The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 147

Chapter 147
## Chapter: 147

### Chapter Title: Con Artist

—

A popular proverb in Akan suggests that every bit of the realm’s prosperity eventually trickles down to the sovereign household and the Magic Tower. Consequently, the spire of the mages stood as a vital foundation of Akan’s society.

Influence naturally draws gold, and for those dedicated to the arcane, gold was merely a resource to facilitate further discovery. The Magic Tower amassed its fortune through a variety of streams: tithes from noble patrons, the schooling of apprentices, government grants, the trade of enchanted artifacts, and the guarding of merchant fleets. This massive influx was almost entirely reinvested into rare spellbooks and exotic reagents.

Simply put, the Magic Tower was a vault bursting with an incomparable volume of magical components. Even the most prestigious merchant guilds specializing in alchemy were overshadowed by the Tower’s private reserves. They possessed every rarity imaginable. However, these treasures were not for sale; they were strictly for internal research.

“But surely an exchange of equal merit would be considered?”

Jetsun remained composed, sipping his tea while sitting across from the Magic Tower’s deputy master.

*What a stroke of luck. I never anticipated snagging such a prominent figure right out of the gate.*

It had been a fluke. While he was attempting to log a trade proposal for an item intended to shock the Tower, the deputy master had happened to walk by and take interest. Enticed by Jetsun’s extravagant promises, the official had granted him this audience.

“Ahem.” The deputy master cleared his throat impatiently. “Shall we finally examine this specimen?”

“Certainly. I promise it will meet your expectations. If I might offer a teaser… it is a biological remnant.”

“A remnant?”

“Indeed. But as you know, the worth of a remnant is dictated entirely by its origin.”

In the same way a common orc’s skin cannot be compared to that of a mountain ogre.

“A fair point, though you’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.” The deputy master rubbed his gaunt jaw with a thin hand. “How grand is this object if you feel the need to be so mysterious? I trust I won’t be wasting my time?”

Jetsun met the wizard’s piercing stare with a firm nod. “Without question.”

“The Golden Moon Merchant Group—and merchant Jetsun. I shall keep those names in mind.” The official flicked his eyes toward the entry papers Jetsun had signed to gain admittance. “I hope the outcome of this meeting allows me to remember them fondly.”

Jetsun gave a heavy swallow. He was gambling on a massive bluff, and in truth, he was terrified. The horn sent from the main office looked formidable, but he lacked the academic background to truly gauge its worth. His career was built on dressing up common trash to sell at a markup, not identifying genuine artifacts of power.

*I have to place my faith in Aman, the deputy leader. Please, let the contents of that missive be legitimate. Let this eccentric mage recognize its value and lose his mind with excitement.*

“Ha, my apologies. I’ve tested your patience long enough. Behold.”

*Click—*

The latch of the wooden chest gave way. A dense, heavy aura of demonic energy began to spill out into the room.

“This is…?” The deputy master’s features contorted in a strange mix of shock and fascination.

“You are aware that remnants follow a hierarchy,” Jetsun began smoothly. “Monsters are the base, succeeded by magical beasts, then demons, and finally… Demon Kings. Naturally, there are variations within those ranks—some monsters are deadlier than weak demons—but the general rule holds.”

“……”

“Yet no one disputes that demons are superior to beasts, and their remains are consequently more potent.”

“So, what is the source of this?”

“Demons are individual powerhouses in their own right…”

“Tell me what it is! Do you want me to seize it and sprint to my laboratory this instant?!” The wizard’s sudden roar made the air vibrate. Jetsun flinched, but a secret joy bloomed in his chest. The deputy master’s frantic eyes and labored breathing were the reactions of a man who had seen something real.

“Among the demonic race, the most elite high-ranking ones…”

“A relic from a high-demon?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“It comes from a being that stands far above a mere high-demon.”

“Higher than a high-demon…? You don’t mean…?”

“I do,” Jetsun confirmed with a sharp nod. “The horn of a Demon King.”

“……!”

*Click—*

Jetsun abruptly shut the lid. The oppressive demonic pressure vanished instantly.

“Ah…!” The deputy master, who had leaned in so close his face nearly touched the wood, let out a desperate sound of longing. “Once more—show it to me just one more time!”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“Why not? I implore you.”

“Very well. As a favor to you, Deputy Master.”

The chest was reopened. The thick energy pulsated once more. The wizard inhaled the aura greedily, but as he reached out with his mana to probe the item, the lid snapped shut again.

“Careful now. It is fragile. We wouldn’t want to diminish its quality, would we?”

“I will purchase it at any cost—open it!”

“Is the allure truly that strong?”

“Is that a serious question?!”

“But considering its extreme rarity…”

“Which is exactly why I am buying it!”

“The valuation, then…”

“Are you questioning the treasury of the Magic Tower? We possess more wealth than we can effectively manage!”

In most dealings, the buyer holds the leverage—but within the walls of the Magic Tower, the one holding the rarity dictates the terms. The power dynamic had shifted entirely.

“Then tell me,” Jetsun said, crossing his legs and reclining in his chair. “What is your authorized spending limit?”

—

While Berge was busy leveraging Vivian’s horn, a massive celebration was taking place in the Hildean Kingdom.

Ernyan Hildean and Hillun Kagil had arrived.

The crown princess, who had been abducted and then reclaimed, stood alongside the champion who had saved her. Every gate in the capital was thrown wide, from the ramparts to the heart of the palace. Soldiers stood in rigid lines, carving a path for the royalty and the hero while a sea of jubilant citizens trailed in their wake.

*Long live Princess Ernyan!*

*Glory to the champion, Hillun Kagil!*

*We thank the heavens for your safety!*

*Hail to the Princess!*

Pyrotechnics lit up the afternoon sky, and the thunder of brass bands echoed through the streets. The city was transformed into a carnival, and for good reason. While royal kidnappings were seen as twists of fate, they were often viewed as a stain on a nation’s honor. It suggested a weak kingdom and a vulnerable royal line that invited the attention of Demon Kings. Hildean had suffered the loss of two princesses—one of whom was snatched back almost immediately after a rescue attempt.

The national pride had been wounded. Thus, Ernyan’s successful return was a monumental occasion.

“I greet you all. Because of your support, I have fled the tower of that wretched Demon King and come home. My gratitude is yours.” Ernyan’s voice, carried by spirits to every corner of the capital, sent the crowd into a frenzy.

“You’re quite good at the theatrics,” Hillun remarked.

“I need to ensure my return is burned into the memories of specific individuals.”

“And who would those be?”

“Hmm… perhaps a greedy brother who was already measuring the drapes for my sister’s empty chambers?”

“Doesn’t the hierarchy usually favor the elder?”

“In Hildean, merit is the only currency that matters—even among the bloodline.”

“I can respect that,” Hillun noted.

Shortly after, they passed through the palace thresholds.

—

The festivities migrated into the royal court. In the massive, gilded hall, rows of nobles stood flanking the King upon his throne. Ernyan walked the length of the carpet with measured steps.

She felt the weight of a thousand stares.

Baron Ankuss, Viscount Berian, Count Corin…

She tracked the eyes of the aristocracy. Those who met her gaze quickly looked away. She then turned her attention to her siblings.

Olek, Polina, Titania, Olga…

And finally, Oberst Hildean.

She locked eyes with her kin seated nearest the seat of power. A small smile played on her lips, contrasting sharply with their rigid, frozen expressions. Moving past them, she finally halted before the ruler of the kingdom. She executed a bow of flawless elegance.

“Crown Princess of Hildean, Ernyan Hildean. I have returned to your side, Your Majesty.”

“You are welcome here. Come, let me hold my daughter,” the King said, opening his arms. Ernyan stepped forward and embraced him.

“So?” the King whispered into her ear. “Was your little adventure worth the price?”

Ernyan’s smile turned cryptic. “You were aware?”

“You are my flesh and blood. No Demon King—regardless of how recently he ascended—could have taken you without a drop of blood being spilled.”

Unless she had permitted it.

“…I suppose I can’t hide much from Father.”

“And what did you find? You left of your own volition, but that Demon King was not the monster you anticipated, was he?”

“He was not,” Ernyan whispered back. He certainly hadn’t fit the mold of the legends.

“The most perilous beings are those who boast of being the worst—and those who have just arrived.”

“Because their unpredictability knows no bounds?”

“Precisely. Fortune favored you this time, but it may not again. No more disappearing acts. This was your first and your last.”

“I understand.”

“Excellent. I have high expectations for you—you have never failed to meet them.”

“No inquiries regarding Elena?”

“You are back. That suffices for now.”

“Understood.”

She stepped back from the King.

“Today is a day for revelry!” the King announced loudly. “A grand feast shall be held to honor the princess!”

The return of Ernyan Hildean sparked a week of non-stop celebration throughout the capital.

—

“Demon King! About our agreement…!”

The moment Berge concluded his correspondence with Vivian and stepped downstairs, the dwarf was on him instantly, as if he’d been stalking the exit.

“The supplies I have are just the beginning. I need a massive inventory, including items of extreme rarity—I haven’t acquired everything yet.”

“I anticipated as much. But I was referring to something else…”

“The laborers, I assume?”

“Yes!” Roger nodded with frantic energy.

Berge accessed his void storage. Within the newly renovated, expansive first floor, mountains of materials appeared. Suddenly, a frost-laden wind swept through the room.

*Thud, thud—*

Frozen figures, encased in perfect ice, began to manifest. Roger squinted at them, his eyes widening as he recognized the faces.

“Demon King… you didn’t…”

“Whatever you are suspecting, I did.”

“You abducted the entire staff of the royal forge?!”

By the heavens! Roger had been hoping for skilled dwarven smiths, perhaps from some secluded mountain village. He was floored. The artisans of the royal forge were the pinnacle of the Berft Kingdom’s talent. They were priceless—but it was agonizing to think they were now servants of a Demon King because of his request.

*No, I shouldn’t blame myself.*

Exactly—they were captives just like him. They would cooperate to stay alive. And honestly, they might even enjoy the work. Dwarven smiths were predictable creatures. They lived for the craft and obsessed over innovation. A chance to work on something revolutionary was always enticing. They would likely be thrilled at the prospect of constructing a massive golem capable of relocating a magical spire.

*Yes—I’ll win them over that way. I’ll use the Demon King’s reputation to keep them in line and establish myself as the master of the shop…*

Roger’s mental roadmap came to a screeching halt. His neck gave a metallic groan as he turned his head.

“…Um, Great Demon King?”

“Speak.”

“That person…”

It couldn’t be. There was no possible reason. He knew exactly how she felt about him—why would the Demon King bring her here?

“My vision must be failing me…” He pointed a shaking finger at one particular ice block. “…Is it?”

“If you see the Princess of the Berft Kingdom, then your sight is as sharp as ever.”

*Thud—* Roger felt his heart hit the floor.

“…Uh.”

The mental strain was too much. Roger’s brain couldn’t reconcile the reality. He tried to deny it, but the evidence was right in front of him. He looked at the statue again, tears blurring his vision.

“What in the…! You realize what Louise Berft will do to me when she thaws!”

“This is your karma.”

“Excuse me?”

*How could this be my fault?!* Roger barely managed to suppress a string of insults directed at the Demon King, though he couldn’t stop the sob that escaped him.

“The hidden tunnel you pointed out led directly to the private annex where Louise Berft was being kept. A very convenient arrangement. Even with careful planning, it would be difficult to time such an encounter so perfectly.”

“…Ugh.”

“So, deal with your own complications.”

“Ughh…!”

“Be grateful I left her breathing.”

“Ughhhh!”

“Silence.”

“You’re a fraud! A swindler who speaks of the Founding Emperor and the Code while acting like this!”

“Silence.”

“Mmph mmph…!”

The last thread of Roger’s composure…

*Plop—*

…finally snapped.