Don't Go (1)
Angels.
From the Demon King's standpoint, they were guard dogs that rubbed him entirely the wrong way.
Splendid hounds, really—sharp noses, and an uncanny knack for retrieving exactly the quarry you sent them after.
Well, to me they were nothing but snitching mutts.
Which is to say, they were precisely the sort of creatures who could sniff out the true nature of a soul. Caution was very much in order.
And that was hardly the end of it.
Angels hadn't earned their reputation as well-trained war dogs for nothing. The moment Isaac rescued one of his subordinates, an angel would inevitably move to dispose of him. No—not just the angels, either. Every priest in attendance would rush to help them drag the escapee back into chains.
But that was a problem. What was the point of going to all that trouble to free someone, only for the rescue to fall apart at the finish line?
I need a situation where not everyone scrambles to help the angels.
Even if he got lucky and the escape itself succeeded, the aftermath was its own headache. Unless they were fools, someone was bound to hunt for the culprit who'd set the prisoner loose.
Leave an angel to its own devices, and it will absolutely come looking for the culprit.
Those keen noses of theirs were a genuine nuisance.
Whatever way you sliced it, angels were an obstacle. And what does one do with an obstacle? Send it packing, of course. Preferably six feet under.
Thankfully, stirring the pot wasn't difficult.
"The demons aren't attacking that angel!"
That single line was enough to get the crowd murmuring. Humans and angels were the demons' favorite delicacies—so wasn't it suspicious that this one went untouched?
But Isaac knew better.
The odds of them attacking here are slim.
For good reason: the finest prey imaginable, one of the Fourteen Six Demons, was bound up right in front of them. Devouring humans and angels would grant power too, sure—but the efficiency was terrible by comparison.
And above all, he'd secretly attached Whisper to the angel!
It's radiating the Skeleton Demon King's aura. Who in their right mind would dare get close? Puhuh!
Even Isaac himself would be whimpering in terror, too frightened to take a single step forward!
It was the same as a puppy catching a tiger's scent and bolting in a blind panic.
What's that? Wouldn't the angel notice Whisper was there?
With one of the Fourteen Six Demons right in front of its nose? It would be lucky to notice its own tail.
To spook demons, a whiff was enough. The faintest trace of aura from a 9th-tier demon simmering with killing intent would do the trick just fine.
Besides, Shavnak had once been close enough that Isaac had personally taught him, and he was steeped in the Skeleton Demon King's power to the bone. Even the most gifted hound would need time to parse that aura.
If there'd been a whole pack of angels, maybe. But there's only one.
So: arrange for the angel to take no damage whatsoever, whip the crowd into a frenzy—
And then?
Ha, as if a little spilled blood was any great feat!
The Saintess's techniques naturally dislocated a joint or two. Crank the force up a notch, and you could work your way into genuine internal injury territory.
Ah, right—there hadn't been quite as much blood as he'd wanted, so he'd simply forced it to flow backward and come gushing out in a spectacular spray. It was more dramatic that way.
And once he was drenched head to toe in blood, every eye in the place would be riveted on him, wouldn't it?
In that window, he'd have Whisper quietly undo the bindings. Then the freed subordinate would take care of the angel, and—
That little... The useless wall-lizard of mine picked up some surprisingly good instincts while he was locked away, huh?
Who'd have thought he'd pin the whole crime on the angel of all things! And in that very instant, Shavnak—newly branded a fellow demon—struck at the angel's face.
Thwack!
"Gyaaak!"
The framing was one thing, but there was no mistaking the fury behind it: the angel had dared strike his master.
Gratitude aside, Isaac half expected the demon to bellow, How dare you lay a hand on my lord—and carve the man to ribbons on the spot.
Well, we do have to silence him eventually, so attacking him isn't exactly wrong, but still...
Thwack! Crack!
"Gyaaagh! You wretched demon...!"
...Shavnak. Keep the body in one piece.
Furious beyond all measure, Shavnak seized the angel and tore into him, rending him nearly limb from limb.
Under his subordinate's savage blows, droplets of blood scattered through the air. The shredded wings dropped to the floor like lumps of butchered meat.
Thud!
Consumed by rage though he was, Shavnak wasn't swinging blindly. His cold precision—targeting only the angel's vitals—befitted one of the Fourteen Six Demons.
[I thank you for freeing me. Now I shall devour your Magic Core and restore my strength.]
He was even running a scam on top of everything else.
He was never like this before.
[When the water upstream runs clear, the water downstream follows.]
What did you just call me?
Sure enough, the angel under assault looked utterly dumbfounded.
"Y-you damned demon! What nonsense is this—a Magic Core?!"
Ah, how unfair it must be.
He'd never been saved by this demon in his life, yet here he was being hailed as a kinsman—worse, being beaten bloody while being ordered to cough up his own Magic Core.
But Isaac's subordinate knew exactly what he was doing. Leave a loose thread dangling, and his master's life would be in danger.
[Hand it over—your Magic Core!]
"You bastard, what kind of nons— GYAAAGH!"
An arm torn clean off, the angel glared at Shavnak through gritted teeth.
No face was visible. Like a Dullahan, a visage woven of black mana hovered where the neck should have been, and the undead body was as vigorous as if it had been raised that very morning. The mana surging skyward was so thick it choked the very air.
And that was what sent a cold shiver down the angel's spine.
Was that truly a demon that had languished in a seal for decades?
It's strong.
That was one of the Fourteen Six Demons—each said to rival a Demon King in its own right.
No—was the Skeleton Demon King, who had kept such things as mere hand-servants, truly a monster among monsters?
No. Now is not the time for that. I have to subdue—
At this level, he could still manage it. Subdue this insolent wretch and offer him up as tribute to God.
But then—
Crack.
...?!
He heard the sound of power coiling tighter through a gauntleted fist.
The color drained from the angel's face. There was strength left in reserve?!
Damn it!
Shavnak vanished.
No—there wasn't even a blur of movement to be seen. There was only a sound, and then a devastating blow slammed into the angel's abdomen.
Crunch!
His ribs seemed to shatter outright.
Strong. Absurdly, maddeningly strong. Only now did the angel begin to understand why the upper-tier apprentices convulsed at the mere mention of the Fourteen Six Demons—and feared them in their hearts all the while.
So this is the Skeleton Demon King's underling...!
But even as awe struck him, the angel's teeth chattered.
Why is no one coming to my aid?!
Give him the smallest opening and he could writhe free and counterattack!
Yet the priests merely stood about, bewildered, watching the scene unfold!
No... I suppose that's only to be expected.
Given the circumstances—with a demon apparently marking him as a kinsman—it was the natural conclusion.
Yes. This entire situation was the fault of that platinum-blond brat. If only the little menace hadn't spouted his poisonous incitement—
I'll kill him.
The rules against laying hands on a Saint candidate? What were those worth now!
Nothing like that could ever be a true Saint in the first place!
He didn't need to look to be certain of that much. But there was something more urgent than killing the brat.
I must call for reinforcements. Only then can we investigate how that thing was freed!
Before the evidence vanished—he had to hurry—
But just as the angel drew breath to cry out for his allies,
"Kghak?!"
Shavnak struck for the angel's throat.
Crk!
Was he making sure the man couldn't make a sound? Feigning a horizontal tear across the torso, he neatly ripped through the windpipe as well.
You little—!
The angel collapsed, wings flapping uselessly. He barely managed to push himself upright, but Shavnak had already dropped back to the ground, mimed clutching something in his fist, and withdrawn.
[I have your Magic Core as well, so I shall take my leave. See to the rest, kinsman.]
The words were barely out of his mouth before the crowd erupted.
"He really did call the demon his kinsman!"
Oh, for the love of—what is wrong with you people?!
Seriously, that guy—all the way to the end!
The angel's eyes went bloodshot, but Shavnak was already gone. Best to slip away before the Pope and the cardinals arrived.
At the sight, the angel dragged himself up from the ground.
"Quickly, seize that—kghak!"
But he could only double over again.
A powerful strike had come flying at him from behind.
Bam! Bam-bam!
The long-range blows kept coming—strike after strike heavy enough to draw blood even from an angel. The angel turned toward their source.
That attack—!
Not far away stood a black-robed priest, blue vestments billowing in the wind.
None other than Eli, head of House Blue. Far from chasing down the demon, the man was hammering the angel blow after blow—and the angel bristled with fury.
What in the damned hell is this—kghak!
Sparks of pure agony burst before the angel's eyes.
"Kghak!"
A gleaming blade came crashing down onto the angel's leg. A holy knight who had leapt from the sky drove his sword straight into the angel's flesh.
The moment the angel registered that the blade's radiance was blue, his eyes bulged.
Have these people truly lost their minds?!
But Rillai, sword still buried in the angel, wrenched it free with murder in his eyes.
"How dare you lay a hand on my nephew?!"
One look at Isaac, drenched in blood, and the knight had plainly lost his mind. And at the sight of his son pinning the angel, the head of House Blue issued a correction.
"Rillai. The neck is not permitted."
"May I take the arms, then?"
These lunatics! Are they in their right minds?!
At last, the enemy priests could bear it no longer and leveled their spears.
Whatever else was true, this messenger of God belonged to an enemy faith. The moment House Blue had drawn steel, the incident was already tantamount to a war of religion.
"You attack a messenger of God—has House Blue gone utterly mad?!"
But Rillai's blue eyes flashed, dark and dangerous.
"And who do you think used a killing art on a servant of God first?"
"...There is no proof that any killing art was used!"
"Proof? What is all that blood, if not proof?"
Blood? The blood is evidence now?
The enemy priests looked ready to grab House Blue by the collar.
"I don't even need to look—your nephew staged the whole thing! Remember what he pulled at the enemy's Pentagon! Isn't he a demon spawn?"
Can't argue with that one.
Isaac's eyes went wide and round; the head of House Blue kept a diplomatic silence; and Rillai raised his sword as if to ask where on earth they'd gotten off spouting such drivel.
"A demon spawn? That sweet, precious child?"
"You lunatic, get a grip on yourself!"
The enemy priests already harbored doubts about Isaac's faith. Naturally, they assumed he was implicated in all of this.
"Take him away at once and—"
But just then, a voice hardened with fury rang out across the square.
"Is this any time for allies to be fighting each other!"
"All personnel—pursue the escaped Fourteen Six Demons!"
At the shouts of the White and Gold Cardinals, every priest in the vicinity sprang into motion.
"Emergency! Emergency! The Fourteen Six Demons have escaped!"
"All high-ranking priests of the Holy See—deploy your full strength and recover the Fourteen Six Demons!"
The escape plunged the capital into pandemonium. Cardinals and every high-ranking priest poured out of the city in pursuit.
But Rillai couldn't bring himself to leave, worried as he was about Isaac.
"Isaac, are you all right?!"
One look at his nephew, blood streaming down his small body, and there was no way his eyes wouldn't roll back in his head.
Meanwhile, Naiser and the enemy priests found the whole spectacle deeply suspicious.
Naiser most of all.
Something's off about this. That blood—no matter how I look at it, those aren't the wounds of a messenger of God. They look self-inflicted.
Of course, only people who knew the enemy's techniques as intimately as they did could have found it strange at all.
The Gold Cardinal, left behind to guard the VIPs, quietly relaxed as he surveyed Isaac's battered state.
We lost the Fourteen Six Demons, but the all-important God Summoning is now beyond reach for them.
Their objective had been accomplished either way. Though the mastermind in question was snickering up his sleeve the entire time.
The blood was merely refluxed—hardly a real injury at all.
So the God Summoning would proceed without a hitch. But to keep suspicion at bay, he'd need to heal up quickly with Melissa's Rosary.
Rillai fussed over Isaac, his face full of helpless, wringing worry.
"Don't you worry. We'll have the Fourteen Six Demons back in custody soon enough. That will prove you had nothing to do with any of this."
Yeah—no, you won't.
No matter how many priests gave chase, those demons were not the sort to be caught.
How, exactly, did one capture a creature that was now free—unbound by any restraint in existence?
But then—
"Rillai, stay and look after Isaac. I should go after the Fourteen Six Demons myself."
"!"
The moment the head of House Blue moved, the enemy priests' eyes changed at once.
Perfect. Once the head of House Blue was gone, they could seize Isaac and interrogate him properly. But Isaac froze for an entirely different reason.
Damn it all!
No! Grandfather is actually dangerous!
If it were two cardinals, I could maybe, just barely, shake them off—but not Grandpa.
The head of House Blue's power, nearly a match for the Pope's own, was no joke. Even a subordinate of that caliber would be caught.
Driven to desperation by the thought, Isaac gave the performance of his lifetime.
Feigning a breath that wouldn't come, he clutched at his grandfather's sleeve.
"Grandpa... Isaac hurts so much. Please don't go."
At the sight, the enemy priests—the last audience Isaac wanted pleased—clicked their tongues in irritation.
This was the escape of the Fourteen Six Demons, no less. Did they really believe the head of House Blue would sit out a crisis of this magnitude over a child's whimpering?
That kind of spoiled tantrum won't work on him.
Come on, hurry up and go. Then we can begin the interrogation at once—
"All right. I won't go."
Damn it—he's actually staying?!