The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 48

Chapter 48
## Chapter 48: It is Fortunate You Arrived

『…The dispatch of the heroes has been put on hold. However, the delay will be brief.』

“That suffices for now.”

Drakson exhaled, feeling a weight lift. At the very least, one looming crisis had been averted.

『Your recent conduct has been testing my patience. Mark my words: there shall be no further leniency.』

“I have already clarified that those actions were not mine. That idiot Berge is a complete simpleton.”

『Demons within your own borders executed a royal heir, and you expect us to believe you had no hand in it? Ridiculous.』

『If it weren’t for Ormus acting as a mediator on the opposing side, this situation would never have been settled so quietly.』

Drakson clenched his jaw, feeling the massive rift between himself and the entity reflected in the scrying glass.

‘Regardless of who is responsible, I will tear them to pieces when I find them.’

That specific demon—and the sovereign who commanded them.

“For the impending second campaign, we will release the abducted prince and princess, as well as every captive taken during the initial assault.”

『Agreed.』

The signal died with a sharp click.

Drakson aggressively bit into a portion of meat resting on the table’s edge.

“If we can stall for time, locate the saboteur, and utilize the Archduke’s patronage to fix the spire…”

The cost would be high, but survival was possible.

“Not just high—it will be devastating.”

He was well aware that accepting the reinforcements offered by Archduke Alcaine meant paying a much steeper price in spiritual essence.

Yet, staying alive was the absolute priority…

“Lord, we have a crisis!”

Casey slammed the door open, gasping for air.

“Speak.”

“In-invaders! Approximately five hundred humans have crossed the border. Multiple high-tier heroes are among the ranks…”

Crash!

The heavy table disintegrated under the pressure.

Casey trembled as the room filled with a suffocating, dark aura.

“Those miserable wretches…!”

—

The Hero Guild was comprised of those who represented the world’s greatest light.

The ten premier champions.

The public referred to them as the Ten Stars of Hope, though the warriors themselves found the title a bit cringeworthy.

Among them was Rozel Charnt.

Ballaf Disrod, who had declined the summons, was another.

Hillun Kagil—the one who took down the Lust Demon King—held the final position among these elite ten, earning it through both raw capability and significant deeds.

And the individual standing before them now.

Ralph Schmidt was also a member of the Ten Stars.

In the fragments of Berge’s past life, Ralph Schmidt was nothing more than a frustrating hunk of animated iron.

He was a human fortress who moved behind a shield that eclipsed his own stature, neutralizing almost every strike directed at him.

“Are you alright?”

Hillun spoke softly, noticing Berge’s rigid posture.

“…I am fine.”

Berge struggled to draw a steady breath.

Hearing their names was one thing, but standing face-to-face with the very people who had orchestrated his previous demise was a different psychological burden entirely.

Nevertheless, he remained composed. He forced down the surging urge to kill and the volatile energy swirling within him.

‘Maintain control. If you lose it now, you forfeit everything.’

Just like Rozel Charnt, this man possessed power that Berge could not hope to overcome in his current condition.

Furthermore, this was the center of the hero battalion—the belly of the beast.

‘Perhaps…’

Could he strike from the shadows while they were locked in combat with Drakson?

He couldn’t be certain. Nothing was more vital than ensuring Drakson’s death. He wouldn’t gamble on uncertainties.

“It has been a while.”

“Stay vigilant.”

“Keep our agreement in mind.”

Ralph Schmidt traded sparse words with Rozel and proceeded to ignore everyone else in the vicinity.

“He maintains his reputation for being exceptionally reserved.”

Reserved? No, he was simply arrogant.

With the vanguard fully gathered, the group made a rapid approach toward the Beast Tower. Because the previous expedition had already cleared a path, the resistance from local wildlife was minimal.

Eventually, they reached the base of the tower—a massive eleven-story monument.

‘I never envisioned returning here as a member of a hero squad.’

Much less with the intention of personally ending Drakson.

“We are entering. Everyone, stay focused.”

Following Rozel’s command, the armored knights took the lead. The sorcerers stood ready to cast at a moment’s notice.

The heavy doors groaned open.

On the first floor, they encountered dire wolves.

The knights dispatched them with clinical efficiency; the primary heroes didn’t even need to draw their weapons.

“The defensive strength has plummeted. It seems they are short on resources.”

The elite soldiers from the kingdoms of Rozel and Akan shared a moment of confidence.

They moved upward to the second and third floors, ascending at a blistering pace.

‘Just as the protocols dictate.’

As they climbed, the monsters grew marginally more formidable. However, for creatures serving a demon king, they were shockingly underwhelming.

Likely by design.

“It appears they are repeating their previous tactics.”

Hillun Kagil murmured. He was right. Drakson was likely consolidating his strongest assets at the peak for a final stand.

But Berge remained skeptical.

Rozel Charnt and the other leaders surely suspected the same thing.

‘Drakson wouldn’t be so predictable.’

As a graduate of the Demon King Academy who had secured a throne, Drakson was no simpleton. He was merely bound by the ancient laws that governed their kind.

A code that had transcended habit to become a literal doctrine.

Just as that thought crossed Berge’s mind, they reached the fifth floor.

“Aaargh!”

“It’s a toxin!”

Painful shouts echoed through the hall.

The armor of several lead knights began to dissolve and hiss. A sharp, pungent odor filled the air.

Healers lunged forward to assist. The knights formed a protective ring while the mages began casting detection spells.

Amid the confusion, monsters surged from the shadows.

“Ambush!”

“Maintain the formation! Shield the wounded!”

“I sense traces of dark energy everywhere. This can only mean…”

“The entire area is rigged with traps.”

‘He’s resorting to deception.’

The demon kings of Aren often looked for loopholes to survive within the constraints of the doctrine.

This was a classic example.

‘Demon King Doctrine, Section Five.’

[Deploy inferior creatures on the lower levels, increasing the threat as one ascends. The sovereign must always remain at the highest point to greet the challengers.]

There was no rule forbidding the use of traps on any floor.

Still, Berge hadn’t anticipated Drakson using such methods. Among the demonic races, the beastkin were known for being either incredibly brave or incredibly dim-witted; subtlety wasn’t their forte.

Before the timeline reset, Drakson had always valued a direct confrontation over schemes.

‘The use of traps indicates he is desperate to win at any cost.’

That Drakson would abandon his warrior’s pride meant he was truly backed into a corner.

‘I knew this wouldn’t be a simple walk in the park.’

Drakson’s decades of experience in Aren weren’t for show.

Berge found himself curious.

‘I wonder what your expression looks like right now…’

A thin smile played on Berge’s lips.

—

“To think they would betray me like this!”

Drakson lost his temper and crushed his communication device into dust.

He had attempted to reach his contacts numerous times. They offered nothing but dismissive excuses or vague promises to investigate before cutting the line.

The reality was clear: they were being led like cattle into a trap.

“You will all regret this!”

Drakson bellowed. Once his fury spent itself, he forced his mind back into a cold, analytical state.

First, he had to deal with the pests.

“Report on the trespassers.”

“Yes, My Lord. A total of 526 individuals: a mix of knights, sorcerers, and heroes. The soldiers carry no identifying marks, making their origin difficult to confirm, but their skill suggests they are the elite of a major power.”

“Your assessment?”

“Akan. Only they possess the infrastructure to mobilize such a force so quickly. It is highly probable that Rozel Charnt is leading the charge.”

“Those magic-obsessed fools are likely hunting for my remains. Any other notable threats?”

“Rozel Charnt, Hillun Kagil, and…”

Drakson had expected as much. It wasn’t uncommon for disgraced heroes to return for a second attempt.

“Ralph Schmidt.”

“…That irritant?”

All heroes were a nuisance, but Ralph Schmidt was a legend even among the demons.

He was the most impenetrable shield in the human world. Stories claimed he had once stood his ground against a basilisk’s breath, walked through the flames, and personally mutilated the beast.

A basilisk was no match for a demon king, of course.

Regardless, a major obstacle had arrived.

‘Ralph Schmidt and Hillun Kagil will attempt to restrain me while Rozel Charnt prepares a finishing blow.’

The strategy was clear: bypass the shields and eliminate Rozel first.

He monitored the tower’s internal defenses via a magical feed. Suddenly, a face that seemed hauntingly familiar appeared on the screen.

“…Berge Dayas?”

No, it couldn’t be him.

The resemblance was striking at first glance, but the hair and eyes were wrong. More importantly…

“Do you sense demonic energy from the hero party?”

“None, Lord.”

If it truly were Berge Dayas, Drakson would have felt his presence the moment he crossed the threshold.

‘How can a person look so much like another…?’

The doubt was fleeting as the invaders moved closer. The traps he had placed were successfully hampering their progress.

Was it a stroke of luck that they were working, or a sign of his own desperation?

“The demons?”

“All are stationed at the throne room.”

“The beasts?”

“1,321 remaining.”

This didn’t count the weaker ones used as fodder for the lower floor traps.

His forces had originally been three times that size, but the first expedition had decimated his ranks. Back then, nearly 300 heroes had attacked.

“The royal captives in the dungeons…?”

“It is too late to move them for the traditional encounter.”

Ideally, he would have met the heroes at the top with the princess as his bargaining chip.

The suddenness of the assault had ruined that timing.

“Forget them.”

Drakson stood and exited his private chamber. On the 11th floor, his loyal followers packed the space surrounding the throne.

“They are arriving! Grant no mercy to these insects who dare to insult our kind. Ensure that not a single one leaves this place breathing.”

That was all that needed to be said. A thick, murderous intent saturated the air of the entire floor.

Drakson walked across the ornate rug as his demons cheered. He ascended the dais to his golden seat and waited.

Then.

The doors swung open.

—

The first sensation was nostalgia.

The sight of the demon king seated in his glory, surrounded by his demonic court and thousands of beast-like subordinates.

In the past, Berge had occupied a similar position. In fact, his domain had been even more impressive, with more subjects and a greater display of power.

Yet, he felt no longing for those days. It had been a fragile empire built on arrogance.

In the end, his followers were slaughtered, and Berge himself had fallen.

He had no intention of suffering that same shame again.

While it was unfortunate that his relationship with the demons who once served him had changed, the current situation was preferable.

“……”

“……”

A piercing gaze locked onto him. Drakson Doldorf, the master of the tower, stared directly at him.

Berge held the gaze without flinching. It was Drakson who eventually looked away.

“A quick look reveals you’re quite lopsided—would you like me to remove the other eye as well?”

Drakson sneered at Rozel Charnt, the commander of the expedition.

Without any formal command, the beasts began to howl. The demons drew their steel and lunged.

‘He didn’t recognize me.’

Berge confirmed this as he surveyed the chaos.

‘Four high-ranking demons. Eleven mid-tier. Fifty-two low-tier.’

The beast count was roughly a thousand.

It was a formidable army, but the heroes were equally prepared.

Ralph Schmidt was the first to charge the sovereign. The beasts tried to intercept him, but the following knights forced them to split their focus.

The mages began their bombardment.

Thunderous explosions filled the room.

Dazzling lights seared the air.

The cries of dying beasts rose above the din.

A demon managed to puncture the knights’ heavy shield formation.

Simultaneously, a beast blocking Ralph’s path was cleaved in two.

The demon king stood up from his throne.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

The air was thick with the clash of holy and unholy energies, and the metallic scent of blood filled the room.

Berge observed the scene with cold detachment. Hillun remained by his side as a protector.

“It was a wise decision to come. I would have hated to miss this performance.”

“What do you mean by—”

Hillun didn’t get to finish.

A massive boom shook the floor. An object blurred through the air, narrowly missing them.

“Curse it…!”

Rozel Charnt pulled himself out of a fresh crater, coughing up blood.

“That was a near miss.”

Drakson licked the blood from his talons.

“A few inches higher and your journey would have ended.”

A deep, bloody furrow now marked Rozel Charnt’s face.