Chapter 26 : Bought With Money
Chapter 26: Bought With Money
The Demon Kings each had an environment they preferred.
The Beast Demon King had built his tower on wide plains where beasts could run wild, the Gold-Steel Demon King in a canyon filled with rocks, and the Frost Demon King in the northern lands where blizzards fell year-round.
And the False Demon King had built his tower atop a beautiful lake.
A place where waterfowl swooped through the air, and fish splashed about. At dawn, a faint mist rose, and at midday, the sunlit ripples on the water were beyond beautiful.
A tower on a lake suited his disposition perfectly, obsessed as he was with appearances such as beauty and etiquette.
“What secret talk did you want so badly that you called me out so obviously?”
When he opened the door and stepped out onto the terrace, she was there.
The Frost Demon King, Reina Sordein. She turned her head from the shimmering lake she had been gazing at. Simply approaching her made a subtle chill seep into him.
“It’s not particularly a secret talk. I simply wished to speak with you ever since I heard the rumors.”
“With me?”
“I thought you would look a bit more vicious, since they said you insulted the Standard. But you look ordinary.”
“Not ordinary—handsome.”
“...If you think so yourself, then so it is.”
Her silver-blue eyes fixed on Berje.
“I agree with you ‘in part.’”
And then she immediately dropped a bomb.
Berje couldn’t maintain his expression for a moment at the utterly unexpected remark.
Had Reina ever said anything like this in his previous life? No.
They had barely interacted at all, and even those few encounters had been unpleasant.
No, beyond that—he had never imagined he would hear another Demon King say the Standard was wrong.
“Are you serious?”
“You think only you may think so, and I may not?”
“No, I’m just surprised to hear another Demon King say they dislike the Standard, not me.”
“You are mistaken.”
Reina kindly corrected him.
“I only agree ‘in part,’ and I do not dislike the Standard. Rather, I revere it and believe it must be upheld.”
“Like the other demons?”
“Like the other demons.”
“That contradicts itself.”
“I like the Standard. Not a single item in it is wrong. However, I believe some parts must change depending on circumstances and environment.”
He understood.
Reina was different from him, who loathed the Standard itself. She was merely a realist who accepted reality and believed in the need for change.
But the very fact that a Demon King—raised on tales of the Standard and the greatness of the First Demon Emperor—held such thoughts without any special catalyst was surprising.
“Then you didn’t call me out just to bash the Standard together. Is this a warning? Like that beastling, acting childish?”
“There is no Demon King in Arein who follows the Standard perfectly as written. Do you know why?”
It was an answer to a different question. But Berje still answered.
“There are too many heroes.”
“And because for hundreds of years, we have failed to occupy the land. They’ve grown accustomed to Demon Kings, and Demon Kings are no longer absolute beings. Heroes now hunt Demon Kings, and following the Standard strictly is no longer enough to survive.”
So bending the Standard within its broad scope was how the Demon Kings of Arein survived.
“But you see, those idiots feel ashamed of that. They feel the need for change, yet hate to speak it aloud. And they insist they follow the Standard more faithfully than anyone, forcing it on others.”
Reina found that detestable.
They became Demon Kings, bent the Standard, and yet considered that shameful—so they always claimed they followed the Standard.
They insisted there was no problem in Arein, that things would be solved once they grew stronger.
“They don’t realise that’s even more shameful. That’s why I wanted to see you. At least you seemed more reasonable to talk to than those idiots.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I don’t like that you dislike the Standard, but I admit you’re easier to talk to than those idiots.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“But you’d better be careful. You’re too rebellious. Unlike Ugar, that beast doesn’t just flap his mouth.”
“I know.”
He had already suffered once. That bastard had become the Archduke Arkaine’s dog, delivered unreasonable orders, and sent underlings to spy on him.
He had issued a warning, yet the bastard hadn’t listened. Hortonwork was still crawling with watchers.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“I do not wish for someone I can actually converse with to disappear so soon.”
“The False Demon King should be around, no?”
“One cannot read that one. What he thinks, what he does. He is at least better than those two idiots, though.”
She shrugged. That ended the conversation.
“If you ever need advice, contact me anytime. As long as you don’t insult the Standard in front of me, I’ll entertain you to some extent.”
“Sure.”
He didn’t particularly have anything to ask, but forming a connection with Reina Sordein was something he definitely wanted.
Among the four Demon Kings, she was the only one to whom the phrase ‘somewhat trustworthy’ could apply.
“A personal communication orb. But is Hero Hillan Cargill truly wandering the mountains?”
“At least several weeks of distance.”
“I see.”
She did not look convinced, but she vanished. Berje toyed with the orb. A cold chill lingered on it.
After a moment, he returned to the hall.
“...Where did everyone go?”
Only one of the five chairs still had its owner.
“They have all departed.”
Jason, leisurely stirring his tea with a teaspoon, greeted him.
“The Harmony of the Towers has concluded.”
“That was short.”
“It was not a regular gathering. This one was less about the original purpose and more about welcoming you, Sir Berje, but since the relationship between you and the Demon Kings is… strained, there was no reason to prolong it.”
Berje silently took the seat opposite him.
“Would you like some tea?”
“I don’t like human tea.”
“It’s from the elves.”
“Same thing.”
“It cannot compare to what the Demon Realm offers, but Arein’s tea has its own charm.”
“If it cannot compare, it’s already disqualified.”
“You’re quite particular.”
Jason set down the teaspoon.
“Did you converse well with Lady Reina?”
“More or less.”
“Even if I were to ask what you discussed, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”
“....”
“A joke. I was merely a bit jealous. I also wish to become acquainted with you, Sir Berje.”
Berje was surprised for the second time today.
“Why? I insulted the Standard.”
“Indeed, but Arein is a special dimension. Some flexibility is necessary. And besides, when the Demon Emperor isn’t around, everyone complains about him too.”
“I did it in front of everyone.”
“Which means you possess the dignity of a Demon King—more proud and upright than anyone.”
He said this without a single change in expression. The smile that followed was faintly sly.
“That’s different from what you said earlier.”
“Well.”
His eyes gleamed.
“Right now, it’s just the two of us, is it not?”
Though unnecessary, his voice softened to a whisper.
“Don’t you think we might get along quite well?”
And it was sweet.
---
“How was the adjutants’ meeting?”
“Ah. It was… ordinary.”
Gordon couldn’t bring himself to speak honestly. It had been nothing but complaints about their respective Demon Kings—and he himself had contributed most of it.
“How was it for you, my Lord?”
“Not bad.”
Now he had two clear enemies and two uncertain allies.
Just having met them face-to-face and shared amicable conversation made the gathering sufficiently worthwhile.
And—
“I need to hurry. I need to make use of the ones we caught.”
The Demon Kings didn’t believe Hillan was still wandering Ergest. Naturally so. He was a strong hero who had come to conquer the tower.
Leaving him alone and emptying the tower would be unthinkable—by their logic or Berje’s.
In the end, they had all simply let it slide, even though they knew.
But how long would that last?
He had to eliminate suspicion before they got too close to the truth. Before they dug deeper and discovered he was using the hero inside the tower.
That went beyond merely bending the Standard.
“And how do you plan to use the ones you captured?”
“For a Demon King to ‘trust’ humans, there is only one method.”
“You intend to make them black knights and black mages?”
Black knights and black mages were the classical—and most reliable—method.
The soul of a weak human overflowing with negative emotion was mortgaged, bound, and forced into servitude.
Once their soul was seized, they could never betray the Demon King and became loyal dogs that slaughtered humans.
Slowly, they destroyed their own kind and became daggers driven into them.
That old method was still used elsewhere, but in Arein it had been abandoned.
Because there were too many heroes.
And because countless Demon Kings had been cut down by heroes.
To the humans of Arein, Demon Kings were no longer absolute beings. There was no meaning in obeying someone if it meant having one’s soul seized.
“However, they are exceptions.”
The captured ones had no options. If they wanted to live, they had to become Berje’s slaves by force.
That was the only escape.
“Is it worth it? The moment they use even a little power, they will be discovered.”
Black mages and black knights who accepted demonic energy while retaining human bodies could evade a hero’s senses by using that human shell.
But that applied only when the demonic power remained fully hidden inside the shell.
“That’s for those bastards to handle.”
Of course, Berje didn’t particularly care.
“And if you do that to the humans, what about the heroes?”
“Kill everyone except Hillan Cargill.”
His hatred toward heroes had followed him beyond death. It had grown deeper, hotter.
Even so, he endured because Roger and Hillan Cargill had value. He believed the best revenge against the hero who had used him, treated him like a toy, was to use a hero to overturn the continent.
Conversely, he had no mercy to spare for those without value.
“The hero’s party never came to the tower. They will descend the mountain and return to their usual lives.”
Even if his reputation took a slight hit, Hillan Cargill would regain it quickly.
“I hope so, but a hero cannot be made into a black knight or black mage. Shouldn’t Hillan Cargill also be killed?”
“I’ll use Armani’s Orb.”
Armani’s Orb was an artifact of the Demon Realm. It could be purchased with Demonic Points and was used to control someone.
Once swallowed, the orb melted, burrowed into the host’s brain, and took root.
The engraved seal made it impossible to resist the master’s commands, and it shared vision and conveyed information.
“Will Hillan Cargill willingly swallow it?”
The demon race was a people practically specialized in magic dealing with mind and soul, but heroes were different.
Blessed by dimensional power, they had high resistance to mental interference. To make a hero swallow Armani’s Orb, the hero had to voluntarily deactivate all defensive mechanisms and ingest it of their own will.
Otherwise, the orb would melt away before reaching the brain.
But would any hero be foolish enough to do that?
“That’s why I’ll have to talk to him.”
Fortunately, Berje had already grasped a clue from the things Hillan had babbled earlier.
---
His lips were dry, his throat cracked.
He stuck out his tongue to catch the dropping beads of water. It was filthy and foul, but it eased the thirst slightly.
He blinked, now somewhat accustomed to the darkness.
‘...Why am I still alive?’
There were Demon Kings who took a princess or prince hostage to negotiate with a kingdom or hero.
But no Demon King ever spared a captured hero.
Heroes were the nemesis of Demon Kings, and Demon Kings were not merciful. The fate of a hero who failed and could not escape was death.
Yet Hillan lived.
‘Everything is wrong.’
Why had a dwarf hero installed mana cannons for a Demon King?
Why was an elf acting as the Demon King’s agent?
Why was a princess presenting herself as a Demon King’s subordinate?
Why was he imprisoned instead of killed?
If not for the throbbing pain that reminded him this was real, Hillan might have assumed it was a dream and killed himself.
‘What do they want?’
Keeping him alive meant they wanted something.
But what could a Demon King possibly want from a hero? And could a hero give something a Demon King wanted? Would that be more valuable than killing him?
Hillan shook his head. No. No matter how he thought about it, such a thing didn’t exist.
That was when the prison door opened.
It wasn’t the elf who visited at noon every day.
“...Demon King.”
Berje looked past the darkness and examined Hillan’s condition. His cracked skin had no vitality. His hair was dry and brittle, and his strength had faded significantly.
But his eyes still had not died. He liked that.
“Seems you’ve been living fairly well.”
“...Are your eyes rotting like undead fish?”
“I’ll let you live.”
“...?”
“I’ll free you, and everyone else imprisoned here. You will be a hero who never discovered the tower in the first place—who failed, perhaps, but was never defeated.”
“No—wait. Just wait.”
Hillan couldn’t understand what the Demon King was saying.
“Free me? Me?”
“Do you see any other humans here?”
“Did you eat some kind of drug and lose your mind?”
“Unfortunately, Arein has no drug capable of driving me mad. The Demon Realm as well.”
“So you’ve simply gone insane.”
“Do you not want to live?”
Not want to live? No—no one wanted to die. And Hillan Cargill was more greedy and instinct-driven than anyone.
He wanted to live, to gain fame, to enjoy wealth and luxury.
That was why being a hero was his calling, and up until now, he had done well. Had this damned Demon King not used the princess, it would have remained so.
A moment of silence.
After struggling with the thought, Hillan reached the truth.
Pahahahahaha—
Hillan burst out laughing. Pain roiled in his cracked lungs, but he couldn’t hold it in.
“...Are you seriously trying to win me over right now? A Demon King trying to sway a hero? Really?”
“Countless humans have called themselves our servants. Why would a hero be any different?”
“He is different. Too different!”
Demons and humans existed as diametrically opposed forces.
This was not like wars between kingdoms or ancient racial conflicts. It was a war on an entirely different dimension—one that determined whether the world would be conquered or not.
Heroes were the vanguard of humanity, and Demon Kings were the vanguard of the Demon Realm.
“They’re not different. Whatever becomes of the Middle Realm, the dead speak nothing and have no future. Therefore, the only question that matters is whether you want to live, or not.”
“....”
It hit the core of the matter.
“You’re telling me to become your dog.”
“Among humans, there is a saying that life—even rolling in a pile of dung—is better than the afterlife.”
“You think I’ll fall for that?”
“I read very strong desires in you. Greed, hunger for honour, and the desire to survive. More than anyone right now, you do not want to die. Is that not so?”
Berje was sensitive to the emotions of others. What he had felt from the explosive Hillan earlier had not been the whole picture.
“As a hero, you value your honour over your duty. You prioritize your own desires.”
Hillan’s despair hadn’t come from merely failing to slay a Demon King. It was because of the honour that would fall, the money he would lose, the life he still desperately wished to cling to.
Nowhere in him was there rage at failing to vanquish evil or grief at being unable to defeat a Demon King.
‘Not that it’s anything special.’
Heroes here were faithful to their desires. It was no wonder merchants trembled at their approach.
“You’ve already minimised the damage to your reputation by not being defeated by a Demon King. So what remains is money—and I will take care of that.”
“...Huh?”
“All those debts you said were tormenting you—I’ll pay them all.”
No, that alone wasn’t enough.
“I’ll cover every expense you need as a hero from now on. I’ll be your patron. Your financier. I, the great Demon King Berje Deias.”
So pledge your loyalty to me.
“Khhhhh.”
Hillan laughed.
It was so absurd he couldn’t help it.
A Demon King offering to sponsor a hero? When would he ever hear such nonsense again?
It was ridiculous. But he was curious—just how far would this Demon King take his madness?
“Oh, really?”
So he decided to play along a little.
“My debt is ten thousand gold. And if you include everything I’ll need for my career going forward, it’s roughly a hundred thousand. Hand that over. Then I’ll become your dog.”
“A hundred thousand gold?”
“Why, too expensive? You said you’d be my patron. If a hero is supposed to trust a Demon King and follow him, shouldn’t you throw that much money at him while making a fuss? Ah, and if you think I’m lying, don’t worry. You know, right? A hero never breaks a promise.”
He mocked the Demon King’s bewildered face.
A hundred thousand gold. An impossible sum for a mere Demon King.
Hillan expected him to scream, to rage at being insulted.
But—
“Wait. I’ll bring it soon.”
Berje walked calmly out of the cell.
“...Huh?”
---
“Demon King! We’ve received a message from Demon King Berje!”
Draxon, buried in a heap of enormous monsters as he napped, opened his eyes.
“He wants to exchange demonic energy for human money.”
“Now that I think about it, he must have accumulated quite a bit of Demonic Points.”
“But he’s asking for a hundred thousand gold.”
“...?”
Draxon lifted his body.
“A hundred thousand gold? Does he even have that much demonic energy?”
“He says demonic energy is flowing steadily, and he’ll repay it gradually. He also said he can sign a Demon Realm contract if you wish.”
Then he was serious. A Demon Realm contract forcibly binds demonic energy—breaking it would damage one’s prestige.
“What does he need a hundred thousand gold for all of a sudden?”
“I’ll look into it.”
“That can wait. How much do we have in the treasury?”
“Five thousand gold.”
“Far too little.”
Each Demon King had different methods of gathering money, but most Demon Kings had little interest in human currency to begin with.
Thus, all of Draxon’s income came from squeezing the hero parties that came for him and collecting the spoils.
Naturally, it wasn’t much. Many heroes attempted to reach the summit but gave up halfway and retreated, making the yield even smaller.
It was satisfying as proof he had raised his tower well, but that wasn’t the issue now.
“....”
A feast of delicious demonic energy sat before him, yet he had no way to obtain it.
“He’ll repay gradually? Then tell him we’ll pay gradually as well. I’ll find a way to gather the money.”
A hundred thousand gold was an immense sum. Therefore, the demonic energy he would receive in return would also be immense.
Draxon had no intention of letting this chance slip away.
“...To think I’d ever regret lacking human money.”
Had he gone mad? No—the mad one was Berje, who was selling precious demonic energy for something as trivial as money.
---
“So you’ll pay me whenever you get the funds?”
『Yes. That’s correct. At present, our Demon King simply does not have that much money....』
“Then the deal ends here.”
『Wait! Please wait, Demon King!』
“Speak.”
『No Demon King anywhere can gather that much money immediately. If you just give us a little time, we’ll find a way.』
“Unfortunately, I’m not in the mood to wait for that ‘little’ time.”
『Demon King Draxon has many methods! He can certainly satisfy you!』
“Use those methods to produce results. Contact me again after that.”
Tap—
Berje cut the connection unilaterally and injected new demonic energy.
The link persisted for quite a while.
In the past, he might have waited for Draxon to prepare. But after the Harmony of the Towers, there were other Demon Kings with whom he had now established at least a connection.
They weren’t close, nor were they the type to casually engage in financial transactions—
“Can I borrow some money?”
『....』
—but Berje was shameless enough not to care.
A brief silence.
『This is interesting.』
『Draxon said the exact same thing just moments ago.』
『Is there something I don’t know?』
“He’s a funny one. Planning to borrow from you, then lend it back to me?”
『So that’s what happened. May I at least know why you suddenly need money?』
“Because I need it.”
『If you don’t wish to tell me why, then let me ask something else. How much do you need, and what will you give in return?』
“One hundred thousand gold.”
『Not a small sum.』
“And in return, demonic energy.”
『...Quite surprising, but you’re not joking with me, are you, Sir Berje? If so, I’d be rather disappointed.』
“Are we close enough for jokes?”
『We’re also not close enough for me to hand over a hundred thousand gold so easily.』
『Do you know? One hundred thousand gold means I must scrape together nearly all the wealth I’ve accumulated.』
“You’ve saved quite a bit. And you were the one who said you wanted to get closer.”
『Thinking about it now, I’m very glad I said that.』
“And no matter how much human money there is, it can’t be called remarkable.”
『In the Demon Realm, yes—but all value is relative.』
『Yet nothing is more precious than demonic energy.』
There was no need to hesitate. With the hottest Demon King as the debtor, repayment was not something to worry about. Jason Kokemundo made the same choice as Draxon.
“A fine deal.”
『That’s my line. Please don’t ask for it back later.』
---
Clank—
Thud—
Thud—
Dozens of massive bundles were dropped before Hillan’s eyes.
The Demon King personally untied them and revealed the inside. A mountain of gold. A staggering amount of glittering coins.
“I brought it. One hundred thousand gold.”
The Demon King spoke.
“I am purchasing you. From now on, you are mine.”
The orb entered his mouth.
And Hillan Cargill swallowed it in a daze. No—whether dazed or not, he simply could not refuse it.
Because, as the price for receiving dimensional power, a hero’s promise carried restrictions.