# Enhanced Translation
Several decades ago, when the first of the Seven Dragon Lords fell on this land.
In those days, the demon armies were powerful, and humans were barely able to retreat, unable to defend even half of their territory. Their tactics amounted to nothing more than delaying actions—desperate struggles against promised extinction.
The Incarnation of Rage, Tumor of the Great Mountain, volunteered to lead the vanguard of the legion.
This was surprising. Weren't the Dragon Lords at their weakest when they left their domains? And after humanity's downfall, it was clear that the demons would turn their blades against each other.
The extinction of humanity would not guarantee lasting peace. Demons were born to dominate, and if those they dominated disappeared, they would inevitably struggle to dominate each other.
So Tumor's advance was truly surprising. He willingly left his royal residence to slaughter civilized society. And he became the first of the Seven Dragon Lords to fall in recorded history.
The Hero Party appeared.
There were no omens or traces. They infiltrated demon territory without grand parades or impressive military displays. Like mold, they seeped in, butchered the demon realm's rear lines, and vanished.
At first, the Dragon Lords watched this with amusement—both the desperate struggles of insects and the death of a powerful competitor who had acted alone.
When Pernich of Malice died, the Dragon Lords could no longer laugh. He died in his royal residence, and they learned that the Hero Party hadn't lost a single member in the process.
Within their royal residences, Dragon Lords were no different from gods. This wasn't an exaggerated description but rather a plain statement of fact. What else could you call immortals who controlled concepts and crafted divinity?
And when it was proven that even such gods could die in their own domains, the Dragon Lords refused to participate.
Even when the Hero Party headed toward the Demon King. Even when that absolute ruler who had subjugated all the Dragon Lords and promised eternal glory to the demon realm fell.
The Dragon Lords remained silent. They did not intervene even as they watched the Demon King's death. Looking at the Demon King who had been beheaded and turned into an object of ridicule, they thought it would be foolish to confront the Hero Party now.
All humans are destined to fade with time, so wouldn't time inevitably favor them?
With such optimistic reasoning. Or.
If all the others died and disappeared, wouldn't fewer gods remaining in this land mean fewer competitors?
With somewhat political calculations.
It wasn't so.
When the Demon King died, the war ended, and the Hero Party disbanded, Abiditas, who had just begun to actively operate, died.
At the hands of insignificant beings, not heroes. Within his royal residence.
More time passed, humans became weaker than ever before, most of the Hero Party had died or disappeared, and even their god had abandoned this land.
Could there be a better opportunity? Wouldn't those sweet lands, lives, blood, and flesh now satisfy their hungry stomachs?
Lamerix stepped forward first and died immediately. While facing minor countries that weren't even worth noticing during the last war.
The number of gods, once seven, had now become three. When more than half of their competitors had died and disappeared, the immortals suddenly felt fear.
This is a hunt.
Those who once prided themselves as the strongest in the land, who insulted temples, ruled over millions of demons, and condemned civilized cities, had now become prey.
Those who thought they would never gather again came together. After all, prey tends to form herds, and competition is a value that comes after survival.
And.
"Have you all been well?"
As a man appeared with the sound of dragging chains and smiled down at them, they decided without hesitation to bow their heads.
The essence of demonkind is the worship of strength. Their society proves everything through power alone. Neither long years nor vast numbers could earn respect among them.
Respect among demons can only be won through strength, and the Demon King proved this by ruling above all Seven Dragon Lords.
So, if a being appeared who had slaughtered the Demon King.
-Guide us.
Was there any reason not to call him the Demon King?
Especially when he possessed such powerful divinity.
"This really isn't easy..."
Elizabeta looked down at the two people raising their hands in the hastily set up tent and muttered.
She couldn't reprimand someone who had proven himself to be the hero of the age by killing a Dragon Lord in front of others. That would tarnish the hero's honor.
And to be more honest, she didn't want to see Ivan squirming in front of others. After all, the king's partner should be the most dignified.
"Vanka."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Ivan Petrovich Krasilov. Our country strictly prohibits polygamy..."
Thinking about it for a moment, her country didn't actually prohibit polygamy. Elizabeta looked down at the hero from a country where polygamy was encouraged (if one had the means) and the scout from a country where polygamy wasn't particularly condemned, and chose her words carefully.
"...will prohibit it in the future. And, no, before that! How could you be smirking and kissing another woman right in front of your partner—"
Instead of explaining that he hadn't smirked or kissed anyone, Ivan neatly bowed his head. He looked exactly like a 'wronged but non-protesting loyal subject' straight out of a painting, causing Elizabeta to pound her chest with tears welling up in her eyes.
Her stomach felt bloated, but she wasn't sure if it was from indignation or morning sickness.
Honestly, could it be morning sickness already? That is, could morning sickness appear so soon? Elizabeta looked down at her slender stomach with fear, and at that moment, her eyes met Isabelle's.
-Smirk.
Isabelle was grinning with her entire body.
"...Heh."
She was even trying to hold back her laughter by suppressing her voice. Elizabeta felt the blood in her entire body turn cold.
That woman.
Suddenly feeling her hand twitch toward the sword hilt resting on the armrest, she took a deep breath. When Ivan noticed her expression and raised his head, Isabelle instantly composed her face and turned away.
"...Isabelle."
"..."
Despite Elizabeta's chilling voice, Isabelle didn't raise her head.
"Isabelle."
"..."
"Isabelle de Etoile."
"..."
"...Hero."
"Yes! Your Majesty!! The hero of the age is here!!"
Is she truly insane?
Elizabeta looked at Isabelle, feeling her molars grinding. As Isabelle retreated just enough to avoid Ivan's gaze, looking at her with a smirk—
She knew for certain. That little girl, no. That young thing who was no longer little.
Is an enemy.
And the ruler of Krasilov never backs down before an enemy. Elizabeta immediately stared at Ivan and said stiffly:
"Ah, Vanka. Labor pains. Labor pains are coming. Hoo hoo, so this is what it feels like... to carry a life..."
"...?"
Ivan was confused. According to basic biological knowledge, even if there was something in Elizabeta's womb, it would be nothing more than a cellular stage.
Could even cells cause labor pains to the mother in this cursed pre-modern fantasy world...?
"Ah, mister. My eyes feel strange. The world is getting dark and dim, sob sob."
"...??"
Ivan was confused. While he was experiencing similar symptoms, the curse that Isabelle carried could indeed show such symptoms, but it wasn't the kind that would suddenly flare up at a moment like this.
In this confusion, Ivan briefly looked over the two women staring at him and suddenly had a realization.
Ah, so that's it.
I see. Certainly. This is a kind of cliché... a hero story cliché. In fact, he was a veteran who had witnessed such situations numerous times.
'The conflict between the ruler and the hero.'
This was a long-standing tradition. Heroes inevitably possessed strong authority and power as individuals, and rulers often experienced confusion when dealing with these supranational individuals who transcended their authority.
It's not easy to give orders to them or to acknowledge them. Inevitably, aren't rulers the kind who cannot tolerate a superior race? Especially if they're kings.
So even in those days, there were countless rulers who tried to check heroes or viewed them with suspicion. It was just somewhat perplexing that Elizabeta was doing this.
Elizabeta is an excellent person. Worthy of loyalty both as a king and as an individual.
For Kim Seon-woo, who had lived as a thoughtless student for 20 years, or for Ivan, who had lived as a mere soldier who did as he was told for 30 years, it was difficult to understand this young superhuman who had grasped an entire country at the young age of mid-twenties.
The qualities of a king must be inherited traits. Ivan decided to accept this easily. After all, commoners cannot understand rulers.
But even such an excellent monarch seemed unable to easily accept the authority of a suddenly appearing hero. Well, considering her age, that could be understandable. Even if she's still immature...
"Vanka."
"Mister!"
So the reason they were shouting at him now was also clear. Ivan was both a member of the Hero Party and a soldier of Krasilov. In other words, wasn't he their only intersection?
It's his duty to mediate. In fact, that was why the previous generation's Hero Party was carefully selected from personnel of each country. To be representatives of all nations and simultaneously mediators for all rulers.
"Let's return for now, Your Majesty."
Ivan soothed Elizabeta with a mature face.
"Go outside for a moment."
From the position of a wise scout, he shooed Isabelle out of the tent. Isabelle left the tent staggering, with a face like a betrayed puppy.
A conversation that could be summarized as "If she and I fight, whose side will you take?" or "If she and I fall into water, who will you save first?" continued for a long time inside the king's tent.
In fact, it was closer to an interrogation than a conversation. Ivan sighed inwardly while soothing the strangely enraged Elizabeta.
How on earth did Beolgrin handle such situations so skillfully back then? (He didn't.)
"Vanka, we'll hold a wedding as soon as we return. A grand one, and we'll invite all the heroes to attend. In fact, it's already late. Shouldn't we have done this last summer?"
Last summer's royal tournament, when Elizabeta, still a princess then, was the prize for the winner. Since Ivan was essentially the winner, they should have stamped the marriage certificate then.
Ivan comforted her for a while, and only when her sniffling subsided did he finally speak.
"That would be difficult, Your Majesty."
"...What?"
"I must head to the demon realm immediately."
"...What...?"
"The Hero Party has now completed its preparations. The time has finally come when we can annihilate all the remaining Dragon Lords. Your Majesty, give the order. Hold a victory ceremony and bless the heroes."
The right to officially bless the Hero Party of the age. Thus, the right to announce the arrival of heroes ahead of any other nation or monarch in this world.
That in itself can guarantee the immense authority of the Krasilov royal family. As a subject of Krasilov, he had to explain that this opportunity shouldn't be missed.
Elizabeta, sitting on Ivan's thigh, listened blankly to his explanation for a while, then,
"Impossible!!"
"Your Majesty."
"Impossible! Impossible! Impossible!!"
She shouted, stamping her feet.
Thus, persuading rulers is not an easy task. Ivan couldn't help but admire Beolgrin's achievements inwardly.
Regardless of what Elizabeta wanted to do or what schemes Isabelle was preparing, what the Krasilov 2nd Corps had to do was clear.
Ovidis was foreign territory, and Krasilov had led its corps to this land solely under the banner of "Striking the Dragon Lords."
In other words, they were an expeditionary force. And expeditionary forces cause massive financial drain just by breathing.
The Krasilov 2nd Corps began its withdrawal with the annihilation of Lamerix.
The march through the underground passage from Pritzenkaya to Ovidis took about a month and a half. Since they had to excavate directly as they moved, withdrawal would take only half that time.
That is, 3 weeks. Just 3 weeks needed to return to Pritzenkaya. For tens of thousands of men crossing several countries, this mobility rivaled that of Mongol cavalry.
However, regardless of this swiftness, it meant that for these 3 weeks, Pritzenkaya was essentially disarmed except for a small defensive force.
A vampire was drinking someone's blood in the darkness of Pritzenkaya.
Side ep. The Correct Approach Method.