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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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The preliminaries ended rather anticlimactically.
Ozma, Gav, and I, all veterans of the tournament, advanced to the main tournament with perfect records.
Since the preliminaries consisted of three matches, it was already evening by the time all the matches were concluded.
The main tournament would begin tomorrow.
Ozma, whom I met again at dinner, held out her fist confidently.
I bumped fists with her and asked about the level of competition this year.
Ozma boasted,
“The average skill level seems lower than last year. There weren’t any demons who could challenge me. It’s proof that I’ve gotten much stronger.”
Indeed, Ozma had grown exponentially stronger since she began learning magic from me.
Few ordinary demons would be a match for her.
Perhaps only those at the level of the Four Heavenly Kings.
“Ah, by the way.”
“What is it?”
“You said the martial arts tournament is usually sponsored by one of the Four Heavenly Kings. I don’t think I heard who it was this year.”
“Nick Iron is sponsoring this year’s tournament.”
“Nick Iron?”
That was unexpected. He was the only one of the Four Heavenly Kings I hadn’t met yet.
I had met three of them so far: Mephisto, the Haunted Scarecrow, Dorothea, the Calamity in the Guise of a Girl, and Walter Leonhart, the Beast King, the Demon Lord’s Right Hand.
“I’ve never heard of Nick Iron. What kind of demon is he?”
Ozma shrugged.
“Nick Iron is a Full Body Chrome Golem from the Munchkin tribe.”
“The Munchkin tribe?”
“They’re a minority group in Doom Land. Similar to imps, they’re known for their small stature and dexterity. Nick Iron was originally an ordinary Munchkin, but he modified his body to become stronger. That’s how he became one of the Four Heavenly Kings.”
If body modification alone was enough to become one of the Four Heavenly Kings, the Demon Lord’s army would have conquered the world by now. Nick Iron must have had exceptional potential.
Ozma, surprisingly, answered my question in detail.
“I’m actually meeting with Nick Iron tonight. If you’d like, I can bring you along.”
“Really?!”
I was surprised. I hadn’t expected to meet him so soon.
The Demon Lord’s daughter had impressive connections.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Princess Ozma. Loyalty, loyalty.”
“Spare me the flattery.”
And so, I was granted the opportunity to meet Nick Iron, the last of the Four Heavenly Kings.
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The Four Heavenly Kings system was a long-standing tradition in the Demon Lord’s army.
It was a rule that the four strongest demons were chosen and granted authority commensurate with their power.
Walter Leonhart, the Lionheart King.
Mephisto, the Scarecrow of Death.
Dorothea Gale, the Calamity in the Guise of a Girl.
And finally, Nick Iron.
Nick Iron, having replaced every part of his body with pure chrome, was essentially a golem.
The humorous part was that he wasn’t created by someone else; he had chosen to become a chrome golem to gain strength.
I had heard of people modifying parts of their bodies, but never someone who had completely replaced their entire body, abandoning their original form.
Having discarded his flesh and blood for a body of steel, was he still the same person? There was no way to prove it, as only his mind remained.
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That evening, Ozma led us to a house in the village.
I had expected someone of his status to reside in a more extravagant dwelling, but it was surprisingly modest.
Dorothea’s taste was… questionable, bordering on gaudy.
“Nick, are you in?”
Ozma knocked on the door, and we heard movement inside.
Creak!
As the door opened, I instinctively looked up at the large figure casting a shadow over us.
Big.
That was my first thought.
Despite being a Munchkin, whose average height was less than 150cm, Nick Iron was well over two meters tall.
Even I, at 178cm, considered tall in this world, was dwarfed by him.
Nick Iron, his entire body gleaming silver, greeted Ozma.
“Welcome, Princess Ozma.”
“Long time no see, Nick.”
“Please, come in. I’ve prepared dinner.”
“Thank you.”
We exchanged brief greetings and entered the house.
He paused and looked at Camilla and me, standing awkwardly behind Ozma.
“Princess Ozma, who are they?”
“They’re with me from the Demon Lord’s castle. They wanted to meet you.”
“Is that so?”
He extended his hand towards me.
“Nick Iron.”
“Patrasche.”
I instinctively used my alias, and thankfully, Nick Iron didn’t seem to notice.
There seemed to be an information gap even among the Four Heavenly Kings.
Or perhaps Walter, the Demon Lord’s Right Hand, was simply more well-informed.
My defection to the Demon Lord’s army was a closely guarded secret, even among the highest-ranking officers.
We followed him inside, and as expected, it was an ordinary house.
Judging by his formal speech and demeanor, he seemed to be a frugal and practical person. A solid and dependable figure, like his name suggested.
He led us to the kitchen, where a lavish meal was prepared.
Just because his house was modest didn’t mean his meals were.
He probably needed a lot of fuel to maintain his large body.
“It’s nothing fancy, but please, help yourselves.”
Nick Iron, seated at the head of the table, gestured for us to eat.
While the atmosphere was awkward, the food was delicious.
As expected of a meal prepared for one of the Four Heavenly Kings, it was top-notch.
I discreetly removed my mask and began eating, mindful of Nick Iron’s presence. He suddenly asked,
“Princess Ozma, did the Demon Lord approve of you bringing a human as your follower?”
Cough! Cough!
I choked on my food.
Thankfully, I managed to swallow it without incident, but I desperately needed water.
“Here you go.”
Camilla, the perfect maid, was always prepared.
Ozma, meanwhile, said nonchalantly,
“My father recruited him, not me. So, don’t worry.”
“If you say so.”
Nick Iron nodded and took a large bite of baked trout.
While his appearance suggested a lack of internal organs, he seemed to be capable of enjoying food like any other living being.
I fiddled with the can of WD-40 in my pocket.
I had brought it as a bribe, thinking he might appreciate it, given his mechanical body. But it seemed unnecessary.
After dinner, Nick Iron served us tea in the living room.
“Please.”
“Thank you.”
I bowed slightly and took a sip from the steaming teacup.
Slurp.
He was a surprisingly good tea brewer.
He sipped his own tea and asked Ozma,
“Princess Ozma, do you think you’ll win the tournament this year?”
Ozma, munching on a cookie, nodded confidently.
“Of course. I have a good feeling about this. I’ve become much stronger since I started learning magic.”
“Oh, magic?”
Nick Iron seemed intrigued.
Ozma grinned and pointed at me.
“Patrasche here is my magic teacher. He’s better than he looks.”
Nick Iron’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, then he chuckled and said,
“But a strong body, honed through training, is more reliable than magic. Relying too much on magic can lead to your downfall.”
I had been listening quietly, but his words irked me.
“I can’t let that slide.”
“What do you mean?”
“You implied that magic is useless.”
“Do you disagree?”
“Yes.”
“…Then I’ll have to prove it to you.”
Nick Iron set down his teacup.
“Step outside. I’ll give you a lesson.”
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