Chapter 7

Chapter 7
## Chapter 7: The Might of Currency

—

“Are you telling me he refuses to part with the magi?”

Drakson was so utterly blindsided by the news that he failed to notice the morsel of meat sliding from his lips. It hit the table with a soft thud.

“That is correct.”

Casey calmly retrieved the stray piece and discarded it. With practiced grace, he reached out and wiped the residue from Drakson’s mouth using a clean cloth.

“Let me be clear. He reached out to you personally?”

“He did.”

“And his intention is truly to sell the magi?”

“Yes.”

“In exchange for what?”

“He requested human currency.”

“Money? That is his price? Is the man genuinely out of his mind?”

The substance known as magi, distilled from the raw emotions and vital essence of humans, bore little resemblance to the energy found within the demonic territories. Because it was harvested directly from life, it was infinitely more potent and concentrated. It functioned as the singular mechanism capable of shattering the dimensional shackles that hindered the full potential of any Demon King. More than that, it was the only ladder for those who had reached a ceiling in their own power.

This was the very reason demonkin risked everything to enroll in the Academy—to ascend to the rank of Demon King. In the long records of history, no Demon King had ever been foolish enough to trade away their collected magi. Certainly not for something as trivial as “money”—a human invention that held no value outside of the world of Aren.

Life and emotion were limited resources.

The most violent fury eventually ebbed.

The most agonizing sorrow eventually numbed.

Even the deepest pits of suicidal despair faded into a dull ache as time marched on. Human feelings directed toward a Demon King were no exception; the reservoir of magi inevitably began to evaporate the moment it was gathered.

This was the constant struggle. To maintain their power, Demon Kings were forced to perpetually abduct royalty or sow chaos across the human realms to spark fresh harvests. Given that Aren was currently crawling with heroes, this task was more perilous and difficult than in almost any other dimension.

It was exactly why the offer seemed so blatantly like a trap.

“Berge has laid out a long-term proposal,” Casey explained. “He intends to systematically convert the ongoing rage of the Hildean people into a steady supply of quantified magi.”

“The volume must be staggering.”

“Hildean is a titan of the southern regions. The populace worships their crown princess. If we can tap into that reservoir of hatred and grief over a long period…”

“The yield would be limitless.”

Drakson had to admit the traditional methods were effective for a reason. Whether one mocked the old ways or not, the kidnapping of a high-tier princess was producing results exactly as the “standard” manuals predicted.

“What is his angle? What is he plotting?”

“Perhaps he has simply lost his wits.”

Indeed, what else could you call a Demon King who ridiculed tradition while following it to the letter—and then proceeded to sell the ultimate prize?

“It is possible.”

Drakson propped his head on his hand, submerged in thought. After a moment, he looked up with a sharp gaze.

“Agree to his terms. No conditions.”

It didn’t matter if there was a hidden dagger in the deal. It didn’t matter if the whole thing reeked of deception.

“We would be fools to walk away from this.”

The bait was simply too sweet to ignore.

—

“…In all the world. Trading magi for mere human scraps.”

Drakson and Casey were not alone in their bewilderment. Even the dark elf who had acted as the messenger for the transaction found the situation impossible to grasp.

Why did demonkin risk their souls to cross the void behind a Demon King? Loyalty and the promise of glory were factors, certainly, but the true draw was the magi—purer and more intoxicating than anything found in the demon realm.

“Did our superiors not provide us with funds when we arrived?”

“It’s all gone. We burned through it traveling to and from Hildean. Those teleportation gateways demand an absurd price.”

They had never respected human money to begin with, so they had arrived with very little. And the journey from one edge of the landmass to the other was a vast distance.

“Magi is the lifeblood of our kind, yes. But it serves no purpose to a dead man.”

“I see.”

Gordon, who had been listening to the breakdown of the situation, nodded slowly.

“So, by acquiring human gold, you expand your reach?”

“Precisely.”

“But how? If even our power cannot bridge the gap with the locals?”

“We don’t need to bridge it ourselves. We will buy what we need.”

An elf.

And after that…

“We will install someone to act on our behalf.”

—

The Demon King and the hero.

The Demon King and the kingdom.

The days of mindless, savage warfare were fading into a more complex era, but it was merely a change in scenery—the fundamental role of the Demon King as the foreign invader remained. It was only natural that the indigenous races of this world viewed demonkin with nothing but pure loathing.

Berge knew that even if he offered bags of gold to the humans, they wouldn’t follow his lead. They would more likely turn him in, shouting about the mad Demon King who had dared to walk among them.

Therefore, he required a mask.

“A proxy.”

To be a true master of shadows, he needed a representative. Someone who could sow discord in the human world while he played the part of the roaring Demon King in his tower. He needed a servant of absolute loyalty, someone whose path was tied so closely to his that betrayal was an impossibility.

*The heroes will take longer than I anticipated to mobilize. I should prepare the board now.*

Heroes were driven by ego and a thirst for recognition; they never did anything quietly. As a result, the rumors of their movement were already spreading like wildfire across the continent. It was a predictable, almost foolish cycle, but in Aren, it was the reality.

Crossing the vast expanse of the continent was no small feat. It was a race against the clock. He had to secure his front man and hire humans to set up roadblocks for the heroes before they could arrive—or at least prepare the ground.

While he weighed his options, he reached his goal.

The Kingdom of Horton sat on the edge of the Erjest Mountains. At its heart was the fortress city of Hortonwork. This northern kingdom possessed a massive territory, but because the soil was unforgiving and the climate harsh, its people were few. Hortonwork was the jagged shield that protected the northern frontier.

“Stop! Identify yourself!”

“Just a traveler returning from a contract.”

Berge hoisted the thick Yeti hide he had harvested during his trek. After a tense silence, the massive wooden gates began to grind open.

“Hunting in those mountains alone? You’ve got guts.”

“You took down a Yeti by yourself?”

“I did.”

“I don’t recognize your face.”

“Do you keep a tally of every blade-for-hire that passes through this gate?”

A hint of avarice flickered in the guards’ eyes, but they didn’t push. Hortonwork was a magnet for mercenaries; faces came and went like the seasons.

However, that was the limit of Berge’s intel on the city. In his previous life, he hadn’t bothered to learn the nuances of human society.

One thing he knew for certain:

*There is a slave trade here.*

Aren was a world where human trafficking flourished. Humanity held the lion’s share of the land, and their history was one of endless war against other races, whom they captured and sold. Even as the Great Wars ended, the practice persisted—now fueled by internal conflicts and the covert trade of “exotic” races.

“Now, how to find the entrance.”

A fellow Demon King had once remarked that the criminal underworld shared the same DNA as the demonkin. It was the law of the jungle. Power was the only currency; if you were strong enough, the shadows would give up whatever you sought. And slave markets were always buried deep within the shadow world.

“I’ll just find some thugs, break a few bones, and they’ll tell me everything.”

As a bonus, he could squeeze them for information on how Hildean was responding to his recent actions.

Berge adjusted his pack and moved into the city.

—

“Bwaaaaaarp…”

Captain Bark let out a thunderous belch, the sting of the cheap ale tickling his throat.

“You’re a pig, Bark! Don’t do that right in my face!”

“It’s just nature calling, boys.”

“Nature calls you five times a minute? You’ve got the bladder of a rabbit.”

The group of mercenaries shared a rough laugh.

It had been a profitable day. A pack of monsters had tested the fortress walls, but they had been driven back with almost no casualties. Bark’s crew had walked away with a mountain of Yeti pelts and claws to sell.

“Should we think about moving on soon?”

“And leave this goldmine?”

They had been based in Hortonwork for three years. They had come for the high-risk pay, ready to lose their lives, but it turned out to be a cushy gig. The monsters were frequent but predictable, and the local garrison was competent enough to handle the heavy lifting while the mercenaries took the spoils.

“I know, I know. But the rumors say a new Demon King has taken up residence in the Erjest Mountains…”

“Oh, that fairy tale?”

Bark snorted in derision.

“You lot don’t understand how Demon Kings work. They don’t hide in godforsaken peaks where nobody can find them. They want an audience. They pick spots where heroes and armies can reach them easily. And you really think one of them hiked across the entire continent to kidnap a Hildean princess and then dragged her all the way back to Erjest? Use your heads.”

“So the stories are fake?”

“Of course they are. The Demon King is probably hiding a kingdom or two away from Hildean. That’s how it’s always done. It’s the standard.”

“But the Heroes’ Guild is in a frenzy. They’re asking for crazy money and refusing any jobs near Erjest.”

“It’s a scam. Think about it. The princess is the heart of Hildean. The kingdom will pay any price to get her back. The heroes are just holding out, squeezing the crown for more gold. They’re more greedy than any monster we’ve fought.”

“That actually makes sense.”

The men around the table nodded in agreement.

It was in that moment of consensus that a new voice spoke.

“That is a fascinating perspective.”

The voice was heavy, vibrating with a weight that seemed to press down on the room. In a flash of movement, one of the mercenaries was launched through the air with a strangled cry.

“Gah!”

He hit the wall and slid down, unconscious.

“……”

Bark’s brain struggled to process the speed of it. By the time he could even think to reach for his sword, the rest of his comrades had been systematically silenced, left in a heap on the floor.

“I only need one person to talk. You’ll do—you seem to have the most to say.”

The figure stepped out of the shadows, brushing dust from his gloves. Bark felt his knees turn to water as he looked into those cold, abyssal eyes. The fog of the alcohol evaporated instantly.

His survival instincts, honed over a decade of combat, screamed a single truth: *You cannot win.*

“Stay calm. If your answers are truthful, we won’t have a problem.”

A pale, steady hand came to rest on Bark’s shoulder. Bark nodded so hard his neck ached.

“I-I’ll tell you anything! Just don’t kill me!”

“Shh.”

A long, pale finger was pressed against his lips.

“I can hear you just fine.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Your theories on the Demon King interested me.”

Bark cursed the idiot friend who had brought up the topic. If he got out of this, he was going to break that man’s jaw.

“Is it common knowledge that a Demon King is in Erjest?”

“The rumors are everywhere, but nobody with a brain believes them. Demon Kings don’t build towers in the middle of nowhere.”

*Exactly.*

A thin smile touched the stranger’s lips.

“And the heroes? They aren’t coming?”

“They’re dodging the Erjest requests. They claim it’s a death trap, but we all know they’re just waiting for the reward to get higher. There isn’t a soul more obsessed with gold than a hero. People even say the guilds work with the Demon Kings to keep the prices up.”

“I see.”

Bark felt a wave of relief as the tension in the stranger’s posture seemed to ease.

“One more thing. I’ve been walking these streets for hours and found nothing.”

The stranger didn’t specify what he was looking for, but Bark knew.

“There’s no criminal network here?”

“N-no, not really.”

Bark was glad he could provide an answer.

“Hortonwork is a military hub. The legions are everywhere, so the guard is tight. Plus, there are so many rowdy mercenaries that a traditional underworld can’t really survive. It’s too chaotic for them.”

“A waste of my time, then.”

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“In that case, you will be my guide.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Where is the slave market?”

“It’s near the east gate…”

“Excellent. Lead the way.”

“…Now?”

*Click.*

—

Berge’s intuition had been spot on.

*Choosing the Erjest Mountains was a masterstroke.*

The fact that no heroes were rushing to the scene meant he had bought himself far more time than he had anticipated. However, he knew Hildean wouldn’t stay quiet forever. Eventually, they would hire the best money could buy. There was no room for laziness.

“It’s right here.”

The mercenary brought him to a palatial estate situated near the eastern walls. The air around the building hummed with the presence of many people. The property was surrounded by high stone walls, and through the gates, he could see a garden filled with rows of large tents.

Inside the tents, iron cages were filled with people in chains.

“This is it?”

“Yes.”

Berge walked through the garden, the mercenary trailing behind him like a nervous shadow. He scanned the faces in the cages, but nothing caught his eye. They were all human.

“…Not what you were looking for?”

The mercenary asked, noticing the deepening scowl on Berge’s face.

“Is this the extent of it?”

“…For the general public, yes.”

“Which implies there is more.”

“There is. But the basement is for VIPs only. They don’t let just anyone through those doors.”

“And if I find it necessary to enter?”

*Clink.*

Berge tossed a heavy pouch into the air. Bark caught it with both hands. He peeked inside and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Is this… for me?”

“Find me a slave that suits my needs, and the rest is yours.”

“Are you serious?”

It was a simple test. Berge knew that humans were driven by the pursuit of wealth; he had seen them tear each other apart for it. But he wanted to see the depth of that greed. Would they sell out their own kind for the gold of an enemy?

He watched the mercenary. He had just seen Berge knock out his entire team, yet the moment the gold touched his hand, his fear was replaced by something else.

“Leave it to me! I will find you the best they have!”

The man’s eyes burned with a mixture of avarice and newfound loyalty.

The test was a success.

*To these creatures, gold is exactly what magi is to mine.*

Even demonkin would turn on their brothers for a taste of high-quality magi.

—

“Leave it to me! I will find you the best they have!”

Bark’s mind was racing. *How much is in here?*

The pouch wasn’t just heavy; it was filled with solid gold coins. No copper, no silver. Two of them were enough to match a month’s worth of monster hunting. Just for walking a guy down the street? He would have walked him to the end of the world for this.

Bark had spent three years in this city; he knew which palms to grease.

“Look, I really can’t let him in—”

“Come on, we’ve known each other for years. He’s a high roller. He’s going to pay top coin, and you’ll get your cut. Everyone wins.”

“Fine, fine. Get in there.”

Bark slipped a silver coin to the guard and led the way to the basement. They descended a set of cold, stone stairs into a large, dimly lit cavern. There were only five cages here.

But the moment they entered, Bark knew his gold was safe. He saw the stranger’s lips curl into a satisfied smile.

*What did he find?*

Bark followed the man’s gaze to the far cage.

There, huddled in the shadows, sat an elf with skin as white as fallen snow.

—

**Next Step:** Would you like me to continue with the paraphrase of **Chapter 8**, or would you like to make any adjustments to the style of this one first?