Saintess
Saintess
The one who helped me when I instinctively knew I was fucked by the explosion happening right in front of my eyes was none other than the Demonfolk woman.
She quickly blocked the front with a massive shield and practically pulled me into an embrace, so the explosion didn't reach me. The sturdy shield, just as it looked, served as a reliable barrier, and thanks to that, we were more or less unharmed even as we got caught up in the explosion and sent flying together.
"What a shitty world. No matter how much you study, there's no end to the fucked-up things bastards can pull!"
"You have... quite the foul mouth...!"
Did this young lady have Captain America somewhere in her family tree, what with that round shield and all? Even while groaning and pulling herself together, she could still say something like that. Impressive woman.
But whether that was the case or not, right now she was my benefactor who'd helped me, so instead of nitpicking her words, I helped support her so she could get up more easily.
"I'm seeing a demon for the first time. Do you maybe know a bit about them?"
The other heresy inquisitors, perhaps unable to react as quickly as she had, seemed to have taken considerable damage from the recent explosion. Some had clearly reacted and raised shields, but their shields weren't as large as the one the Demonfolk young lady held, so it felt like they'd only barely managed to protect their vitals.
"A demon? Are you certain?"
Still, since they were called heresy inquisitors, I'd thrown out the question hoping they might know a thing or two about dealing with demons, but even the answer that came back was disappointing. I'd heard that demons weren't the kind of bastards you run into easily, but still, the disappointment was unavoidable.
"If there's something besides a demon that does disgusting shit like that, then wouldn't that mean the world's ending in its own way anyway?"
In the end, this young lady was also saying she had no experience dealing with a demon, right? Amidst the festival of fuckery you'd feel when something you thought was completely over gets overturned, I stared at the mass of blood sloshing around unpleasantly and spoke.
"Hey, you fucker. Can you even hear anything looking like that?"
Truth be told, I was planning to just fling a needle first if there was no response, but astonishingly, that blood-clot demon bastard heard my question and answered immediately.
[I hear you well, human. So you're the one who provided this unwanted physical form.]
"Wow, your voice really is as shitty as the fact that you've got one."
The very fact that a voice was coming out of a blood clot meant I shouldn't be expecting much, but even taking that into account, it was truly a voice that was hard to bear listening to. It was surprising in many ways that I could encounter a case where I just wanted to beat someone up based on their voice alone.
Even with my sincere assessment, the blood clot showed no particular reaction, and only after sloshing around for a good while longer did it start to maintain something resembling a humanoid shape.
[All the contractors are dead... I was suddenly treated as a sacrifice... Incompetent fools even failed to drag the saintess here, so my body is being created in an unsatisfactory form.]
I'd thought its reaction was slow because its body wasn't properly formed, but it seemed it had simply been muttering to itself, getting a grasp on the situation.
"How about you do your self-reflection later when you get back to your own home, and just disappear quietly now, won't you? If not, I'm going to have to tear you to death in a very messy way."
[...That's a reaction that's hard to understand. I don't know you. But you have a blind hostility toward me. Why is that?]
I didn't know what the hell it was trying to shape out of that lump of congealed blood, but the bastard moved the clump that passed for a hand to the clump that passed for its head and asked its question.
Looking at the blood clot mimicking a gesture like a person resting their chin when pondering— once. At the bastard's question— once. Feeling a combined two doses of absurdity, I reflexively thrust my fist toward the thing and answered.
"Why would I need a reason to hate, as a human, a demon bastard whose only joy in life is driving people into fucked-up situations?"
I couldn't be sure if the bastard would properly perceive my stiffly raised middle finger as an insult, but at the very least, the Demonfolk young lady next to me seemed to take it very uncomfortably.
Unlike that young lady, the bastard impudently showed the leisure to laugh at my reaction.
[Heh heh heh. What an interesting human. Very well, I shall play with you until my body is complete.]
Along with the impudent line, the blood-clump presumed to be a hand slashed through the air once, and droplets of blood separated from its tip, beginning to take the shape of arrows.
The problem was that during that entire series of bullshit actions, I felt no flow of Magic Power whatsoever. Like the bead of light that the self-proclaimed priest bastard used, was that just a unique ability of demons? I really hoped there wouldn't be some disgusting wide-area attack that covered the whole area with the blood of a hundred or so people.
"What are you doing, provoking a demon?!"
Just that alone made my head ache slightly, and even the young lady next to me, who had been watching the situation with her shield raised, spoke to me in a reproachful tone, but because of the content of her words, despite her serious reaction, I couldn't help but laugh.
"What does it matter if I provoke a bastard I'm going to kill anyway?"
"That is a demon! I'm telling you it isn't something you can take lightly or destroy with ease!"
"When did I ever treat it lightly or say I could annihilate it easily?"
"...Excuse me?"
I really hate people who jump to conclusions and distort the intent of my words... but still, I had a high opinion of her kind heart for trying to protect me, a complete stranger, so I decided to explain kindly.
"It's just that the bastard over there is a demon, and since I've encountered the fucker, destiny dictates that one clear result must come out: either I die or that bastard dies. Since the outcome is already decided, what reason is there not to provoke it, and what does being serious or not have to do with anything? If I don't provoke it, does that bastard get weaker or do I get stronger?"
[You are far too relaxed.]
The demon bastard, who was itself moving around as casually as if this were a game, tossed out that remark and fired a volley of blood arrows. It went without saying that I was tense and watching its every move, so there was no chance I'd react too slowly.
"Relaxed is what you're doing, you motherfucker."
I lowered my body to dodge the incoming projectiles while simultaneously mimicking the starting stance of a sprinter, kicking off the floor at full speed and charging in. In an instant, the distance that had widened to 20 meters from the altar due to one explosion began to close rapidly. I couldn't be certain since that blood clot didn't have a face attached, but perhaps it hadn't anticipated my sudden reaction, as the other arrows hurriedly fired all just fell behind me without even grazing.
"O Epaga! Grant us a blessing to ward off evil!"
Surprisingly, the Demonfolk young lady chanted a prayer and cast a blessing upon me. Since I knew nothing about divine spells, I couldn't guess what effect it had, but seeing a cluster of light that I hadn't intended settle over my body, it must have been something good at least.
Even when I closed the distance in a single dash like that and arrived right in front of the bastard's face, it burst into triumphant laughter and, for no apparent reason, paid more attention to the Demonfolk young lady instead of me.
[Haha, a saintess who serves the Demon God, no less! That's not bad either! To see you die crying out your god's name in a land of heresy...]
"You are far too relaxed!"
Since a sword didn't seem likely to work on that blood clot, I simply threw a punch. The straight carried both Magic Power and my personal irritation at the bastard daring to ignore me, and flew straight at its head.
[That kind of an attack won't... g... go th...]
And the bastard's head, hit by my fist, burst like a water balloon.
It wasn't just a metaphor; the sight of the blood above the neck failing to withstand the impact and scattering in all directions was exactly that of a water balloon. It could be called refreshing, but the fact that all of it was blood that came from people's bodies made it not a particularly pleasant sight.
Though the sight of the headless bastard's two arms flailing in the air as if panicked was pleasant indeed.
"Seems like it goes through just fine, so what's it yapping about."
There was no way that alone would kill it, so I immediately followed up with five punches to the torso.
Every time a blow landed, the blood clot that was trying to take human form burst apart with a nauseating sound.
It wasn't an optimistic situation. Even though it happened in an instant, the blood that had scattered like that began to gather back at a rapid speed as if trying to return to its original place, informing me that my attacks weren't very effective.
Just as I wondered whether even punches loaded with Magic Power couldn't deal meaningful damage, the demon bastard pulled away, re-formed its bloody body, and opened what passed for a mouth in obvious bewilderment.
[Wha, what is this?! What did you do?!]
Did the fact that it was flustered mean it had some effect after all? It seemed a better situation than the bastard reforming its shape and spouting lines like 'Hahaha, a meaningless attack.'
"Guess it's because you don't have eyeballs. You can't even properly see that I burst your fucking head with my fist."
[Damn it. Is it because of the blessing that Epaga's whore cast? A normal attack can't possibly work...]
Hmm. Hearing that, there was definitely something worth wondering about. Had my Magic Power-loaded punch caught it off guard, or was it the Demonfolk woman's blessing that made the difference?
"If you don't know, you've just gotta take the hit."
At least this one time, my opinion matched the demon bastard's, so I mercilessly charged in, swung my fist, and burst the fucker's head once more.
Coincidentally, I was curious and so was the bastard, so this would produce some nice, mutually satisfying experimental results.