Chapter 9

Chapter 9
## Chapter 9: Hero

“Damn you, you absolute piece of…!”

The elf’s mouth didn’t stop moving, venting a constant stream of bitterness. Despite the verbal fire, his hands remained a blur of efficient motion as he prepped the food.

He rinsed the produce, diced the greens, and finely ground the meat. Then, without warning, the rhythm of the knife ceased.

“Haa…”

A heavy breath escaped his lungs. It wasn’t the labor of the meal that weighed on him, but the sheer absurdity of his situation—starting a cooking fire on the desolate, empty third floor of a spire with zero amenities.

‘How did my life turn into this…?’

The Demon King had made a vow upon the Standard of the Demon King. Granada had placed his trust in that oath, and technically, the Demon King hadn’t lied. Every word had been factual; he had simply neglected to mention the most soul-crushing details.

“You arrogant prick.”

Did the Demon King even realize who he was dealing with? Not even his own Elven kin would dare treat him like a common servant. Yet, what truly galled him was the quiet realization that this was somehow an upgrade from five years of literal chains.

‘Out of the goblin’s pit and into the ogre’s maw,’ he thought.

Granada shook his head to clear the intrusive thoughts and returned to the pan. He got the iron hot, slicked it with fat, and dropped in the meat. Once the juices ran clear, he threw in the aromatics and vegetables. A mouth-watering scent began to permeate the cold stone of the tower.

“Wow.”

Someone was coming down the stairwell from the level above.

“That smells incredible!”

‘A human?’ Granada wondered.

She looked to be a striking young woman, perhaps twenty years of age. He briefly questioned why a human would be wandering the Demon King’s halls, but he quickly found a cynical answer.

‘Probably another victim.’

She’d likely been swindled by the Demon King and pressed into tower service just like him.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, leaning in.

“Just a basic stir-fry.”

“It’s a heavenly scent.”

“Naturally. Look who’s making it,” Granada replied, his pride momentarily overriding his irritation. He puffed out his chest. “I haven’t seen you here. How’d you arrive?”

“In a way similar to yours, I suppose.”

“Kidnapped, then?”

“Kidnapped? Or maybe just drafted as a slave?”

Their gazes locked.

‘…Wait, I know those eyes.’

The porcelain skin, the hair like spun platinum, and those distinct amethyst eyes—they triggered a memory.

‘Where? Where have I seen this face?’

Suddenly, a small figure drifted out from behind the girl. It was a spirit, a shimmering manifestation of pure mana. The platinum hair, the purple gaze, the presence of a spirit… the mental image finally clicked into place.

“…The Crown Princess of Hildean?”

“You recognize me?”

“…This is madness!”

“Keep it down.”

The Demon King chose that exact moment to descend. Granada jumped to his feet, abandoning the pan to confront him.

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

“You’re the one shouting,” the Demon King replied coolly.

“Abducting the Crown Princess of Hildean?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Oh, her.”

“‘Her’? The entire Kingdom of Hildean is going to be screaming for blood! We have nothing here—how do you expect to survive an army of heroes?”

“I’ve got it covered. Get back to the stove.”

“How can you be so calm about—”

“That’s an order.”

“……”

Granada’s spirit broke. He slumped back to his station and resumed stirring the meat. However, as the initial shock faded, he noticed something he had missed in his panic.

‘…Wait. Why did the Crown Princess come down from the fourth floor—the supposed dungeon—unbound?’

Why was she currently sitting at the table, fork in hand, waiting for the Demon King to join her?

“Is there a problem?”

She met his gaze and gave him a warm, cheerful smile. She didn’t look like a prisoner in the slightest. Granada shot a desperate, questioning look at the Demon King.

“It doesn’t matter,” the Demon King said. “She can’t escape the tower anyway.”

“That isn’t the point!”

“She was cooperative, so I gave her a bit of freedom.”

“‘A bit of freedom’?”

The real enigma wasn’t the Demon King—it was the princess. Even if people grew used to their captors, or expected a rescue, this was a royal and a dark sovereign. Predator and prey. This level of comfort, acting as if she were a guest in a manor, was beyond bizarre.

A short while later, the meal was served. The Dark Elf Gordon joined the group.

“That was delicious.”

The Crown Princess patted her stomach, having finished every bite. Her bright demeanor made Granada question if they were truly in a dark fortress or back at Hildean’s palace.

“Now, let’s talk business.”

With a nod from the Demon King, Gordon escorted the princess back upstairs.

“You know who she is now. How do you think Hildean will respond?”

“Total mobilization, obviously,” Granada replied.

He remembered the rumors from his time before the chains. The First Princess of Hildean was a prodigy; she had formed a spirit contract at an impossibly young age, a feat that had stunned the realm. With her missing, the kingdom would be in a blind rage.

“They’ll be flooding the Heroes’ Guild with gold, put together a massive task force. The Erjest Mountains provide a natural shield against the weak, but Hildean won’t stop until they breach the gates.”

It was a predictable outcome.

“You aren’t expecting me to take on a legion of heroes by myself, are you?” Granada grumbled.

“Never. Any hero who manages to reach this tower has already lost the war.”

“Then what?”

“I’m sending you back to Hortonwalk.”

Granada listened as the plan was laid out.

“So, you want me to be your agent in the human realms.”

“In short, yes.”

“I join a faction, build influence, buy intelligence on hero parties, and sabotage their progress or distract them however I can?”

“Precisely. But first…”

The Demon King stood up.

“I need to see what you’re actually capable of.”

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The third floor.

Standing opposite the Demon King on the vast, empty expanse of the floor.

Berge had brought Granada here for two primary reasons. First, to establish his authority and gain the elf’s genuine cooperation. Second, to gauge the extent of his combat prowess. The cooking had been a minor diversion; the real test was now.

“Years of slavery, yet your physical condition is remarkably intact.”

“I wasn’t built for a kitchen, that’s for sure.”

“The food was good. You have a gift.”

“……”

Granada tried to pivot back to the reality of their situation.

“But this duel is pointless, isn’t it? I can’t win.”

He’d already been humbled once. The power disparity was undeniable.

“I’ll fight you with one hand behind my back. Is that fair?”

“Still not enough.”

“Let’s make a wager. If you win, I’ll waive the requirement for formal speech. I’ll treat you as a high-ranking lieutenant instead of a servant.”

“…And no more cooking?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I’m going to take your head off… I mean, I’ll do my best!”

The elf and the Demon King collided.

A few minutes later.

“…I heard newly arrived Demon Kings were supposed to be weakened by the summoning interference.”

“Do you think my kind is ignorant of elven tactics?”

There was a reason the Demon King Academy existed, vetting only the absolute best. It ensured that even under the worst conditions—suppressed by summoning magic—they maintained a baseline of power that wouldn’t falter. That was the hallmark of the vanguard: the Demon Kings.

“I understand now.”

The Demon King reached down and helped the battered Granada to his feet.

“Let’s go down.”

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

“It is a true privilege to see you again!”

Bark’s face lit up when he saw the duo. He didn’t know their names, but he recognized the wealthy benefactor and the elf slave he’d purchased.

‘Was his face that bruised before?’ Bark wondered. It looked a bit messy, but he figured he was just seeing things through his own hungover haze.

“I want to purchase your time,” the wealthy man said without preamble. “Your entire outfit. A one-year retainer, paid upfront.”

“Uh… what exactly are we doing for a whole year?”

“Continue your usual work—monster hunts and quests that fit your skill level. I promise I won’t ask you to do anything beyond your capabilities.”

Bark hesitated. The payment would be astronomical, but nothing was ever that simple. Who could say if these ‘simple’ jobs wouldn’t turn suicidal?

“I can’t make that call alone.”

Bark was the leader of the Red Hawk, but the group functioned democratically.

“Go discuss it. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

The twenty members of the Red Hawk mercenaries held a quick meeting.

“It’s too fishy.”

“But the gold is real. A mercenary who turns down a fortune isn’t a mercenary.”

“What if he asks us to do something insane?”

“He said he wouldn’t overreach. We’ll put it in the contract—we can walk if it’s too much.”

“You really think he’ll honor that?”

Just then, the tycoon dropped a heavy bag onto the table. Gold and silver coins spilled out, catching the light and silencing the room. The mercenaries looked at each other and nodded.

“We have a deal.”

The money was simply too loud to ignore.

“But there are conditions. If we decide a job is unreasonable based on our rank, we reserve the right to refuse. It goes in the contract. And—”

“Agreed.”

Bark listed several more requirements; the tycoon didn’t blink.

“In exchange, I have one demand.”

“Which is…?”

“You will take Elf Granada into your ranks.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Even if it’s just for show. He will be the one delivering my instructions to you.”

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Human society is built on tiers and countless factions.

The Magic Towers, the Heroes’ Guild, the Mercenaries’ Guild, the Free Knights, the Artisans’ Union, the Black Moon, and more. Some are national, others are independent. But they all share a commonality: any group that gathers enough people gathers power—power that can eventually rival a throne.

My plan was to plant a seed within one of these groups and rot it from the inside out. One by one, I would bring them under my influence until I held the strings of the entire world.

My first target: The Mercenaries’ Guild.

They lacked the refinement of the knights, but their numbers were staggering. They were inclusive to a fault, accepting almost anyone. Yet, even kings had to tread carefully around the guild’s collective power. More importantly, they were a pack of coin-obsessed lunatics.

Plus, I already had a foot in the door with a convenient mercenary captain.

“…We accept,” Bark said after a long pause. “We don’t usually take rookies so easily, but since you’re the client, we can make it work.”

He turned to Granada.

“Glad to have you with us.”

“Likewise,” Granada replied.

Bark felt a bit strange bowing to a man who had recently been a slave, but the gold in his pocket smoothed over any pride.

“You’ll still need to take the official exam to join the Red Hawk properly…” Bark frowned slightly. “By the way, where did you get those marks on your face?”

Why are both your eyes blackened?

Granada offered no explanation.

That afternoon, Granada sat for the formal test at the Mercenaries’ Guild. He walked away with an advanced-tier badge and an official spot in the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps. The fact that every single examiner ended up with a black eye was a minor detail that the guild chose to ignore.

During the feast to celebrate Granada’s induction, the mercenaries received their first task from Berge.

“First assignment. You’ve heard about the Crown Princess of Hildean being taken. I want to know which heroes Hildean has hired to find her.”

“Why that?”

“Because there’s profit in it.”

“Ah.”

The movements of heroes always drew crowds and currency. If you sponsored them and they took down a Demon King, the loot from the tower was yours to share. It was a logical motive for a man they saw as a wealthy investor.

“But we’re a small fry group. You’d be better off asking the Info Guild for—”

*Thud.*

Another heavy coin purse hit the wood.

“Just do it.”

“On it immediately!”

“And while you’re at it, gather everything you can on the other princesses of Hildean.”

“Why…?”

‘If the first one causes too much trouble, I’ll just trade her back for the 13th.’

He’d acted tough in front of the Crown Princess, but a Demon King needed contingencies. He couldn’t say that out loud, though. And he was getting tired of inventing lies for these humans.

“Do you want an explanation, or do you want the gold?”

“The gold!”

The mercenaries’ eyes shone with avarice.

Berge was reminded once again: in this realm, gold was the only religion humans truly followed.

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Knight Kultan barked orders at his men.

“Seal off the hotel. Don’t let a single soul through the perimeter.”

Dozens of armed soldiers surrounded the building while he headed inside with two guards.

“They’re on the top floor,” the owner whispered, having been warned of the royal business.

“Current status?”

“They’re in the middle of a celebration.”

“Surrounded by women, no doubt,” Kultan muttered.

The staff had already cleared the corridor. They reached the entrance to the VIP suite—the most expensive room in the house.

Kultan pushed the door open. The thick smell of spirits and the stagnant heat of a crowded room hit him instantly.

*Crunch.*

His boots stepped on the shards of a broken bottle. The expensive rug was soaked with spilled wine. Kultan walked over and shoved a window open, letting the cold night air sweep away the stench.

“…Who’s that?”

“Oh, my.”

A man, dazed from the booze and the warmth, squinted through his fingers. The women on either side of him began to shake with fear.

“It’s been a while, Hero.”

“Knight Kultan?”

“Ladies, leave us.”

The women scrambled out of the room. The man on the lounge scowled, his pleasure interrupted.

“What do you want?”

“A royal decree.”

“…The Crown Princess.”

“The other heroes are terrified of the Erjest Mountains. You are the only one capable of killing that upstart Demon King and bringing Her Highness home.”

“Erjest scares me too.”

“Spare me the modesty. This is coming from the man who took the head of the Lust Demon King. Who else has the guts to climb those peaks? You aren’t afraid; you’re just being lazy.”

“What if I say no?”

“Hero, the heir to the throne has been taken. You understand what she means to this kingdom.”

Kultan stared directly into the hero’s eyes.

“This is no longer a request. It is a command from the King.”

Heroes were granted incredible wealth and status, but it came with a price. Kings would tolerate their flaws, but when the crown was at risk, they would use their ultimate authority. A hero could refuse, but to do so would make them an enemy of the state.

“Refuse if you wish. But you’ll never work in Hildean again. I doubt you want to be known as the hero who turned his back on his princess while he sat in a brothel.”

*Swish.*

Kultan held out the parchment bearing the royal seal.

“Take it.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“You will have command over every hero within our borders. The local guild has already pledged their total cooperation.”

They didn’t have a choice either.

“The crown will provide everything you need. The reward will be greater than anything you’ve ever received.”

“His Majesty must be desperate.”

“That is how important she is. And don’t think about running. The hotel is surrounded. If any of my men are harmed by you, we have all the justification we need to hunt you down.”

“You’d go that far?”

“You won’t get away cleanly. And even if you do, your reputation will be ashes.”

“Checkmate.”

The hero gave a weary, frustrated smile. He should have left the kingdom weeks ago instead of lounging in the border towns.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

He snatched the scroll.

“Great Hero, the future of Hildean is in your hands.”

The knight bowed low.