The Demon King Overrun by Heroes Novel - Chapter 49

Chapter 49
## Chapter 49: That Was Quite Something

Aren is the most grueling realm imaginable.

Heroes are everywhere, the human race is incredibly resilient, and they have withstood centuries of constant conflict. Through this struggle, humanity refined itself, ensuring that the Demon Kings were no longer the invincible deities they once were. Those who sought the path of darkness—the aspiring black mages and shadow knights—dwindled into nothingness, and the influence of the Demon Kings eroded with every passing year.

However, evolution is not a gift granted only to humans.

Time treats all beings equally. Amidst an endless cycle of slaughter, the catalyst for change was Jason Kokumundo. Having survived a century within Aren’s borders, he distributed his hard-won knowledge. Consequently, the longevity of other Demon Kings began to rise.

Yet, compliance was never universal.

One does not attain the rank of Demon King by simply following orders. Some were doomed to repeat the failures of their predecessors, while others truly transformed. Four specific seats—Deceit, Frost, Vajra, and Beast—remained occupied for decades, but the fifth position was a revolving door of candidates.

This instability led to a human misconception.

Because the Seat of Lust changed hands so frequently, the people of Aren falsely believed the Demon Kings were fragile remnants who lacked the capacity to adapt or consolidate power before being extinguished. It was a shallow arrogance—the idea that heroes were inherently superior to their demonic counterparts.

In reality, the perceived weakness of the Demon Kings was a byproduct of the dimension’s own interference.

They are restricted from summoning their full armadas. Modern humanity had not yet felt the unbridled wrath of a Demon King who had spent eons learning to bypass those metaphysical shackles.

Of course, this did not mean the Demon Kings were untouchable. If they were, the world would have fallen long ago, and Berge would not have met his previous end. The heroes were formidable and plentiful, standing as true rivals to the Demon Kings. Their only limitation was that they could not be everywhere simultaneously.

—

From the distance, Ralph charged forward with desperate intensity.

His shield was marred by deep gouges, yet it remained unbroken. He was capable of absorbing Drakson’s physical brunt, but he lacked the agility to pin down a Demon King who chose to flee.

Nearby, Rozel was drenched in her own blood, yet she conjured flames fierce enough to reduce even a demon lord to ash. Still, she possessed no inherent way to halt his movement. At most, a specialized sorcerer’s defensive barrier would be shattered like glass after a single strike from such a foe.

They were a complete unit when together, but as the Demon King intentionally fractured their formation, the seams began to rip. Ralph was left chasing shadows, while Rozel struggled just to stay upright under a barrage of savage strikes.

The tide was turning. It seemed certain the Demon King would emerge the victor.

“But I wasn’t about to miss this show.”

Hillun. The moment the name was uttered, he lunged forward.

It required the synergy of all three to keep the Demon King anchored for even a moment. Hillun’s blade lashed out at Drakson’s exposed back. The beast spun, meeting the steel with his obsidian talons.

*Claaang—*

Hillun was knocked back two paces by the sheer force. In that heartbeat of space, Ralph threw himself between Rozel and the beast.

“Ah, you were present as well—Hillun Kagil, the one who ended Tyuras.”

Drakson’s eyes flitted to Hillun, then scanned the area until they landed on Berge. For a second, a shadow of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly bared his teeth in a snarl.

*That mana is foul and stagnant. There is no way that creature is Berge.*

The purity of the mana he sensed was the polar opposite of demonic essence, causing his very soul to recoil. He made his choice.

*Kill Hillun Kagil first.*

Among the trio, Ralph, Rozel, and Hillun were the primary threats, but Hillun appeared to be the weakest link. With focused intent, the Demon King pounced on the reeling warrior.

*Kaboom!*

Steel collided with claw. Hillun gave ground. A stray talon whistled through the air, aiming for his arm.

“Ngh!”

Hillun parried the strike with brute force. Ignoring the agony blooming in his wrist, he gathered mana in his palm. Through a feat of high-speed incantation, lightning crackled into existence.

*Bzzt-crackle—*

The bolt struck true. Drakson’s muscles seized for a fraction of a second. Seizing the opening, Hillun lunged into the beast’s guard, his sword singing. The aura-coated tip bit deep into the thick hide.

“That merely tickles.”

Despite the boast, blood seeped from the wound. Drakson’s massive fingers clamped around the blade. A surge of demonic energy obliterated the aura surrounding the steel.

*Thwack—*

Hillun was sent tumbling.

In that instant, a conflagration erupted. It was a flame of such absolute purity that it felt nauseating. It carried the signature of Berge. Drakson’s expression distorted in rage.

“A mere human dares to mock me.”

Heroes are capable of killing Demon Kings not solely through raw power, but because of dimensional interference—a specific force that acts as an antithesis to demons. Magic bolstered by this interference is lethal venom to their kind. Pure, searing heat was a nuisance, but it wasn’t fatal on its own.

However, Berge’s intent was never to kill—only to distract.

*Clank—*

In the wake of the fire, a massive shield rose to meet the Demon King. Imbued with aura, the metal became a crushing weapon.

*Claaang—*

Drakson’s claws tore through empty air. The aura on the shield splintered under the pressure. A pained noise escaped Ralph, but he stood his ground like an iron mountain.

And within that narrow window of opportunity.

“A sorcerer finds their greatest strength when using blood as a catalyst.”

The air shimmered with oppressive heat.

“I appreciate you providing the components yourself, you monster.”

The great mage’s inferno roared to life. It was sharp enough to slice through demonic barriers and hot enough to blacken beast hide. Drakson realized he had to move. But the iron-clad knight blocked his primary path of retreat.

One side was a wall of steel, the other a web of lightning. He made a snap judgment.

*I won’t break that shield quickly. The lightning? I’ll simply endure it.*

He vaulted off the earth. The electrical discharge sizzled against his skin, largely ineffective. He let out a primal roar at the man blocking his way.

“Perish!”

A shockwave of demonic energy erupted. Hillun raised his sword in a desperate guard.

*Claaang—*

The sword began to vibrate violently. Shards of aura fell away like broken glass.

*Kaboom!*

Ralph’s shield slammed into Drakson’s back. Hillun fought through the vertigo of the impact. If he could trade a minor injury to draw the beast’s blood, it was a fair bargain.

Drakson lashed out with a kick. Hillun, taking the blow to the chest, coughed up blood and stumbled back. He had managed to wound the beast’s leg in the process, a feat worthy of respect.

But it wasn’t enough.

“A shame. You are far too pathetic to be the slayer of Tyuras.”

*Not fully integrated yet?*

The taunt escaped Drakson despite the chaos. How arrogant he was for having killed a single Demon King. How little he truly understood of their nature.

Drakson released the full reservoir of his demonic energy. The resulting gale sent Ralph flying and left Hillun reeling. Drakson’s next strike found a gap.

*Whoosh—*

Suddenly, a strange fire licked at him. He swallowed a groan as the flames clung to his tail.

*When did this happen?*

He had been so focused on the heroes that he hadn’t noticed. His doubt was short-lived; surely this was a minor nuisance. The flames parted, and he lunged through the smoke.

“Fire like this cannot—”

Then, he felt the shift in the air.

The flames weren’t red anymore. They were gray. No, they were turning black. The crimson heat was replaced by a void-like darkness. His disgust turned into a terrifying familiarity.

The man’s red hair began to darken. His ruby-colored eyes shifted into a deep, endless obsidian. The transformation was total. The holy mana vanished, replaced by the thick, suffocating crawl of demonic energy.

“…Ber…ge?”

The stranger had revealed his true form: Berge Dayas.

“Seeing you in this state makes the moment even more sweet.”

Berge gave a cold smile. His presence here was calculated. Rozel Charnt was powerful, and Ralph Schmidt was durable, but they were shadows of their future selves—the ones Berge remembered from before his regression. He knew they couldn’t take Drakson alone, so he had masked his presence, waiting for the perfect moment to shatter Drakson’s focus.

“Your own chaotic energy hid mine.”

“Your massive frame blocked their sight.”

“And just as they moved to exploit your flaws…”

Right about now, wouldn’t you say?

“You treacherous snake…!”

*Roar—*

Ebony flames consumed Drakson.

“How is your tail feeling? I made sure to mention your weak point to Hillun.”

“Rooooaaarrrgh!”

Waves of black energy crashed against the surroundings. Berge didn’t linger; he retracted his power and used the momentum of the explosion to retreat. His part in this play was over. He had eroded Drakson’s defenses and frozen him in place with shock.

Drakson was now like a general stripped of his armor. And the veteran heroes did not miss their chance.

───!

A pillar of fire capable of melting a Demon King’s soul erupted. Heat that Drakson could previously ignore now found purchase, incinerating his demonic energy and hollowing out his strength.

Drakson let out a harrowing scream. Through the fire, the armored knight brought his shield down like a falling star. The impact slowed the beast to a crawl, the knight’s technique locking his movements.

The fire blinded him. The shield battered him. His impenetrable hide began to char, and his powerful muscles were reduced to pulp. The agony was all-consuming.

Yet Drakson pushed through. A fury that burned hotter than the flames took hold of his mind.

“Die!”

He charged blindly toward the retreating Berge. Rozel’s crimson fire chased him from behind, while Berge’s dark inferno met him from the front. He punched through the dark flames, his eyes locked on his target.

Then, Hillun Kagil’s sword flashed in the light. Drakson couldn’t ignore a strike aimed directly at his throat. Despite being the “weakest,” Hillun was still an elite hero with a blade sharp enough to decapitate him.

Drakson contorted his body mid-air. The blade missed his neck but carved a deep trench into his shoulder. Rozel’s flames immediately flooded the open wound. The combination of heat and dimensional tearing ravaged his internal organs.

A scream of pure torment tore from his throat.

“Hillun!”

*You’re the one who has to die!*

Berge kept the thought to himself. It was enough. Hillun’s magic detonated at point-blank range, followed immediately by a downward swing of his sword. Drakson watched, almost in a daze, as the steel descended toward his skull. He tried to move his arms, but his melted flesh refused to respond.

*Shunk—*

“Ah.”

A wet, guttural sound. The cold steel slid through his mouth and severed his throat. As the world began to tilt and fade, a shadow stepped into his field of vision.

“Oh, I forgot to mention.”

Berge leaned in and whispered.

“That Phoenix heart you were so desperate for? It was delicious.”

“You…!”

Drakson’s eyes bulged with a final, frantic rage. His remaining demonic energy flared one last time.

But it was too late.

*Crunch—*

The blade finished its journey through his neck. The head hit the dirt, eyes glassy and vacant. The uncontrolled demonic energy bled into the air, and a portion of it was absorbed by Hillun Kagil, the man who had delivered the killing blow.

—

“I’ve got it!”

Gordon leapt to his feet in excitement.

He had been obsessing over how to draw that con artist Jeteson into the Golden Moon on his own terms. Now, the solution was clear. The strategy was simple: destroy his foundation. Wreck his livelihood.

Once he was truly desperate, he would remember the one person who had been generous enough to throw him a gold coin—Berge.

“It’s so obvious.”

Ruining a business was easy. The difficulty lay in making the shop in the Akan Kingdom’s capital fail “naturally” without leaving any demonic fingerprints behind. After much deliberation, he realized he was overcomplicating things.

“I was thinking too much! It doesn’t need to look natural!”

He just needed to bankrupted him, period. He had been so fixated on a perfect, subtle plan.

“As long as no one links it back to demons, an ‘unnatural’ disaster is perfectly fine!”

Whether it was a robbery, a fire, or a random beating that resulted in massive medical debt—it didn’t matter. He just needed to turn Jeteson into a beggar.

“The cleanest way is a burglary. Or maybe a fire. Or perhaps some hired thugs.”

The methods were endless. Gordon had access to the networks Berge had established.

“Dealing with that elf is a headache, but…”

Mercenaries were the best at staying under the radar.

“To keep our identities hidden, I’ll hire someone from a distant city to travel to another kingdom…”

Then, through that proxy, he would bribe another party to put out a guild contract.

“Flawless.”

It was a tedious process, but Gordon didn’t have to do the legwork himself. That was Granada’s cross to bear. The man would complain, but he wouldn’t dare disobey the Demon King.

Then, a sound interrupted his thoughts.

*Wrrr—*

The communication orb on his desk vibrated.

『Gordon.』

It was Aman, the heir to the Golden Moon and a dark knight.

“Aman? What is it?”

『Do you happen to know a man named Jeteson?』

“…Jeteson? Why do you ask?”

『He just arrived at the Golden Moon looking for work. Said he came from the mountains. Claims the Demon King sent him?』

“……”

Gordon looked down at his handwritten plan and slowly tore it into tiny pieces.

Damn it.

“Yes. See that he is settled in. The Demon King has high expectations for him.”

『Understood.』

The connection went dead. Gordon let out a dry, hollow laugh.

“…Should I go over there and beat him up just for the sake of ‘training’?”

Why did the Demon King let him plan everything out just to make him look like an idiot? It felt intentional. Gordon ground his teeth in the silence of his office.

*Wrrr—*

The orb buzzed again. This time, it was Krutu, the leader of the Red Frost Tribe.

“What is it now?”

『’Now’?』

“Forget it. What’s the report?”

『I wasn’t sure if this was worth mentioning, but humans have been spotted climbing the Erjest Mountains lately.』

“Is it just one person?”

『Yes, but not someone we can ignore.』

‘Just one’ was an understatement. Anyone capable of navigating the Erjest Mountains alone possessed elite strength.

『He’s already cut down several of my scouts. I can’t take him in a direct fight, so I’ve ordered my people to watch from a distance and stay hidden.』

“Smart move. Any idea what he’s after?”

『He appears in a different sector every day and then vanishes. It might be a coincidence, but…』

Krutu paused, his voice dropping an octave.

『He is moving steadily toward the Demon King’s tower. I believe he is hunting for it.』

“……!”

In Gordon’s mind, every internal alarm began to scream.