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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Hero
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"Damn it, you fucking...!"
He vented his complaints nonstop from his mouth. But the elf's hands busily prepared the ingredients.
He washed them in water, chopped the vegetables, and minced the meat.
Then he suddenly stopped chopping.
"Haa..."
A sigh escaped him naturally.
Cooking was one thing, but with no real facilities on the empty third floor, having to build a campfire and cook there felt even more pathetic.
'What the hell happened to me...'
The Demon King had sworn on the canon. So he had believed him. And the Demon King had not betrayed that trust.
At least everything he had said was true. He had simply omitted the more important parts.
"You bastard."
Do you even know who I am? Even in Elven lands, they wouldn't treat me like this.
What pissed him off even more was the thought that this was still better than five years of slave life.
'They say escape one goblin den and you stumble into an ogre's.'
Granada shook his head and refocused on the cooking.
He heated the iron pan and coated it with oil. He added the minced meat, stir-fried it with the vegetables once the fat rendered, and sprinkled in spices.
A savory aroma wafted subtly throughout the tower.
"Waa."
At that moment, someone descended the stairs from the upper floor.
"Smells delicious!"
'A human?'
She appeared to be a pretty human around twenty years old. He wondered briefly why a human was in the Demon King's tower, but the question faded away.
'Probably in the same boat as me.'
She must have been tricked by the Demon King into becoming a tower slave.
"What are you cooking?"
She approached him.
"Simple stir-fried meat."
"It smells so good."
"Of course it does. Who do you think made it?"
Granada snorted and shrugged his shoulders.
"But I haven't seen you around before. How'd you get here?"
"Something like you."
"So you were kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped? Not enslaved?"
Their eyes met.
'...She looks familiar?'
Snow-white skin, platinum blonde hair, and faintly sparkling amethyst eyes in between—they stuck in his memory somehow.
'Where from? Where have I seen her?'
At that instant, something peeked out from behind her. A pure aggregate of mana—a spirit.
Platinum blonde hair, purple eyes. And a spirit.
The pieces clicked together like a puzzle.
"...Hilderan's Crown Princess?"
"You know me?"
"...This is insane!"
"Shut up."
The Demon King descended just then. Granada shot to his feet and charged over.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Seems like you have, to me."
"Kidnapping Hilderan's Crown Princess! What the hell is going on?!"
"Oh, that."
"'That'? Hilderan must be in an uproar by now! With nothing here, how do you plan to stop the heroes?"
"I'll handle it. Finish cooking."
"So nonchalant right now..."
"That's an order."
"..."
Granada made a grim face and resumed stir-frying the meat.
Then it hit him—an oddity he had missed while fixating on one thing.
'...But why is the Crown Princess coming down from the fourth floor instead of some prison cell?'
Why was she casually sitting there with forks alongside the Demon King?
"Why?"
Their eyes met, and the Crown Princess smiled brightly. No matter how he looked at it, she did not seem kidnapped.
He shot the Demon King an earnest look full of doubt.
"Doesn't matter. Escaping the tower is impossible anyway."
"That's not the issue here."
"She cooperated, so I let her loose appropriately."
"Let loose like this..."
The real problem lay with the Crown Princess, not the Demon King.
No matter how accustomed one got to Demon Kings, or how kidnappings often ended in ransom or hero rescues, this was the dynamic between Demon King and princess.
Kidnapper and victim.
That casual air, like she owned the place, was not something just anyone could pull off.
Moments later, the food was ready, and the dark elf Gordon joined them.
"It was so delicious."
The Crown Princess patted her full belly and scraped her plate clean. Her innocent cheer made Granada wonder if this was truly the Demon King's tower or Hilderan's royal palace.
"Then let's get down to business."
At the Demon King's glance, Gordon dragged the Crown Princess upstairs.
"As you heard, this woman's Hilderan's Crown Princess. What kind of reaction do you think Hilderan will have?"
"Obviously pandemonium."
Granada recalled a rumor from before he became a slave.
Hilderan's First Princess had exceptional talent—even at a young age, she had succeeded in contracting a spirit, and the entire kingdom fawned over her brilliance.
For such a Crown Princess to be kidnapped, they would surely froth at the mouth and lose it.
"They're probably putting in a request to the Hero Guild right now, assembling a massive hero party. Erjest Mountains will block the riffraff as a natural fortress, but Hilderan's resolve won't stop there."
Obvious enough.
"Surely you're not asking me to solo the heroes and commit suicide."
Granada spat curtly.
"Never planned to. Any hero who makes it into the tower has already lost."
"Then?"
"I'll send you back to Hortonwork."
Granada understood from the explanation that followed.
"So you want me to stir up the human world in your place."
"In summary."
"Join a group to gain power, buy info to track the heroes' movements, and whenever possible, sabotage them to fail or at least delay as much as I can?"
"Exactly. But first."
The Demon King rose from his seat.
"I need to check your skills."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The third floor.
He faced the Demon King on the empty floor serving as their stage.
Berge had brought Granada to the tower for two reasons.
One was to prove he was the Demon King and earn his trust.
The other was to accurately gauge his abilities.
The cooking had just been to put the arrogant elf in his place—it wasn't the main goal.
"Long slave life, but your body's held up surprisingly well."
"It's not the kind of body meant for cooking, at least."
"Tasted good, though. You've got talent."
"..."
Granada desperately shifted the topic.
"But this is a fight I can't win from the start, isn't it?"
Even if it had been a surprise attack before, he had already been schooled once. The gap in their levels was clear.
"I won't use one hand. That fair?"
"Still not enough."
"Let's make a bet. If you win, I won't force the formal speech. And I'll treat you well as a subordinate, not a slave."
"...No cooking orders either?"
"If you want."
"I'll do my best to blow your head o...ff!"
The elf and Demon King clashed.
Moments later.
"...I heard newly summoned Demon Kings are especially affected by dimensional interference."
"Think the demon race doesn't know what you do?"
Why else create the Demon King Academy and send only the handpicked elites? To select those who wouldn't crumble easily even in the worst scenarios—those who could maintain minimal combat power despite weakening from interference.
That was the demon world's vanguard: the Demon King.
"I get the gist."
The Demon King casually helped the fallen Granada to his feet.
"Now let's head down."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Honored to see you again!"
Bark lit up at the sight of the two familiar faces who had sought him out.
He didn't know their names, but it was the rich man who spent money like water and the elf slave he had bought.
'But was his face always that messed up?'
It felt strangely hazy, but he chalked it up to the booze.
"I want to buy your time."
The rich man spoke bluntly.
"Your whole mercenary corps. A year upfront would be ideal."
"Uh... what exactly do you plan to have us do for that full year?"
"Keep living like you are—take monster subjugation jobs. I promise no requests beyond what your corps can handle."
Bark hesitated. The man's generosity promised massive rewards, but there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Even if he was confident, who could guarantee it wouldn't be dangerous?
"I can't decide that alone."
Bark was the captain of Red Hawk Mercenary Corps, but they operated on fairly equal terms.
"Discuss it. I'll match the price as high as possible."
The twenty Red Hawk mercenaries went into a meeting.
"Too suspicious."
"But the money's real. Turning down big pay wouldn't make us mercenaries."
"What kind of jobs?"
"No overkill stuff, right? We can put it in the contract and refuse if it's too much."
"You trust that?"
Then the rich man plopped a heavy pouch on the table. Gold and silver coins spilled out, leaving the mercenaries slack-jawed.
They exchanged glances and nodded.
"Deal."
Too much money to turn down.
"But we have conditions. Put in the contract that we can refuse if we deem it excessive. We'll be as objective as possible based on our mercenary rank. And..."
"Fine."
Bark listed several conditions, and the rich man accepted them all.
"In return, I have one condition."
"What...?"
"Take the elf Granada into your mercenary corps."
"...Pardon?"
"Even just on paper is fine. Granada will issue orders in my stead."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Humans had hierarchies. And countless organizations.
Magic towers, Hero Guilds, Mercenary Guilds, Free Knights, Artisan Unions, Black Moon, and more.
Some tied to nations, others independent.
But they all shared one trait: populous groups inevitably amassed power, wielding king-like authority even without a crown.
I planned to insert my subordinate into one, erode it from within.
One by one, they would fall into my hands until I truly controlled everything as the black curtain.
The first target: the Mercenary Guild.
Low quality but sheer numbers rivaled any organization.
A group with astonishing inclusivity, accepting anyone without prejudice.
A guild whose power no kingdom could easily ignore.
Above all, a den of money-obsessed madmen.
Conveniently, I had a suitable mercenary acquaintance and his corps.
"...Fine."
Bark nodded after much deliberation.
"We don't take newbies lightly, but if you're a client, it's doable."
He approached Granada.
"Please take care of us."
"Likewise."
Bowing to someone who had been a slave until recently felt off, but money was king.
"To join our corps, you need to pass the mercenary exam, though..."
Bark tilted his head.
"But where'd you get beat up?"
Why are your eyes all black and blue?
Granada said nothing.
That day, Granada officially took the exam at the Mercenary Guild, earned an advanced mercenary badge, and joined Red Hawk Mercenary Corps.
The minor incident of him furiously bruising the eyes of every mercenary who tested him was just that—minor.
And at the celebration for Granada's joining, the mercenaries received their first commission from Berge.
"First job. You must have heard Hilderan's Crown Princess was kidnapped recently. I want to know which heroes Hilderan hired."
"Why..."
"Money."
"Ah."
Heroes' paths drew massive interest and cash. Support them, and if they caught the Demon King, you scored tower loot.
A perfectly convincing reason for mercenaries who saw Berge as a rich eccentric.
"But we're a small corps. We'd need to commission the Info Guild for that..."
Thud.
A money pouch dropped.
"Do it."
"Right away!"
"While at it, dig into Hilderan's princesses too."
"Why..."
'Because if things go south, return the First Princess and kidnap the Thirteenth instead.'
He had spoken strongly in front of the Crown Princess, but having no backup plan was never wise. Still, he couldn't say that outright.
And coming up with yet another plausible excuse to convince the humans irked him.
"Want the reason? Or the money?"
"The money!"
The mercenaries' eyes gleamed with greed.
Berge reconfirmed it once more. In this world, at least, money was no different from faith to humans.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The knight Cooltan instructed his soldiers.
"Surround the hotel. Don't let a single rat slip out."
Dozens of soldiers encircled the place. He took two with him and headed up.
"She's upstairs."
The hotel owner—who had received a prior cooperation notice—guided him personally.
"Status?"
"Enjoying a drinking party."
"Women on both sides again, no doubt."
"..."
The hotel staff must have cleared the area; the hallway was empty. They reached the top floor's special VIP room, reserved only for elite guests.
The door opened.
Thick booze fumes and stifling heat brushed his nose and cheeks.
Crunch.
He stepped on shards of a shattered bottle. The soaked carpet squelched underfoot.
Cooltan silently opened a window. The cold wind cooled the heat.
"...What."
"Oh my."
The man, drunk on the heat, lazily opened his eyes. The women flanking him trembled.
"Long time no see, Hero."
"Sir Cooltan?"
"You women, out."
The women staggered out, supporting their drunken bodies. The man scowled, his buzz killed.
"What's this about?"
"Royal decree."
"...The Crown Princess."
"The other heroes cowered at the name Erjest. Only you can slay that arrogant Demon King and rescue Her Highness."
"Erjest Mountains scare me too."
"That's amusing. Who but the hero who beheaded the Demon King of Lust would dare climb Erjest to save her? It's not fear—it's laziness."
"If I refuse?"
"Hero, the kingdom's Crown Princess has been kidnapped. You know what she means to Hilderan."
Cooltan met the hero's eyes.
"This isn't a request. It's a decree."
Heroes wielded immense privileges. But they also bore duties.
Kings overlooked their rampages and crimes to a degree, but when problems arose, they issued decrees to force action.
Heroes could refuse, but turning a whole nation into an enemy meant bearing the full backlash alone.
"You can refuse. But you won't operate in Hilderan anymore. Hilderan's hero becoming its top scum would trouble you too, no?"
Rustle.
Cooltan presented the king's decree.
"Take it."
"Even so, I can't do it alone."
"You'll have command over every hero in Hilderan. The local Hero Guild branch promises full cooperation."
They had no choice either.
"The kingdom will spare no support, and the reward will exceed your wildest dreams."
"His Majesty must be bleeding badly."
"That's how vital Her Highness is to us. If you're thinking of running, give it up. The hotel's surrounded. Harm a soldier on duty, and we get justification."
"You can do that?"
"You won't leave the kingdom unscathed, at least. I'm not all there is. And we're considering social death too."
"Checkmate, huh."
The hero smiled bitterly. He should have left Hilderan sooner—instead, he got complacent near the border.
"I'll take it."
The hero snatched the decree.
"Great Hero, please save the kingdom's foundation."
The knight bowed.