Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 607

Throughout most of the laboratory, efforts were underway to build an army. The project had advanced beyond its early stages, and completed subjects were already being deployed.

Cristina was on a quest to truly bring people back to life. But she, along with Louis and Anna, wasn’t just focused on that. They were involved in every aspect of the next phase of the project, beyond just its implementation. They were doing further exploration.

Meanwhile, in a separate, secluded lab, Ludwig, Heinrich, and Louise braced themselves for another potentially shocking discovery.

What they found, however, was entirely unexpected.

It wasn’t cruel or horrific.

“Is that a rabbit...?” Heinrich asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yes, it’s a rabbit,” Anna confirmed with a nod.

It was, quite literally, a rabbit.

In a rather large cage, five adorable rabbits hopped about. Despite their undeniable cuteness, they seemed out of place in a facility known for terrifying and gruesome experiments—experiments too dreadful to be discussed openly.

The onlookers were captivated, watching as the rabbits moved around in their spacious enclosure.

But what was the purpose of this display? Surely, it wasn’t just to showcase something cute.

“Wait... Something’s off.”

Louise noticed something strange about the rabbits. At first glance, they seemed perfectly fine, but there was something peculiar about them. Though they moved around the cage, something was subtly off.

“They seem to be limping a bit...” Louise observed, her brow furrowed.

Ludwig, who prided himself on his attention to detail, hadn’t noticed anything unusual until Louise pointed it out. Now, he saw it too—all the rabbits had a slight limp.

“Come to think of it...” he murmured, squinting at the rabbits.

“Their legs are different lengths,” Louise realized, noticing the limbs, whether in the front or the back, were mismatched.

“That’s right.” Louis Ankton nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “We transplanted a leg from another specimen.”

Ludwig’s eyes widened at this revelation.

“And those rabbits—none of them have ever died.” This time, it was Anna who spoke. “It was an experiment on a living subject.”

There were already three taboos tied to this project. Dark magic that reanimated the dead, homunculi, and...

“Chimeras...” Louise mumbled to herself, lost in thought.

“Yes, exactly.”

Now, even chimeras were part of the conversation.

These creatures, born from another of alchemy’s forbidden practices, aimed to combine the strengths of various living beings to form an ultimate lifeform.

While this practice was often used for terrifying purposes—hence its taboo status—it didn’t always have to be.

The true issue wasn’t the magic itself, but the intentions behind its use.

The idea of transplanting limbs from other creatures hung heavily in the air. Everyone understood the implications.

Lost legs or lost arms... They could be restored.

“Ludwig... This is one of the most basic forms of chimera experimentation,” Louis said.

Compared to the terrifying chimera taboos that replaced not just limbs, but also heads and organs, transplanting limbs was the simplest of tasks. However, because the alchemy behind creating chimeras was considered taboo, it couldn’t be used openly.

Their involvement in such forbidden practices was a closely guarded secret. Even though there was a way to restore Ludwig’s lost arm, they couldn’t speak of it.

Therefore, despite knowing how easy it would be to give Ludwig his arm back, they were unable to act.

Now, though, since Ludwig had entered the laboratory and seen everything, there was no longer a need to keep secrets from him.

In fact, now that he had uncovered the truth, they could finally do for Ludwig what they hadn’t been able to before.

Ludwig’s eyes slowly widened.

“I see...”

The alchemy of chimera creation had the potential to evolve into a method for the transplantation of limbs for those who had lost them in the war.

While bringing someone back to life was nearly impossible, restoring lost limbs was easily within reach.

***

The student-researchers weren’t suddenly breeding animals in the lab. They were conducting experiments to find a way to restore Ludwig’s missing limb, and it was simpler than creating an entire army of the undead.

Naturally, Ludwig was thrilled at the thought of regaining his lost arm.

This breakthrough wasn’t just a blessing for Ludwig alone.

Just as countless lives had been lost in the war, many more were left carrying severe injuries.

Though the timeline was uncertain, once the dust settled and the process of recovery began, the dream that many injured had of restoring their bodies might become a reality.

However, this hope hinged on changing perceptions about chimera magic, which was currently seen as taboo.

Chimera magic was forbidden and labeled as evil, yet it held the potential to heal, depending on how it was used. The key lay in who wielded this power.

The reason no one mentioned that Ludwig’s lost arm could soon be restored wasn’t solely because the magic was forbidden.

“It will be painful.”

“That’s fine,” Ludwig replied, resolute. He was ready to endure any amount of pain if it meant he could restore his arm.

It would let him fight again, and he could do something meaningful once more.

That thought alone gave Ludwig the strength to endure anything.

“Ludwig, it’s not just about the pain. It could even result in death.”

That gave Ludwig some pause.

“Is it really that severe?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

“The chimera process isn’t about regeneration; it’s a grafting technique,” Louis explained. “It involves transplanting a body part that wasn’t originally yours.”

Louis Ankton glanced at the rabbits in the cage. Ludwig instinctively knew that only the ones who had successfully made it through the procedure had survived; there had to have been many failures.

“The procedure is straightforward, but enduring it is up to you,” they warned, making sure Ludwig understood the risks, in case he decided to take drastic measures in order to be able to fight again.

If he could withstand the pain, the chimera surgery could give him back his lost arm.

“I’ll do it,” Ludwig declared, his face set with determination.

Now that he understood what was at stake, he refused to hesitate.

“If I can do more than just idle about... There’s no reason for me not to do it.”

Ludwig had ventured into forbidden territory, but because of that, he now glimpsed new possibilities.

He nodded again, his resolve unwavering. “Besides, you know that my strength is my endurance, right?”

Being resilient was his only edge, and he was sure it would keep him alive.

Louise observed Ludwig and the other two intently. The use of chimera research for limb transplantation was both shocking and invaluable knowledge to her. Yet, the absence of one key person, whom the emperor had taken aside for a private conversation, lingered in her mind.

This laboratory stood out as the most critical among all others, underscoring the significance of the three second-year students from the Temple as the core team driving this research.

Despite the progress, many questions remained unanswered, shrouded in mystery.

The work being conducted in this laboratory was undeniably horrific and cruel, an exploration into an immensely powerful magic. At its foundation lay dark magic, which was intertwined with studies into homunculi and chimeras, which culminated in the potential to perform limb transplants using the processes used to create chimeras.

‘How could these kids possibly do so many things...?’

This wasn’t just a single branch of magic. It was intricate and multifaceted, bringing together several fields, and these three weren’t merely helping with the research, but were undeniably key members of the team.

Time still had its absolute limits. How could these kids, barely twenty, possess such knowledge and achieve so much?

There was also another, more profound question nagging at her, one she could not let go of.

This wasn’t about regeneration; it was about transplantation.

‘The arm to be transplanted...’

It likely wouldn’t come from someone still alive.

Dettomorian’s words kept replaying themselves in Louise’s mind, the words of that unsettling boy lingering in her thoughts.

If they kept digging into this, Ludwig would eventually die.

Those words haunted her mind.

***

“As you know, I’m well-versed in numbers. Numbers reveal a lot, you see. That is, if the person looking at them knows how to interpret them.

I’ve spent a long time learning to decipher their meaning. And really, that’s all there is to it. But you see, these days, it feels like everyone can see the numbers, even those who never cared for them before. And as you know, lately, those numbers only seem to go down.

This time, the numbers are of how many regular soldiers, superhuman individuals capable of Mana Reinforcement, Master-class fighters, mages, holy knights, and people from the refugee camps were gone. Of how many cities, in which countries, have been lost, how much food there is left, and how many supply routes were destroyed.

We find ourselves staring at these numbers a lot. But numbers that only decrease don’t need much interpretation.

The situation is getting worse. Yesterday, things were bad, and today they’re even worse. Understanding the details of this worsening situation doesn’t really change anything.

The only number that brings any relief is the dwindling number of warp gates. Thankfully, that number is now small enough to count.

The situation keeps deteriorating. Every day, it feels like it can’t possibly get worse, but unless humanity vanishes completely, it still can. The gates keep unleashing monsters, while the number of surviving humans is limited. If there’s no one left to fight, what then? That’s when things might truly hit rock bottom.

I don’t lose sleep every night, though, because I have mages around me who can force sleep upon me when it refuses to come.

Anyway, let’s talk about those numbers. About combat power, and those who can still fight.

Their numbers are dwindling, and there’s no time or resources for new ones to rise and take their place.

The number of lost. The dead. Fallen soldiers, lost knights and mages.

When you suggested that you could transform those lost numbers I see in my reports back into a fighting force... I gave it a lot of thought.

Naturally, it wasn’t because I believed you shouldn’t go through with it. It’s not that I didn’t consider it; I did, but only briefly. Just for a moment.

Why did I dwell on it so much, then? If it succeeded, it would be wonderful. If it worked, there’d be nothing more to hope for.

Will it work? If only it would...

But then what? Yes, then what?

I was anxious about what might come next.

Let’s say it worked. Let’s say the Gate Incident was resolved. Then what would happen?

I worried about it, but I couldn’t find an answer. So I stopped worrying. ‘Let us first see if it would work or not,’ I thought. After all, it’s pointless to debate the pros and cons of something whose efficacy hasn’t even been confirmed yet.

When I saw your results, a question immediately came to mind, a more fundamental one: Is it even possible to achieve something like this? And in such a short time? So flawlessly?

Adelia managed to create the Titan, but as you know, she didn’t do it alone. You’re a genius, but so is Adelia. However, the creation of the Titan required the total and unmatched technological expertise of the Duchy of Saint-Ouen, renowned for its knowledge of golems.

The Titan project couldn’t have succeded without the involvement of the Grand Duke of Saint-Ouen, the duchy’s leader.

If Adelia had been tasked with designing the Titan on her own, would it have been possible? It might have been, but it would have taken a lot of time—probably more than five years.

Adelia, with her self-deprecating humility, had insisted it would take over ten years. Honestly, anyone hearing about what they were trying to do might think even ten years is too optimistic.

But here’s the thing.

I’ve done my share of bad deeds, entertained wicked thoughts, and engaged in some shady activities. But the Empire doesn’t invest in dark magic or forbidden arts. You know that we steer clear of evil powers.

Yet, in a situation like this, when you’re cornered, it’s only human—and very much in my nature—to grasp at whatever’s within reach.

But you didn’t gain much from the Empire’s knowledge, did you? From what I’ve heard, you already had a nearly-completed blueprint on your own.

Could there really be three geniuses like Adelia? Maybe so.

Recently, I spoke with someone familiar with the situation. They were concerned I might have allied myself with some dangerous individuals.

“As far as I know, I haven’t teamed up with anyone like that,” I told them.

I’m not sure if they understood my point. After all, there’s always a chance someone else might have made such a connection.

But hearing what you just said...

You know things you shouldn’t. I have no idea where you heard it, and I don’t know how you found out.

I’m usually good at keeping things under wraps, so it couldn’t have come from my side. That means you must have discovered it elsewhere. That really limits the possibilities.

Ultimately, this situation revealed that I had lied back then.

Cristina, let me ask you one thing...”

***

Vertus de Gradias turned to Cristina, his eyes searching for answers. “It seems it wasn’t me, but perhaps you—or maybe all three of you—who have allied with the Black Order. Is that right?”

Cristina met his gaze and nodded.

“Is it just you, or are the other two involved as well?” Vertus pressed.

Cristina merely shrugged. “Who knows?”

Her indifferent expression seemed like a challenge to him, as if daring him to act. Vertus fell silent, uncertain whether Cristina had joined forces with the Black Order on her own accord, or if the others were complicit as well.

Vertus was sure the others knew. He had suspected it all along, and now he silently acknowledged it.

Cristina had reached out to the Black Order and somehow uncovered the truth. Her abrupt shift in demeanor towards Ellen confirmed it.

“Well, the research is done,” Vertus said, crossing his arms. “We have all the data and blueprints we need. There’s a lot of talk going around. ‘You’re useless now,’ they say, like tossing aside a worn-out shoe, or abandoning a hunting dog once the hunt is over.”

“...”

The Titan was a masterpiece, born from the combined knowledge of the Duchy of Saint-Ouen and Adelia’s brilliance. The homunculus undead was born from the combined knowledge of the Black Order and the brilliance of these three individuals.

Once the blueprints were finalized, both the former and the latter could be replicated.

Their accomplishments belonged to a realm beyond ordinary magic, but now, the blueprint was complete.

Cristina and the Black Order were no longer necessary.

“However,” Vertus said, his brow furrowing, “you’re not idiots—surely you saw that coming.”

If Cristina and the others had undertaken this project solely for the sake of Empire and humanity, there would be no reason to purge them.

But they were mages who had accomplished something extraordinary, something that must remain hidden from the world. If the Black Order was involved, things grew complicated.

The Black Order’s intentions were a mystery, which made purging them necessary. The Black Order had to have known this, and so would Cristina and the others. There was no way they would have moved forward without a backup plan.

“They must have some kind of safeguard in place.”

“You’re very well-informed,” Cristina said, smiling at Vertus.

Her smile was laced with intense anger, hatred, and malice.

Only a few truly knew the reality behind the Gate Incident. And of those, some ended up despising everyone.

After all, even if they had done this unintentionally, there was no reason to forgive them.

If someone accidentally pressed the button that brought about the end of the world, why should they be absolved?

It hadn’t even been a mistake.

But what does the truth matter?

The number of people who need to be held accountable has grown from one to many.

Why should they escape punishment just because they are pitiable?

If someone asked why those who had unintentionally done wrong should die, then what answer could they give when asked why the innocent had to die?

In a world drenched with the blood and tears of the innocent, why should the lives of the perpetrators be spared?

Shouldn’t they be the first to shed tears and blood?

No one could justify it.

Everyone knew that death would not make things right. Logically, adding more death would solve nothing.

But who can truly say that logic reaches the hearts of the wounded and broken?

“If you came to kill us, telling us that we were no longer useful, I was going to tell you that it’s the Empire that’s outlived its usefulness.”

Cristina’s voice was filled with hatred, fury, contempt, and murderous intent, demanding vengeance for everything that had happened.

“Maybe being Emperor isn’t just for show, huh? You did say you gave it a lot of thought, didn’t you?”

If such a thing were possible, then what would come next?

It wasn’t about questioning the morality of bringing back the dead.

“This involved handing over an army I could not control or suppress to someone else. Of course I had to give it a lot of thought,” Vertus said.

“You’ve even figured out what the safeguard is?” Cristina said in surprise, which made Vertus chuckle softly.

“What other safeguard would researchers have when creating an army, if not to be able to exert control over it?”

“That’s true.”

Vertus understood from the start that once the army was completed, it wouldn’t belong to him. It was being built with unfamiliar technology, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it.

He was aware of this, yet he had still been ensnared by the project. It was precisely because he understood the implications that he found himself trapped.

From the success of the first experiment, Vertus had already foreseen the outcome of the entire project.

The Gate Incident would come to an end, with the need for fewer sacrifices.

Yet, inevitably, another price awaited.

From the moment he had chosen to build the army, he understood he would never continue to rule the Empire.

He knew this.

The project itself was a success, but Cristina was still determined to bring Ashir back from the dead.

The experiment wasn’t over; she kept refining the process through her relentless efforts.

They had reached a stage where they could make a corpse speak.

Though Ashir could not voice his own thoughts, he could repeat back what he was told.

Vertus understood all too well that if they could make the dead walk and talk as if they were alive, they could do the same to him.

The implications were undeniable.

If they brought back a fallen knight, they could wield their strength.

If they resurrected a deceased emperor, they could seize control of the entire Empire.