Chapter 17 - Have You Lost Your Mind?

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Logger's hair whipped about in the blasts of air, their thunderous reports impossible to believe were coming from fists colliding.

'What should I do?'

Logger weighed his options. One of two futures awaited him: side with the Demon King and be remembered as a traitor to humanity, or fall into the princess's hands and rot away as a slave for the rest of his life.

There was little point in wondering which was better. Both were the worst of the worst. But if he had to choose the lesser evil, it was the former.

'He may be a Demon King, but he isn't simply a vicious monster like the rumors say.'

He was extraordinarily peculiar, but those peculiarities gave Logger a little room to breathe.

'The princess, on the other hand...'

The princess's madness was well known within the kingdom. In particular, her desire for fine weapons and jewelry—and the resulting obsession with craftsmen—bordered on insanity.

'If she catches me, she'll squeeze me dry.'

The Demon King would squeeze him dry too, but there was a difference in degree.

That was especially true because Berge's identity as a Demon King had yet to be exposed. For now, Logger was merely a craftsman who had fled because he didn't want to make the princess's weapon, not a traitor who had betrayed humanity to side with a Demon King.

'And above all...'

Logger stroked the necklace around his neck. The moment he sided with the princess, he would die. There was no way the Demon King would let him go quietly.

His mind made up, Logger crawled toward the magical device.

'Even at my fastest, this will take more than ten minutes.'

He had to sever the connections running along the walls throughout the workshop.

'I can't take all the branches with me. I'll get the main unit first...'

Logger's hands worked busily. But without any tools, progress was inevitably slow.

'If only I had a knife or an axe...'

Only the main unit needed to remain intact anyway. Whether he detached the connections or chopped them off in one swing of an axe, the result would be the same.

Then he spotted the unfinished lump of metal he had been working on. The thing that had nearly become a sword.

The problem was that it lay right in the middle of the Demon King and the princess's battlefield.

He gulped. If he went over there, he would be reduced to pulp—Log/ger, split in two.

"That sword! I need the sword!"

In the end, all he could do was ask.

Fortunately, the Demon King understood him. Unfortunately, so did the princess.

"How dare you..."

The Demon King and the princess locked eyes. They reached for the sword at the same time.

The princess grabbed the blade first. But a kick came flying down onto her hand.

THUD!

She gasped. Despite the staggering impact, she refused to let go. That was her undoing.

Her opponent was a Demon King—one who offered no mercy merely because she was a princess.

CRACK!

A heel slammed straight down, breaking her fingers. With a small scream, she lost the unfinished blade. It flew into the Demon King's hand, then passed to Logger.

"Thank you!"

What followed was the best possible battle for Berge, and the worst for the princess.

Her fixation on the blade had allowed her fingers to be broken with absurd ease, drastically reducing her fighting strength.

One attacked relentlessly; the other could only defend.

The pattern of the battle was unchanged, but their roles had reversed.

"...!"

Wounds accumulated on the princess's body, one after another. Confronted with that thick killing intent, all she could do was resist and struggle desperately.

Fortunately, her struggle proved effective.

"Your Highness!"

"An enemy!"

The knights who had rushed over at the commotion drew their weapons.

"It's ready!"

Logger shouted at just that moment. The Demon King kicked the princess in the stomach, sending her back. Then the enormous magical device vanished without a trace.

* * *

"Your Highness...! Your hand!"

"..."

The princess gazed forlornly down at her fist. It was small. Her half-broken hand was small and delicate, distinctly unlike those of other burly dwarves.

It hurt. But the anguish twisting inside her was worse than the physical pain.

If only it weren't so small.

If only it were large and thick like other dwarves' hands.

Then she wouldn't have let them escape so helplessly.

It wouldn't have broken so easily, and she wouldn't have lost.

With nowhere else to go, her anger naturally turned on her guards.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"... Our apologies."

"Why not wait until I'm dead before showing up?"

"... Our apologies."

"Will your apologies fix my injured hand? If you're sorry, catch those bastards right now! Instead of apologizing, get down that passage and chase them! Order the lord to find those bastards, no matter what!"

"As you command!"

Several knights plunged into the passage. Messengers ran to the lord's castle.

"... Let's return to the royal capital."

"Your Highness?"

"I must see Father."

Logger wasn't the one who had done this to her. Yet his voice remained vivid in her mind.

["I need that sword!"]

If his words hadn't distracted her and made her fixate on the sword, her hand wouldn't have been broken so easily.

She wouldn't have been beaten like such a fool.

'If that damned Logger hadn't disappeared halfway through making my weapon in the first place...'

None of this would have happened.

The princess ground her teeth.

"Logger Fridri dared defy my orders and deceive me. He will pay the price."

"I will petition Father to let me capture him myself."

She would catch him and make him regret what happened today for the rest of his life.

Without fail.

That was her vow.

* * *

The dwarves' pursuit was relentless.

They were surprisingly swift and nimble for such short legs. But their quarry was a Demon King—one of those for whom superior stealth was paramount in abducting princes and princesses.

With their skills, tracking a Demon King across open country was impossible.

"... I really might never be able to return to the kingdom now."

Logger spoke miserably, on the verge of tears.

"Your premise is wrong. There's no 'might' about it. You can't return. The moment you do, you'll be thrown into the royal capital's dungeon. They probably won't execute you. You're talented, so they'll keep using you for years to come. You'll most likely become a slave serving the royal family—or perhaps the second princess's personal slave—and spend all day shut inside a workshop."

"..."

Logger went pale at the horrifying future that sprang all too readily to mind.

"... W-would they really?"

"Certainly. If she's the second princess I know."

"You seem to know Her Highness the second princess well."

"I'm not unfamiliar with her."

Their ill-fated connection had been quite persistent.

Heroes were warriors chosen by the dimension itself to fight invaders, but not every powerful individual was a hero.

Heroes merely possessed powers that made them better suited to fighting invaders. Not being a hero didn't necessarily mean someone was weaker than they were.

Such people were rare, of course, but the dwarven kingdom's second princess was one of them.

"Does it really matter? I don't readily let go of anything that falls into my hands anyway."

"... Yes, of course."

It was the moment the dwarven hero's last hope shattered—the hope of an outside chance he had still been dreaming of.

* * *

Three months had passed since the hero's journey began.

Hillen deliberately traveled north at a very slow pace, continuing to meet with people along the way.

Their numbers kept growing.

And no enemies stood in their path.

From the outside, it looked like an uneventful hero's journey. People mocked the Demon King for being so frightened of Hillen's reputation that he wouldn't even send demonic creatures.

But Granada realized that discord was gradually developing within the expedition.

"Damn it, what kind of hero's journey doesn't have a single demonic creature?"

"And the monsters? One ogre shows up, and hundreds of people swarm it to split the spoils. I got one fingernail!"

"Even then, anyone with a bit of strength or rank takes everything. Did we come here to work for free?"

"Still, all the banquets are nice."

The discontent was minor, since Hillen had been generous while meeting local dignitaries and nobles. But Granada thought its very existence was significant.

'The Demon King's hypothesis wasn't entirely unfounded.'

A Demon King who had conceived such an idea might use this as the foundation for an even more sophisticated scheme.

Granada drank as he considered that possibility. This gathering, too, was a banquet a noble had thrown for the heroes.

The host put on a friendly face and claimed it was only natural to be generous to heroes, but the real goal was probably a share: a percentage of the treasure when they conquered the Demon King's tower.

'What face will he make if he finds out there's nothing there?'

Granada chuckled.

Just then, a thoroughly tipsy Bark approached him.

"Captain, have you heard? There's a rumor going around about the Demon King."

"The Demon King?"

Granada flinched for an instant.

'Could it be that I'm working for the Demon King... No, that's impossible.'

The Demon King had concealed his identity thoroughly. At least as far as Granada knew, nothing could have exposed him.

Sure enough, his fears were unfounded.

"They say the Demon King who built his tower in Erjest wields fire."

"Fire?"

He did wield fire. Granada had seen those 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?"

"The rumor's all over the nobility right now. It's already spread to the people on the hero's journey too. There's a lot of talk about getting suitable equipment."

"Equipment with fire resistance, you mean?"

"What else? With all the support from the Kingdom of Hilderan and sponsorship from merchants, I don't see why we couldn't."

"Are they certain the Demon King wields fire? Nobody's seen him, so how would they know?"

"I'm not sure about that. I only heard it from someone else. But plenty of people are already treating it as fact."

Granada rested his chin on his hand.

No matter how he looked at it, this was strange.

'I'd better contact the Demon King.'

A race that gave even an enemy their utmost once they had sworn an oath, however much they disliked it. Such were the elves.

* * *

"There's a rumor that I wield flames?"

Berge frowned. The report he received as soon as he returned to the tower was far from pleasant.

He didn't bother asking how.

The humans certainly hadn't discovered it.

Only his fellow demons could have known, and among them, only one bastard would maliciously spread rumors to cause him trouble.

"That filthy beast bastard dares..."

"This cannot be Demon King Drakson's will alone."

Gordon bit his lip.

The Beast Demon King was Grand Duke Alkain's most faithful dog. If he had acted, it would have been at his master's command or in accordance with his wishes.

Gordon recalled the moments just before his departure for Arain.

The grand duke had wished Berge dead. That curse, full of malice, had already marked him for rejection.

'Damn it, how did I end up like this...'

Normally, after all the hard work it took to become the top graduate, life should have improved. Instead, he was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss.

"What will you do? At this rate, we will be in grave danger..."

"Nothing."

"Pardon?"

"Fire resistance aside, surely you haven't forgotten what we're putting on the first floor?"

"Ah."

Mana cannons and dwarven-made traps. Some did spew flames, but those were only a fraction of the defenses. Anyone who came in carelessly equipped only with fire resistance would instead be riddled with holes and wiped out.

"Mount Erjest gets heavy snow all year round. They'll learn just how pointless it is to come into a place like that equipped with fire resistance."

The monsters would give their weakened prey a very warm welcome.

Mana cannons and traps would greet anyone who made it through even that.

And if they got past those too...

"They'll meet the princess."

"You mean you'll leave the princess where she is even when a hero arrives?"

"A hero struggles all the way up and finds the princess. Now, what if that princess stabs him in the back?"

The mere thought was thrilling.

"... Surely you don't mean to make the princess fight the hero."

"..."

"Forgive me if this is rude, but have you lost your mind?"

"It is rude."