Gold lost its value as it became too abundant.

Before this phenomenon occurred, no one believed such a thing was possible. The proverb "Value gold as if it were a stone" served as a cautionary reminder not to be consumed by gold’s worth, not as a literal prediction of gold being reduced to the value of a common rock.

It was only after the fact that humans labeled the phenomenon as The Curse of Gold or inflation, scrambling to explain it. The Holy Church, realizing the gravity of the situation, swiftly consecrated "pure" gold to stabilize its value, and until alchemy became widespread and alchemical currency was adopted, the Holy Gold became the sole standard of value across the continent.

Other nations, observing the fall of the Golden Nation, adjusted their systems and devised countermeasures. Scholars who specialized in economics began to emerge. Through this, humanity discovered yet another concept that had never existed before.

Yet, all of it was built upon the ruins of the Golden Nation.

Months after Demo’s execution, the chaos in the Golden Nation spiraled out of control.

Artisans who had been ousted from power took up arms and revolted. They allied with local forces, providing them with high-quality weapons, and pushed toward the capital to reclaim their influence. They executed alchemists on sight, and there seemed to be no one who could stop their advance.

However, after Demo’s death, the alchemists no longer remained passive.

The alchemists crafted weapons with their alchemy to kill. These weapons were not limited to spears or swords—they included poisons, explosives, mechanical devices, and traps. To survive and eliminate their enemies, the alchemists pushed their craft to new heights.

War drives technological advancement. The alchemy that had been confined to the production of gold expanded its scope. A plethora of bizarre tools and devices emerged, most of them designed to kill humans. Alchemists, devoid of furnaces and workshops, resorted to acts of terrorism, plunging the Golden Nation into further chaos.

The disparity in technology was stark. Yet how could artisans accept alchemy? The artisans sought to kill alchemists using traditional methods, while the alchemists, being weaker in numbers, used cunning and innovative strategies to evade and resist.

Battles, destruction, death, and chaos. It didn’t take long for the Golden Nation to be engulfed in blood and flames.

Although the entire nation had turned against the alchemists, they clung stubbornly to survival. This was not just because of their skills but also because of a single wandering ghost haunting the Golden Nation.

“King Elik! Please, stop him!”

The artisans, having driven out the alchemists and reclaimed power, no longer revered the king as they once did. No matter how exceptional the king’s craft might have been, it paled compared to alchemy. To those who had witnessed even greater mysteries, the pinnacle of craftsmanship was no longer impressive.

More importantly, this was an era of strength. While King Elik’s creations were remarkable, they lacked power. No matter how sharp a legendary sword might be, it was meaningless if wielded by a weak hand. Power resided with the warlords, and the king was reduced to a mere figurehead.

If not for her ability to analyze the intricate machinery created by the alchemists at a glance, the warlords wouldn’t have even acknowledged her as king.

“Didn’t you say the traitor Demo was executed? And yet he’s still wandering the Golden Nation, using alchemy!”

Even now, it was difficult to say they truly treated her as a king. Elik, who had been overwhelmed by work the previous day, rubbed her temples and responded to the general’s demands.

“He is restoring collapsed buildings and cleansing polluted lands. There are more urgent matters to address.”
“Hah. Has the king lost her senses? Do you truly believe that?”

She lacked the power to rebuke his insolence. At present, the most powerful person in the Golden Nation was the general, and King Elik was reduced to nothing more than the crown upon his head. With a weary face, she waited for him to continue.

“Alchemy! He’s using alchemy! The ignorant masses thank him for restoring their buildings. Sometimes, fools even revere the alchemists and assist them! They praise what they see with their eyes, unaware that it’s a cursed power!”

Of course, the people would be grateful for having their buildings restored. If the general disliked their cheers, why not build the structures himself? Elik swallowed her sarcasm and retorted.

“Then why don’t you go and stop Demo yourself? Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”
“That is…”

The general faltered for a moment.

Nothing worked against Demo. No weapon, no poison could kill him. He ignored all words, wandering the Golden Nation and endlessly creating something.

Once, one of the general’s subordinates swung a sword at him, aiming to execute Demo again as an example.

But the sight that followed…

The obstacle was dismantled.

Recalling the memory, the general tightly shut his eyes and answered.

“…He defies reason. It’s as if he’s possessed by a demon.”

There was no other way to describe it. Weapons, worthy of being called masterpieces of the century, would materialize in an instant, disassembling humans as if they were mere components. The sight of a once-renowned soldier being broken down piece by piece and scattered across the ground was enough to induce seizures from terror.

Even priests sent by the Holy Church muttered about demons and quickly withdrew. For those who opposed alchemy, this was an intolerable situation, which was why the general demanded action from King Elik.

Of course, from Elik’s perspective, this was absurd. If she had the power, the first thing she’d do would be to sweep away the scavengers coveting power.

And yet, they suddenly wanted her to deal with a ghost. Swallowing a curse, she sighed.

“How would I even manage such a thing?”
“That is the king’s role, is it not? The king’s line has always possessed mysterious powers.”

He had no solution himself but placed baseless faith in the idea that a king could resolve it. Did he truly believe in her, or was he mocking her?

Elik laughed bitterly but decided to follow the general’s request.

“I will go. Prepare the escort.”

Perhaps not expecting such a swift agreement, the general hesitated for a moment before shouting.

“The king shall make her way! Everyone, prepare!”

Riding in a palanquin, Elik deliberated.

Even as the ruler of the Golden Nation, she had no means to deal with Demo. And truthfully, she didn’t even want to deal with him.

The nation was overflowing with traitors claiming loyalty while exploiting her, or claiming to protect the Golden Nation while tearing it apart. The economy was shattered, and the artisans, preoccupied with forging weapons, weren’t contributing anything productive. Meanwhile, alchemists, embittered and vengeful, unleashed indiscriminate attacks across the nation.

If Elik were to eliminate Demo now, it would only make the situation worse.

So why was she heading toward him? The reason was simple.

Because it was easier to face Demo than to deal with the general.

After searching tirelessly for a full day, she finally received word that Demo had been spotted in a secluded mountain village. As they approached, Elik carefully chose her words.

The thought that it was easier to face Demo than the general had been a terrible delusion. Demo was her disciple—one she had taught, raised, and killed. Though labeled a traitor and executed, he had risen again, wandering the Golden Nation, repairing what was broken. What could she possibly say to him?

When he was alive, she had resented him, seeing him as the root of all their problems. Yet now, she missed him the most.

If only it were Demo. If he were still alive. Perhaps, just as he once turned bells into gold, he could have devised some extraordinary, unimaginable way to restore the Golden Nation…

But that was a distant memory now. Demo was dead. Only his corpse, unburied, and his lingering will remained, haunting the Golden Nation. That he continued to wield alchemy was surprising, but perhaps even that was a miracle born of his sheer determination.

Elik lowered her head. What face could she show him now? She wished, for a moment, that they would never arrive.

Yet, betraying her wish, the palanquin stopped before Demo. Taking a deep breath, Elik stepped out and opened the door.

In the distance, she saw him, repairing a ruined house. Swallowing her sorrow and longing, Yuria Elik called his name.

“…Demo.”

There was no response. Demo didn’t react. With a face as pale as a corpse, he simply waved his hand, piecing together the shattered roof.

She thought she wouldn’t have the face to see him again, but the moment she did, all the doubts and anxieties she had felt vanished like a mirage. Yuria approached him warmly, speaking as if to greet him.

“A master has come, yet you don’t even offer a greeting? I ought to give you a scolding.”

Her voice could not reach him, a being moved only by his will. Knowing this, Yuria was not disappointed. Instead, she quietly observed him.

His pale face showed no trace of life, and his eyes had lost their former brilliance. He reacted to nothing else, wandering aimlessly to find what was broken. When he found something damaged, he used alchemy to restore it.

The once-ruined village gradually transformed into something new. Amid the destruction and death that plagued the Golden Nation, this was the first productive sight she had witnessed in a long time. Though she had often seen such work before, seeing it again now filled her with a strange sense of nostalgia. As she absentmindedly watched the process, Yuria suddenly spoke.

“What grudge lingers so deeply that you cannot rest? Does the nation that killed you weigh so heavily on your mind?”

She didn’t need to ask. Even in death, it was clear he had worried about the ruined Golden Nation more than he had hated its king. Yuria suppressed the overwhelming emotions rising in her chest, gripping Demo’s shoulders as she let out a quiet sob.

“You’re the only one. Even in death, you’re the only one who serves the Golden Nation. Everyone else—they think only of their safety rather than fixing anything.”

Then, something remarkable happened.

Demo stopped moving. He paused as if recognizing his king, standing still and gazing quietly at Yuria.

In truth, the Golden Mirror merely couldn’t determine whether she was an obstacle or not, but Yuria didn’t know that. Believing for a moment that her feelings had reached him, she embraced him more tightly.

“…You’ve done so much. How could I ever repay you for this debt…?”

With a voice that seemed ready to break, she began to offer the apology she hadn’t been able to give while he was alive.

Shhk.

Something sliced across Yuria’s back. Pain burned like fire along the wound, and the unexpected blow caused her body to falter. A cold voice followed the blade.

“I knew this would happen. With a king so indecisive, no wonder the alchemists won’t disappear.”

Behind her fallen figure, the general raised his blood-stained sword, gazing at the dying king with cold eyes.

“If Her Majesty is found dead here, people will assume she fell victim to an alchemist’s attack. Those so-called loyalists who cling to a hollow title of ‘king’ can finally be stirred into action.”

It was then Yuria realized she had fallen into a trap.

The general had planned her death from the start. Knowing Demo was in the outskirts, he had lured her here to kill her and blame the alchemists.

The authority of the Elik line, passed down through the ages, still commanded respect, even in a fractured Golden Nation. Despite the chaos and the perceived incompetence of the throne, many still revered the royal lineage. The general intended to exploit that.

“To root out the alchemists hiding across the nation, the country must unite as one. Your Majesty’s death will serve that purpose.”

As the general coldly turned away, Demo began to move.

Death is the dissolution of the boundary between the world and oneself. Yuria, dying, was becoming an object, and alchemy touched her body.

Humans, once dead, are reduced to objects. No, even while alive, they are objects. It is only their resistance that makes them less susceptible to external forces.

Demo recognized the broken Yuria and began the process of repairing her.

Without any consideration, purely from a mechanical perspective.

“Ah…!”

It wasn’t going to work. The lifeless parts of her body became the targets of alchemy, but what replaced them was no longer her body—it was something that only pretended to be. Torn muscles were crudely tied back together, and broken bones were patched as if with plaster. With each convulsion from the excruciating pain, her hastily reassembled body suffered even greater damage.

Every time he repeated the attempt, Yuria endured the agony of losing entire parts of her body.

Much later, the Golden Mirror, having mastered alchemical creation, would understand how to truly restore a body. But at this moment, it was far from omnipotent. In the pain of being dismantled alive, Yuria Elik, the King of Steel, screamed.

And yet.

Amid the unbearable agony, Yuria felt a strange clarity. It was as if this indescribable pain was something she was meant to accept. As his power twisted and reshaped her body at will, she did not feel resistance—instead, she felt a perverse sense of gratification.

“…If it must come to this…”

Better to become a part of him than to endure suffering as a hollow king.

Her existence dissolved. The demon took her. Once the King of Steel, who had mastered every craft, she became a substance transmuted into alchemical material—a component of the Golden Mirror itself.