Chapter 160 - Damn Reincarnation

The Capital

Honestly, if he had come without knowing, he would not have recognized her immediately. Iris’s transformation was that radical.

Originally an elven ranger, Iris had worn a camouflage poncho and leather armor that allowed her to move freely. Her equipment had remained the same even when she commanded dark elves in the field. She knew exactly how to hunt elven rangers, and had trained the dark elves under her into hunters who hunted hunters.

When the battlefield shifted from the open field to the Demon King of Fury’s castle, Iris had blocked their path wearing dingy chain mail instead of her poncho and leather armor, carrying a curved sword instead of a bow or crossbow.

He could still recall that encounter vividly. Fury’s children, unrelated by blood and belonging to different races, had been among the strongest enemies they had faced in Helmuth.

‘I should have killed her.’

He had failed to. In an act unbecoming of a Demon King, the Demon King of Fury had chosen to sacrifice his own life to let his remaining children escape. That was how Iris the dark elf and Oboron the beastfolk had gotten away.

The Iris he had failed to kill back then was now sitting before Eugene, three hundred years later, looking completely different.

“Kid.”

THUD!

Iris switched the foot she had propped on the table and tilted her head.

“You know who I am, and yet you won’t kneel?”

“You don’t look like the captain of the Bullshot Mercenary Company. Are you some mafia boss who’s just moved into the neighborhood?”

“Are you spouting nonsense because you don’t want to show your fear?”

Iris’s lips twisted into a smile. Without answering, Eugene raised his gaze slightly. Ten dark elves stood behind her sofa, all wearing red suit jackets like hers.

‘Looks like the organization’s image has undergone a major upheaval over the past three hundred years.’

Eugene recognized a few of the dark elves standing behind her. They had been Iris’s trusted subordinates back then, dark elven rangers who hid in the mountains, forests, and darkness to launch ambushes.

‘Well, walk around a city like this in a poncho, and people would think you were nuts.’

Though a group of dark elves decked out in matching red suits would probably be treated as lunatics too.

“Where is she?”

“I hear there are over a hundred elves in the forest at your estate. Can’t you spare even one elf’s life?”

“Let’s skip the pointless conversation.”

Eugene strode toward Iris. Even as he closed the distance, the dark elves behind her showed no reaction. Neither did Iris. She simply watched him with that twisted smile.

That was only natural. They had no reason to be on guard. Iris, the Rakshasa Princess, was a living legend who had experienced the battlefields of three hundred years ago and inherited power directly from the Demon King of Fury. If she had not insisted that she was Fury reborn, if she had abandoned her intention to become a Demon King—no, if she had not been so obsessed with the purity of her following—Helmuth would have had four dukes, not three.

‘I see.’

Eugene could sense Iris’s absolute confidence and composure. Arrogance, but no carelessness. Her eyes were as sharp as a predator’s watching its prey, missing none of his movements.

‘I can’t do it yet.’

Eugene accepted that fact without hesitation. If he fought Iris head-on, he would lose, without question. He could never win. Escape seemed possible, but that was the limit. Three hundred years was a long time, and her appearance was not the only thing that had changed.

“Didn’t you want to talk?”

Eugene sat down opposite Iris.

“Kid.”

Iris’s smile deepened.

“You just thought you couldn’t possibly win, didn’t you?”

His eyes had swept over her for only an instant, but Iris had discerned what he was thinking. She smiled, her red eyes curving into crescents.

“I like how quickly you accept reality. I’ve heard quite a few rumors about you... Hmm. Rumors tend to exaggerate, but in your case, they were actually modest.”

Iris leaned forward from her reclined position.

THUMP!

A light tap of her shoe against the table sent the bottle of liquor into the air. She caught it with a chuckle.

“The elf is safe.”

The ceiling lights flickered.

No, they had not actually flickered. Even so, the room dimmed for an instant. The darkness had grown. Darkness that would not blend with ordinary darkness: a darker, stickier mass in the shape of shadow.

Dark matter summoned through Iris’s Demonic Eyes of Darkness.

“As you can see, I haven’t corrupted her either.”

Iris thrust her hand into the writhing darkness. At a glance, it resembled the spirit of darkness Eugene had seen at Black Lion Castle. But that was no spirit. It was neither mana nor demonic energy.

“I don’t want to turn just anyone into a dark elf. First, I ask their opinion. If they refuse, I persuade them...”

Iris pulled the unconscious Levera out by hand and tossed her limp body at Eugene as though she were an object. A gust of wind swept in to catch her. She was unhurt. Relieved to confirm that, Eugene lowered her beside him.

Meanwhile, Iris opened the bottle. After taking an ice bucket and glasses out of the darkness drifting around her, she furrowed her brows.

“Oh, there was this too.”

With a nonchalant expression, she pulled out the old man who had vanished with Levera. Iris held him by the neck. Eugene drew a dagger from his cloak and drove it into the table.

“Calm down, kid.”

Iris smiled in amusement. Her right eye suddenly turned pitch-black. Darkness swallowed the dagger embedded in the table. When the darkness vanished, the dagger was gone.

“I’m not going to insist on killing a poor old man who got caught up in this.”

“Weren’t you about to kill him without a second thought?”

“Well, there was no reason not to. Naturally, as a human, you want to protect human lives... But I’m not human, so I failed to consider your position. Understand?”

Cackling, Iris dropped a large ice cube into each glass.

“And naturally, as an elf, I want to protect elves.”

“You’re a dark elf, not an elf.”

“Still an elf, aren’t I? Let’s put our prejudices aside.”

“You kidnapped my servant out of nowhere.”

“I wanted to talk.”

She filled both their glasses with liquor. Smiling, Iris pushed one toward him with a fingertip.

“Though I never expected you to get involved, Eugene Lionheart.”

“... I suppose entering the Lionheart main estate was rather daunting for you?”

Eugene lifted his glass with an unruffled smile.

An elf under the Lionhearts’ protection had ordered a prosthetic eye and arranged to collect it. Eugene did not know how long Iris had been established on this street, but information like that would have been easy enough to obtain.

“That’s right.”

Iris did not deny it.

“It was daunting. Figuring out how to handle fools who still believe their glory from three hundred years ago remains intact, that is...”

She raised her glass.

“It’s not particularly difficult for me to visit your family’s territory, sit in your mansion’s drawing room, drink tea, laugh pleasantly, and ask, ‘Would you kindly hand over the elves under your protection?’ But what about you Lionhearts?”

The liquor filling her glass flowed into Iris’s mouth.

“I am a dark elf, the leader of Fury’s Independence Army, and the one they call the Rakshasa Princess. If someone like me visited and asked you to hand them over, would you people, drunk on your own authority and ignorant of your place... actually grant my request? I doubt it. You’d cling to your idiotic pride, declare that you don’t compromise with dark elves... that you have no intention of helping Fury rise again... and drive me out, wouldn’t you?”

Eugene did not deny it. He would not even have to intervene. No one in Lionheart would consider dealing with Iris. No matter how humbly she approached them, as long as she was a dark elf who dreamed of Fury’s return and harbored ambitions of becoming a new Demon King, Lionheart would never negotiate with her.

“So I decided to be considerate of you idiots.”

Iris licked the droplets of liquor from her lips and smiled.

“While I was considering my options, I heard that you’d come out with an elf, kid. So I personally opened a passage in the shadows of that stinking workshop.”

“Sorry, but I’m not the head of Lionheart.”

“What does that matter, when the boy they call Lionheart’s future is sitting right in front of me? Are you having trouble understanding?”

Chuckling, Iris reached into the darkness.

CLICK.

She pulled out a heavy lump of metal whose shape was unfamiliar to Eugene. That did not mean he didn’t know what it was. A gun. A portable cannon that fired metal bullets using gunpowder.

Though easy to handle, such weapons were not particularly popular among warriors skilled in using mana. The reason was simple. Swinging a weapon imbued with sword force, or drawing a specially crafted bow and firing a mana-infused arrow, was faster and more powerful than using gunpowder to fire bullets.

Besides, while guns were apparently quite useful for hunting beasts, they were not very effective against monsters.

“I can kill you right now.”

Iris raised the heavy revolver and pointed it at Eugene.

“That makes it easy to understand, doesn’t it, kid? If you don’t want to die, hand over the elves sheltered in your estate’s forest.”

“... They wouldn’t want to become dark elves.”

“I’ll persuade them until they have no choice but to want it. I’m very confident in that sort of persuasion.”

The enormous revolver spun in Iris’s hand.

“What about you? I know you’re strong. But can you kill me? That’s impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

“... Threatening Lionheart, are you?”

“Ahahaha! As naive as any kid. Didn’t I tell you earlier? To me, the Lionhearts are idiots deluding themselves that their glory from three hundred years ago is still intact. Your ancestor Vermouth was nightmarishly strong. But after Vermouth, has anyone as strong as him ever been born into Lionheart?”

Without answering, Eugene brought his glass to his lips.

“No. No one could be. It’s impossible. He was a real monster. Threatening Lionheart... Haha... Ahahaha! So what? If anything, you should be grateful to me. I didn’t disrespect you on your own territory, in that Lionheart main estate, and smash your fucking heads into the floor!”

Iris’s shoulders shook with manic laughter. Each time she laughed, the darkness churned, and her immense presence bore down on Eugene. Feeling every hair on his body stand on end and his skin prickle, he poured the liquor into his mouth. It burned like swallowed fire. The liquor slid down his throat and heated him from within.

‘I should have killed her back then.’

A regret he returned to again and again. Eugene clicked his tongue and set down his glass. If he had killed her three hundred years ago, he would not have had to face this fucking bitch again.

“... I need some time to think.”

“I’ve been giving you that since you first came in here, kid. Instead of killing you, I let you sit in front of me and gave you a drink. All of that was time I gave you.”

Rather than answering, Eugene wrestled with himself. Should he just charge in? What were his chances? Instead of playing along with this bullshit, wouldn’t it be better to try, then retreat and leave it for another day if it wasn’t going to work?

He would have done so if Levera and the old workshop owner had not been there. The two unconscious people beside him constrained his actions. It frustrated him, making his anger boil.

Not yet?

Eugene clicked his tongue and folded his arms. He didn’t want to drag Levera and the old man into this needlessly...

“... Do you remember the name Siknard?”

For now, he decided to stall.

“He’s in the Lionheart forest too. He’s been grinding his teeth, swearing he’ll kill you one day...”

“I remember. A weakling full of nothing but thirst for revenge. Kid, I’m not particularly fond of talking about the old days.”

“Siknard told me quite a lot about you too. The traitor to the elves. The elf who killed more elves than anyone else. I hear you made the elves you captured on the battlefield kneel, slit their bellies, pulled out their intestines, and left them to die?”

“Ancient history. Before even your father’s father was born, when the origins of your existence were still stuck in Vermouth’s balls.”

Iris’s lips twisted.

“Of course, I regret those days. I went too far. That’s why I want to do as much for the elves as I regret having done to them.”

“You mean you want to expand the dark elves’ forces.”

“Isn’t becoming a dark elf and gaining freedom better than living in fear that demonic sickness might kill you at any moment? I’ll become a Demon King someday, and when I do, all dark elves will become exalted beings.”

CLICK.

The revolver’s cylinder turned.

“Do you want to reminisce with me? Become my friend, and I’ll tell you as many stories about the old days as you like.”

“Who would win in a fight, Vermouth or Hamel?”

The question came out of nowhere. Iris’s cackling stopped for a moment. Apparently, she had never imagined he would ask something like that in this situation. Reason mingled with her cheap imitation of madness.

“... What?”

“Vermouth versus Hamel.”

“What a... random question. Obviously, Vermouth would win.”

“Couldn’t Hamel win?”

“Hamel... Haha! The moron posterity calls stupid? That bastard, beat Vermouth? What nonsense.”

“You’re being awfully harsh on Hamel... He could win...”

Muttering, Eugene picked up the bottle.

“Then let me ask something else. Who was better-looking, Hamel or Vermouth?”

“... Are you insane?”

“I’m curious, that’s all. Curious.”

“That isn’t worth answering.”

“You mean it’s hard to answer? Then Hamel and Vermouth must have been neck and neck in looks...”

“Hamel’s fucking face was stitched together like a ragged patchwork.”

That was far too harsh. Barely suppressing the anger that flared inside him, Eugene poured liquor into Iris’s glass.

“But Hamel was better-looking than Moron, at least?”

“... What are you playing at?”

“I’m trying to become your friend. So, friend, could we hang out another time and let me go home for today?”

CRASH!

The foot resting on the table slammed down. The table shattered, throwing the bottle and glasses into the air. Eugene eased his head back to avoid the spilling liquor.

“Remarkable.”

Iris stared at Eugene with icy eyes.

“A human brat who’s only been alive for twenty years, daring to be this shameless in front of me. To think Vermouth’s bloodline could produce a little bastard like you.”

“Three hundred years is a long time.”

“Indeed. A very long time for humans. There must be dozens of generations between you and Vermouth, yes? If not for that, I would have thought you were Hamel’s descendant, not Vermouth’s.”

Muttering those words, Iris opened the revolver’s cylinder.

“Since you’re having trouble deciding, I’ll help you. Let’s make an entertaining wager.”

The rounds fell from the cylinder. Iris loaded a single round, then spun the cylinder in front of Eugene.

“A simple game of roulette. You and I take turns putting the muzzle to our heads and pulling the trigger. If a bullet goes into your head, I’ll stop being considerate of Lionheart. I’ll take your corpse straight to the main estate and bring out every last elf.”

“And if a bullet goes into your head?”

“Then I’ll let you go. And I won’t negotiate with Lionheart over this matter again.”

Iris hooked her finger around the trigger. Holding the muzzle against her temple, she stared at Eugene.

“If you’re afraid, you can give up. But you’ll hand over the elves, just as I said at the beginning. Well? There’s no need to wager your life on a bet.”

“Shoot.”

Eugene rested his interlaced hands on his knees.

“You take a turn, then I take a turn. That’s how it works, right?”

CLICK!

The moment Eugene finished speaking, Iris pulled the trigger without hesitation. Then she handed him the revolver with a bright smile.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, kid.”

“About what?”

“Don’t assume a lead bullet couldn’t possibly pierce your head. I created that bullet with my demonic eyes. No matter how strong your mana is, it won’t stop the bullet from lodging in your head.”

“Then what about you?”

“I won’t get shot.”

“Aha... So it was never a fair wager to begin with?”

Eugene gave a faint laugh and pulled the trigger.

CLICK!

The hammer struck with a hollow sound. Eugene handed the revolver back to Iris.

“Shoot.”

“Are you mad?”

“Even if I can die and you can’t, all I need is for the gun to go off against your head, right?”

“So you’re going to be the only one risking your life?”

“Just shoot.”

Iris was right. This was an exceedingly simple game of roulette. Load a bullet, spin the cylinder. An ordinary person would have no idea where the bullet was.

But Eugene knew. He had watched how many times the cylinder rotated. When he held the revolver, he had also felt which chamber held that tiny extra weight. The bullet was made with her demonic eyes. Iris’s darkness existed as tangibly as matter, and it had weight.

The revolver would fire the bullet on this turn.

“... Hmm.”

Iris tilted her head and pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

A hollow sound. No bullet fired. At the sight, Eugene laughed instead of showing surprise.

“Good grief. You want it that badly?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Iris handed him the revolver with a twisted smile.

The bullet’s position had changed. It was simple. The bullet was made with Iris’s power. She could erase it and recreate it whenever she pleased.

If he pulled the trigger this time, the bullet would lodge in Eugene’s head.

Cackling, Iris waved a hand behind her. One of the dark elves approached and slipped a cigarette between her fingers.

POP.