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Chapter 239
Chapter 239
Chapter 239
About ten years ago, when the Seven Dragon Lords were first defeated in this land.
At that time, the Demon Army was powerful, and humanity could barely hold onto half of its territory, retreating in haste. Their tactics were merely a delay tactic—struggling against the promised destruction.
The embodiment of rage, Tumor of the Titan, took the lead of the legion.
This was astonishing. Did the Seven Dragon Lords not weaken the most when they left their lairs? And after the fall of humanity, it was evident that the demons would turn their blades upon each other.
The destruction of humanity did not guarantee a permanent peace. The demons were born to conquer, and if there were no subjects to dominate, they would struggle to dominate each other.
Thus, Tumor’s advance was surprising. He willingly left the throne and slaughtered civilization. And, for the first time in history, he became the one who defeated a Seven Dragon Lord.
The Hero Party appeared.
There were no signs or traces. They infiltrated the Demon Realm without a glorious return or magnificent parade. Like mold, they permeated and slaughtered the backlines of the Demon Realm before disappearing.
The first Seven Dragon Lords looked upon this with amusement. The flailing of the insects and the death of a powerful rival who had gone mad alone.
When the Parnich of Evil was killed, the Seven Dragon Lords could no longer laugh. He died within the throne, and they realized the Hero Party had not lost a single member in the process.Within the throne, the Seven Dragon Lords were no different from gods. This was not an exaggerated description, but a plain statement of fact. What else could be said of the immortals who governed concepts and crafted the sacred?
And when it was proven that even such gods could die within their territory, the Seven Dragon Lords refused to participate.
Even when the Hero Party headed toward the Demon King. Even when the absolute being, who had subdued all Seven Dragon Lords and promised eternal glory to the Demon Realm, fell.
The Seven Dragon Lords remained silent. Even as they watched the death of the Demon King, they did not intervene. They thought to themselves that opposing the Hero Party now would be foolish.
All humans inevitably fade away with time, so time must surely favor their hands.
With such an optimistic view. Or, if all others die and disappear, the fewer gods left in this land, the more competitors vanish.
With a somewhat political calculation.
It was not so.
The Demon King died, the war ended, and when the Hero Party was disbanded, Abiditas, who had just begun to take action, was killed.
Not by a hero, but by lesser beings. Within the throne.
Time passed again, and humanity weakened more than ever, with most members of the Hero Party dead or vanished, and even their gods had abandoned this land.
Could there be a better opportunity? Now, that sweet land, life, blood, and flesh could fill their starving bellies, could they not?
Lamerics was the first to act, and immediately died. Facing the weaker nations that had not even drawn attention in the last war.
Once seven, the number of gods had now become three. When more than half of the competitors had died, the immortals suddenly felt fear.
This is a hunt.
Once claiming to be the strongest in this land, those who disrespected temples and reigned over millions of demons were now turning into prey.
Those whom they thought would no longer unite gathered in one place. For prey must gather, and competition is not a value after survival.
And then.
“How have you been?”
As a man appeared with the clang of chains, the others lowered their heads without hesitation.
The essence of the demon race is survival of the fittest. In their society, only strength proves everything. Neither long years nor great numbers could gain respect from them.
The respect of the demon race could only be seized before strength, and the Demon King had proven this by ruling over all Seven Dragon Lords.
Thus, if a being that slaughtered such a Demon King had appeared…
-Lead us.
There was no reason not to call him the Demon King.
Moreover, if he possesses such formidable divinity, even more so.
“Really not easy…”
Elizaveta muttered as she looked down at the two people raising their hands inside the hastily set-up barracks.
It was not permissible to scold the one who proved himself as the contemporary hero by killing the Seven Dragon Lords in front of others. That would tarnish the honor of a hero.
And to be more honest, she didn’t want to see Ivan floundering in front of others. The consort of a king must be the most dignified.
“Bankar.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Ivan Petrovich Krasilov. Our country strictly prohibits polygamy…”
However, she thought for a moment that it was not a country that bans polygamy. Elizaveta chose her words while looking at the hero from a country where polygamy was encouraged (if able) and the scout from a country where it wasn’t too criticized to have multiple wives.
“It will be prohibited. And, no, before that! What on earth do you think you’re doing… making out and giggling in front of your consort—”
Instead of explaining that he had never giggled or made out, Ivan neatly lowered his head. He was the very embodiment of a ‘loyal subject wronged yet not protesting’ as if drawn in a painting, making Elizaveta’s eyes well up with tears as she pounded her chest.
She wasn’t sure if it was the nausea or if she was just absurd about it.
Honestly, can nausea even develop this early? I mean, can it? Is it even possible for nausea to come this early? Filled with fear, Elizaveta glanced down at her slender belly when, at that moment, she locked eyes with Isabelle.
Giggle.
Isabelle was quietly chuckling with her whole body.
“…Heh.”
She was even suppressing her laughter as she struggled to keep a straight face. Elizaveta felt a chill wash over her.
That girl.
Suddenly feeling her hand twitching toward the sword hilt resting on her arm, she took a deep breath. When Ivan noticed her change in expression and looked up, Isabelle quickly composed herself and turned her head away.
“…Isabelle.”
“…”
Elizaveta’s eerie voice did not prompt Isabelle to look up.
“Isabelle.”
“…”
“Isabelle de Etuale.”
“…”
“…Hero.”
“Yes! Your Highness!! The contemporary hero is here!!”
Is she really insane?
Elizaveta felt her jaw tighten as she looked at Isabelle. She stepped back just enough so that Ivan’s gaze barely missed her, and faced Isabelle, who was grinning—
She truly realized. That girl, no, that young lady is.
An enemy.
And the ruler of Krasilov never backs down in front of an enemy. Elizaveta fixed her stiff gaze on Ivan.
“Aah, Bankar. I’m having contractions. Ah, so this is the feeling. Carrying a life…”
“…??”
Ivan was confused. Judging from basic biological knowledge, even if something was in Elizaveta’s womb, it was likely just at the cellular stage.
In this damned pre-modern fantasy world, can even cells give the mother contractions…?
“Aah, mister. My eyesight is strange. The world is getting dark and faint, sniff sniff.”
“…??”
Ivan was even more perplexed. Though Isabelle shared similar symptoms, a sudden outburst at such a moment was not typical.
In this confusion, Ivan glanced between the two women looking at him and suddenly gained insight.
Ah, so that’s how it is.
Indeed. This is a kind of cliché… a hero story cliché. In reality, he was a veteran who had witnessed such situations several times.
‘The conflict between power and the hero.’
This has been an ancient tradition. A hero is inevitably a powerful individual with authority and strength, and rulers often struggled to cope with this transnational individual surpassing their authority.
It was not easy to issue commands, nor to acknowledge them. Inevitably, rulers are those who cannot tolerate a race superior to themselves. Even kings.
Hence, in those days, there were many rulers who tried to contain or felt uneasy about heroes. Elizaveta doing so was somewhat surprising.
Elizaveta is a great person. As a king, she is someone to whom one would gladly show loyalty.
For Kim Sunwoo, who had lived as a thoughtless student for over 20 years, or Ivan, who had lived as an ordinary soldier who could be disregarded for 30 years, it was difficult to understand that young superhuman who held a kingdom in her mid-twenties.
It seems that the qualities of a king are indeed inherited. Ivan easily accepted this. Ordinary citizens cannot understand rulers.
However, even such a splendid monarch seemed unable to easily accept the authority of the suddenly appeared hero. Well, considering her age, that might be understandable. Even if she is still immature…
“Bankar.”
“Sir!”
So it also became clear why they were shouting at him now. Ivan was both a member of the Hero Party and a soldier of Krasilov. That is, he was their only common ground.
He had an obligation to mediate. In fact, the reason why the previous Hero Party had members carefully selected from various countries was precisely that—to be representatives of all nations and also to serve as mediators for all rulers.
“First, let us return, Your Majesty.”
Ivan gently reassured Elizaveta.
“Wait outside for a moment.”
In the role of a wise scout, he ejected Isabelle out of the barracks. Isabelle left with a betrayed puppy face, staggering out of the barracks.
A conversation summarizing things like, “If I fight her, whose side will you take?” or “If we both fall into water, who will you save first?” continued for a long time inside the king’s barracks.
In fact, it was more like an interrogation than a conversation. Ivan sighed inwardly while calming the strangely enraged Elizaveta.
How did Beolgrin manage to handle such situations so skillfully back then? (He did not.)
“Bankar, once we return, we will hold the wedding ceremony. A grand one, and we will invite all the heroes to it. Factually, it could already be seen as delayed. Shouldn’t it have happened last summer?”
Last summer, the royal tournament which had Elizaveta, who was still a princess, as the prize. In fact, Ivan had been the unofficial winner, so he should have stamped the marriage certificate then.
After briefly comforting her, he spoke as her sobs gradually subsided.
“That would be difficult, Your Majesty.”
“…What?”
“I must head straight to the Demon Realm.”
“…What…?”
“The Hero Party has now completed their preparations. The time has finally come to annihilate all remaining Seven Dragon Lords. Your Majesty, please command us. Hold the return ceremony and bless the heroes.”
The right to officially bless the contemporary Hero Party. Thus, the right to proclaim the arrival of heroes ahead of any nation and ruler in this world.
It is capable of guaranteeing the vast authority of the Krasilov royal family. As a servant of Krasilov, he needed to explain that he must not miss this opportunity.
Elizaveta was sitting on Ivan’s thigh and listened blankly for a while about his explanation when suddenly,
“Impossible!!”
“Your Majesty.”
“Impossible! Impossible! Impossible!!”
She stomped her feet and shouted.
Thus, persuading a ruler is not easy. Ivan involuntarily admired Beolgrin’s achievements.
Whatever Elizaveta wanted to do, or whatever scheme Isabelle had in mind, the task the 2nd Legion of Krasilov needed to undertake was clear.
Ovidis was foreign territory, and Krasilov had come to this land solely under the banner of “Striking the Seven Dragon Lords.”
In other words, it meant they were an expeditionary force. And an expeditionary force naturally incurs enormous financial losses just by breathing.
So, the 2nd Legion of Krasilov began its withdrawal with the demise of Lamerics.
The march from Frechenkaya to Ovidis through the underground path would take about a month and a half. Since they had to dig while moving, the withdrawal would be completed in half that time.
In other words, three weeks. The time needed to return to Frechenkaya is merely three weeks. When calculating the speed of thousands of men moving across multiple nations, it was comparable to Mongolian cavalry in terms of mobility.
However, regardless of that speed, it also meant that for those three weeks, Frechenkaya would effectively be disarmed, except for a small defensive force.
A vampire was swallowing someone’s blood in the darkness of Frechenkaya.
Side ep. The Correct Strategy.
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