Chapter 12

Chapter 12
## Chapter 12: The Princess of the Dwarves

“Just consider the scenario. The brave champions burst through the portal, braced for a swarm of pathetic monsters. But what if they find something completely unexpected waiting for them in that labyrinth?”

“If they find a bunch of dwarves, they’ll become the butt of every joke in the land. You aren’t hunting for dark power; you’re hunting for humiliation, aren’t you?”

“Gordon, if you use the word ‘humiliation’ to my face again, I might just take your head off.”

“…”

Gordon went silent instantly, feeling the sudden, suffocating pressure of a murderous intent.

“Let me re-explain. I am not suggesting we use the dwarves themselves as combatants. I am talking about their craftsmanship. Imagine a hail of massive bolts from ballistae, crushing logs, and intricate snares triggered in sequence—all while heavy cannons packed with black powder rain down fire.”

“Hmm…”

The idea had merit.

“It is more than just good—it is a guaranteed success.”

The traditional tactics of the Demon King were well-documented and easily countered by the champions of Aren.

The heroes had developed a specific playbook to deal with demons, and employing dwarves was a brilliant method to strike where they were most vulnerable.

“Those champions are blinded by their own assumptions.”

They expect weaklings on the entry level and the true threats only as they ascend.

“That is the reality they believe in.”

For hundreds of years, every Demon King followed that script like it was holy law. It was a repetitive cycle passed down through the ages.

“But what happens when they are met with a mechanical storm of dwarven engineering instead? Specifically, weaponry that doesn’t rely on the flow of mana?”

“That… could actually work.”

The logic was sound.

Gordon might be a demon who would normally dismiss such things, but his human perspective allowed him to see the danger.

Even the most legendary heroes, those capable of dueling a Demon King, were still made of flesh and bone. A punctured lung or a shredded stomach was a death sentence.

A scratch that a demon might ignore would be a lethal blow to a human.

A strike coming from a source they hadn’t prepared for, at a time they didn’t expect, could wipe out an entire party or leave them too broken to continue.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’.”

Gordon, lost in the grim imagery of the slaughter, snapped back to reality and shook his head.

“Even so, it goes against every established rule…”

But the Demon King had already walked away.

—

Aren was undeniably dominated by mankind.

While various other civilizations existed, humans held over 70% of the land. More than 20% was uncharted wasteland, and the territories of all other races combined didn’t even hit 10%.

Those small pockets of land were further divided among competing non-human tribes.

To find them, one had to trek into the most isolated corners of the world, as humans had seized every fertile and strategic location.

Among these races, the dwarves—masters of the forge—were famous for carving grand cities deep within mountains rich with ore.

Berge kept his features hidden under a heavy cowl as he approached the gates of their subterranean realm. He immediately found several crossbows aimed at his heart.

“Stop right there. Identify yourself and your origin.”

“I’m a hired blade from Puran.”

He showed the identification plate he had acquired from the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps.

“A human?”

“Indeed.”

“What are you here for?”

He pulled out a jagged, broken blade he’d found on the road and presented it.

“Just more trash to fix.”

“See that you don’t start any trouble.”

Rumble—

A massive mechanical lift began to descend. A soft magical glow illuminated the path as Berge was lowered into the earth.

This was a first for him.

In his life before the regression, he had butchered countless dwarves, but he had never actually stepped foot in one of their homes.

Whenever a hero showed up with top-tier equipment, it was always the work of a dwarven master.

Because of that, he had sent his legions to raze their cities to the ground—more than once.

The massive treasures he’d looted were just an afterthought; back then, he didn’t understand the power of currency. He had been obsessed only with raw power, dark energy, and the traditional path of a Demon King.

He had been a fool.

The gold he had ignored could have purchased an entire empire.

The gates swung wide to reveal a grand boulevard.

The architecture was perfectly aligned and orderly.

It was a meticulously designed metropolis, a far cry from the chaotic, sprawling mess of human cities. It was rigid, yet beautiful in its complexity.

Thud, thud, thud—

A comfortable warmth from the earth’s core filled the air.

The rhythmic ring of hammers echoed through the caverns, and plumes of dark smoke rose toward the high stone ceiling.

Dwarves moved with purpose through the streets.

Berge made his way to a nearby tavern and inn first.

“A human in these parts…?”

He put up with the suspicious glare of the short innkeeper and the exorbitant price of five silver coins for a single night’s stay.

“Five silver for one night?”

“Pay it or move on. No one here is going to give a human a bed for less.”

“The peace accords were signed years ago.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t change how we feel.”

Berge didn’t mind the hostility.

“Give me the name of the best blacksmith in the city, and I’ll throw in an extra coin.”

“Are you a hero looking for a tune-up?”

“Mercenaries need sharp blades too.”

“Make it two extra coins.”

“Gold?”

“Silver is fine.”

“They say dwarves love coin as much as heroes love fame.”

“We learned that greed from your kind.”

Berge slid seven silver coins across the counter.

“Roger Friedri. Take the main road east from the plaza for about a kilometer—it’s the large forge on the right. But don’t expect a warm welcome. His schedule is packed for months. He won’t waste his breath on a common sellsword.”

“You’re charging me for information I can’t even use?”

“You asked for the best. I gave you the best.”

The dwarf gave a careless shrug and tossed him a room key.

“Floor three, room 303.”

“Is he at the forge now?”

“He lives at his anvil. He’s likely there, though he’s so reclusive there’s no promise he’ll let you in.”

“Fair enough.”

Berge went up to his room first. It was a minimal space: just a small desk and a creaky cot.

It didn’t matter. He opened the window and slipped out into the shadows.

Tightening his cloak around his face, he moved toward the forge.

Five enormous chimneys were pumping out thick soot. Contrary to what the innkeeper suggested, there wasn’t a line of customers.

Instead, there were guards. At least a dozen. Whether they were personal hires or city-appointed sentries, it confirmed one thing:

The man had talent.

The innkeeper hadn’t scammed him on the quality.

Dwarves were reliable when it came to getting what you paid for.

Unlike humans, whose greed often outweighed their skill.

Berge ghosted past the sentries and entered the facility.

Clang, clang, clang—

The hammering that was a dull thud outside was a deafening roar in here. The heat was nearly unbearable.

Down on the lower floor, shirtless dwarves were drenched in sweat. Dozens of smiths were working the fires in a synchronized dance of industry.

Which one is… Roger?

His first instinct was to kidnap the whole lot, but that would draw too much attention.

A hidden blade is only effective while it stays hidden.

If people started asking why a Demon King was abducting blacksmiths, it would ruin his strategy. He needed to stay under the radar.

He just needed the best one. Only one.

Then.

Vmmm—

A soft pulse of energy brushed against his skin.

It was a subtle alarm ward, one he had missed because of the overwhelming noise and heat.

“Intruder!”

“Secure Roger’s forge!”

The security detail mobilized instantly.

The rhythm of the hammers died as sirens began to wail.

However, that was actually helpful.

Clang, clang—

One specific hammer continued to strike further down the corridor. He heard the guards shouting, “Roger’s workshop!” and followed the sound.

“…”

He pushed the door open. A wave of blistering heat hit him.

A dwarf was focused entirely on his work, his back muscles rippling with every strike.

The metal on the anvil was a brilliant, glowing orange, spitting sparks with every hit. It was being infused with an immense amount of mana. It was a masterclass in craftsmanship.

But then.

“…”

“…”

The blacksmith turned around, his eyes locking onto Berge.

The air between them grew heavy.

“…A demon?”

“…A hero?”

An immediate, visceral hatred flared between them like a physical weight.

The dwarf kicked a lever, sending a blast of furnace flame toward Berge, followed immediately by a crushing blow from his heavy smithing hammer.

But the hammer never hit home. The fire didn’t burn Berge; he welcomed the heat.

Crunch—

Berge’s hand clamped around the dwarf’s throat, lifting him.

“For someone chosen as a hero, you are incredibly pathetic.”

He was weaker than any champion Berge had ever killed.

Berge let out a dark, mocking laugh.

—

Heroes serve as the world’s protectors.

Demons are the world’s invaders.

Those chosen by the world itself can sense an intruder by instinct.

And those who invade can sense their natural enemies just as clearly.

There is no need for introductions.

The moment they are in the same room, they know they are destined to kill one another.

This was exactly why Berge used Granada as his public identity. No matter how well he masked himself, if he encountered a hero while using his true power, he would be outed instantly.

Heroes could be hiding in any corner of the globe.

“Guh…!”

The dwarf’s face turned a sickly shade of pale.

“Truly, you are the weakest hero I’ve ever come across.”

Heroes were supposed to be conduits for the world’s strength. The planet’s will ensured they became powerful enough to defend it.

Of course, a brand-new hero might be frail. But not a man with Roger’s reputation.

He was the most famous smith in a city of masters. That kind of status wasn’t earned by a novice.

How could a legendary figure be this physically incompetent?

“Wh-why has a demon come here?”

“Who can say?”

I came to snatch you away. That was the plan.

“This makes things messy.”

He thought he was just getting a blacksmith. It turned out he found a hero.

Should he just reveal his true form as the Demon King and end him?

The dwarf couldn’t fight worth a damn, but his death would send shockwaves through the city. The dwarven news network would carry the word to every corner of the world.

It wasn’t the death of a warrior, but it would have an impact.

But was it worth it?

A hero’s death mattered because it crushed hope. But could a sniveling weakling like this actually represent hope for anyone?

“The entrance is compromised!”

“Defend Master Roger!”

The guards were closing in fast.

Roger’s mind was racing.

Why is a demon this deep in human territory?

The demon tower was their stronghold. The further they strayed from it, the more the world’s natural laws weakened them.

Demons hated feeling weak and rarely left their seats of power. Usually, they just sent monsters to do their dirty work.

There was only one reason a high-ranking demon—or a King—would travel this far:

To kidnap royalty.

It couldn’t be…!

A realization struck Roger like a bolt of lightning.

The princess…?

The princess of the kingdom had recently traveled to this city, Volfner, and was currently in residence. She was waiting for the very weapon Roger was currently crafting.

If the demon knew she was here and had come for her?

Roger squeezed his eyes shut.

He despised violence, but he was still a hero. He couldn’t let them take her.

“Oh? So she’s in town?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know!”

“Calm down. I’m only interested in kidnapping you.”

“…What?”

Thwack—

The world went dark for Roger.

“Roger!”

When the guards finally burst into the room, they found it empty—except for the princess’s unfinished weapon, which was slowly melting away in the unattended forge.

—

“Ugh.”

Roger’s eyes fluttered open. He saw a stained, wooden ceiling. He was bound tightly, unable to move his limbs or speak.

“You’re finally awake.”

The voice was deep and saturated with the stench of demonic mana.

“We’re in a run-down inn on the edge of town. I wanted to leave already, but things got a bit loud back there. The guards are everywhere. I could fight my way through, but I’d rather not draw a crowd.”

Roger looked around frantically. A man sat nearby with his legs crossed, looking bored.

“So, here is the deal: give me the secret routes out. I know these dwarven cities are riddled with hidden tunnels. A local hero like you must know at least two.”

The demon leaned in close.

“I’ll let you speak. Go ahead and scream if you want—no one will hear you. You can shout until your throat bleeds.”

Snap—

The magical silence holding his jaw shut vanished.

“…Do you really think I’d help you? I am a hero. I would never assist a piece of demonic filth like you.”

“I’m offering you a choice. You can help us leave quietly, or you can die here and I’ll go find the princess myself.”

“…!”

It really was about the princess!

Roger ground his teeth in frustration.

“The royal guard has her under heavy protection. You think a single demon can just walk in and take her?”

“Let me fix one thing: I am not just ‘a demon.’ I am the Demon King. So yes, your knights won’t mean a thing to me.”

“…The… Demon King?”

This wasn’t just a scout?

Click—

“Actually, I just thought of a better plan. I could let you live and just take the princess anyway. I wonder what your people will say then?”

“What are you talking about!”

“A hero is captured by the enemy and survives, while the princess he was supposed to protect vanishes. It’s a classic story, isn’t it? ‘The coward hero who traded a princess for his own life.’ You’ll be a pariah.”

In the human world, they called it a fate worse than death.

The Demon King snapped his fingers, his voice dripping with malice. The sheer cruelty of the suggestion made Roger’s blood run cold.

That wasn’t a life worth living. He couldn’t even process the shame. Death would be a mercy compared to that.

“You monster…!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Last chance. Are you in or out?”

“…I’ll show you the way.”

The Demon King and the hero began their ascent to the surface, traveling through a private escape tunnel the smith had dug years ago.

—

At the same time.

“…”

The Princess of the Dwarves stood in silence, staring at the shapeless, glowing mass of ruined metal.

It was neither a sword nor a shield anymore.

“…So this was supposed to be my legendary weapon?”

“…It was, Your Grace.”

“Shut your mouth before I rip it off your face.”

The knight went stiff and silent.

“Explain this to me. And make sure it’s a good explanation.”

“Master Roger is gone. There was a struggle reported just before the alarm. We believe it was an abduction—we’ve locked down the city and are conducting a sweep.”

“That idiot!”

Bam—

Her fist slammed into the table, the force of the blow cracking the stone floor beneath them. The knights nearby stumbled as screams echoed from the floor below.

“That man is a hero, isn’t he?”

“He carries the title, yes, but he spent all his time at the anvil… he never trained for combat.”

“Find him this instant! Bring whoever took him to me so I can break them!”

“At once, Your Highness!”

“If you fail, I’ll use your skulls as anvils.”

Creak—

The metal cup in her hand was crushed into a tiny, unrecognizable ball of iron.

The knights turned pale and hurried out of the room.