The Demon King Who Draws

Chapter 102

Faust received a lowest-grade Gye-nang along with an enormous amount of textbooks and reference materials from Jeep, the instructor.

“If you master even a fraction of this before heading out to the field, at least you won’t die a futile death.”

“…Thanks.”

“Have you ever used a Gye-nang before?”

“I’ve used items with dubious origins before.”

“I see. But from now on, it’s best to avoid using such things. If a Gye-nang wasn’t crafted by a Malasis artisan, minor issues can arise from time to time.”

“I understand.”

Jeep glanced at Faust’s demons, who were patiently enduring their boredom, and asked,

“Are those familiars?”

“They are all my familiars.”

“An unusual aura for members of the Yoma race, and all of them are female… Hmm.”

“I don’t sense any ill intentions behind your words.”

“Oh, I’m more concerned about something else. Recently, there have been reports of individuals attacking demons who’ve contracted with Yoma familiars.”

“Understood. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“In the next fortnight, young master, you must transform into a soldier.”

“That’s a short time.”

Becoming a fully-fledged soldier in just two weeks it was indeed a tight deadline.

– If things go well, you’ll be assigned to Pride’s Special Forces. There’s no way around it. No one volunteers, and they rarely have missions, so it’s hard to recruit replacements.

Akad had told him that he’d likely end up in Pride’s Special Forces. That was what Akad wanted as well.

“Have you heard of Pride’s Special Forces?”

“I’ve heard of their infamy.”

“Haha… It’s not as bad as it sounds. However, the chances of advancing your career are much lower compared to the Demon King’s Army or other special units. And since their missions are primarily in remote areas, people tend to avoid them.”

– With Pride gone, the unit’s morale is probably in shambles. Just try to blend in.

That was the extent of Akad’s instructions.

There were no other directives apart from being assigned to Pride’s Special Forces.

“The instructors in the Special Forces are not mentors. They’re just there to impart basic knowledge and tactics. Most of the learning happens on the battlefield.”

This was especially true for Pride’s unit, given their short training period.

“Well then, I sincerely hope you complete your training safely.”

“Thank you for your efforts, Sir Jeep.”

“If I’ve managed to repay even a fraction of the Arkand family’s kindness, that’s more than enough.”

* * *

The lodging he was assigned to was originally designed for two occupants, but since Pride’s Special Forces weren’t at full capacity, Faust had it to himself.

“I thought I was going to suffocate!”

“Go get some fresh air.”

“Really? Can I?”

Phenex had been fully registered as a familiar, and the facility allowed familiars to roam freely during their free time.

With the low usage of Pride’s lodging and training grounds, it’s rare to run into anyone.

Given how cramped the demons were inside the small Gye-nang, it seemed necessary to let them out to refresh whenever possible.

“Alright, I’m heading out!”

“Be back on time, Phenex.”

“Got it!”

At Lucifer’s reminder, Phenex nodded. Amon, meanwhile, stayed holed up inside the Gye-nang, likely sleeping, and Ipos had gone off for a nearby stroll, leaving only Faust and Lucifer in the room.

– Come to think of it…

It had been over six months since Lucifer used the rotten root on Victory Isle to perform long-range teleportation.

Gradually, her horns were returning to their original black color. For now, they were a dull dark gray, but it seemed only a matter of time before they turned completely jet-black again.

“Those horns…”

“Ah, my magic is recovering. Soon, I hope to be of use to you, Lord Faust.”

Lucifer was a demon.

Naturally, she was likely at the six-star level.

How capable she was, though, remained unknown.

– How strong could she truly be?

Even though she wasn’t listed in the Lemegeton, Lucifer was an iconic figure of Hell. She wasn’t called the Mother of Demons or the Adversary of the Heavens without reason.

– She must’ve been pre-designed by the developers, right?

Even though she wasn’t officially released, her image had been leaked beforehand. Faust assumed her skill set was likely prepared as well.

– If Lucifer regains her full strength, I’ll have four demons under my command.

In the game, that wouldn’t mean much a mere free-to-play player. But in reality, it was a power that could astonish even the Seven Deadly Sins.

…After indulging in these hopeful thoughts for a moment, Faust returned to his work.

– The level of the study materials isn’t very high.

While the quantity was substantial, the content itself wasn’t particularly challenging. Besides, unless the subject matter was overly complicated, Faust absorbed knowledge like a sponge.

Of course, this ability drained his energy, so it wasn’t something to use recklessly.

– Keeping up with the training shouldn’t be too difficult.

The history of the demon race…

The Demon King and the Seven Deadly Sins.

Combat utilizing familiars.

Traps employing dungeon structures.

The invasion process and its results.

The types of cores and their characteristics by type.

A myriad of basic instructional materials filled the pages.

‘Still, it’s fortunate that I already know most of this.’

Reading this material with no prior knowledge would have been an ordeal, but the storyline so far had provided a foundational understanding.

Since training was scheduled for the next day, he resolved to study diligently through the night to avoid any issues.

Knock, knock, knock…

Lucifer glanced at him hesitantly.

“Shall I handle it?”

This was a military dormitory. No matter how loyal a familiar was, the sight of a Yoma woman staying with him could easily invite misunderstanding.

However…

‘Go ahead.’

He wasn’t planning to stay here for long anyway just another fortnight. Reputation was neither a concern nor something he had time to worry about.

“Is anyone there? Sir Al Arkand?”

“…Who’s that? I can’t think of anyone who’d knock on my door this late.”

“I’m Roderick Marquis, assigned to the same unit! May I have a moment of your time?”

Roderick… Roderick…

The name felt vaguely familiar but was hard to place. However, the addition of the surname “Marquis” jogged his memory immediately.

Creeeeak

“Good evening, Sir Roderick. What brings you here?”

“Haha! I simply wish to share camaraderie with you!”

…What sort of nonsense was this?

“I can feel the hardships you’ve endured… that sorrowful look in your eyes!”

“…?”

“Greed… Akad, that man is unpredictable and eccentric. Even the elders of my family tread carefully around him, never showing any signs of weakness.”

Ah, I see… Is that so…

But why bring this up at nearly midnight?

“I will watch over you! Let’s grow together! And one day, when the time comes, we’ll surely…”

“Sir Roderick, it’s late. Let’s discuss this during training tomorrow.”

“Ah, right… You’re correct. Hahaha! We have plenty of time ahead of us! We’ll talk more later!”

Thud.

After shutting the door, he sat back in his chair and addressed Lucifer.

“Do you think he’ll come again tomorrow?”

“I believe so.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Roderick Marquis.

In the original Faust, while serving in the Demon King’s Army, the protagonist came across promotional materials about young heroes of the Demon Tribe. Roderick’s name was among them.

The game had specifically highlighted these heroes in its story, leading him to suspect their importance in future events.

However, the game servers had shut down before those storylines could unfold.

‘Why did Roderick Marquis become a hero…?’

The timeline in which Roderick was revered as a hero wasn’t far off from the current period. At most, it was a few months away.

‘It must mean he accomplished something significant within that time frame… But what?’

Perhaps the mission they were about to undertake together would involve a major turning point?

‘…As if.’

Roderick’s late-night visit had done nothing but stir unnecessary thoughts.

“All it’s done is add to my worries.”

It was time to get some rest.

But then,

“…Has Phenex not returned yet?”

Her jet-black hair was the symbol of the Pride flowing through her bloodline. While all demons bore black hair, the members of the Roser family had a unique sheen to theirs, exuding a luster like polished obsidian.

The Roser family was one of the most influential factions within the Seven Deadly Sins, and its patriarch, Crepin Roser, had held his position the longest among the current members.

However, after Crepin Roser suddenly disappeared one day, the Roser family began to crumble.

The Seven Deadly Sins were the supreme beings of this world. Naturally, no one else could fill their roles. For the Roser family, the problem was exacerbated by their lack of successors. None of the potential heirs had proven capable of standing strong.

This was why Saria had joined the Special Forces.

It was subtly known that she was one of the three individuals who most strongly inherited the Pride of the bloodline, and even the elders of the family did not deny this.

Whooooosh…

She raised the core under the moonlight. Its use was significantly different from Faust’s.

She neither resonated with nor connected to the core. Instead, she used it as an external mana tank to assist her movements.

Shweeeek-!

Shweeeek!

Her sword scattered under the moonlight.

The reason she deliberately suspended the core externally was akin to using a showerhead to maintain a steady stream of water, assuming mana to be water. This made her movements smoother and more seamless.

For those unable to handle this properly, the same amount of water would feel like having a bucket dumped over their head instead. The difference in mana efficiency was vast.

Watching the mana of her suspended core ebb and flow steadily, it was evident that her mastery over the core had reached a state of perfection.

Whirrr-!

Paaang!

Al Arkand.

For some reason, she couldn’t get the man she saw earlier that day out of her mind.

His movements were strange. Though his sword didn’t even use dark mana, mimicking him felt daunting.

‘Was it because of the killing intent?’

The explosive killing intent she felt in his final strike lingered in her mind. During the earlier exchanges, there hadn’t been a shred of it. Only later, when he became serious, did he seem to unleash everything he had kept bottled up.

Had she, without realizing it, felt sympathy for the circumstances entangling the Arkand family?

‘…I don’t like it.’

It felt as if her swordsmanship had been drawn into his.

Those hollow eyes and stiff expression.

The resolute tone and the skill that was anything but ordinary.

‘Is he dreaming of revenge for his family…?’

Although he was clearly around her age, it felt as if he had gone far ahead into a distant realm.

Whirrr…

Paaaang!

Her sword techniques extended gracefully. If anyone had been watching, they would have been awestruck by their beauty. But Saria’s heart remained cold and still.

“This won’t be enough….”

She murmured, biting her delicate lips.

“…Beautiful.”

Paah!

Startled by the voice behind her, Saria quickly turned to confirm the intruder.

“…Yoma race?”

“Me? I’m, uh… uh… yes! A magnificent Yoma! Clearly, I’m Yoma!”

“Why were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying. I was just passing by and saw… Was that a dance?”

“…Dance?”

Saria frowned.

“Are you belittling my swordsmanship by calling it a dance?”

“What? It wasn’t a dance? Oh no!”

The Yoma looked flustered, scrambling to explain.

“…Why did you think it was a dance?”

“Because there’s no opponent….”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You were doing pretty movements in the middle of an empty field, so of course, I thought it was a dance….”

As soon as the impudent words escaped the Yoma’s mouth, they gasped in panic.

“Ah! I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”

“…No, you weren’t supposed to say that.”

“Sorry! Then I’ll just…”

Clink.

After sheathing her sword, Saria extended it toward the Yoma.

“Then, why don’t you show me?”

“Me?”

“If I judge that you meant no harm, I’ll accept it. If not….”

Her gaze turned icy.

“I’ll make sure to repay the insult.”

“Uh… okay, sure.”

The Yoma took her sword, swinging it a few times to get a feel for its weight.

Whoosh!

Whiish!

“It’s lighter than the one I usually use.”

“If you’re planning to make excuses….”

Paht!

The Yoma shuffled their feet, moving erratically.

Paaaang!

The sword thrust forward fluidly, then slashed upward in a diagonal motion after taking two steps back.

‘Just now….’

Whirrr-!

A strike aimed at the neck.

…Taaang.

It sounded as though the sword clashed with something, though that shouldn’t have been possible.

‘Blocking an attack aimed at the neck… then the next strike will….’

Saria watched, anticipating where the Yoma’s blade would strike next.

Whooong-

‘…What?’

The Yoma lunged forward, planting their feet and repositioning themselves.

“Hmm… do I need to do more?”

A very brief display of swordsmanship.

No, it wasn’t swordsmanship.

It was a short but intense exchange, as if against an imaginary opponent.

“…How did you do that?”

Each time the Yoma moved their sword, it felt as though an opponent existed on the other side. It was distinctly different from her own movements.

She had a vague idea of why there was such a difference, but putting it into words was difficult.

“You just need to practice!”

“…What?”

“Anyway, it’s time for me to go….”

“W-Wait!”

Paaht!

Saria blocked the Yoma’s path.

“Can we talk a bit more?”

“Eh? No! If Pau… Al finds out, he’ll get mad.”

“…Al?”

She recalled the sparring match earlier and the others present at that location.

“You’re not… the Baron Arkand’s….”

“Yep! I’m his familiar.”