Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 523

Letters in the midst of war.

At a time when the grand magic of mass teleportation was necessary to transport war supplies, letters were considered a luxury.

Nevertheless, letters arrived periodically.

For soldiers on the battlefield, letters from their families inquiring about their well-being were a great morale booster, reminding them of those they needed to protect and reigniting their fighting spirit.

Of course, given the large scale of the army, such letters might be so numerous that it could disrupt the supply of other important materials, at least under normal circumstances.

Unfortunately, many soldiers had lost the families they would exchange such letters with. Therefore, the number of letters arriving was small, and because of this dark irony, such letters could occasionally be delivered.

After Lanian Sesor’s performance ended, Heinrich headed to Lint’s tent.

The letters had already been sorted by recipient.

Connor Lint, Heinrich, Cliffman, and Erhi de Raffaeli sat in the tent.

Cliffman, wearing his usual cold expression, was opening his letters one by one.

“Where’s Kaier?” Lint asked.

Erhi shrugged. “Probably hugging the Arc Crystal. He said he’d be staying there overnight.” freёnovelkiss-com

The Arc Crystal was a large-scale mana storage artifact.

Kaier wasn’t much help in direct combat, but when his talent was combined with the abilities of the senior mage Rudina, they wielded formidable power.

Though Rudina often scolded him, Kaier felt a sense of responsibility for the only task he could perform.

Although they often exchanged harsh words, they never neglected their duties.

They were the most suitable duo, yet they couldn’t stand each other.

“I’ll deliver these to him, then,” Connor Lint said, picking up a few letters addressed to Kaier and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

After about three seconds...

Whoosh!

Connor Lint reappeared, without the letters in his hand.

He had teleported to the Arc Crystal to deliver the letters.

“Wow, no matter how many times I see it... You’ve really grown,” Erhi remarked, grinning.

“Yeah, I’ve grown quite a bit, if I may say so myself,” Connor Lint replied with a smirk.

Both Erhi and Heinrich laughed.

He was no longer the half-wit he used to be.

Gone were the days when he could only teleport naked. He had overcome all the initial penalties associated with his ability.

“By the way, you have the most letters again,” Lint noted as Heinrich sat down.

Heinrich had received the most letters, which was somewhat unusual.

Most of the letters they received weren’t from family.

Connor Lint, Erhi, and Cliffman had all lost their hometowns in the Gate Incident, so they did not get any letters from their families.

Though they hadn’t all witnessed their families’ deaths, they had come to accept at some point that their families were no longer in this world.

The sorrow and anger over that loss lay dormant in their hearts, but they didn’t dwell on it.

Despite this, there were still letters in front of Erhi, Connor Lint, and Cliffman.

Among them, Heinrich had received the most.

Erhi crossed his arms and smiled. “It’s only natural that the one who saved the most people among us gets the most letters.”

These were letters from the people they had saved.

“Hey, I’ve saved a lot of people too, you know? Sure, killing monsters is hard, but no one can beat me in rescue missions,” Connor Lint protested, making Erhi chuckle.

“Sure, but it’s only natural that burning a horde of monsters in front of someone leaves a stronger impression. You teleport them away so quickly that they might not even realize they’ve been rescued. But Heinrich’s feats are something else, right?”

Connor Lint sighed deeply as he picked up an envelope. “That’s true. Tch.”

In the Royal Class encampment, Heinrich was the one who received the most letters, not Ellen.

There were so many letters addressed to Ellen that they couldn’t even be delivered.

Even if they were passed to Ellen, she wouldn’t be able to read them all, and delivering them would disrupt the transport of other supplies. There was even a warning at the postal service that no letters to Ellen could be delivered.

Therefore, Heinrich, who was the most famous one after Ellen, naturally received the most letters.

[Hello, Heinrich. You might not remember me, but I’m Seria. You saved me in Aristole last year. I sent a letter before, but I’m not sure if you received it.]

.

.

Honestly, Heinrich couldn’t remember the faces of all the people he had saved.

There were just too many.

But whenever they mentioned a region, Heinrich could just about recall what he had done there, how many people had died, and how many he had saved.

The letters came from children, adults, and even soldiers who had once fought alongside him.

The letters from soldiers were mostly from those who could no longer fight, who had suffered severe injuries and become disabled due to a lack of timely treatment.

They sent letters wishing for Heinrich’s well-being.

Some sent letters regularly, not just once.

Heinrich didn’t know their faces, but he remembered their names.

Though he couldn’t afford to do so now, back when he was based in the capital, he occasionally found time to send replies.

The contents of the letters varied, but they all expressed gratitude and wished for Heinrich’s safety.

Heinrich tried to read all the letters addressed to him whenever possible.

Having witnessed so much death, there were times when he despaired, questioning the meaning of it all. In those moments, these letters reassured him that his efforts were not in vain.

Just as these people found hope in Heinrich, he found hope in their letters.

That, somehow, they could survive.

That, somehow, they could endure.

Heinrich read all the letters with a solemn expression.

Connor Lint and Erhi had already read all the letters they’d received.

In the early days of his enrollment, Erhi was never one who put in much effort, although he did possess some physical strength.

However, talent was a different matter. Only a select few with true talent could enter the Royal Class.

Talent was rare.

Erhi, who possessed the talent to become a holy knight, had no choice but to accumulate extensive practical experience, aided by the growth stimulant known as Moonshine. As a result, Erhi de Raffaeli acquired combat abilities and divine power comparable to a high-ranking holy knight of the Order of the Holy Knights.

Erhi was a prime example of why talent was bestowed upon only a few. Those in the Royal Class were talented individuals, carefully selected from across the continent. It was perhaps inevitable that such talents would grow rapidly.

Achieving in a short time what might take others decades of grueling effort was, in a way, a given. In fact, within the Royal Class, Erhi’s development into a high-ranking holy knight in just a few years was considered average.

Compared to Ellen and Reinhart, everyone’s growth seemed excessively slow. Those two were on a different level altogether—one was a hero, and the other was the Demon King.

Excluding them, only a few within the Royal Class had grown at an exceptionally fast pace.

There was Cliffman, who had received the second most letters after Heinrich, and B-11 Ludwig. Both had awakened Mana Reinforcement on their own before the Gate Incident and, with the aid of Moonshine, they were both the brink of reaching Master class. It was believed that they could reach Master class before the year ended, given their refined power and mana manipulation skills.

There was also Delphine Izadra, who had awakened a new power, spirit magic.

Scarlett, though not quite at the level of Ludwig and Cliffman, was still considered a top-tier combatant.

Cliffman read all his letters with a stern expression, then carefully stored them and tucked them into his coat. Cliffman, who possessed the talent for combat, was about to leave the tent when Lint called out to him from behind.

“Hey, how long are you going to keep going on solo missions? It might have worked before, but now you’re moving with the army. There’s a limit to acting alone.”

Cliffman stood still. After a moment, he said briefly, “Being alone is better.”

“No matter how confident you are, if you keep going on like that, you could really die.”

“Well,” Cliffman murmured quietly, “I’ve always managed somehow. I’ll manage again.”

With that strange statement, Cliffman exited the tent.

Connor Lint’s gaze lingered on the entrance to the tent through which Cliffman had left and smiled bitterly. “I’m worried he’ll really die in some random place...”

Erhi sighed deeply. “Leave him be. I think his talent is also a supernatural power.”

“... I kind of think so too, but...”

Cliffman had the talent for combat, and that talent manifested itself as achieving victory. Winning, no matter what—that was how his talent functioned.

“If I experienced my entire unit dying around me while being the sole survivor several times, I’d be scared to lead a unit too.”

“That’s true, but...”

When it came to combat, things were always uncertain. Unexpected situations could arise, and one could encounter too many enemies, or unfairly strong ones.

Countless units, unable to handle those variables, had been annihilated over the lengthy period that humanity had faced the Gate Incident.

Cliffman himself had killed numerous monsters and saved many people while dealing with the Gate Incident, and he had also faced countless unexpected situations.

Units he was with or sometimes led had been annihilated, even in operations with those who had reached Master class.

He himself had also faced overwhelming enemies and encountered enemies that were too strong for him. Several times, he had been in situations where he should have lost his life.

Each time, however, Cliffman somehow survived. Even in situations where others much stronger than him were killed and slaughtered, Cliffman crushed, tore through, and smashed the monsters he faced, returning alone and alive.

There was much debate about who killed the most monsters. It could have been Ellen, Sabioleen Tana, or Rudina. But when asked who performed the most miracles, the answer was always Cliffman, not Ellen.

Both Ellen and Cliffman always emerged victorious, but through different means. Ellen was always stronger than her enemies. Her enemies’ attacks could not penetrate her defenses, and her void sword easily tore through the monsters’ flesh.

But Cliffman was different. Cliffman often faced enemies stronger than himself, enemies he should not have been able to handle given his abilities. Yet, he always won. He always returned with grim victory in hand.

He had suffered the loss of comrades in his unit many times, which was why, at some point, he had begun to act alone. If winning somehow was his talent, and if that talent only protected his own life, then there was no need for him to work with anyone. If this talent for combat was beyond just talent and could be considered some sort of supernatural power, then it was only right that he be thrown into any battlefield alone. He would somehow bring victory.

He didn’t need comrades. That was Cliffman’s argument.

Of course, the imperial family and the general headquarters didn’t fully trust this supposed supernatural power. They cautiously assigned Cliffman to missions, careful not to risk valuable forces on an uncertain power, and potentially exposing him to the possibility of death.

As a result, Cliffman operated alone.

It was common sense to assign tasks to those with the ability to carry them out, but Cliffman somehow accomplished things that seemed beyond his own ability.

In battlefields where even those stronger than him lost their lives, Cliffman somehow managed to overcome the situation and return. Everyone in the Royal Class was extraordinary, but everyone agreed that Cliffman’s talent was especially extraordinary.

However, no one who saw Cliffman could miss the gloom and despair that enshrouded him. He seemed to carry death on his shoulders.

After Cliffman returned to his tent, Heinrich read the remaining letters addressed to him as Connor Lint and Erhi chatted, since they had already read the letters addressed to them.

“What should we name the baby?”

“... What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Well, there’s someone who sends me letters every month. This must mean they like me, right? I don’t really remember their face, but it seems to be a girl.”

“... What is it that you want me to say?”

“Should I ask to meet after the war? If I write back and ask her to meet me, she’ll probably agree, right?”

“I guess so... But you don’t ever change, do you?”

“They say that if you suddenly change, it means you’re going to die soon.”

Heinrich chuckled when he heard this snippet of conversation while reading his letters. Connor Lint still held onto some of his old ways. Perhaps retaining some of their old, immature selves was a good thing in such situations.

Before he knew it, Heinrich found himself with only one letter left. It was a strange letter. The letters usually bore the sender’s name, and it was often a name Heinrich couldn’t remember.

This particular letter was addressed to Heinrich von Schwartz, but the sender...

[From a friend.]

That was all it said.

Heinrich had no friends outside this garrison. Tilting his head in curiosity, Heinrich opened the envelope, wondering if it was from someone claiming to be his friend.

His eyes went wide as he read its contents.

It wasn’t a message of gratitude from someone for saving them.

Nor was it an explanation of what kind of friend they were.

The letter contained only a single line.

[Your siblings will kill you.]

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