The Wolf King Lunared was mercilessly defeated.

He hadn’t even grazed the Demon King’s feet, let alone his neck.

Facing the intangible darkness exuded by the Demon King, the werewolf Lunared fought valiantly but ultimately fell to his knees.

"In my lifetime, and even after my resurrection here... I’ve faced all sorts of powerful beings."

Torn apart and drenched in blood, Lunared mumbled through his broken fangs as he lay crushed on the ground.

"You’re really on a different level of strength. Damn it..."

"You’re the type who doesn’t understand unless you experience it physically, Lunared," the Demon King chuckled, looking down at the werewolf without a scratch on himself.

His face shrouded in dark shadows, only the corners of his blank, white mouth curled up into a smile.

"You’re the only one bold enough to challenge me. I don’t hate you for it."

"..."

"Forgive me, my nightmare."

The Demon King extended his hand, and the horribly defeated Lunared was fully restored.

Bones mended, torn muscles reconnected; it was as if the aftermath of their intense battle was all a lie—Lunared was entirely healed.

Just as Lunared was struggling to get up, the Demon King flicked his finger and chuckled.

"But you still need to receive the ’punishment’ that was initially planned, right?"

Snap!magic

Immediately after,

Thud-!

A violent vomit of blood erupted from Lunared’s nose and mouth.

The gigantic werewolf who had just half-risen collapsed back onto the ground.

Kneeling on the ground, Lunared clutched his left chest while groaning.

"What the hell did you..."

"Werewolves have two hearts. One for the wolf, one for the human," the Demon King dusted off his hand lightly.

"I’ve destroyed one of them. Not sure which one, though."

"...!"

"Feel free to challenge me anytime, Lunared. But breaking my rules is unforgivable."

The Demon King suddenly erased the smile from his face and lowered his voice.

"I’m playing this ’game’ by the ’rules.’ Don’t mess with my enjoyment, wolf."

With blood still in his mouth, Lunared squinted his eyes glaring at the Demon King.

"A disturbance? I merely worked for the victory of our legion!"

"..."

"I don’t have the luxury of sitting back and playing chess like you!"

That’s why, against the king’s prohibition, he had hastily sent his subordinates along with Jormungandr.

Although it was a failure, Lunared did not believe his actions were so wrong that they deserved punishment.

With a boiling voice, Lunared roared.

"Why! Why are you sparing them, my king! If all the nightmares you resurrected marched at once, the human race would be eradicated instantly!"

"Haha."

The Demon King then snorted.

"Lunared, my loyal hound. You ask why?"

The Demon King lowered his shadowy form and sat in front of the fallen werewolf.

"...Simply because it’s fun."

He whispered like a serpent.

"I’ve destroyed this world hundreds, thousands of times. But what I truly desire, I haven’t acquired yet."

Lunared’s eyes widened, unable to comprehend the words.

To think that this world has been destroyed hundreds, even thousands of times?

What does that even mean? Then what is this world right now?

"No matter how enjoyable something is, repeating it endlessly will make it dull. That’s why I introduced rules and started a game with my arch-nemesis."

The hand of the Demon King rested on Lunared’s head, gently stroking his blood-soaked silver mane.

As if handling a dog. It was a humiliating touch.

"To inject a bit of fun into this tedious and dull world-killing."

The Demon King smirked at Lunared’s confused expression.

"I never expected ’pieces’ like you to understand from the beginning. All you need to do is move as I command."

"..."

"Now prepare for the campaign, Lunared. I will entrust this ’Grand Scheme’ to you."

At the words of the Demon King, Lunared clenched his left chest and stood up.

Although blood continued to flow from his nose and mouth due to a shattered heart, he strained himself not to show pain.

"Wasn’t this the invasion you’ve been yearning for? Go ahead and obliterate humanity."

"..."

Catching his breath, Lunared spoke."If I succeed, my Lord, grant me one wish."

"What is the wish?"

"Your neck."

Baring his fangs, the werewolf growled.

"...Allow me to tear it out just once."

"Granted."

The Demon King responded promptly.

"I’ll let you bite me as many times as you want, so do your best."

"..."

"Show me an entertaining game."

Lunared thought to himself. He would surely bring humanity to an end with his own hands.

And he would break that arrogant Demon King’s ’pleasure’ with his own hands.

Staring at the shifting shadow-like Demon King, the one who had resurrected him in this place, the werewolf made his resolution.

***

"Yaaawn."

I let out a long yawn.

It was a day after having a good sleep that all the nearly passed-out hero characters, including myself, somewhat regained consciousness.

After feeding them lunch, I sent them all back to their respective lodgings.

I can’t let them stay in the guest rooms of the mansion forever.

But even after most had recovered and returned, there was still one who lay groaning.

"Kellibey~"

The old dwarf was sprawled out on the bed in the guest room, clutching his back in pain.

I chuckled as I entered the room, calling the name of the dwarven blacksmith.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Don’t talk to me, you rascal. I feel like I’ve half-crossed the Jordan River..."

"Don’t be so dramatic..."

Kellibey had apparently hurt his back while flying around on Jormungandr’s back.

Perhaps someone his age should not have tried to evolve into a flying dwarf so recklessly.

In any case, he couldn’t return to the Lake Kingdom base camp and was currently in recovery, receiving meticulous healing from the priests.

"Why not move your household here? I’ll set up a splendid workshop for you, and provide ample materials and funds. We can just commute to the Lake Kingdom. What do you think?"

"How many times do I have to say no...?"

“If your body’s weak, your mind follows suit, doesn’t it? When else will we get a chance to recruit a Master Blacksmith?”

“Damn, you’re brutally honest, you little rascal…”

Kellibey, who had been chuckling, suddenly let out a short yelp, doubling over as if in pain. He must have genuinely hurt himself.

“For a while, it would be good if you could help me recuperate. There’s no point in heading back to the dungeon in this state; it’s better to heal fully and then go.”

With a grimacing face, Kellibey spoke. I chuckled sarcastically.

“Ah, rest sounds good! Take a few months to relax in this mansion!”

“Relax, sure, but not in this mansion. Hell, no.”

“What? This mansion is the most comfortable place in the city, isn’t it?”

Granted, the guest room Kellibey was staying in had been redesigned to Evangeline’s taste. A blinding combination of pink-yellow-frills-and-lace, but it’s rare to find such a comfortable guest room in Crossroad.

“I mean, there’s not enough fire energy!”

Kellibey, who was being rather fussy for a guest, finally showed his displeasure.

“Dwarves need a hearth and furnace even when they sleep!”

“What kind of madman wants to be near a fire in the heat of summer…”

It was late summer, but the weather was still considerably hot. And yet he wanted to be near a fire.

“Should we add more logs to the fireplace?”

“No, not some half-assed fire like that!”

Only then did Kellibey clarify his demands.

“Let me stay in the city’s largest smithy! The one with the biggest fire!”

***

And so, Kellibey was delivered, bed and all, next to the largest furnace in the Crossroad smithy.

When initially asked to lend the largest furnace, the head of the blacksmith’s guild was dumbfounded and tried to decline. But when he learned that an Elder Dwarf Blacksmith would be using it, he almost prostrated himself, begging me to bring him there.

“An Elder Dwarf Blacksmith! Even if I can only watch him work from behind, no, even if I can just watch him hammer, it would be good enough! We will vacate the largest furnace and workshop for him!”

And that’s how Kellibey came to occupy the most prestigious spot even in a fairly large Crossroad smithy.

Leaning his back towards the furnace that had its flames roaring at full force, Kellibey looked satisfied.

“Ah~ this is warm. I think I’m getting better.”

Kellibey, who had been soaking up the fire’s energy, turned towards me with a slightly healthier complexion.

“And it’d be great if you could find me a decent assistant.”

“There are skilled blacksmiths all around this smithy.”I gestured to our surroundings.

Human blacksmiths who were there to witness the Elder Dwarf Blacksmith were glaring at us, their eyes filled with eagerness.

“These guys won’t do. They’re too accustomed to human methods.”

But Kellibey was unforgiving.

“It’s not that the human way is bad, but dwarves and humans have fundamentally different ways of handling metals. We might learn applications from each other, but as an assistant, their ingrained habits will clash with mine.”

“So, what you’re saying is... find an assistant who’s smart but has zero knowledge in blacksmithing?”

“Exactly! A robust and sincere guy who can follow my directions without any fuss.”

I nodded in understanding and stepped out of the blacksmith’s shop, giving Lucas, who was waiting, a nod.

"Let’s head to the Mercenary Guild."

It was a good opportunity; I was already planning on recruiting some new mercenaries. Let’s find someone who fits the criteria that Kellibey mentioned.

Just before leaving the blacksmith’s shop, I discreetly whispered to the flushed-faced guild master of the Blacksmith’s Guild.

"If you have him around for a few weeks to a few months, squeeze out all the know-how you can. He’s too kind to refuse, so ask him anything you’re curious about."

"Of course, my lord!"

"He’ll like it if you serve him a bit of alcohol while showing proper respect. Just handle it well."

I patted the guild master’s shoulder and exited the blacksmith’s shop.

The last I saw inside, all the human blacksmiths were flocking toward Kellibey, who was lying down, offering him massages.

Old man’s a real hit...

***

Mercenary Guild.

Quite a number of new recruits had filled in since I’d last visited.

I looked over their profiles, conducting interviews on the spot and immediately hiring them.

My policy is basically to hire everyone; unless they have a serious flaw, I take them under my wing.

’No SSRs or SRs in sight, huh.’

Most of them are common soldiers, and the hero characters are almost all R-grade or N-grade.

However, who could tell which one of them might carry the game in the future?

As I was wrapping up the new recruitments, transferring around a hundred or so newbies to be affiliated with Crossroad...

"...?"

Two mercenaries caught my eye.

One was the highest-grade hero I’d met today, an SR-grade.

The man, in his 40s or 50s, had deep brown hair hanging in loose curls and emanated a purple hue, indicative of his SR status. His eyes carried a heavy, somewhat sad expression.

"You’re from the north?"

I asked as I skimmed through his profile, to which the SR-grade warrior named ’Camus’ nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

"You used to be a soldier."

"I’m a remnant of a kingdom long fallen... Aren’t most mercenaries similar in that regard?"

Well, that’s true. Half of them are knights or remnants of fallen kingdoms.

Anyway, I had seen this guy, Camus, a few times in the game before.

A decent SR-grade warrior character; used well, he could serve as an excellent vanguard.

There was no reason to decline an SR-grade. I immediately hired Camus.

"Looking forward to working with you."

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty."

Camus showed a gloomy smile. It’d be nice if he lightened up a bit.

The second mercenary that caught my eye emanated a gray color, indicating an N-grade.

A young boy.

With bright brown hair covering his eyes and a diminutive stature, he looked to be about fifteen. His name was Hannibal.

Through the hair obscuring his eyes, I glimpsed two that were perfectly steady.

He was the first among all the mercenaries I met today whose gaze didn’t waver.

"I heard about the southern front and came to see for myself."

"Heard what?"

"That you pay well and treat mercenaries as soldiers."

Hannibal spoke in a youthful voice, still unbroken by puberty.

"Please use me. You won’t regret it."

"I’m sorry, but you’re too young to be sent to the front lines."

In the Southern Front, soldiers had to be at least sixteen years old. Considering I find even sixteen to be incredibly young, there was no way I could send this fifteen-year-old kid into battle.

"Then let me do odd jobs or something. I’ll do whatever you ask. And once my next birthday comes around, I’ll stand on the front lines."

Hannibal responded as if he had prepared for this. Hmm, it looked like he came with a purpose.

For some reason, I took a liking to him.

It also reminded me of Dion, who had died some time ago.

"...Alright, Hannibal."

So, I decided to hire the kid.

"Would you like to try being an assistant to the Elder Dwarf?"

--TL Notes--

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