The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 47

Chapter 47
## Chapter 47: Mortal Enemy

“Greetings!”

The Red Flame Assault Team had secured a private villa in the heart of Ortan, the royal capital, for their base of operations.

‘Champions everywhere I turn.’

‘I’d love nothing more than to break their necks, one by one.’

Berge repressed the waves of loathing and fury coming from every corner with an almost impossible level of self-control.

The most powerful hero among the group extended her arms in a grand gesture of welcome toward Berge.

“Step inside. It seems we are destined to collaborate once more.”

Hillun Kagil offered a silent, respectful bow, acknowledging the heavy implication in her words.

“Allow me to introduce our squad’s second-in-command. This is Franz.”

“A pleasure to meet you. Franz, at your service.”

“You look sickly.”

“…?”

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me like that?”

“Master Pale. Is this not our very first introduction today?”

“What of it?”

“Shouldn’t that require at least a modicum of social etiquette?”

“Rozel Charnt didn’t seem to care for such things.”

“… .”

Franz’s gaze whipped toward the captain. Rozel looked away with a mischievous, guilty air.

“Captain, a moment of your time. Over here.”

Franz pulled Rozel toward the rear of the room.

“What exactly is going on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never mentioned he was this sort of individual!”

To speak to a complete stranger with such casual, informal language from the very first breath—and with no sign of correcting it.

To a man like Franz, who viewed coordination and hierarchy as the foundation of a team, this was a personality type they could never integrate.

“We already have one person like that, and that’s plenty.”

“We have someone like that in our own assault team?”

“… .”

“… Hold on. What was that expression for?”

“Forget it. Regardless, he is a novice. Even if you believe he has talent, that sort of attitude will rot our internal order.”

“Order is derived from power. Protocol is just noise. Do you think a beast will hesitate to bite because you were polite? Will the Demon King spare your life for your good manners?”

“We are not dealing with beasts or the Demon King at this moment!”

“Ugh, enough.”

“You stubborn…!”

“Why don’t you mind your own manners? I’ve been a bit lenient lately, and now you’ve forgotten your place?”

Franz fell silent at the weight of her voice—soft, yet carrying an edge that permitted no further protest.

“And don’t just look at the surface—look at what lies beneath. Sense that mana.”

Rozel took Franz by the chin and forced his head around. He looked at Pale’s side profile as the man spoke easily with Hillun.

“Concentrate. Look closer.”

“… You have a point, Captain.”

It was a searing heat. And incredibly refined. He couldn’t help but be stunned by a magical signature that felt like staring directly into the essence of a spirit.

Franz couldn’t quite see the ‘hidden potential’ Rozel had boasted about. However, simply by measuring the caliber of the mana, it was obvious Pale was no common warrior.

“How can a human possess such… .”

“Perhaps he isn’t entirely human.”

A descendant of elves or some other rare lineage? It was a rare occurrence, but not impossible.

“The bottom line is, I have no intention of letting him walk away.”

God, he’s an enticing prospect.

Rozel moistened her lips.

“… Even trying to ignore it is becoming a chore.”

So incredibly obvious.

Berge clenched his teeth against the sharp, invasive stare that he couldn’t entirely deflect, even after muffling the sound with his internal energy.

“Keep your temper.”

“I will. I’m not going to sabotage the objective over a petty grievance.”

This degree of disrespect was trivial compared to the agony the Red Sword Hero had inflicted upon him before his journey back in time—it felt like nothing more than a bug bite.

“The meeting is concluded. Let’s move to my quarters.”

Shortly after, Rozel guided Berge and Hillun away. Franz took the hint from her look and excused himself.

Click.

The heavy door locked, and the sharp scent of chemical catalysts stung their nostrils.

“Take a seat. I don’t have much in the way of hospitality.”

Two vessels of cold water were set upon the table.

“Now, we talk.”

“Talk?”

“Think of it as an interrogation of sorts.”

“I thought I had already been accepted?”

“In my mind, I’ve accepted you a hundred times. But my intuition refuses to settle. My gut is screaming at me.”

“That’s rather rude. You were the one who approached me.”

“I’m aware. Just consider this a necessary procedure.”

She pulled a drawer open and retrieved a single document.

“Name: Pale. Origin: Hildean Kingdom. Where specifically in Hildean?”

“Is such detail mandatory?”

“It is. Because my reports indicate there is absolutely no record of your existence.”

“So you’ve been digging into my past.”

“Don’t take it as a personal insult. If you were a saboteur sent to ruin our campaign, we’d all be in jeopardy.”

It was a known tactic. It rarely happened during high-profile crusades that the whole world watched—the legends of old—but smaller strike teams still faced such betrayals occasionally.

“You sought me out first.”

“I might be impulsive, but I prefer to leave no loose threads.”

“I have no reason to disclose that. And I have no reason to accept your terms.”

“Incorrect. If I demand it, then you must provide it.”

“Then I’m leaving.”

He couldn’t actually leave. Berge needed to be part of this crusade to witness Drakson’s end with his own eyes.

But he was certain he could hold his ground. Because Rozel craved his power just as much as he needed the mission.

‘Based on her approach, her temperament, and the look in her eyes—she won’t let a prize like me go.’

As expected, her eyebrow arched, as if his defiance was a shock.

“You would actually walk away from the Red Flame Assault Team?”

“It holds little value to me.”

“Weren’t you the one demanding we accelerate the timeline for some secret reason?”

“It seems you have your own reasons for rushing.”

Rozel’s mouth curved into a smirk. She turned her eyes toward the side.

“Hillun Kagil. Are you willing to provide a guarantee for Pale’s identity?”

“Without question.”

“Would you put your life on the line for it?”

Hillun paused for a fleeting second. Then, he gave a firm nod.

“… Fascinating. What sort of connection leads you to gamble your life like that?”

To keep his identity hidden even after such a display?

“Very well. I shall trust your word.”

“Am I to trust Hillun?”

“It isn’t Hillun himself I rely on. It is the reputation he has built and the obsession with glory that consumes him.”

The Hillun she was familiar with valued his status and public image above all else.

“If you betray this trust, everything you’ve built turns to ash. I’ll personally ensure it.”

Her piercing gaze cut through Hillun.

She was exactly right.

Then, she beamed a radiant smile.

“However, I have requirements.”

“Requirements?”

“I’m overlooking the red flags in your history, so you must compensate me.”

“I was under the impression I joined because you requested it.”

She makes it sound like I was the one pleading for a spot.

“Funny, isn’t it? You’re the one pushing for an early start because you’re chasing something as well.”

“… What is it you want?”

“Your energy, your blood, and a strand of your hair.”

From the moment they first crossed paths, Rozel Charnt had a singular ambition.

Berge’s mana—which possessed a density that rivaled the elemental spirits—and that incredible heat.

She coveted it. If she couldn’t possess it naturally, she would find a way to replicate it.

She produced a crystalline sphere.

“A mana storage vessel. Saturate it for me.”

“I refuse.”

“What?”

“I have no way of knowing what you intend to do with my blood or hair. But you can have the mana.”

His internal magic was masked by the Phoenix’s influence, but his physical form remained demonic. A high-tier sorceress like Rozel would likely detect the truth if she analyzed his biological samples.

Mana, conversely, was purely derived from the Phoenix—there was no risk there.

“Mana alone won’t reveal the source of this strength… .”

“I’ll give you double the amount. Once now, and once again after the Demon King is slain.”

“… Agreered. I will accept those terms for the time being.”

“… For the time being?”

Rozel nodded. A sense of unease flickered in Berge, but he reached out his hand regardless.

He shut his eyes and began to vent his mana. He did so with extreme precision, ensuring his core magic stayed hidden.

“… You really are intent on draining every drop.”

“Opportunities like this are rare.”

The process of transferring the energy took far longer than anticipated. The crystal’s internal space was massive, far larger than it appeared from the outside.

Rozel wore a predatory grin. Berge stepped back, a wave of lightheadedness washing over him.

“Excellent.”

“Now, fulfill your part of the bargain.”

He worked to steady his breath.

“The timing is perfect.”

Rozel gave a casual shrug. At that exact moment, a colossal wave of magical energy rippled through the entire mansion.

“… They must be drowning in gold.”

“The Akan Kingdom has always possessed immense wealth.”

Clang, clang.

The sound of heavy, armored boots thundered through the corridor.

A knock sounded.

“Enter.”

The door swung open. A warrior encased in silver-white plate armor offered a salute.

“Greetings, esteemed hero Rozel Charnt. I, Xenoy, leading 301 knights and 152 combat mages, have arrived as ordered.”

“You are welcome here.”

Rozel rose to her feet and reached out toward Berge.

“Let’s go.”

Berge looked up, locking eyes with her.

“The second campaign begins this instant.”

“… I like the sound of that.”

Berge took her hand and stood.

—

Quietly.

And with great speed.

That was the strategy envisioned by Rozel Charnt and the leaders of the Akan Kingdom.

To act before the other nations could react.

Even if they realized what was happening, the deed would be done before they could interfere.

Hundreds of elite, hand-picked soldiers had materialized within the Ortan villa using sophisticated teleportation arrays.

The cost of the mana stones required to fuel such a massive transport was a king’s ransom, but Akan believed the spoils of a Demon King’s demise were far more valuable.

“We will settle the costs from the tower’s private treasury.”

“We cannot let this opening pass us by.”

The magitech-focused Akan Kingdom had always thirsted for rare biological components from monsters, demonic artifacts, and ancient wealth.

The potential for profit was infinite, and many of their greatest magical breakthroughs had been paved with the blood of demons and beasts.

Thus, they made a choice.

A choice they would never normally consider.

The previous attempt had ended in failure, but it had left the Demon King’s Tower severely compromised. Without the Church of Ormus being so desperate to purge the site, and without Rozel Charnt’s relentless ambition, this second strike never would have materialized.

With the quiet endorsement of Ormus, the clandestine second crusade was launched.

“The Golden Lion Knights, the Crimson Tiger Knights, and the White Wolf Knights. My word, even the Blue Meteor Mage Corps, the Golden Galaxy Mages, and the Red Sun Mages are here… .”

Hillun was awestruck by the sheer caliber of the troops emerging from the circles.

These were the premier military assets of Akan, the finest in the land. It was clear evidence of how much Akan had invested in this gamble.

With Akan’s finest taking over the front lines, groups like the Red Hawk mercenaries were pushed to the periphery.

Maintaining silence was the highest priority.

‘The Blue Meteor Mage Corps.’

They were a group that had once laid siege to Berge’s own tower in the past.

A tower is a reflection of its master. Because Berge controlled fire, his domain was a furnace of heat. The Blue Meteor specialists focused on cryomancy to counter that.

They had never reached the inner sanctum, but they had been a persistent nuisance—and many of Berge’s loyal monsters had fallen to their frost.

Six distinct military divisions in total, supplemented by the Red Flame Assault Team and 71 freelance heroes Franz had gathered independently.

Berge did not bother with pleasantries. A few of the mages sensed the quality of his mana and gasped, but they chose to overlook him.

To their eyes, he was merely an outsider tagging along.

With the briefest of introductions completed, the second crusade marched out of Ortan.

“Do you feel prepared?”

Berge soared through the air alongside Rozel Charnt, who took the vanguard position.

He respected the sheer power of the force they had assembled. Yet, a shadow of doubt remained.

Even if the tower was weakened, was this enough to bring down Drakson?

Drakson had dominated the Aren dimension for nearly a century. He wasn’t the type of adversary to collapse after only one or two serious attempts on his life.

“Of course.”

Rozel Charnt gave a self-assured smile.

“Mages are planners. And this plan is flawless.”

“It didn’t look very flawless the first time.”

“That was because of Balraf—that filthy dog interfered when he shouldn’t have. Or perhaps Hillun Kagil’s power is nothing but an exaggerated rumor.”

“The Demon King is the real problem. Do you have someone capable of pinning him down?”

“Naturally. Do you think I’m foolish enough to rely on Hillun Kagil a second time?”

Speak of the devil.

She whispered.

An immense presence was closing in from the distance. It was a ‘hero’ whose aura rivaled even that of Rozel Charnt.

The entire column came to a halt. The newcomer joined the ranks.

“Meet your new comrade. Ralph Schmidt. He’s slightly below my level, but surely you recognize the name?”

The warrior in heavy plate armor climbed down from his mount. He unlatched and removed his helmet.

In that very moment.

“… …!”

Berge’s gaze became fixed upon him.

A strikingly handsome face.

Gleaming golden hair.

Eyes the color of a deep ocean.

A powerful, muscular frame that seemed at odds with his delicate features.

Berge’s skin began to prickle. His heart hammered against his ribs with violent intensity.

“Hey.”

Rozel gave him a sharp nudge, sensing his sudden change in demeanor.

“… What did you just ask?”

“I asked if you were familiar with Ralph Schmidt.”

“I am.”

How could he possibly forget?

That man.

That wretched bastard.

That absolute piece of filth.

The hero, Ralph Schmidt.

“I know him very well.”

He was one of the very heroes who had demolished his tower and spat insults in his face just before he was sent back to the past.