The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 129

Chapter 129
Chapter 129: Found It!

—

After his arrival in Aren, Berge had encountered that crimson blade only once.

It had been the final sight before his life ended—the omen of his demise.

The steel was the color of dark blood, a hue that seemed to pierce his very soul, radiating an unbearable, scorching heat. Following his rebirth, he had searched tirelessly for any hero who might carry such a weapon, but his inquiries had yielded nothing.

To think it had been hidden within the Empire all this time.

‘It makes sense.’

The catalyst for his previous death had been the abduction of the crown prince. If a vengeful Empire had chosen a champion and granted them their most sacred heirloom in response, the timeline aligned perfectly.

‘Still, I can’t jump to conclusions.’

It remained a theory, nothing more.

‘Verification is mandatory. If that blade is the one I remember, it becomes the ultimate lead to finding that bastard hero.’

The enemy who had mocked him while driving a sword through his chest.

“A red blade?” Berge asked.

“Correct,” Martin replied.

“I thought the Imperial emblem was gold.”

“Are you familiar with our history?”

“Must I be?”

“At the founding of the Empire…”

“Skip the lecture. Get to the point.”

“There were five original treasures,” Martin explained. “After centuries of conflict and loss, only the Crimson Dragon Sword remains.”

It was the ultimate vestige of their power.

“And you’d just give that to me? You, the man who wants the throne?”

“A symbol is merely an object. As vital as the Crimson Dragon Sword is, it isn’t worth more than my life or my autonomy. I refuse to be your puppet, but I can part with a relic.”

Berge remained skeptical. There was likely more to it, but considering Martin had preferred death over becoming a familiar, this was a functional middle ground. However, a glaring problem persisted.

“I have no reason to trust you. What stops you from promising the sword and then vanishing? You’ve already proven you’d rather die than submit to my contract.”

“Fair enough. Trust is a luxury I don’t have in you, either.”

Berge leaned in. “If you want to survive—and if you want your sister to remain unharmed—give me something I can actually use.”

Martin lapsed into a heavy silence. He had consulted with Kaede, but her knowledge of the Demon King was limited. He wasn’t sure what the creature truly craved or how much he could sacrifice without ruining his own future.

“Let me flip the question,” Martin said. “What is your price?”

“I asked you first.”

Martin grimaced, then bit down on his thumb. He allowed the blood to smear across the ring on his left hand. The jewelry hummed, warping space to open a small rift. He reached inside and produced a heavy plaque.

“This is the master key to the Empire’s hidden treasury. It is forged from pure orichalcum and etched with the scripts of a grand archmage.”

Berge took the object, his eyes darting across the flickering magical circuits.

“This artifact dates back to the vault’s inception. Only five exist, a number that has never changed. It is the physical manifestation of Imperial authority. Only my older brothers, my sister, and I hold one. If I lose this, I am effectively a traitor.”

While not a legal traitor, the loss would be a death blow to his reputation. The Emperor would see him as reckless and incompetent, stripping him of his succession rights.

“This is your collateral?”

“Do not underestimate it. It is a legacy.”

The vault contained the Empire’s entire soul. The key was a mark of the Emperor’s favor, given only to those deemed worthy of the crown. Berge glanced toward Kaede for confirmation.

“He’s telling the truth,” she whispered. “The weight of that symbol is absolute. If the world learns he lost it to the Demon King, he loses his right to rule.”

“And if I’m the one who leaks the news?”

“The result is the same.”

Berge considered this. Kaede didn’t have the temperament for lies, and he could monitor her pulse through Armani’s artifact. This was a leash—a way to ensure the Third Prince’s ruin if he stepped out of line.

“…Very well. However.”

“However?”

“I need your blood as well. Don’t try to play me.”

Berge could feel the plaque resisting him. His gaze stripped away the layers of the magical formula; it was locked to the bloodline of the holder. Without Martin’s essence, it was a paperweight.

Martin sighed and drew a glass container, filling it with his blood before passing it over.

“One more thing,” Martin said. “Since we are now ‘partners,’ I have to ask. You remind me so much of someone… do you know a man named Pale?”

The Demon King’s expression darkened. “Do you know Valkasis?”

“Who?”

“A demon from the abyss.”

“How would I know a demon?”

“Then why would I know a random human?”

The deal was sealed.

—

*I’m going to make it.*

Martin Jespain was driven by a singular will: survival. He wanted the throne. He didn’t want to rot in a mountain pass; he wanted to command the continent.

He knew his odds were low. His siblings were giants in their own right, and the path to the crown was treacherous. He had come to the Erjest Mountains to secure a victory that would change his fate. He had stumbled, yes, but his fire hadn’t gone out.

*Kaede told me to use him,* Martin thought.

His sister’s plea to cooperate with the Demon King had saved him, even if he refused the collar of a familiar. To be a puppet emperor was no kingship at all.

*The Crimson Dragon Sword, Barstein.*

Everything he told the Demon King was factually true. The blade was red. It was the heart of the Empire. It sat in the treasury, and he could provide the access.

What he failed to mention was that the treasury was a fortress of nine seals designed by the greatest archmage in history. It was a deathtrap. The Demon King would likely perish trying to claim it, but Martin would have fulfilled his end of the bargain.

*A hidden alliance with the Flame Demon King could be my greatest weapon.*

As long as the secret held, he had a demonic trump card. If it came out, he was finished—but Martin was a gambler.

“Let me go,” Martin demanded, his voice steady.

—

“I am going after the Prince.”

“Lady Daphne?” Jaximus asked, surprised.

“He hasn’t gone far. I can track him. A full battalion will only attract monsters and slow us down. I am the only one who can do this quietly.”

Daphne was right. As a high-ranking knight and expert tracker, she was the only one capable of a solo rescue mission against a demon. Jaximus, now leading the Blue Wyvern Knights, nodded solemnly. Velrof also conceded; they couldn’t risk offending the Empire by losing the Prince.

“Bring him back,” Velrof urged.

“I will do what must be done.”

Daphne vanished into the white.

*I’ll find him,* she thought. But she didn’t care about Martin. *The demon will take the Prince back to his base. If I follow the kidnapper… I find the tower.*

It was the perfect trail. She wouldn’t fail a third time.

—

With Daphne gone, the remains of the search party regrouped. The Empire wanted their royal; the Kingdom wanted the tower. Their goals were aligned for now.

“Your Highness,” Jaximus called out to Velrof. “Lord Hillun has found the location where Princess Kaede’s jewelry was dropped. Should we start there?”

Velrof’s eyes lit up. A dropped necklace was a breadcrumb leading straight to the enemy’s heart.

“Lead the way,” he commanded.

Hillun moved to the front, guiding them with confidence—directly away from the tower’s true location.

—

“My King, they are moving toward the northwest.”

“Hillun is playing his part well,” Berge remarked.

He had instructed Hillun to mislead the group at the first opportunity. They were now heading into the most dangerous sectors of the mountain, filled with apex predators. They wouldn’t die—they were too strong for that—but they would be too busy fighting for their lives to look for him.

“Kruto, take Roger and Kaede. Move the artillery back to the tower immediately. Once that’s done, check the borders of the other kingdoms.”

“Understood.”

The search was tightening from all sides—Dormut and Horton were also mobilizing.

“Watch Horton carefully. Jessica Horton is leading that front personally. Do not be careless.”

“I’ll be ready.”

The information he’d squeezed out of Martin was proving invaluable.

“Ernyan, you’re with me.”

“We’re following them?”

“This isn’t over.”

Berge knew better than to relax. He had survived by being paranoid. He had learned that the moment you celebrate a victory is the moment you get stabbed.

And there was one loose thread.

*If the Prince dies to a random monster before he reaches safety, this all backfires.*

If Martin’s corpse was found, the Empire would burn everything to the ground.

“Demon King, the mount is ready.”

Kruto brought forward a giant frost wolf. Ernyan hopped on and gestured for Berge to join her.

“…I’m starting to wonder who’s in charge here,” Berge muttered. Still, he got on. The hierarchy was a mess, but the mission came first.

—

Daphne Philiain dropped to her stomach, slowing her breathing until it was a ghost of a sound. She peered over a snowbank.

Below her, a massive column of Frost Orcs was moving through a ravine. There were hundreds of them, and they were carrying heavy loads.

*What is that?*

She focused her mana into her eyes, sharpening her vision.

*Artillery?*

They were mana cannons. The sight was nonsensical. Orcs were savage, not engineers.

*A Demon King using dwarven-style weaponry?*

This changed everything. Someone was supplying the demons with high-grade tech. This wasn’t a localized threat; it was a conspiracy.

*Who would do this?*

The Empire and the Akan Kingdom were the only ones with the capacity to build these, and the Dwarven Kingdom guarded their secrets with their lives. It was unlikely the Empire would arm an enemy against themselves… unless there was a traitor in the royal line.

*Those cannons were the ones that devastated our line earlier.*

As she watched, a demon at the rear of the pack turned its head. Daphne froze, pressing herself into the frost.

*Too close.*

She silenced her thoughts. This was the only chance she would get. Tailing these orcs would lead her straight to the Flame Tower.

She began to move, a shadow against the white.

—

“What?”

“Daphne Philiain has gone rogue to ‘save’ the Prince,” the report came in.

Berge looked at Ernyan. “Did you see her?”

“No,” she replied. “She wasn’t with the Prince’s trail.”

A cold realization washed over Berge. Hillun had led the main group away. The Prince was wandering toward the search party. Berge was watching the Prince. Everyone was moving away from the tower.

Except Daphne.

*No…*

If she had found the tracks of the orcs…

“If she saw the transport team moving the cannons…”

“That’s impossible,” Ernyan whispered.

But it wasn’t. The cannons were massive; the orcs couldn’t hide those tracks in the deep snow. A master tracker like Daphne would see them as clearly as a paved road.

“Why am I just hearing this now?!” Berge roared.

“We are in the middle of a war zone, my King!” Hillun’s voice crackled through the communication. “I can’t exactly send a letter!”

Berge didn’t wait for more excuses. “The Prince is near your camp. Pick him up. Now.”

He broke the link.

“Let’s go,” Berge said.

“To the tower?”

“Now!”

He grabbed the reins, but the wolf was too slow. The panic was rising in his chest. He grabbed Ernyan, pulling her flush against him.

“Hold on!”

The sound of tearing fabric echoed across the peak.

Massive, pitch-black wings erupted from Berge’s back, casting a terrifying shadow over the snow.

“…A dragon?” Ernyan gasped, but the wind stole her words.

In a blur of black and silver, they were gone, leaving only a sonic boom in their wake.

—

“Found it…!”

*I actually found it!*

The grueling trek, the freezing winds, the failures—it was all over.

“I found it!”

** End**