The Indomitable Martial King

Repenhardt made a disgruntled face. He didn’t particularly want to argue with Makelin’s words, but he still believed that the humans of the Antares Empire were leading relatively happy lives. Compared to other countries on the continent, there was less corruption, less poverty, and hardly anyone who suffered from abuse.

“Isn’t this enough? What’s the problem?”

The old dwarf smirked as he looked at his grumbling lord.

“Well, it might be a better world for ordinary peasants. But what about the capable ones? Those with knowledge and ambition, those like Lord Repenhardt who have the drive and passion to pursue their dreams, is it really a good world for them? A world where institutional barriers block the way to dreaming, and where there is no path for those who wish to advance?”

Repenhardt had no retort. He closed his mouth. Makelin’s voice softened.

“Being a Demon King does not necessarily mean slitting throats with bloodshed, tearing flesh, piling up corpses to form mountains, and bursting into laughter upon reaching the peak.”

With a stern yet gentle tone, as if a father were admonishing his son, Makelin continued.

“If a powerful being chooses to ignore those around him, listening only to the opinions that suit his taste, moving the world according to his own preferences…”

The final words fell to a stern-faced Repenhardt.

“That is exactly what a Demon King is.”

* * *

Repenhardt slumped over in his chair, drained of his usual boundless energy. Makelin’s direct words had struck his heart without any filter, deeply affecting him.

“You were indeed good, but you were also certainly a Demon King, my lord, Repenhardt.”

It was always so.

There is nothing more painful than the truth in this world.

Observing the depleted Repenhardt, Makelin suddenly tilted his head.

“No, but didn’t I talk about this in my past life?”

Thinking back, it didn’t seem unlikely that his past self would have remained silent. Given his personality, if he had served under Repenhardt, he would have spoken his mind, regardless of whether it brought him hatred or not.

Repenhardt’s expression darkened slightly.

In fact, the past-life Makelin hadn’t said such things. When Makelin had come to serve under Repenhardt, the continent was already rife with a mood of massacring dwarves at any opportunity. It was because of the rumors that Demon King Repenhardt was gathering monsters that all humans feared the clusters of dwarf slaves.

Just for being dwarves, many were put to death. In such circumstances, even the wise Makelin could not help but be swept up by emotions. Though he did not indiscriminately hate humans, as a wise proxy of the gods, he also did not consider mingling with them.

The system of the Antares Empire, the very system that Makelin now criticized, was ironically largely created by Makelin himself in his past life.

As they discussed this, Makelin’s expression also hardened.

“Is that so? Then I am not one to talk either.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Repenhardt suddenly scratched his head.

“Anyway, that hasn’t happened yet. We just need to do well from now on. Hmm.”

He asked,

“Makelin, now that I understand the general issues, what should I start with?”

Power alone is not enough, but some level of force is necessary to change the world. He understood this much. So, how should this force be applied?

Makelin replied,

“The biggest mistake you made in your past life, Lord Repenhardt, was framing the conflict in terms of humans against other races.”

“Huh?”

Repenhardt urged for an explanation.

“So what are you suggesting we do?”

With a firm voice, Makelin replied.

“Instead of a human versus non-human dynamic, let non-humans take sides among humans. While one half of humanity might despise them, the perception of the other half can be forcibly changed over time.”

Repenhardt frowned.

“So, you’re saying we should secretly manipulate the humans into fighting each other and then quietly support one side?”

Makelin smirked.

“Do we really need to resort to such tricks? Left to their own devices, humans will fervently quarrel among themselves.”

And it was true. Without Repenhardt doing anything, wars were continuously erupting all over the continent. For power, wealth, territory, minor disputes between nations and factions never ceased. There was no need for subterfuge; human conflicts were ubiquitous.

Makelin’s advice was to subtly intervene in these disputes, gaining their support and easing the treatment of elves, dwarves, orcs, and trolls through institutional changes.

It sounded rational. Yet, Repenhardt tilted his head in doubt.

“Can humans really let go of their prejudices against non-humans that easily?”

Makelin wasn’t foolish enough as a dwarf to expect that much from humans.

“Of course not. Even with such efforts, those who see non-humans as more than slaves probably wouldn’t even make up 10 percent. But it’s a mistake to be too greedy from the start.”

Repenhardt tapped his head. He was not naive. He could understand what Makelin was implying.

To press on with force, to change the perception of non-humans situationally, to pinpoint the contradictions of the current world ideologically, and to politically acknowledge non-humans as a distinct faction while reviving their culture and history for autonomy—all of these were essential to his dreams and ambitions.

“Ah, it’s a headache.”

“Keep your wits about you. That’s all the advice I can offer.”

Smiling warmly, Makelin looked at the young lord before him, their divinely chosen savior. Although he had more to say, as a wise dwarf, he knew it was now Repenhardt’s turn to decide.

The task of changing the world belonged to Repenhardt; thus, his actions must stem from his own will and choices. If Makelin’s ideology was entirely correct, Al Port wouldn’t have chosen Repenhardt as their savior but would have opted for Makelin instead. What he offered was merely advice, providing Repenhardt with the ‘information’ needed to make decisions.

“Hmm…”

Repenhardt appeared deep in thought, his face marked by seriousness. Seeing this, Makelin rose from his seat.

“Do you have any plans moving forward?”

Snapping back to the present, Repenhardt stood up as well.

“I intend to stay at Grand Forge for a while. I need to spend about a month here.”

His reason for coming to Grand Forge was certainly to meet Makelin, but there were other motives as well.

“I need to borrow the Underground Sun of Al Port, Magrim, for about a month.”

Repenhardt turned towards the staircase. It was time to rejoin his companions. Makelin followed him, preparing to say farewell.

“I’ll make the arrangements right away. I’ll also prepare lodging for the other members of your party.”

“Thank you, Makelin.”

On a ridge where the cold north wind harshly swept through, under a sky obscured by dark storm clouds mixed with bright, white snow, a tremendous beast roared.

ROAAAAAR!

It was a Drake, a reptilian monster with vast membranous wings and a body stretching over 30 meters long. The wings were tangled with dozens of ropes and nets, and its body was sporadically pierced with numerous arrows and bolts. Surrounding it were about fifty dwarf warriors, each robustly muscled and heavily armored, wielding giant axes and hammers.

As the Drake roared, it opened its mouth wide. A sulfurous smell filled the air, and smoke billowed from between its sharp teeth.

WHOOSH!

Flames erupted, scorching the earth as one of the dwarf warriors cried out.

“Breath attack! Form up the defense!”

Red flames whipped across the mountain ridge like a fiery lash. A wall of fire erupted, radiating intense heat that began to thaw the frozen ground. Facing the onslaught of flames, the dwarf warriors unitedly raised their shields to protect themselves. From behind, two dwarfs raised their hands high and shouted.

“Al Port, bestow your protection upon us and keep us safe from the flames!”

A silvery grey aura, reminiscent of iron, enveloped the area, bestowing upon the dwarf warriors a divine blessing that increased their resistance to heat. Dwarves naturally possess a strong resistance to heat, and with the priest’s blessing, they managed to preserve themselves even amidst the flames.

GRRRRRR…

As conventional weapons proved ineffective, the Drake showed signs of confusion. Seizing the opportunity, the dwarf warriors began to fire their crossbows. Once again, dozens of bolts flew towards the Drake, targeting its entire body. While most were deflected by its thick scales, a good number found their way into the gaps between the scales. Enraged by the pain, the Drake became even more ferocious.

ROAAAAAR!

It screamed wildly, thrashing its tail repeatedly and slashing furiously with its claws. The dwarf warriors skillfully dodged and launched their counterattack. They charged from all sides, swinging axes and slamming hammers. Some dwarfs were thrown by the beast’s tail or claws, but no one screamed in fear. Even those knocked down merely let out shallow groans, their eyes burning with fighting spirit as they quickly got back on their feet.

Although not as legendary as dragons, a single Drake could easily trample a human fiefdom. Such a monster would be a challenge even for renowned knightly orders. Yet these fifty or so dwarf warriors were holding their ground without yielding.

After exhausting the Drake’s stamina through a series of hit-and-run tactics, a dwarf shouted.

“Now’s the time, use the Cadamite!”

“Understood!”

With a booming voice, one of the dwarf warriors lunged forward. Holding a gigantic axe spear firmly with both hands, the dwarf known as Kadamyte rolled once on the ground and covered nearly 20 meters in an instant, soaring over the head of the drake. The speed he achieved with his short legs was almost unbelievably fast. Kadamyte raised his axe spear above his head and let out a powerful shout.

“Uratta!”

The blade of the axe spear emitted a dark red glow, brilliantly shining. Kadamyte then swung it down. The dark red aura transformed into a giant blade of light, slicing through the shoulder joint of the drake. A massive wing was severed in an instant, and a fountain of blood spurted out.

Kaaaa!

The drake screamed in terrible pain, flailing its head from side to side. Kadamyte, having landed again, held his axe spear in a reverse grip and slightly bent his knees. Then, he drew up the aura from his entire body.

“Wooooooo!”

Instantly, a reddish-brown aura exploded and swelled around him. This was a technique used by dwarf warriors to momentarily increase their strength by resonating with the earth’s energy, applying it to their aura. Kadamyte amplified the aura around his body nearly tenfold and released a roaring cry as he hurled his axe spear.

“Go! Haltron!”

Whoom, whoom, whoom!

The reddish-brown aura projectile accurately struck the drake’s torso. It easily split the steel-like scales and tore through the thick muscles, causing a devastating explosion. The blast resounded, and fragments of the drake’s flesh and blood scattered through the air.

As Kadamyte gestured in the air, his axe spear, Haltron, automatically withdrew and flew back into his grasp. Watching Kadamyte resume his combat stance, the human swordsman, Russ, who fought alongside him, was impressed.

‘Incredible…’

Although Russ had seen Kadamyte fight several times before, he couldn’t help but admire him each time.

At just over a hundred and fifty years old, Kadamyte was considered quite young among the dwarves. He was also one of only three aura users in the Grand Forge.