The Fear of Demons

The threat. ?̨̡̳̯̥͎͕͇͙̄͒͒̐̌͢?̷̨̲̥̜̅̒̾̎̂̎̈́͘̚͢?̬̲̼̻̞͉̲̟̒͌̒͂̋̀͗͂͘

One of my main skills, Fear Collector, usually gives me a slightly uncomfortable vibe. But this time?

I want it.

I feel like I absolutely need to take this one. No, I will take it. Collector bro, buy it for me.

In this world, I don’t really have any desires beyond living peacefully with my contractor. But because of the skill’s influence, whenever I collect fear, a deep, greedy hunger surges from the bottom of my chest. Like a crow drawn to something shiny.

But this time, it’s a little different. It’s not that instinctive urge to snatch up fear like a sparrow in front of a mill. This fear genuinely looks like something I need. Something I want to claim.

You might wonder how I could possibly know its effect or why I’d think it’s necessary for me. But I’ve already collected five fears and triggered them myself. Figuring out what a new fear does is easier for me than lying in a dungeon and sucking up terror.

In my opinion, this thing called Demonophobia is probably a fear that turns the target it hits into a demon. Pretty solid reasoning, right?

Of course, it could be like my other fear bullets that shoot explosions or slashes instead of actual rounds. Maybe it just summons a demon or fires something that looks like one… but that would be fine too! I could summon an army of demons and set them to auto-hunt the dungeon for me!

Well, turning into a demon myself would still be better, though.

That way, I could stop this tiresome demon role-play and the constant lies. I could stand proudly beside my contractor. Not as some cheap, low-budget demon cosplayer, but as a true demon of terror.

I never showed it, but every time I lied to my contractor or the people around me, a faint ache throbbed in my worn-out conscience. I’m not some great demon. I’m just a survivor who got isekai’d into a trash game and luckily stayed alive. Every time those people looked at me with reverence and trust, guilt stabbed at me.

But I couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, could I? If I said, “You guys are just NPCs in a fantasy game and I’m a Plague Doctor cosplayer who came here from another game for a collab,” everyone except my contractor would treat me like a lunatic. Though they already treat me like one… they might add “senile” to the description.

I’m not that old. Sure, I’ve lived a few years, but my mind is still perfectly fine (?). So there’s only one option left for someone like me.

Make the lie stop being a lie.

Turn the falsehood I told into truth. If I become a real demon, everything gets resolved.

And to do that, I need to obtain this fear first.

Ever since a moment ago, the deer-man’s condition has been getting really bad.

“Aperiatur via puritatis, et umbra recedat.......”

What the hell is he saying?

The deer-man had both hands clasped together, eyes rolled back, and was spewing incomprehensible words. He’d been like this ever since he heard me say I was a demon. If my collection target was in this state, it would be quite troublesome.

One of my signature skills, Fear Collector, turns collected fear into fear bullets that I can fire. The special thing is that I can collect fear from myself as well. When the target is me, the fear is instantly collected with a single activation word: “Collect.”

But if the target is someone else, an annoying extra step gets added. I have to ask for their permission to collect their fear. If I don’t, this irritating message pops up:

That’s why I asked Ito Sakana earlier if I could take his fear. But with our dear customer in this state…

“Haa….”

I just want to go fishing with the party members already. Why does he have to be so uncooperative?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

While tapping the deer-man’s head with my Injector and wondering how to snap him out of it and get his consent, I suddenly realized something.

“Why was I overcomplicating this?”

I could just threaten him into handing it over.

Lately, because I’ve been hanging out with normal people, I’ve become way too soft. I can feel it.

Thud.

I placed my hand on the deer-man’s head and withdrew the numbing, painless energy I had infused into him. Then—

WHAM!

I slammed my fist down hard on the deer-man’s head, which had been in some kind of trance. I kept hitting him until he came to his senses.

“Aaaagh!!!”

They say the rod is the best medicine. After smacking his head and the bridge of his nose about five times, his rolled-back eyes snapped back into focus, shining brightly like a beaten dog.

I grabbed the deer-man’s head with my sticky hand and brought my Plague Doctor Mask close. Blood flowed down from my grip, staining his head red.

“Aaaaah….”

The moment he met the red glow floating above my black lenses, the deer-man began to tremble violently in terror. At the same time, a sharp, fishy stench stung my nose.

“…Tsk.”

I frowned slightly at the yellow filth staining his once-white eyes. I held his head firmly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pressed the muzzle of my gun against his temple, and spoke in a low, echoing voice that sounded like multiple whispers overlapping.

“Now, if you don’t want to spend eternity burning in searing agony, you will give me truthful answers. Understood?”

“U-understood….”

“Good. Then I’ll ask. Are you… afraid of demons?”

At my question, the deer-man quietly lowered his gaze and answered as if letting out a silent scream.

“…I’m afraid.”

“What? What exactly are you afraid of? Speak clearly.”

I needed the fear to be properly defined for collection. I pressed the muzzle harder against his temple. The deer-man flinched and answered in a shaking voice.

“D-demon… I’m afraid of demons… So please, just kill me already….”

Perfect. I’d specified the fear to collect. Now I just needed his consent and we’d be done.

With my finger on the trigger, I whispered quietly. My eyes, fixed on the deer-man’s head, were filled with thick greed.

“Then, may I take your fear?”

Hurry up and say it.

“….”

Nod.

Under the heavy pressure against his temple, the deer-man silently nodded.

Conditions met.

“Yes. Understood. Confirmed.”

The moment the deer-man gave his consent, an unknown power flowed up through the hand gripping his head and sank into my chest.

Thump.

A heartbeat I didn’t even have. A sense of fulfillment and satisfaction.

“Haaaa….”

An overwhelming pleasure spread through my entire body. Countless scenes flashed through my mind.

A colossal goat reaching out to a maiden. A black snake crawling from the eye sockets of a white skull. Sinners walking through flames. Tiny monsters hurling spears at them. The thick smell of sulfur. Mouths that speak only lies. Hands that crave wealth. Black wings covered in countless eyes. A falling black dragon. A throne of blood made from charred corpses. Arrogant eyes glowing red. And at the end of that gaze, a deer-man sitting there, swallowing the head of his dead mother while shedding tears of blood.

After savoring the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fear of demons in detail and tasting the rich terror lingering in my mouth, I muttered,

“…What the hell do you even think a demon is?”

At that level, even a real demon would be out of a job, you crazy bastard.

Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger.

WHOOOOOOSH!!!

Red flames engulfed the world.

“AAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”

Raging flames. The forest rapidly melting away, regaining its original green hue. And the deer-man screaming in agony as he died at terrifying speed.

Oh right, I was supposed to numb him again.

But the fault lay entirely with the patient, so there was nothing I could do. I really had tried to handle this nicely.

…

The deer-man, trapped in flames and steam and slowly roasting, eventually stopped screaming and moving after a short while. He’d been yelling pretty loudly even though the fire had cut off his oxygen. But it looked like this was the end.

Like I always say, fire really is the best against regenerating creatures. A pig shot with a gun might still survive, but a pig roasted over fire is destined for the stomach. Same principle.

“It’s over.”

Click.

When I released the trigger, the flames died down. I’d been worried the fire might spread to the forest, but since I’d already blown most of it away earlier, there was no secondary damage like a wildfire.

“It’s finished.”

The ground was charred black, and the deer-man had melted beyond recognition. There was no way he could regenerate from this. Every last cell that could have split apart had been burned to ash. It was only natural.

Tap. Tap.

I shook the Injector, its barrel glowing red-hot, in the air to cool it down, then stored it in my coat. I was about to track Kkachi’s magic power and fly back to the party when I suddenly stopped.

“…Wait a second.”

Come to think of it, this thing was a monster. Which meant—

“It must have dropped a maseok! You idiot!!!”

If it was a monster capable of summoning localized winter with its magic, it had to be high-level. And high-level monsters always carried good-quality maseok. But… I may have beaten it a little too hard? And then I even roasted it with fire at the end.

Is the maseok… going to be okay?

Worried, I turned toward the deer-man’s charred corpse stuck to the ground when familiar, friendly voices rang out from afar.

“…Raven! Are you okay-nyang? Did you definitely beat the Not Deer-nyang?”

“Raven-nim…! Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Kkyu kkyu!”

“Whoa… All those eyes have melted away.”

…It’s nice to see everyone, but.

Why did they have to show up at exactly this moment? The heavens really are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heartless.

“Haa.”

Thinking about getting scolded and nagged by Sion and my contractor, Raven let out a deep sigh. He never noticed the small red light faintly glowing between the charred ribs of the Wendigo.