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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: 100-Year Contract
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Even if it had somewhat stabilized, Hortonwork was still the front line facing the Forbidden Zone. Battles erupted almost daily as monsters surged in.
Naturally, the slaves gathered in Hortonwork were mostly rough around the edges and exceptional in combat, matching the demands of efficiency.
That explained it. The elf was somewhat muscular. No, incredibly muscular.
"How may I help you?"
A merchant scribbling on documents at a desk in one corner of the communal area spotted them and approached.
After exchanging a few words with the guide, he rubbed his palms together with a grin.
"Haha, looking for some fine slaves, are you? You've come to the right place. Shall we take a look around first?"
"No need."
Berge strode forward with steady steps and stopped in front of the iron cage holding the elf. Up close, he liked him even more.
"An elf! You've got an eye for elves!"
The merchant flashed a greedy smile.
Elves were expensive. Prices had skyrocketed even further after the war with other races officially banned non-human slaves.
"Thorough setup."
"Ah, elves are so exceptional that ordinary shackles snap right off. This is just standard."
"Good eyes on him."
Berge's gaze remained fixed on the elf.
His once-lustrous green hair was matted and filthy from neglect. Yet those jade-green pupils burned like a furious beast's, which Berge approved of. He liked that the elf hadn't lost his fighting spirit even bound in chains.
Especially the rage toward humans seething from him.
The only flaw was the gag preventing him from speaking.
"I want to talk to him."
"He's a wild one. Removing the gag could cause issues..."
"Even if it does?"
"Well..."
"If the elf dies or causes trouble, I'll take full responsibility and buy him anyway."
"Ah, if that's the case..."
"How much?"
"As you know, elves don't come cheap. Four gold coins—no, five."
Berge pulled out a gold coin and flicked it lightly with his finger. The merchant snatched the gleaming gold and eagerly unlocked the cage door.
"Enjoy your conversation!"
"You, out."
"I'll wait outside."
Bark and the merchant left. Berge entered the cage and unleashed his demonic energy.
"Mmph...!"
The elf's pupils dilated. Even with mana suppressed by restraints, elves were the most sensitive to auras among all races—they couldn't miss demonic energy.
Berge removed the gag. The elf's mouth hung open, unable to close.
"You can't bite your tongue. You can't move either. So give up and listen quietly."
The elf had no choice.
"I just paid a fair price and bought you. You're my slave now."
Bloodshot veins bulged in the elf's eyes. His trembling jaws looked ready to spew curses.
But he couldn't.
"I imagine your fury is immense after becoming a slave at human hands and enduring their humiliations."
"I'll give you a chance."
"Will you end your days in this cold cage as a slave?"
"Or grab my hand and seek revenge? I'll help you tear apart the limbs of those who made you this way and bring humanity to ruin."
"What do you say?"
No answer came. But those quivering pupils betrayed clear turmoil for anyone to see.
"Nod if you won't bite your tongue, and I'll release the spell."
The elf nodded. Berge withdrew his demonic energy, and the elf gasped for breath.
"Demon... a demon, to me?"
"Just answer."
"Demons' offers always come with horrific costs."
"I'm different. Just serve me diligently. Fifty years. Exactly fifty years as my loyal subordinate, and afterward, I'll grant you freedom. How's that?"
Fifty years wasn't an eternity for an elf—not a bad deal, Berge thought.
"You expect me to trust a demon who lies like he breathes?"
"You don't seem all that opposed to the offer itself."
"Five years as a human's slave. The humiliations that made me wish for death weren't just once or twice."
Years of pent-up malice had built to an irreversible point.
"If I could tear those bastards apart with my own hands, I'd sell my soul to the devil himself."
The elf snarled in rage. The thick killing intent prickling his skin was razor-sharp.
"But you can't trust me because I'm a demon?"
"Elves have a saying: Better to befriend a dwarf than trust a demon."
"We demons have one too: Among the Middle Realm's other races, humans are the hardest to trust, but elves are the most stubborn."
Elves were known to despise demons more than any race. It was partly true, but not out of some sacred duty to protect the world.
The World Tree they revered sustained the world. Demons sought to topple the world propped up by that tree.
"I won't touch the World Tree while you're under me."
"I said I can't trust your word. Why would a demon reach out to an elf in the first place?"
He hit a sore spot.
"I swear on the Standard and our great Demon Emperor that I won't break my word."
"...!"
The Standard and the Demon Emperor were life itself to all demons. It was mere faith, but their brute nature made them uphold it like their lives.
Aren's inhabitants knew how fanatical demons were about the Standard and their Emperor.
"In return, swear your faithful service to me—on the World Tree."
This was why Berge chose an elf over a human as his key subordinate.
Unlike humans, where coercion or reliable leverage was impossible, elves had a clear method.
Their parent tree, the oath of the World Tree.
It wasn't mere devout faith. It was direct binding through mana.
Breakers lost the World Tree's forest blessings.
For an elf, losing those blessings was torment worse than death.
So it was trustworthy.
"Well?"
"...A true demon."
The elf muttered.
"An offer I can't refuse."
Berge extended his hand. The elf grasped it.
"Your name."
"Granada of the Maple Clan. I'll swear before the Demon King who sent you."
"Then do it now. Because I'm that Demon King."
"...?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The merchant gleefully pocketed the gold coins. Beside him, the guide and Bark swallowed hard.
'Kuhuhu, what a massive sucker.'
With elf slaves officially banned, their rarity drove prices sky-high. Naturally, elves were pricey.
But it varied by individual. Females cost more than males, young more than old.
This elf's issue wasn't that. He was a feral one. Even after five years, he hadn't lost his spirit, cursing humans nonstop. No one wanted him. He'd constantly try to bite his tongue for suicide, so they gagged him forcibly.
If he'd at least been a pretty female, someone might buy for other reasons despite the hassle. But no. They'd kept him only because tossing him out wasted money—he had zero value as merchandise.
Yet this fool bought him for five gold coins. The merchant never dreamed he'd pay the inflated price in a huff.
"Bark, this is the guy you brought?"
"Yes."
"Some big-shot merchant? Or from a major mercenary group?"
To him, only two types came to Hortonwork to buy elves.
Someone seeking a specific elf to match a rich man's tastes, or buying for combat use.
"I was just hired. Can't disclose the client's identity."
"Come on, we're not strangers. No need to be so stiff."
"..."
"Tch, fine. Anyway, I unloaded that trash. But sadly, you won't get to keep that elf. The moment the gag comes off, he'll bite his tongue."
"You knew and went ahead?"
"He said he didn't care. I got paid upfront."
The merchant shrugged nonchalantly. He felt refreshed. The elf who'd tormented him was dead, and he'd made money.
"If you need other slaves later, hit me up. I'll hook you up nice..."
Then the door creaked open. The sucker emerged slowly. The merchant rubbed his hands and approached.
"All done? How'd the talk go...?"
His gaze shifted behind the man. There he was. The elf who should be tongue-bitten and sprawled on the cold cage floor was calmly following.
"Eyes down, you pig. Before I rip you apart right now."
His growl showed his temper was intact.
"Well done. I'll stamp the seal."
The merchant continued with superhuman mental control, acting unfazed.
"No need."
"Pardon? But without the slave seal..."
Trouble would arise.
The slave seal wasn't just a mark—it was a magic circle preventing harm to the owner, designed to inflict pain via incantation.
"I'll handle any issues."
"Understood."
"Let's go."
"Yes!"
Bark hurried after him. As they ascended to the surface, all eyes turned their way.
Amazement that the elf had sold.
'How'd he tame that elf?'
Bark knew the elf well—he'd helped suppress him with other mercenaries when he rioted for escape before.
A savage impossible to tame, infamous among slavers.
They said he'd never sell and would only leave the cage dead...
"Your job's done here."
"Ah, yes."
Berge snapped his fingers lightly. A silver coin landed neatly in Bark's palm.
"You impressed me more than expected. A tip."
"Thank you!"
"How long will you stay in the city?"
"As long as no big issues arise."
"Perfect. I'll visit again."
"Yes! Find me, Bark, or the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps at the mercenary guild anytime!"
Bark hoped this generous client would seek him out again.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The first thing the Demon King did was buy him food.
The elf, sustained on minimal rations, gorged himself for the first time in ages and patted his full belly contentedly.
"The tower's really at the Erjest Mountain peak?"
"So much suspicion."
"Consider yourself lucky my fist didn't fly when you claimed to be the Demon King."
To the elf, a Demon King personally visiting a slave market to buy slaves was unthinkable.
Yet he acquiesced and followed because the man confidently promised to prove it at the tower.
On the Standard, no less.
"You keep your promise too. If you're really the Demon King, it's not fifty years but double that as collateral."
"Elves keep their word. Unlike demons."
'Annoying.'
His constant sniping meant a swollen liver for sure. Maybe start with a few punches.
The Demon King pondered briefly but shook his head. His tail would wag a thousand times once they reached the tower—worth enduring for that moment.
Meanwhile, the elf found this demon oddly unique.
'A demon thinking of commanding another race...'
Demons usually trusted no one but their own. Makes sense—they were invaders, and Aren's races were the invaded. Incompatible foes bred inevitable distrust.
"This isn't toward the mountains..."
The self-proclaimed Berge—his master for the next fifty years—wasn't heading for Erjest Mountains.
"Market. The tower has zero food."
"...?"
'Market?'
It was instinct. An inexplicable chill ran down his spine.
He called himself Demon King. Even if false, he was demonkind.
And Granada, an elf over a century old, had never heard of demons shopping.
Why would tower-bound demons visit human markets?
"...You really the Demon King?"
"Too much suspicion."
"Can't help it!"
Despite the wary glare, the Demon King bought over ten bundles of ingredients.
Only after stuffing them into subspace did he smile in satisfaction.
"Now, let's go."
They evaded sentries and vaulted the walls stealthily.
"Erjest Mountains teem with monsters. How do we climb?"
He voiced his lingering doubt.
"Like a Demon King."
The curt reply's meaning dawned quickly.
'Monsters aren't attacking.'
They fled rather than charge at the sight of him. What did that mean?
'The entire mountain's already his domain?'
He gulped. Maybe he really was the Demon King. No, more than that. Erjest's monsters were innumerable. If all under his control...
'A colossal disaster.'
Perhaps the strongest Demon King to descend on Aren in history.
"Here we are. My tower."
Even arriving at the hard-to-find valley tower—mere five stories tall—the elf clung to that thought. The mountain-domain shock lingered.
But opening the first-floor door.
Passing the second.
Reaching the third.
"...My god."
He gasped for entirely different reasons. He understood why the Demon King came personally to the slave market, why he bought ingredients.
"There's nothing here?"
The famed Demon King's tower was utterly barren.
"I like things simple. The beauty of empty space."
"Keep it simple twice more, and the tower vanishes."
"But with a slave to serve me faithfully for a hundred years, isn't that enough?"
The sly grin made the elf shudder. Demon King proven. The tower gaining a master despite emptiness was proof.
Now he must uphold his end.
But.
"Fraud! This is a scam!"
He couldn't accept it.
Demon King towers had a standard template in people's minds.
First floor: weak magical beasts, traps. Higher: stronger beasts. Even higher: demons. Summit: Demon King on a golden throne, sternly greeting heroes.
Finally, rescue the imprisoned prince or princess.
Details varied by tower and king, but the outline held.
Granada envisioned that. No longer a top elf in his world, but as a slave, he'd rise to Demon King officer for revenge on humans.
Not this empty dream-shattering void.
That instant—
Bam!
A massive hand gripped Granada's throat.
"Guh...!"
Irresistible force flushed his face red. Choked, he thrashed.
He drew mana.
"My leniency ends here."
But demonic energy shredded his mana.
Chilling killing intent. The elf felt the Demon King with every fiber.
"Keep your promise, elf."
"S-scam! Never heard of a tower like this!"
"Never said otherwise."
"Should've known not to trust demon words!"
"Regret comes too late, no matter how soon."
Yes, too late. Granada was fully in the Demon King's domain, unable to escape alone. Life or hundred-year slavery—clear choice. And revenge might succeed.
The tower shock lingered, but the mountain ascent's awe persisted.
"...I will serve you."
He swore on the great World Tree. His heart's mana formed a bond. Breaking it would shatter blessings granted him.
"Good."
The Demon King smiled contentedly. He tossed over a bundle of market-bought ingredients.
"Now make some food."
"...?"
The elf blanked momentarily. Then fury surged.
"I am a noble elf! Top in my elven circles...!"
"But right now, just an insolent slave."
"You bought me to cook?!"
"Not exactly."
The Demon King propped his chin.
"Just shut up and do it for now."
It wasn't payback for the mountain griping.
Simply, no life in the tower knew proper cooking.
Or so the Demon King thought.