The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 113

Chapter 113
## Chapter: 113

### Chapter Title: Even in the Mud, Flowers Bloom

—

It was roughly a decade and a half ago when Bairif first stumbled upon the Hupstrain Gorge.

Back then, he was merely a common sorcerer drifting through various war zones. However, his life took a dark turn when he was tainted by the foul essence of a beast he fought, leading him to embrace the path of a black mage.

Discovering the Hupstrain Gorge during his time as a soldier of fortune was a pivotal moment of fate. He didn’t just find a place saturated with malevolent energy; he discovered he possessed a natural gift for harnessing it.

Establishing his base at the epicenter of this dark power, he commenced his grim experiments. Slowly, he began to warp local monsters, reanimating them as an undead horde to serve as his personal army.

While he had to remain cautious of the Empire’s reach and was largely confined to the depths of the ravine, he stayed patient. He lived for the day he would finally demonstrate his true strength to the rest of the world.

However.

Everything was changing.

“Who… who are you? What kind of being are you?”

He stuttered out the question, his knees buried in the soil and his face pressed against the earth.

His words were shaky, thick with a mix of dread and awe.

“Berge Dayas.”

“Berge Dayas…?”

“The name humans use for the Demon King of Flames.”

“…A Demon King.”

Why was a Demon King appearing now?

Though he had surrendered to dark energy and sought to be a master of the black arts, he never intended to be a puppet for a demonic lord.

That was the very reason he had settled in the Hupstrain Gorge.

He wanted to find a source of dark power that wasn’t claimed by another, allowing him to practice his craft without pledging loyalty to a sovereign of the abyss.

His plan had succeeded. He had climbed to great heights on his own.

So why was this happening today?

“You insignificant, wretched rodent.”

The Demon King gave a mocking smirk.

“Did you honestly believe you could siphon off the power of a Demon King and keep it a secret indefinitely?”

“All such energy belongs to me. It isn’t a toy for a lowly creature like you to play with.”

Woooong—

The ambient dark energy began to vibrate in response.

A terrifying heat began to radiate from the palm resting on Bairif’s head.

He felt a sudden, violent influx of demonic power. He let out a tortured yell as the sensation of a white-hot branding iron seared his skin.

The agony originated at his skull before racing down his spine and invading his entire anatomy. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it felt as though his very essence and skeletal structure were being ground away. He thrashed in a desperate attempt to escape.

Yet, the overwhelming dark force held him completely immobile.

“Ahh…”

Bairif let out a ragged breath. Even through the haze of unbearable suffering, his primal senses understood exactly what was occurring under the Demon King’s touch.

The Mark of Submission.

It was a spiritual bond, a permanent seal that tethered a servant to their Demon King. A brand of ownership.

His inner self shrieked in protest. It mourned the loss of its future, crying out for the independence that was being stripped away.

“Isn’t there a human proverb for this?”

The Demon King leaned in and murmured.

“Acceptance makes the pain easier to bear.”

Therefore, stop fighting and give in.

Bairif’s consciousness flickered out. His world dissolved into a void of darkness.

—

Bairif found himself walking across an open battlefield.

Behind him followed a massive legion of the dead, numbering in the tens of thousands.

A grand army stood in his path.

Trumpets of war signaled, and various house flags snapped in the wind.

A deluge of arrows descended, followed by the heavy charge of elite knightly orders.

The main infantry and riders followed close behind.

Bairif let out a scornful laugh and barked his orders.

The high-ranking leaders of his Death Legion—the Death Knights—orchestrated the movements of his troops.

Dullahans and skeletal warriors crashed into the enemy.

Liches cast spells of decay and shadow, while titanic ogre skeletons smashed through the human shield walls.

The humans were slaughtered in massive numbers.

Carcasses were piled high like hills, and the soil was soaked in a sea of gore.

The once-green fields turned a deep shade of red, and the sun was blotted out by shadows.

Panicked survivors attempted to flee.

The dead pursued them without mercy, delivering a cold end.

Among the terrified people being cut down like bugs were the very mercenaries who had once mocked his lack of status.

The useless rabble he had once viewed as insects were now broken on the field.

They sobbed, pleading for their lives.

Drenched in their own fear, they bowed low and kissed the dirt at his feet.

Kuhahahaha—

Bairif’s laughter was that of a madman.

I am the unmatched master of death, Bairif Crotinuda!

The moment was flawless.

Every insult and moment of shame he had ever endured was wiped away in this triumph.

Then, the scene shifted.

A mass of black shadow began to coil and rise from the ground.

The blood-stained horizon turned to a pitch-black abyss.

—Arrogant worm.

An icy voice made his skin crawl. A paralyzing cold traveled down his back.

—What is the proper penance for a creature that stole what was mine?

The dark shadow wrapped around his limbs, binding him tight.

Bairif tried to fight back. He struggled to break free.

But he was entirely helpless.

—What do you think you are doing?

A crushing weight bore down on him, forcing him toward the earth.

—Get on your knees.

Kwaaang—

His legs hit the ground with bone-shattering force, moving against his own volition.

And then.

He watched in horror as the shadows consumed everything. The teeth and blades of his own undead legion turned away from the fleeing humans—and pointed directly at him.

Everything he had spent fifteen years building.

It was all being torn apart.

‘No, this can’t be…!’

His vocal cords failed him.

‘Stop…!’

He screamed internally until his spirit felt like it was tearing.

No!

Tears of blood leaked from his eyes.

“N-No!”

He snapped awake, sitting bolt upright. The dark specter was gone. The heavy, invisible force that had been pinning him down had vanished as well.

“The process is complete.”

Standing over him was the Demon King who had just broken him, his dark eyes shimmering with a faint light.

“That seemed like a very realistic nightmare.”

“…De…mon King.”

“You are missing the proper respect in your tone.”

“…My Lord.”

Bairif didn’t choose to say it.

The seal of submission etched into his soul forced the words of reverence out of his mouth automatically.

“…What have you done to my soul?”

“I simply provided the standard requirement for any practitioner of your arts.”

“A soul-binding contract…”

“You dabbled in demonic forces, so you must settle the bill. Is that not fair?”

The nonchalant tone of the response ignored the devastating loss Bairif was feeling.

His autonomy was gone.

The dream of being an independent black mage, beholden to no dark lord, had been extinguished.

However, the mark of submission prevented him from directing any of his fury toward the Demon King.

But just because his anger was suppressed didn’t mean it had left him. The sense of total injustice brought fresh tears of blood to his eyes.

“…That energy didn’t even belong to you, did it?”

“Every ounce of demonic energy is my property. If I decide to take it, it becomes mine.”

“That is sheer madness…! How did you even find this place?”

“I am aware of everything.”

“I had no ties to any demonic lord. I never signed a pact—how were you able to bind me so effortlessly?”

He shouted his frustration under the guise of a question. The work that had taken him fifteen years of meticulous care had been undone in a heartbeat. It drove him to the brink of insanity.

“It is quite simple.”

The explanation was straightforward.

Ultimately, demonic energy originated from the Demon Realm. A Demon King was the equivalent of a dragon in the mortal world.

They were perfectly in sync with that power, commanding it by nature. Taking control of unassigned energy from a mere mortal was as easy as breathing.

It didn’t matter how gifted the human was.

It didn’t matter how powerful the mage had become.

As long as the root of their power was demonic in nature, they could never stand against a true Demon King.

“I am capable of anything.”

But Berge had no desire to explain the mechanics.

He didn’t need to mention that it was just abandoned, ownerless scrap he had reclaimed.

“Why are you so surprised that a black mage would serve a Demon King? Do not throw a tantrum over something so standard.”

“And you… are you really a Hero?”

It was only then that Bairif noticed the other figure. He realized his visitors weren’t just the Demon King, but a Hero as well.

A pairing that should have been impossible.

“Even I, a Hero, am in service to the Demon King. Do you understand?”

“…What?”

“Are you having trouble processing the words?”

“He’s just in a state of shock, isn’t he? I don’t like to brag, but as far as Heroes go, I’m quite the celebrity. The name Hillun Kagil makes people weak in the knees.”

“Did you forget that I’m the one who made you so special?”

“Let’s not get bogged down in the details.”

“If killing a Demon King is a minor detail, then there is nothing significant left in this world.”

While the Demon King and the Hero traded barbs, Bairif’s mind spun in circles.

‘A Hero working for a Demon King?’

‘A Hero hunting Demon Kings with the help of another?’

‘Hillun Kagil?’

‘The legendary Hero who took down two Demon Kings?’

‘And he is a subordinate?’

Could this possibly be the truth?

His entire understanding of the world was falling apart. The mental conflict was agonizing.

After a long silence, he managed to collect himself.

“…Are you truly Hillun Kagil?”

“In the flesh.”

“The one responsible for the fall of two Demon Kings…”

“That would be me.”

Bairif had been isolated in the gorge for a long time, but he wasn’t ignorant. He would occasionally seize traveling warriors or knights, torture them for every bit of news from the outside, and then convert them into his thralls.

“And you are claiming that you serve the Demon King of Flames?”

“I do.”

“That is completely nonsensical!”

“The world is filled with things far more illogical than this. Did you ever think you’d wake up today as a servant to a Demon King?”

“…I suppose not.”

“I never imagined a Hero of my stature would end up as an underling either. But this is the reality we live in now. We are both in the same situation.”

“……”

It was a ridiculous statement, but Bairif had no defense against it.

Bairif lowered his head and addressed Berge.

“Why have you chosen me as a servant?”

“Is it so odd for a Demon King to have a black mage at his disposal?”

“What are your intentions for me?”

“You’re accepting your fate quite quickly, aren’t you? My plan is simply to observe.”

“…Observe?”

“Correct.”

Berge gave a casual shrug.

“You wish to command your army of the dead and prove your strength, don’t you? Is that not your ultimate goal?”

“…How could you know that—?”

“I know everything.”

Mortals who traded their souls to dark powers usually wanted one of two things: vengeance or dominance.

Bairif craved both, but his thirst for power was his defining trait.

In the timeline before the regression, Bairif’s rebellion was fueled by a need to prove his legion was superior to the Empire’s might.

He had ultimately failed and met a gruesome end at the hands of the nobility, but his fundamental madness remained.

“Humans often say that if you can’t escape a situation, you should try to enjoy it. The contract is signed—you are mine now. In exchange, I will provide the perfect opportunity for you to display your talents. Does that interest you?”

“…Truly?”

“The Imperial family will soon send a massive force to this gorge to clear it out—all for the sake of the royal succession. Don’t you want to wipe them out? It is the ideal stage to show the world the power of your legion.”

“…That.”

He desperately wanted that.

Those who possess power always feel the itch to use it. Bairif’s desire had been festering for fifteen long years.

“But if the Empire sends its full strength…”

“Are you feeling cowardly?”

“…Certainly not.”

He was, in fact, nervous. He wanted to prove his creations were superior, but he valued his own survival.

“I give you my word, sworn upon the Founding Demon Emperor and the Standard of the Demon King: I will ensure you survive. Is that a fair deal? If your life is guaranteed, you can always try again later—so isn’t one major battle worth the risk?”

“…It sounds as though you are encouraging me to strike the Empire, Demon King.”

“And what if I am?”

“I will do it.”

He might have hesitated for anything else, but a promise made on the name of the Founding Demon Emperor and the Standard was a sacred oath that no demonkin would break.

“May I make one request?”

“Go ahead.”

“Since this is my new reality, I ask that you grant me some of your power.”

“Power?”

“Every black mage and knight of shadow derives their strength from the demon they serve. Before our pact, I relied on myself—but now? There is no reason to hold back. With your strength added to mine, I could annihilate the Empire’s forces!”

As they spoke, the confusion in his eyes was replaced by a flickering madness.

‘Hmm…’

Berge tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Giving him power wasn’t a difficult task. He could funnel it through the tower at the cost of demonic points—and for a grand spectacle, it was a sound investment.

The problem was that black mages who received power from a Demon King began to manifest the specific traits of their master.

If Bairif started conjuring black flames, the Empire would immediately link him to Berge.

And what would be the final result of that?

“That choice is not yours to make.”

The result? It would likely be a total disaster.

It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

“But…”

“The answer is no. As long as you remain within the Empire’s borders, I will not grant you my personal essence.”

Berge reached into his subspace, pulled out three vials of tainted spirit elixirs, and threw them toward Bairif.

“Use these instead.”

This corrupted mana, only partially turned, was far better suited for a human vessel like Bairif than raw demonic energy.

“Th-Thank you, my Lord!”

“And take this as well.”

“A device for communication?”

“Yes. Keep it on your person and be ready to answer when I reach out.”

“I will.”

“In the near future, I will ensure the royals march on this ravine. Make sure you are prepared for them.”

“Understood! I will make good use of these elixirs—I will give them a fight they will never forget!”

Bairif bowed deeply, his loyalty effectively bought by the three elixirs from Erjest Mountain.

“Oh, and you will need something to serve as proof…”

“Proof?”

“To draw the royals here, you need the right lure. Yes, that should work.”

Berge’s eyes settled on a specific target.

The nearby Dullahan trembled violently under the Demon King’s cold stare.

—

“I have a question for you.”

Hillun spoke up after watching Berge for a moment, noticing he was now carrying the severed head of the Dullahan.

“Don’t ask it.”

“Now that you’ve brought him into the fold, he seems completely unhinged. Do you have a talent for finding the crazies? Thinking he can prove he’s stronger than a whole Empire? He’s a total nutcase, right?”

“I told you not to ask.”

“I can’t help being curious.”

“Do you not realize that you fit into that same category?”

“Even in the mud, flowers bloom.”

“Are you claiming to be the flower?”

“If I have to be. I am the legendary Hero who defeated two Demon Kings, after all.”

“At the very least, none of them are as obsessed with their own reputation as you are.”

The Demon King and the Hero began their journey once more, heading back toward the heart of the Empire’s capital.