Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Regret
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Slowly.
Time flows slowly.
It probably wasn't really like that, but at least that's how it felt to Gray.
Time becomes a jumbled mess, the scene before her eyes blurring as it seeps into her mind.
Carlyle was tumbling over, blood pouring from his abdomen.
To the naked eye, it just looked like a coin-sized hole had been punched through him, but Gray's razor-sharp vision instantly classified his condition.
Severe internal injuries.
It wasn't a simple piercing wound—the pressure that had just swept through his entire body could easily have turned his organs to mush.
An injury that would be classified as fatal even for her.
“-”
But separate from that analysis, any emotional response to it came extremely late.
It felt as though Gray herself wasn't experiencing this firsthand, but observing the situation from afar.
As if she had become a third party, blankly watching it all unfold.
⋯⋯What was it like?
A feeling of her brain rejecting it.
Rejecting the sight of this guy collapsing in this form.
“I heard that even infiltrating the imperial palace with the Hydra wasn't that difficult before. I just can't understand how you could be so lacking in suspicion.”
And Gregory's words like that sank into the depths of her consciousness as meaningless noise.
She couldn't grasp what was happening or how.
⋯⋯Her vision.
It turned stark white, fizzing and crackling.
Like a poorly developed photo smeared together, or the sound tearing from a radio tuned to the wrong frequency.
“You're a demon.”
Who said that?
Was it me?
She didn't know. Analysis of all incoming stimuli and information was impossible.
“A hero who hasn't even awakened half her power yet, so easily exposing a potential weakness. It's truly lamentable.”
Still.
In that kindly voice, sentences fell from Gregory's mouth.
“Did you feel nothing when your father was targeted? You can't let your comrades get that defenseless. How can you be so selfish?”
“⋯⋯What?”
“You must be unfortunate, Hero. You'll have to live chewing on solitude without a single soul nearby. Otherwise, you'll keep losing them like this.”
Thud.
Gregory kicked Carlyle, who lay collapsed on the floor.
-I'll make you happy, my lady.
As he trampled the man who had said those words, the demon whispered poison into her ear.
“Even though you've resolved to confront evil, you can't neglect your own emotions. You mustn't feel anything. You should only make the 'right' decisions.”
Like chastising.
As if a master instructing a disciple who had made a mistake.
“If you go on like that, you won't last two fights against us.”
The demon continued, as if truly regretful.
“But at least you've gained an important lesson this time.”
“⋯⋯.”
“If you possess something, it will disappear. We'll make sure of it.”
“-”
Gone.
Gone?
That Carlyle Bellfast is gone now.
That's what he's saying.
“Well, that's my advice for now.”
At that point, an otherworldly tone began to mix into Gregory's voice.
At the same time, his body swelled.
Darkness seeped in from beyond the twilight. A deathly aura that rotted skin on mere contact billowed outward in all directions.
“Hell's Baron, Astarion. I formally greet humanity's Hero.”
A twisted human face grinned grotesquely atop limbs covered in bristly insect hairs that had torn through its form.
“How are you, Hero? Do you enjoy dancing with a demon under the moonlight?”
She had no idea what to say in response.
But instead, looking at that hideous, warped centipede-like thing.
For a moment.
The noise blanketing her entire field of vision vanished.
Her mind cleared.
More precisely.
It was closer to knowing exactly what she needed to do 'right now.'
She had no idea what would happen to her after this, but for the moment.
There was an enemy before her eyes.
Someone she could kill.
“-”
For now.
That was enough.
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Even a noble demon—a lowly baron rank at that—couldn't hope to match a Hero.
Gregory Priest—Astarion—knew that better than anyone. In the first place, no fool lacking that level of self-awareness could rise to nobility in Hell.
But he held two advantages.
What he had firmly grasped through constant 'observation' of her up to now.
'She's strangely stronger than expected.'
Of course, she was still a novice who had wielded the holy sword for only a few years, unlikely to have awakened even half her given power.
Even so, she was far beyond the level she 'should' have reached by this point.
As if she had seen and learned it somewhere.
As if there were some guideline she was following.
⋯⋯An impossibility for a Hero who looked down on everyone beneath her.
This arrogant one would never even consider learning from someone else.
That's how it should have been.
If someone hadn't corrected her along the way.
And who that someone was? To Astarion, it was obvious.
'Hmm—'
He sneered down at the man's corpse rolling at his feet.
'Most of that strength must come from interactions with a guy like this.'
But in this situation, even that became a weakness.
His weakness: that his opponent was humanity's guardian.
His strength: that his opponent had lost her reason.
Losing composure in battle was as good as death.
Even for a demon of the lowliest noble rank—a baron—it created conditions where he could stand as her 'equal.'
'Let's see.'
His subordinate, the Hydra he had infiltrated the palace with before, had achieved nothing noteworthy. So he had to accomplish something here.
Winning wasn't even on his mind from the start. But if he could inflict a noticeable wound on the Hero here, it would prove a massive advantage in future battles.
One strike, then disengage. That was the goal.
As he mulled over his cunning, demon-like plan, Astarion assumed his stance.
The insect demons under the Archduke of Flies were all elite warriors each with their unique traits, and Astarion's noble-rank feature was particularly straightforward.
He lacked special abilities like the Hydra's all-corroding venom, but his bodily strength, speed, and power—honed to perfection—were unmatched.
Even demons of far higher rank couldn't guarantee victory against him in close-quarters melee.
So, he set a trap.
Black Demonic Energy swelled massively from the demon's body.
The Demonic Energy demons wielded held an absolute output advantage over any supernatural power in the Material Realm.
Even Astarion, unskilled in the curse-like sorcery it produced, could boast that the strike now gathering in his body could tear apart any being in the Material Realm.
One strike. Just one would do.
To twist the Hero's convictions, earn acclaim in Hell, and lay the foundation for dominating future battles—that was sufficient.
To blemish the flawless Hero.
'Come on.'
Demonic Energy extended from all over his body, drawn taut.
The Hero trudged toward him.
Those who lose something precious always fly into rage, and the paths of the enraged are always predictable.
And Astarion, a seasoned warrior, was adept even at calculating the exact timing of their leap.
Mana that vibrated the surroundings seeped from every inch of the Hero trudging toward him.
An output like the sea, even compared to the Demonic Energy he emanated.
But wielding such power without maintaining composure was poison.
Hunters don't catch beasts with brute force. They use wisdom and skill.
And now, the beast was walking right into the trap.
He waited.
Calmly, biding his time.
'Now!'
The moment that mana converged in one spot, Astarion took a deep breath and drew his arm back.
The Hero lunged inward. Aligning with the precise trajectory, the demon's counter would pierce her vital-
“?”
-Before that.
Even before he could attempt it.
The dead-eyed Hero was right in his face.
Fast.
Far faster than expected.
And it wasn't just the speed that sent chills down his spine.
The biggest reason was the Hero's eyes, met in that fleeting instant.
Not eyes lost to reason.
Not eyes consumed by rage.
Rather, empty. Like an abyss containing nothing at all.
As if her personality had been erased.
Only pure 'killing intent' remained.
The kind that chilled even a demon to the bone just from meeting it.
'-Danger-'
He realized something was wrong, but still unleashed his strike.
-!
Muscles pumped. Blood boiled. The Demonic Energy commanded by Hell's noble condensed and launched.
Gray watched the terrifying strike hurtling toward her with that same empty gaze.
And then.
---!!!
A roar erupted, shock like an exploding bomb surging between them.
'⋯⋯Monster, bitch⋯⋯!'
The first sensation was shock.
Despite a strike he claimed unbreakable in the Material Realm, it felt like punching a vast continent. Even though he was the one striking, the recoil wracking his body was no joke.
Like a powerless human punching an iron wall. The gap made him feel pathetic against himself.
But.
Either way, the important thing was that it had 'hit.'
His opponent must have taken damage too. With that thought, Astarion barely weathered the impact and forced his eyes open.
The fist he had thrust out.
Had collided with Gray's extended 'finger' and stopped.
Just her index finger, stretched long.
“⋯⋯.”
Astarion's entire body went rigid.
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