Chapter 339: The Powerless Demon King

Deon left his seat faster than ever. But instead of heading straight to the Demon King as he’d mentioned to Asild, he made a detour to his own room first. He’d anticipated a fight along the way, but surprisingly, no one stopped him before he reached his door.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t encountered any demons as he confidently strode into the building and down the hallway. He’d definitely caught eyes with servants and soldiers guarding key areas along the way. Deon noticed their shoulders twitch as they quickly looked away.

‘They seem to know I’m the enemy…’

Obviously, news would have spread quickly through the communication network, unless something was wrong with it.

Is it survival of the fittest here too? Looks like if you don’t bother them first, they just let you pass. And since they wouldn’t stand a chance anyway, they’re just pretending they don’t see me.

‘Yeah, no one wants to die.’

The Demon Realm is convenient in times like this. Guess the habit of cowering to avoid being crushed by the strong is showing here too.

Deon calmly opened the familiar door. He was about to step inside, then—froze.

“…….”

Hesitantly, he didn’t step inside, just peered into the room with a face that showed his reluctance.

The room, awash in red, reflected in his crimson eyes. Deon calmly stepped inside, nudging the door almost shut, leaving just a sliver of space. Then, after checking that the window was properly open, he started to undress, focused on his purpose.

He knew that no demon brazen enough to loiter near his room would still be in the Demon King’s castle, so he wasn’t worried about the slightly ajar door.

Moments later, Deon, changed and ready, stood before the mirror. In its surface, which he hadn’t seen in ages, a young man stared back, neatly dressed in black, his expression unreadable.

The young man raised a hand, a bit self-consciously, and smoothed down his “neat” clothes.

“……Not bad.”

Buttons all in the right holes, no wrinkles in sight.

Was it because there was no one left to indulge his childishness? From the Lofty Knights to the servants at the Count’s Estate, Ed, even Dan. The clumsy clothes-tidying skills that used to keep so many busy hands occupied seemed to have vanished. It felt a little stiff, but the reflection in the mirror showed a perfectly presentable appearance, nothing to criticize.

His gaze, which had been scanning his whole body, paused at his shoulder.

‘The epaulets… Well, I put them on.’

Doubt they’ll be much use.

Because these are charms designed to impose ‘restrictions when crossing the border to the Human Realm.’ But a Demon King who can’t even cross the border to the Human Realm? That’s beyond the point.

Dan had prepared these epaulets, containing a ‘charm to suppress the opponent’s magic,’ just in case, it seemed. So he put them on, but they’d probably be useless too. Even the magic suppression array, set up with meticulous preparation, was said to be worthless against the Demon King. What good would a simplified charm fragment be?

‘A battle between the Hero and the Demon King can’t be decided by trinkets like these.’

If that were the case, battles would have devolved into who had the best gadgets long ago. Past Heroes weren’t stupid for facing the Demon King head-on, relying on their own strength.

Deon turned around.

‘Time to head out… Ah.’

He was about to leave, but then, from the edge of his vision, he noticed strands of white hair falling this way and that as he moved. He stopped.

Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered, but this time his opponent was the Demon King. Hair long enough to cover his wing bones could be a problem in a fight. Deon touched the ends of his hair, then started looking for a hair tie.

…….

Stopping by the training grounds to grab a few weapons, the Hero sharpened his senses and moved towards the direction of his nemesis.

The location was…

‘The central garden?’

***

[The Hero and the Demon King are proof of this world’s immaturity.]

In that sense, this world, which chose the wrong Hero, seems to be going through some serious growing pains. Well, they brought it on themselves.

Recalling the last line of a book he himself had written, the Demon King leisurely sipped his tea. The traces of the previous guest had been meticulously cleared, and fresh tea for the new one was set across from him.

‘He’s coming.’

His unique sense, honed to detect his nemesis, told him he was approaching. Even without it, the killing intent radiating from afar was enough to draw a faint smile from the Demon King.

‘This killing intent is… unique.’

How can killing intent carry such detachment? Aren’t those two energies fundamentally opposed?

The approaching energy paused at the entrance to the central garden, then the doors swung open. The lingering scent of blood, not yet completely masked, drifted into the greenhouse, which the Demon King had once filled with flowers from the Human Realm for Deon Hart’s peace of mind.

“Finally, teacher has arrived.”

Took you long enough.

The Demon King calmly set down his teacup and looked up. The Hero stood before him, armed with various weapons he himself had taught him, plus a long sword.

Facing his opponent, who radiated killing intent with every fiber of his being, the Demon King’s red eyes curved into a smirk.

“Brought plenty of weapons, I see.”

“…….”

“If I’d only seen your shadow, I might have thought the dead 8th Legion Commander had come back to life.”

The 8th Legion Commander…

Deon thought of Hel, the naive legion commander he’d eliminated using Stigma Primiero. His adjutant had died there too.

A light voice broke through his brief reverie.

“Anyway, come on in. This is probably the last time we’ll meet like this. How about a little chat?”

The Demon King gestured to the seat across from him, inviting him to sit. Deon, of course, remained standing.

His gaze, fixed on the wary Hero, noticed a scratch on his cheek, then scanned downwards, taking in his entire form. The Demon King, spotting the uncovered wound, slowly rose from his seat and approached.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as if to show he meant no harm. Deon stood still, watching him intently, ready to react to any sudden move.

A hand reached towards his face.

“The 3rd Legion Commander did this, huh?”

The touch was gentle, without malice, but you never knew when his opponent might change his mind. Every muscle in Deon’s body tensed, ready to drive a dagger into his throat at the slightest hint of danger.

Even though being watched by those unblinking crimson eyes, tracking his every move, could be unnerving, the Demon King calmly spoke, channeling magic power.

“Looks like you’ve picked up a few minor injuries here and there….”

“…….”

“Good thing.”

“Because I happen to have some healing ability left.”

While waiting for the Hero, the Demon King had drained nearly all his magic power, leaving only a sliver. He’d staked everything on this Hero, and this moment was the reason why.

‘Even if he is the Hero, there’s no way he’d come to kill the Demon King without picking up at least a scratch or two.’

To heal the Hero.

Guided by the Demon King’s will, the last vestiges of his magic power pulsed with healing intent. It flowed over the Hero’s body, from head to toe, mending his wounds.

Deon, who had been watching, waiting for something sinister, paused when he felt his wounds closing. His subconscious, finally grasping the situation, blurted out his true feelings.

“……Are you insane?”

“Of course not.”

With that, all his magic power was spent.

The Demon King chuckled, tapping the epaulets on Deon’s shoulder knowingly, then stepped back and unclasped the necklace he’d been wearing, tossing it aside.

“There, now I’m completely out of magic power.”

Guess I’ll be the first Demon King without magic. Doesn’t feel so bad.

“You’re healed, and I’m powerless. So, how about it? Isn’t that worth a little of your time?”

“……What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Hien, get over here.”

A gardener, who seemed to have been tending to the plants, had witnessed the scene from a distance and was quietly turning away when he froze.

Even though he was quite far off, it was so quiet that he couldn’t have missed the call. The incubus, looking close to tears, slowly approached the Demon King.

His face, pale with tension, shifted to confusion as he approached the Demon King, then confusion morphed into shock.

“Huk, Lord Demon King…!”

“Just one question. How much magic power do you think I have left?”

“Uh… It feels completely empty… What in the world…?”

“Enough. That’s enough, go get Ed.”

“Y-yes…!”

Hien scurried away. Ed’s reaction, when he was called in, was much the same as Hien’s.

The same question was put to him, his pupils silently trembling with shock.

“Just one question. How much magic power do you think I have left?”

“W-well, that is…”

Ed glanced at Deon, then quickly lowered his gaze and answered.

“It’s hard to tell, the magic level is so low… but it feels almost completely empty.”

“Really? Go on then.”

Ed vanished, and the Demon King turned to Deon, as if to say, ‘See?’

“Still think I’m talking nonsense?”

“…….”

……It was definitely a reaction of someone doubting their own eyes. The expression was too raw to be faked. Especially Ed, who was neutral, chosen by neither side, had no reason to lie in front of both of them.

After a moment of silence, Deon glanced at the moon’s position, then rubbed the spot where the Demon King’s healing had closed his wound. He finally sat down in the chair. Not even touching the tea that had been prepared, he crossed his arms and leaned back, a silent prompt that made the Demon King chuckle softly.

“Well then… First things first, I should ask if you’re feeling alright.”

“……Unless my memory is failing me, you just healed me yourself.”

“Not that. I mean your chronic condition, right?”

Tilting his head, he pointed to his forehead with a finger. “The mild fever, I mean.”

Deon’s expression turned cold, hard.

“That’s hardly your concern, is it?”

“True enough… but you’ve been awfully curt with me since you got here.”

“Because it’s over now.”

We’d been playing pretend from the start, knowingly ignorant, like ostriches with our heads in the sand. There was nothing new about dropping the pretense now.

The Demon King shrugged, a gesture of agreement, and changed the subject. He steered the conversation towards a lighter topic, as if to defuse the tense atmosphere.

“Heard about the victories. You really did take down three countries at once. The other kingdoms, fine, but hearing about the Empire falling, that was… something else.”

It was the nation we used to fear the most, after all.

The Empire truly rose like a comet and fell like a meteor. In the first generation, it surpassed nations with centuries of history to become the Demon Realm’s greatest fear, only to crumble in the second.

‘The first Emperor was certainly something.’

It was the first time in history the Demon Realm had feared a nascent nation. And it was the first time they’d been more wary of the Empire’s ‘official Heroes’ than the fragments of Heroes from other, older kingdoms.

Eudoardo Deserte was an emperor of that caliber. Even his personal martial prowess was extraordinary. Humans like him probably only appear once in an era.

“Well, water under the bridge now. Still, I wanted to commend you for taking down the Empire. Usually, the golden age influence fades by the third generation, right?”

You can see it in how the Empire’s soldiers still spoke the same way even after the Emperor changed from the first to the second generation.

Shouts of ‘trample them all!’ and ‘show them the price for daring to touch us!’ Still endlessly arrogant, as if defeat was unthinkable. Unlike other countries, whose slogans are about ‘protecting’ their nation, their king, their safety, something precious, the Empire’s battle cry was simply to bring glory to themselves.

An arrogant cry only predators could make.

When you think about it, Deon, who brought down those guys, is also quite something…

“……Not interested in that.”

Deon cut him off sharply.

Not interested in that drivel. Looks like you just want to chat one last time, no real point to it. But instead of listening to useless chatter, I’d rather clear up my own questions and feelings, focusing on what I want to address.

So, this time, he changed the subject himself.

“I heard you were spouting nonsense to my guys.”