The tower's interior was a maze. Traps filled every corner, and monsters lurked around every turn. It was a typical Demon King's tower.

Yet that was precisely what gave Balaf a strange sense of unease.

'... Why?'

Because it was so unlike everything the Demon King of Hellfire had done so far. The bastard had toyed with humanity by hiding his tower and even moving it. And yet his tower was this conventional, this normal?

"When you think about it, building a tower somewhere else is very simple. We were the ones so caught up in their Guide that it ended up trapping our thinking."

"You mean, since it was such a simple change, it might be only natural that the interior hasn't changed much either?"

"That's what I think. Honestly, moving it makes no sense. We simply failed to find it."

"Well, wouldn't the mage know best? Now that we've found the tower, there can be no doubt. Even if there are traps, aren't you confident you can smash through them all?"

Gillian agreed with Aina, and Balaf accepted the explanation as well. It stemmed from confidence. Just as Gillian had said, Balaf was certain he could crush whatever bullshit the Demon King tried with sheer strength and cut off his head.

"We're going up to the next floor. Watch out for the Four Heavenly Kings."

"Come to think of it, none of the Four Heavenly Kings have appeared this time."

"They must have lost their nerve at the sight of our army and tucked their tails."

"True. When Sir Hillen and Sir Dafner climbed Erjest, they were literally a search party. This time, we're an army corps."

The maze was long, and the monsters were stronger than expected. But that was all. They were nowhere near formidable enough to stop three Stars and 349 heroes, especially when one of those Stars was Balaf Dislord.

SLASH!

A monster exuding demonic energy—no, a demonic creature—was split in two before it could even scream.

As they continued, Balaf put his unease aside. Demonic energy flowed throughout the tower, and demonic creatures inhabited it. It was the same kind of Demon King's tower he had visited time and again. He needed to be on guard, certainly, but there was no need to find it stranger than necessary.

That was what he thought, right up until they cleared the second-floor maze, which differed from the first only slightly in layout, and climbed the stairs toward the third floor.

"...?"

"... Huh?"

"Hm?"

The stairs ended abruptly. There was no door, nor any third floor. Only a bare ceiling greeted them.

"... A ceiling?"

Impossible. Even a newly descended Demon King's tower had five floors as a rule, as far as he knew—

That was when he sensed an enormous movement of mana.

"It's a trap!"

Balaf unleashed his aura, wrapping it around his entire body. Gillian and the other heroes who sensed something wrong did the same.

"Aina!"

"Yes!"

Aina hurriedly chanted a spell. A massive water barrier began enveloping the heroes.

At that very moment—

BOOOOM!

The explosion erupted.

'Mana bombs?'

They were no ordinary mana bombs. If they had been, he could not have failed to detect them.

'They're mixed with demonic energy.'

More precisely, they were coated in it. Blending with the demonic energy flowing throughout the tower, they had concealed their presence completely. Like a tree hidden in a forest. How was this possible?

Balaf stopped thinking. The situation gave him no time for reflection.

'Front, back, left, right.'

Above and below, too. Bombs were everywhere. Flames surged toward them from every direction. The water barrier evaporated entirely before the overwhelming firepower.

He split the onrushing flames in two. The instant he struck aside the fire in front of him, impacts battered him from all sides. The flames devoured the heroes' flesh and blood. Their screams were buried beneath the blasts. Aura melted helplessly away, whispering of death.

Even so, Balaf did not fall.

He restored his shattering aura. If one swing was not enough, he swung twice, three times. His slashes drove back the impacts, but only for a moment.

Unable to withstand the heat and the aura pushed beyond its limits, his sword shattered with a sharp crack. Balaf flung away what was now little more than a hilt and immediately opened his storage dimension.

RIIING!

The sword cried out in delight at the utterly familiar energy. Its clear ringing sounded distinctly even amid the explosions. The red sword craved the flames. Cutting through them and swallowing them, it greedily absorbed every fire it touched.

RUMBLE!

Even as the tower collapsed and the blast struck beyond it, the sword was busy filling its belly. But there was too little time to swallow every flame, to stop every explosion surging beyond the tower toward the coalition.

The storm passed.

"Haha..."

Feeling the abundant heat through the red sword, Balaf gave a hollow laugh.

It was disastrous. The tower had collapsed, and most of the heroes who entered it had been wiped out. Even the Star Gillian Aint was half melted. Aina Diaphrin had barely endured, but excessive mana depletion had left her unconscious.

And what of the coalition army?

Heat meeting snow had shrouded the surroundings in steam, but it could not conceal the scene from his eyes. Within was a picture of hell itself. A knight screamed, skin half melted away. A soldier who had lost a leg crawled across the ground. A hero who had barely survived clutched a comrade's charred corpse and wailed.

Corpses, screams, blood, despair, and cries of anguish.

A single explosion had wrought all this. The Demon King of Hellfire had toyed with him and humanity once again.

And it did not end there.

A flash erupted. Black light shot upward, piercing the sky, then scattered in every direction, proclaiming its presence. It was sickeningly revolting demonic energy. The foul stench of monsters grew stronger all around.

"Luring monsters in after the explosion..."

He had been had. Utterly, completely had.

Why hadn't he thought of this? Why hadn't he realized that the tower itself was a trap?

Of course he hadn't!

Blood ran from Balaf's clenched fist. Who in the world—which Demon King—would build a fake tower and use it as a trap? What Demon King would devise such an elaborate trap?

"... Come out."

Flames surged, feeding on their master's blood and growing hotter still.

WHOOOSH!

Crimson Hellfire cleaved the demonic energy, cutting it off so it could spread no farther.

"Come out."

You goddamn Demon King bastard.

"Come out!"

It was empty rage. Nothing more than heat he could not contain. It was a grudge that could never be assuaged unless he struck, broke, or killed something right now, and so he sought the Demon King more desperately than anyone.

Then, as if by a miracle—

BOOOOOM!

The Demon King appeared.

* * *

The chocolate was sweet. It was the perfect accompaniment to admiring the beautiful scenery he had created.

"Now, then."

A beautiful explosion, vanishing along with the tower. The first act of the show he had prepared was over. It was time to move on to the second: a desperate battle between the wounded coalition and the monsters drawn by demonic energy. It would be utterly brutal, beautiful, and entertaining.

"Jason Cockmundo."

What expression would he wear when he heard the outcome? Would he openly rage as he had last time, or let it pass without a word? And how would he respond afterward? Would he target Golden Moon again? Or would he send the remaining expedition against the tower once more?

Either way, it was delightful. Whatever Jason did, Berge would pay him no mind and continue his current hard-line course.

"To think being able to move the tower would be this wonderful."

The certainty that his tower would never be discovered had made him this way. No matter what he did, no matter what trouble he stirred up, he could survive.

"Yes, even if I were to kidnap the Empire's First Prince again..."

Even then...

Berge fell silent. His gaze returned to the stage he had created down below.

Displeasure, aversion, disgust, and hatred rose within him. An uninvited guest had appeared. Flames soaring high into the sky cleaved the demonic energy. That power, that presence, was utterly familiar to Berge. He could never forget it for as long as he lived.

"The red sword."

It had cut through his scales.

"The red sword."

It had pierced his heart.

"The red sword!"

That very sword. That energy. That savage dragon-slaying power.

He spread his wings and took to the sky. Dark crimson flames left a long trail behind him. He plunged straight down toward the center of the stage.

BOOOOOM!

Two different flames collided. The undissipated shock wave swept through the surroundings.

"... You bastard," Berge growled. "Where did you get that sword?"

"You."

Balaf lifted his eyes.

"You're a Demon King. You're the Demon King of Hellfire, aren't you?"

Berge made no attempt to hide his demonic energy. Balaf could feel its thick presence.

Their eyes met.

"Balaf Dislord?"

A strange light entered Berge's eyes. This was different. He was not the hero who had pierced his heart and mocked him in the past.

But that sword was the same sword. The energy it radiated was the same energy. There was no mistake. He could not have sensed it wrongly. He had dwelled on it over and over, even in his dreams.

Then...

'It's only in his hands temporarily.'

There was a gap of roughly ten years between now and the time of Berge's death. There would be nothing particularly strange about a new hero appearing and the sword changing owners.

'Yes, that's only natural.'

But that was no reason to spare Balaf now. Possessing the sword alone was reason enough to die.

His opponent felt the same way.

A Demon King had appeared. Kill him.

Balaf Dislord's thoughts instantly converged on that single conclusion.

"Why would a Demon King be interested in this sword?"

Only the puzzlement stirred by the Demon King's last question held his boiling rage in check for a moment.

"When I ask, you answer."

"I asked you a question in return, you Demon King bastard. Trapping us has gone to your head so badly you can't tell what's what anymore, has it?"

"What?"

"You seem to be laboring under a very serious misconception."

Balaf took a long stride toward him.

"The reason I haven't killed you yet, the reason you've gotten the better of me, isn't that you're stronger than I am. It's because you're a coward who pulls this shitty nonsense, hiding your tower and laying traps."

"I see."

Berge gave a short laugh. Dark crimson flames wrapped around his entire body.

"I've wasted too many words on a worm. I should have started by killing you."

"How terrifying. Anyone watching would think you were a Demon King who descended a hundred years ago."

The first to move was the great hero.

WHOOSH!

In an instant, he was right in front of Berge. The flames, unable to keep pace, trace a red trail a moment later.

CLANG!

Flame tangles with flame. The sword is stopped by sharp claws. Dragon energy tears into dragon energy.

BOOM!

Undissipated impacts spread outward. Just before they fade completely, Berge reaches out with his other hand.

SCREEECH!

The sword slides free of Berge's grasp, knocking his other hand aside as well. Balaf leans back slightly with the impact, then uses the recoil to swing his sword in a wide arc. A slash that strikes through space bears down on the Demon King.

BOOM!

A rising wall of flame blocks the slash, but it soon shatters. Dimensional interference, which exists to annihilate beings from other dimensions, lends its strength to the hero.

The wall vanishes. But the Demon King is no longer behind it.

Above.

Balaf thrusts his sword toward the sky. It clashes with flames pouring straight down.

Balaf kicks off the ground. Shooting upward like a cannonball, he cuts a straight path through the flames. At their end, a fist covered in scales awaits him.

CRASH!

He is driven into the ground at twice the speed of his ascent. From the pale cloud of snow and dust, Balaf surges upward again. Flames provide thrust, accelerating him once more.

CLANG!

BANG!

Sword and claws collide. Fist and sword, fist and fist, foot and foot strike at one another. Space tears and the air ripples. Flames, aura, mana, dimensional interference—everything tangles together.

Berge reveals a little of his true form. Dark crimson dragon scales cover his skin. The dragon-slaying sword, forged and refined until its nature has become the exact opposite of what it once was, tears through those scales. The brief resistance creates a small opening. Dragon claws graze the hero's shoulder.

The energy that passes them creates a vast crater far behind. Coalition troops caught in the aftermath scream.

"... What the hell are you?!"

As the battle continues, a strange unease envelops Balaf. A flood of questions takes over his mind.

'Why?'

How can a Demon King who has been here for only two years possess this much strength?

'Why?'

Why isn't dimensional interference exerting its full power? It is the dimension's power acting upon beings from other dimensions. It is the world's will to protect itself.

It is not completely helpless, but considering that his opponent is a Demon King, it is terribly ineffective. Unless this were one of the monsters that have survived for ages, gained the dimension's recognition, and settled here...

'It makes no sense.'

A Demon King summoned only two years ago, already recognized by the dimension? Such a thing cannot exist. Must not exist.

And so, without fail—

'I'll kill him here.'

Any thought of keeping him alive to question him is already gone. If he does not kill him now, the Demon King will return as a terrible threat. His instincts, honed over long years as a hero, warn him fiercely.

CRACK!

He twists his sword, severing the flow of demonic energy. Flames and aura mingle. He thrusts the surging energy into a gap in that flow, striking through space and targeting the Demon King's vital points.

Facing that violent wave, the Demon King steadies his breathing. He mixes demonic energy and mana, shaping them into a single form. Compressing them tightly, he opens his mouth and unleashes them.

BOOOOM!

The two powers collide. The world shakes. Unable to dissipate the impact, Berge staggers in midair. The wave that veers away obliterates an entire mountain peak.

'Impossible.'

His breath had failed to block the hero's strike completely. The savage blade pierced his demonic energy and raked his body. Dragon-slaying power tore away his scales, and cold steel dug into his flesh. He avoided a fatal wound, but that unexpected strength brought his thoughts to a halt.

'This is a hero who's killed only one Demon King?'

Impossible. No matter how long he had lived as a hero, no matter how many decades he had been hailed as the greatest, a human had limits. Even the power of a Demon King had limits.

Hillen Cargill could strive for decades more and still never catch up to this man. Even if he killed several more Demon Kings, he could not surpass him.

This was certainty, not conjecture. Because Berge's two years had been no ordinary two years.

He had absorbed the Phoenix's corpse and awakened mana. Absorbed Vivian's tower and improved his efficiency. Consumed a dragon heart and fully united two distinct powers.

He was equal to, or stronger than, his former self just before his regression, when he had freed himself from more than half the dimensional interference restricting him. That was why he had been confident—confident he could overwhelm anyone one-on-one.

And yet, Balaf Dislord. What in the world was this hero?

"You," Berge murmured quietly. "Just how many Demon Kings have you killed?"

"And are you really the Demon King of Hellfire?!"

Their questions about each other are devoured by murderous intent. Balaf Dislord hones his aura once again and coats it in dimensional interference.

Rather than retreat, Berge tempers his power once more. A dragon is a dragon because it is mighty. A dragon must act like a dragon to be worthy of the name.

And Berge was a dragon.

The two powers collide, neither yielding an inch. They swallow everything.

* * *

A vast crater, the aftermath now subsided.

"... You cowardly bastard!"

Standing at its center, Balaf roared.

"A fucking Demon King, running away...!"

As he breathed heavily, clear claw marks stood out on his chest. Not deep, but unmistakable.