spewed flames, but they were only a fraction. Anyone who entered with only fire resistance, thinking themselves prepared, would be riddled with holes.
“The Ergest Mountains have heavy snowfall year-round. They’ll soon learn how useless fire resistance is in a place like that.”
The weakened prey would be warmly greeted by monsters.
Those who got past that would be welcomed by magic cannons and traps.
And those who passed that—
“They will meet the Princess.”
“You’re saying even if the hero comes, you’ll leave the Princess as is?”
“A hero climbs the tower with great difficulty and meets the Princess. And then the Princess stabs him in the back—what do you think?”
Just imagining it thrilled him.
“…Surely you’re not planning to make the Princess and the hero fight each other.”
“……”
“I mean no disrespect, but—have you perhaps lost your mind?”
“That is disrespectful.”