Chapter 207
Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Aid
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I've overcome crises of death countless times up to now.
Considering that, it should be normal to brush this off without a second thought.
“...”
Ah.
Fuck, that hurts.
I gasp for breath and look down at my body.
My entire body has been hacked to pieces, like it was finely minced. This is the result of sending Eliya ahead and trying to hold out on my own.
[Honestly, I wonder if you had to be this stubbornly idiotic about it.]
“...”
I let out a sigh instead of answering.
No, I had no choice.
With our current specs, neither Eliya nor I could beat that thing. It was better to send her on first and then handle the negotiations myself—higher chance of success that way.
In that regard, while Eliya negotiates with Phey nol up ahead, I need to buy as much time as possible...
“...Caliban.”
[What.]
“How many minutes has it been?”
[2 minutes.]
“...”
Only that much?
It felt like we'd been fighting for ages, but barely an instant has passed.
I'd known ahead of time, but the Hell Guard is an incredibly powerful opponent.
Even in Pandemonium, there's hardly anyone who can match it in close-range melee combat.
-!
We clash again.
I'd sent the holy sword off with Eliya, so all I have left is the spare sword I was carrying and the Infinity Gauntlet I got from the tribal alliance.
-!!!!
The Hell Guard's thrust sword slides across the surface of the gauntlet I'm wearing.
It's equipment boasting near-universal performance, loaded with all sorts of special effects, but against this guy, it doesn't offer much utility.
The Hell Guard's strength can be summed up in one word.
A brutally simple advantage that counters every means I have head-on.
Transcendent specs.
Fast, strong, tough.
Even with Desperate Situation at EX rank active, all I can do is keep up.
-!
-!!
My body, flung back by the blow, rolls across the ground again. Usually, opponents clashing with Desperate Situation end up like this, but with this guy, there's no communicating at all.
I've learned spells, raised my stats, massively improved my own specs compared to before—and still, I can't match it. It's like an egg against a rock.
Most of the guys I've one-shot before must have felt like this. Is this what they call perspective?
Even facing it with a fully intact body, victory is impossible, let alone survival. In this state, just continuing the fight is asceticism itself.
“...Haa.”
I sigh and steady my body.
“...”
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
I've endured pain countless times, but this is abusing a top-tier sacred relic in this world through near-cheating means. The strain couldn't be light.
And then facing an enemy like this for so long in that state—my body couldn't possibly be unscathed.
Still, not yet.
Not yet.
I still have things to do.
[...I agree you still have things to do.]
Suddenly, such words fly in from within the Soul Linker.
[But can you keep going in this state? You can't do it alone.]
“...”
Still, I have to do it alone.
I can't ask anyone else for help.
[No one to help? Really?]
Who, exactly.
The vessels of the demons?
I can't rely on them.
If I put them in danger right nearby, who knows what variables might pop up. I have to handle everything so they can—
[Call them by name.]
“...Pardon?”
[At some point, you started lumping them all together as just 'demon vessels.']
“...”
[The Tristan Duchess, the great chieftain's daughter, the Holy Empire's assassin, the socially inept homunculus... They're all humans with their own personalities. Not mere 'objects' you have to protect.]
“...”
[Forgetting their essence because you think you have to protect them—that's putting the cart before the horse. Got it?]
I stare blankly at the Soul Linker.
[Do you know what was the hardest part when I rose to command all the guardians?]
“...Pardon?”
Stunned by the sudden voice, I mutter back blankly, and Caliban chuckles before continuing.
[The grand goal of fighting for justice, selecting only the upright and talented ones—and the common misconception they all have.]
“You, what are you suddenly—”
[They start seeing everyone around them as someone they have to protect.]
Caliban chuckles.
[But that's fucking arrogant. It means looking down on everyone around you as beneath you.]
“...”
I don't get what he's saying.
Lost in thought, I stare blankly at the Soul Linker.
[Don't try to do everything alone, idiot. People aren't fools dancing in the palm of your hand.]
“...”
[They value you just as much as you want to protect them.]
And right as Caliban says that.
“...You there.”
Before my eyes.
A familiar 'aura' rises.
“Doing this sort of thing alone again.”
A voice I never imagined hearing here.
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Few in Pandemonium even know its true name.
After all, before, it was merely the lowliest lifeform at the very bottom of Pandemonium.
Filth and
Yet that tiny
'Admiration' for the lords.
The seven lords who rule Pandemonium, the heavenly realm dwelling in the shadows, the mirror world where spirits reside, the material world overflowing with vibrant life. Absolute beings beyond all dimensions, untouchable.
During the 'eclipse' that visits Pandemonium periodically, the sight of all the lords' colors spreading across Pandemonium unfolds.
Even in this achromatic world of survival of the fittest, where they kill and devour each other, on that day alone, all lose themselves gazing at it.
Among them,
Some lower demons have their hearts and souls wholly captivated, vowing to reach that proximity.
Of course, most end there, just vows. Blocked by reality's walls, they return to nameless ash and vanish from history.
But occasionally,
They pierce that slim chance.
Abnormally strong individuals emerge.
Through a history of thorough predation.
Clinging desperately to survival, devouring, growing stronger, pushing themselves to the very end.
Such miracle upon miracle of possibility stacks up, and the final evolution stage for Pandemonium's most wretched lifeform is the being now called the Hell Guard.
That hellish 'guard' sheathes its sword, exhaling sulfurous breath.
Before its eyes, a man mangled by its blade gasps shallowly.
-...
Truth be told, it could be said to feel some irritation.
To dare.
For such a pathetically frail human to harbor the auras of the lords it should revere in that worthless body.
A gate to the material world suddenly opens, and
The asceticism it endured just to touch such auras—this man couldn't possibly know.
-...
I'll kill you.
Rip you apart and erase your very existence from this world.
That's what it thought.
Until someone blocked its path.
“Doing this sort of thing alone again.”
And the moment it saw who blocked its path.
The Hell Guard lost its words entirely.
-...!
Gray.
The strongest among all lords.
A woman bearing that being's aura was blocking its charge toward the fallen man just now.
From the small woman quietly glaring at it beside her, the same lordly aura emanated.
The white lord.
And that wasn't all.
More humans charged in afterward.
“Hey, you idiot! You okay!? You're turned into complete mush...!”
“Sunbae! Oh my god, we have to treat this right away...!”
Blue, purple.
Two more lordly auras.
As the human bearing the blue lord's aura glares at the one with purple, the Hell Guard staggers in shock.
“...Hey. Animal girl. What do you mean 'sunbae'? You doing it on purpose?”
“Because it's the 2nd prince's, so that's how I call it. Got a problem? Or what, are you some pitiful girl with no confidence in the romantic department, picking at every little sunbae-related thing—”
It couldn't grasp every detail of the context.
But it understood well that those two lords there were 'worried' about the two fallen men and 'wary' of each other.
As if both were competing to 'monopolize' that man.
Cherishing him with profound affection.
-...
And upon seeing that.
The Hell Guard's rage burned its mind white.
It.
It, just to receive even a glance from them. Just to stand nearby. To serve them loyally.
From that hell, endlessly killing, devouring, walking a path of horrific battles and blood, finally growing strong enough to reach here.
And that damned bastard monopolizes their affection just by breathing...!
-...!
Trembling with rage it had never felt in its life, someone else steps in front of it again.
“You the one who did that to Dawood.”
The gray lord.
Master of Pandemonium's pantheon.
The woman bearing that aura speaks softly as she draws her sword.
Beside her, the woman harboring the white lord does the same quietly.
“What. You two gonna have all the fun?”
“...As expected from a barbarian, jumping at any chance to show off—”
“Shut it, beast girl.”
Purple and blue join in afterward.
Clear intent to punish it for injuring that man.
-...
The Hell Guard.
Guard of the hell lords. One of Pandemonium's mightiest.
A being who dedicated eons-near eternity solely to reaching them.
It was now.
On the verge of being directly lynched by the very beings he served, all because he touched the wrong man.
-...
If it could speak human tongue,
It would mutter coarse curses in vain.
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