Demon King of the Royal Class

Chapter 371



Chapter 371

Chapter 371

Flash!

A blinding flash struck a wooden log and did not just burn it, but made it explode. The superheated air was blown outward in a shockwave.

Mr. Effenhauser nodded quietly.

Rumble!

“Lightning strike...”

Riana watched calmly as the target dummy was shattered. They were in an outdoor training ground used for testing large-scale destructive magic.

Although it was officially the school vacation period, Mr. Effenhauser was counseling Riana de Granz and checking on her abilities.

Riana de Granz originally had the power to generate and control electricity, but her power had evolved, and now she could call down lightning from the sky.

This manifestation of her power wasn’t as instantaneous as the other form, requiring some mental concentration, but Riana had indeed summoned a lightning strike.

“Your ability might have evolved into a superpower related to meteorology. We’ll need to assess it further.”

Riana could still wield electricity like before. However, after Duke Granz’s death, her abilities had undergone some changes.

“Don’t worry about me. Just fully deploy the abilities you’ve used before,” Mr. Effenhauser said.

“Yes,” Riana replied.

Mr. Effenhauser stepped back and watched as Riana activated her abilities.

Rumbleee!

An electric field formed around Riana’s body and began to radiate explosively outward. The currents raged wildly around Riana as if intent on burning everything around them, shooting out in all directions as if alive.

In addition to her new ability to summon lightning, her existing electrical manipulation abilities had also been maximized.

“That’s enough. This will do,” Mr. Effenhauser said.

“It’s a little... difficult to control,” Riana admitted.

“That will improve over time.”

Although the output of her ability had been greatly amplified, Riana, who had once excelled in controlling her powers, found that she had lost some of her finesse in handling them.

The sudden and continuous thunderclaps threatened to cause a commotion not only in the Temple but throughout the entire capital, forcing Mr. Effenhauser to halt the test.

Zap! Zap!

Mr. Effenhauser watched Riana, standing in the middle of the training ground with white smoke rising around her, electrical sparks dancing absentmindedly around her right hand.

Riana slowly walked out of the training ground and stood before Mr. Effenhauser.

“Is it still not enough?” she asked.

Though she didn’t specify what she was asking about, Mr. Effenhauser understood what she meant.

She wanted revenge.

There was no need to ask who she sought revenge against.

She wanted to know if her power was sufficient. It was more than enough, perhaps even excessive. The current Demon King only existed as an being of absolute power in the populace’s exaggerated imaginations.

“I suppose it might not be,” Mr. Effenhauser replied. He was not in a position to reveal the truth. “But it’s already a sufficiently threatening ability. Use it with caution.”

“Yes.”

Electricity sparked around Riana’s fingertips.

“Sir,” she said.

“Speak,” he replied.

Riana had never given much thought to her supernatural power before. She had never imagined living a life of fighting.

“For the first time, I’m glad my ability is like this.”

Electricity... A supernatural power more specialized for offense than any other. Its speed, destructive power, and lethal range were unparalleled.

For the first time, Riana was grateful for her ability.

Mr. Effenhauser quietly watched Riana, who seemed mesmerized by the blue lightning jumping about her fingers.

Riana’s abilities had grown dramatically, but there was no way that she, who aimed to confront the monstrosity that was the Demon King, could be satisfied with just this. She needed to become even stronger.

Although he was a traitor, he had managed to survive and return from an encounter in which he had been in mortal danger. Owen de Getmora had been the key contributor to this operation. Vertus had given instructions, but it was Owen who had orchestrated the plan, manipulated letters, and cleverly twisted words to gather everyone in one place.

In reality, there had been more dissenting opinions within the leadership of the Revolutionary Forces when it came to the idea of forming an alliance with the Demon Realm’s forces. However, Owen had manipulated the letters and words exchanged regarding this matter to make everyone believe that the majority had already agreed to cooperate with the Demon Realm.

There were many things on Vertus’s mind. What exactly did they want?

When he heard that they’d established contact with Owen in hopes of forming an alliance, his first thought was that their goal was to overthrow the empire. Now that their plan had gone awry, though, they had retreated quietly when they could have at least sowed some chaos.

If their goal was to overthrow the empire, they would have killed Owen when it seemed that the Revolutionary Forces was falling into the hands of the empire.

Even though their plan had been ruined, they should have at least tried to cause some confusion. However, Owen de Getmora had returned safely.

Did they know that he already had a contingency plan to absorb the Revolutionary Forces into the empire even if Owen died? Probably not. Vertus was confident that the likelihood of that was very low. And if they had known Owen was a traitor, they wouldn’t have made contact in the first place.

“I don’t know what they really want,” Vertus mused.

Chaos, or stability? He did not know.

If they wanted stability within the empire, what for? They were enemies, after all. Vertus felt as though he had solved one major problem only to find himself falling deeper into a labyrinth.

“By the way, why don’t you tell me the reason now?”

“What do you mean?” Owen de Getmora asked, a faint smile on his face.

“Why did you betray them?”

Owen had not been a double agent planted by Vertus from the beginning. He had only made connections through the Rotary Club, and then had suddenly come forward and confessed everything.

Owen narrowed his eyes, looking at his teacup. “A merchant dreamed a dream.”

“A dream...?”

“Yes. It took quite a long time to realize it was an unattainable dream, but once I knew it was a dream, I tried to wake up.”

“So you were quite serious about the revolution, it seems.”

“There was no doubt about it,” Owen candidly admitted to Vertus, the ultimate beneficiary of the class system, that he had seriously decried it.

He was an old man who had risked his life to meet with the remnants of the Demon Realm alone. He would confront Vertus with the same boldness. The old merchant had seriously dreamt of a world where everyone was equal.

“There’s no point in talking about what’s already past, but they seemed more intoxicated with discussing what a revolution was than actually making the revolution a reality. And even within, there were hierarchies based on whether one was from the Orbis Class, or how much they had internalized the logic of the revolution. Seeing them treat each other differently based on these factors... I realized something else,” Owen said.

“Something else?”

“Yes. It was all human nature.”

Owen had realized that even those who were dreaming of equality were trying to distinguish themselves based on origin, and understood that human nature was fundamentally about discrimination and distinction.

“In that new world, people will still be distinguished in such ways, and once those distinctions were made, some will be revered and others despised. If that’s human nature, and if it’s not about eliminating distinctions but merely changing the criteria, why would a new world be necessary?

“If it’s impossible to eradicate distinctions between classes, there’s no reason to destroy the existing stability. There’s no reason to replace one set of distinctions with another and shed blood in the process. This old merchant realized this too late.”

Vertus quietly observed Owen de Getmora as he spoke.

The old man had dreamed of revolution, but only realized after spending a long while within the organization that it wouldn’t eliminate discrimination, but merely create a new form of discrimination. He had judged that such a revolution wouldn’t be beneficial even if it came to fruition, and had sought out Vertus instead.

Instead of tearing down the pyramid and building a new one, he’d gone to meet with the person at the top of the current pyramid.

Vertus gave Owen de Getmora a wry smile. “Your words sound plausible, but isn’t your betrayal ultimately rooted in resentment? After all, you couldn’t become part of the leadership since you weren’t from the Orbis Class.”

Vertus insidiously suggested that Owen found it unfair that, despite his loyalty to the organization, he had not been allowed to join the faction of Orbis Class graduates as one of the leaders and had to be content with merely being a high-ranking official.

Owen de Getmora burst into laughter. “Haha, that wasn’t the only reason. There were other reasons, like being a lowly merchant who only dealt with money, and not being a noble, Your Highness.”

“Ha, haha! Ha, ha. Hahahaha!” Vertus couldn’t help but laugh at Owen de Getmora’s wry, self-deprecating joke.

The fact that Owen hadn’t been allowed to be a part of the leadership in an organization that dreamed of revolution spoke volumes about how self-contradictory the revolutionary organization was.

Vertus laughed for a while, then wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and smiled broadly.

“Alright. Anyway, you did well with regards to this matter. I’ll call on you again if something comes up.”

“Call on me anytime, Your Highness.”

Owen bowed and turned to leave, and Vertus quietly watched him go.

The merchant had dreamed a dream, and then realized it was a misguided dream. So, had Owen de Getmora betrayed them, or had he merely made a decision by pushing those who shared his dream into the abyss of hell?

Owen de Getmora had dreamed a dangerous dream, but he’d abandoned it earlier than the others and gained absolution by selling out those with whom he’d shared that dream.

Vertus wasn’t interested in such matters. He was merely observing the old merchant’s back, which wasn’t as straight as it could have been.


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