The World (9)
The Inquisitor strained with everything she had against the demon crushing her throat. The barrier she had fought so desperately to maintain was already shattered.
The one meant to stop the demons flying toward the city. The one meant to aid her shifty collaborator.
All of it.
"Ghk—"
The only reason she was still alive was that the barrier had broken. The power she had been pouring into it had come flooding back, just enough to keep her neck from snapping.
Though even that, she suspected, would not last much longer.
"O God…"
Would she die like this? Die without having saved anyone at all?
"Please…"
And yet—that was all right. Someone, somewhere, might still be drawing breath because of her thrashing struggle.
"Have mercy…"
So all she wished for now was a little luck. Luck that the lives her defiance had bought would not simply snuff out again. Luck that would give them time to regroup and face the demons once more…
No!
Then a shaft of light cut across the edge of her vision—and in the instant it collided with something and shook the earth with a colossal impact, the force crushing her throat weakened and was flung off by her holy power.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say the enemy had withdrawn their strength because of an external variable, and so she had managed to repel them.
Either way, she was free. She immediately gulped for air and coughed without end. Unfortunately, no strength would enter her limbs.
Crrrk.
Instead, a new sound began to tickle one ear. The sound of crumbling rock. Thud. Or perhaps it was the sound of a heart plunging.
Thud.
Thud.
With every pulse that rolled out across the world, the demon energy grew stronger.
The Inquisitor's eyelids snapped wide. A vast tide of demon energy was swirling together, swallowing the place where the Demon Knight had been bound.
What the hell did those bastards do?!
Thud.
It was like a storm. The visible currents of demon energy gathering into a single point and clenching tight—a true tempest upon the earth.
Damn it…!
But was there anyone who could do anything about it?
Thud.
No. Not her. Not even the demon that had been trying to kill her. Before that flow, all any of them could do was stand and wait, helpless.
Thud.
Demon energy honed sharp as a single blade was a weapon in itself, and the power pooling across the ground like a swamp was an unmistakable warning.
Thud.
The growing pulse rang out like the marching tread of an army, or like war drums beaten to raise morale—orderly, rigorously restrained, yet charged with a heat that could shake heaven and earth.
BOOM!
And when at last that sound reached its end—Shhhhk!—with a sound that could not be heard, a hand rose from the pit of demon energy.
Crrrk…
A right hand black as if painted over with demon energy braced against the earth and hauled up the body attached to it. Like a corpse buried underground rising from its grave. Like a drowning man thrashing one last time from the depths of a lake.
Ah. Finally.
The one wearing a ram's skull let long white hair spill down.
Now I can really put some power into this.
That was as far as the Inquisitor's consciousness remembered.
With the vanishing of the heat that had been strangling her breath as her only comfort, she blacked out.
Crrrk. Crack.
Mephistopheles tried moving the body that had been wrecked and then smothered in demon energy.
The scraps of clothing stuck to the skin sank into it and vanished. The parts that hadn't stuck did the same.
They only looked like clothing; by human standards they were little more than fingernail clippings. Getting rid of them and making new ones was no trouble at all.
Crrrk.
The wounds were the same. The eye that had cooked and burst regrew from the optic nerve outward—muscle, sclera, vitreous, lens, iris, cornea—shoving aside the remnants of what had once been an eye. Fragments that had spilled out in place of tears simply dissolved into the air and ceased to exist.
Crrrk.
The broken leg, too, slowly twisted back toward its original shape. In the process, every muscle that had been roasted dry and shrunken melted away. Ssshhh. New muscle grew to fill the empty space. Skin. Organs. All of it.
A body returned from death uncurled the frame that had been clenched tight by contracted muscle. Through the regenerations and rearrangements, the form had come to resemble, rather closely, the body Mephistopheles had originally used.
…Not perfectly identical, so a lingering discomfort remained.
But changing it any further would be a problem when the time came to give it back. If he had complete dominion over the body it would be another matter; under the present circumstances—closer to a loan—this was the limit of what he could alter.
He clicked his tongue in mild regret and stood crooked on a frame grown leaner than before.
Clack. The ram's skull that was his emblem, covering his face, rattled lightly. The ruined rags had vanished during the body's regeneration and now new garments wound about him from head to toe.
Traces of a homeland he could no longer even remember covered most of his body in black.
Well now. How thoughtful of you.
Everything was ready. In a languid voice, Mephistopheles flicked his wrist and adjusted a sleeve.
Thanks to you just standing there and watching, I recovered nice and easy.
Pulling the black gloves higher over wrists already half-hidden by the clothes was less ridiculous than it was deliberate provocation—hoping, perhaps, that the other party would lose their temper and charge.
…I know how you killed Asmodeus. You really think I'd give you distance?
But Pandemonium—Mamon—did not take the bait. A judgment that was either wise or cunning, depending on how you looked at it. If they had struck while he was still mending, he would have taken their head in a single stroke.
But that chance was already gone. And after a line like that, they were hardly about to walk into range.
Smart.
So Mephisto cleanly abandoned that particular desire and raised another subject. He still had cards left for mocking Mamon.
A lukewarm smile rose over the lower face the ram's bone did not quite hide.
Funny thing about the world, though, isn't it? Even humans have their uses sometimes. Without that, breaking the seal would have taken a bit longer.
He didn't believe the human had known what they were doing. But the result was that he had saved the power he would have spent cracking the barrier, and avoided an attack from Mamon besides.
Of course. If that light hadn't shattered the seal in a single blow, how would he have gotten free so easily? Mamon was no fool who would fail to notice him trying to break the seal—and no greater fool who would simply let it happen!
Right?
Damn it… I was the idiot for hoping you wouldn't wake up.
Hmm. Can you really just summarize that as "idiot"?
In the end, the credit belonged largely to the human who had fired that shot from far away. Even if that human was, by now, probably shaking in their boots with no idea what they had unleashed—still! The human had done such a great thing that Mephisto almost felt like letting them keep their life this once.
"I don't underestimate, I don't let my guard down"—and then you act just as slack as anyone else. "Moron" feels like the better word.
Of course, saying so did not mean he would actually put the human's anxiety to rest. Oh, he wouldn't include them in his attack range. That much courtesy, as thanks for freeing him and as a little payback against Mamon, seemed fair enough.
What happened after that was none of his concern. Human lives, lives in general, were not values he held dear.
Keep the promise.
…But this time, he would have to pay attention. Damn it.
…I'd rather not hear that from the likes of you, who got locked up because you couldn't even beat a single human.
Mamon's jab, arriving right in the middle of things, shoved the good mood Mephisto had been enjoying even deeper into the abyss.
At a line that struck his sore spot with perfect accuracy, he twisted his lips further. The long, coiling horns crowning his head swept the air in wide arcs at the slightest movement.
I'm the one who's surprised, actually. I figured you'd run.
That's a strange thing to say. Why would I run and leave you here?
Because it's the smart play for you, obviously. Suitable vessels may be rare, but not so rare you'd risk getting swallowed by me over one.
Just because a vessel breaks doesn't mean I'm so incompetent I can't get away from you.
A broken vessel did not mean his soul died with it. The moment it shattered, if he fled, he could slip free of any grasp. Of course the impact of a vessel breaking hit him as well, so afterward he'd need a century or so to put his soul back together—but still.
Oh, normally, sure. Mephisto. But you know who's watching my back right now. You think He would miss a chance like this?
Yes. That was definitely a problem. If he abandoned the vessel and fled before it broke, there would be no risk of being caught in soul-form, and no century of recovery afterward either. He could always hunt down another vessel later.
But…
True. He wouldn't miss it. But would that chance ever actually come?
That was not among the options. Mephisto gave no sign of it and only deliberately lifted the corner of his mouth.
You're the one who's going to die!
In place of eyes hidden by the ram's skull, a red light kindled in the empty sockets of the bone. Mamon's body flinched hard.
…Come on. Why don't you just come back to our side? As long as you're not about to lose control of the body to the human again, there's no reason for us to fight. The only one who benefits is that two-faced bastard.
Ha. Scared?
Yeah. Honestly, I don't want to clash with you. If you were helpless, sure. But fully resurrected like this… I'd just be the one taking the loss.
So you'll turn on me the second I weaken, and you're wrapping it up in a thick-faced speech.
That's how all of us are, isn't it?
Satan won't like it.
Please. He'd welcome you back with open arms. Granted, your failure to keep hold of your vessel cost our side a fair amount of damage… but the moment you put some real power into it, all of that gets fixed. Blow up a few cities and He'll forget every past sin.
But Mamon was not the kind of miser who would abandon a deal just because they were afraid. Mephisto let out a little chuckle at the casually offered invitation to return.
Horizontal pupils, black as a bottomless pit, settled wickedly in the center of the red light that had risen in place of eyes.
Oh, he would. That bastard would.
It was ominous. Mamon stepped back with calm deliberation, and Mephistopheles's hair began to flutter and thrash. Boiling demon energy whipped up wind in every direction.
But what can I say? Screwing over Satan is kind of a hobby of mine.
An unmistakable declaration of hostility. Mamon had no choice but to draw up their power in answer.
…You're really going to betray us?
And still trying to negotiate to the end—that was pure miser, guarding their own safety and profit with extreme care. Even if the word choice was completely wrong.
Pff—pffhahaha! Betray? Me? Betray??
Mephistopheles, faced with a word choice he had truly never imagined, laughed with exaggerated, savage abandon.
This isn't betrayal! We were never on the same side to begin with—so how the hell would this be a betrayal?!
The hand he waved through the air had joints so long the fingers outmeasured the palm. Chrrrk. Demon energy gathered over them and gleamed sharp as knuckle-guards, as claws.
Right? Satan! Say something—you're here too!
At last, the punishment…
Oh, King of Hell. Are you angry? Do you hate it when I run my mouth like this? Then break the contract already! Attack this body right now! So I can throw away this spare vessel and go back to my original flesh!!
…
Let's go at it again—in my real body!!
A mad howl mocked Satan.
But there was no one on this land who would rise to such open scorn. Not Satan, trapped in the middle ground by making himself the Wedge and able only to rant from afar. Not even Mamon, standing right in front of him.
They did not so much as flinch at words Mephisto was half impulsively, half calculatingly spitting out. It was in that moment that Wrath, who had always freely unleashed his temper and worn savagery like a mask, cast it aside and smiled.
Coward.
At the quiet sneer, a pitch-black current formed behind Mamon's back.
Kill them. If you want every last scrap of gold in Hell.
I'd like to say that still isn't enough… but fine. I'm about to die anyway.
Then Mamon's demon energy swelled further. Satan must have added some further measure. A result he had more or less expected.
Good. At this level, even you, Wrath, won't have it easy.
Hmm. Want to bet?
But was that really such a problem for him? It was not.
Mephistopheles twisted his lips, aligning, inflating, and ordering his demon energy.
It was only possible because the entire area had been temporarily turned into Maryeok. He was a demon, and for all that it made Satan's blood boil, the advantages of Maryeok were shared by every demon in the vicinity.
Well—even so, he was only a soul, Gretchen had already spent a good deal of power, and restoring the vessel had cost him no small amount, so if he could manage a fifth of his true strength he would count himself lucky…
I'm betting on you dying…!
That would not make him easy prey.
At last, black fire burst outward in every direction—flame that would not go out so long as its master willed it, flame that ate everything in the world.
Die! Damn Wrath!
Black fire could devour even lava. Knowing that, Mamon immediately retreated.
Boom! BOOM! Lava exploding on all sides was a force that had not even shown itself when facing Wrath's vessel or the Hero.
Lightning called forth by offering Leviathan's Tear streaked endlessly toward the enemy.
Where do you think you're going, Mamon? Come play with me. Hmm?
But the moment Mephisto raised fire in a spiral around himself, all of it became useless.
A torrent of demon energy shielded its master and burned the enemy's attacks to nothing.
Fwoosh!
And in the center of that space, the one with streaming white hair drew a sword.
A blade he had forged himself, long ago—before the contract had stolen his body—by pulling out his own ribs, refining them by hand, and etching them into his soul.
A sword that could be summoned into any vessel, called forth in any form, and that could contain any power. Latel.
Gretchen, who had used it in his place, had treated it as nothing more than a sword… but its true worth did not lie in mere hardness or unbreakability.
Latel wants to play with you too.
The sword that had taken the shape of a zweihander to deceive humans melted, seeped into the earth, and rose again.
Ssshhh. A sculpture that had only worn a human form stood at his side. A doll refined enough to fight in perfect concert with him.
I'm going this far—so you'd better play along!!
Tch!
At the appearance of the infamous blade, Mamon clicked their tongue.
Then…!
Before that. Fulfill the promise first. Save the Hero. And the two humans over there as well.
…Of course, of course. As you command.
But Mephistopheles was not exactly in a comfortable position either. The moment he felt the freedom he had believed perfect suddenly restricted, he ground his teeth.
Even so, he could not break the "promise." The instant he did, even this hard-won chance would vanish.
To kill that bastard, you think I can't spare one measly human?!
At his command, Latel—his double—shot off in another direction. The target was the Hero, collapsed and left lying where he fell.
Ah. And while I'm at it, collecting a price on the way wouldn't be so bad.
The lesser demons that tried to bar the way were carved into pieces the moment the double raised its claws. It had no will of its own, so he had to direct it personally—but for this sort of work, it was more than serviceable.
You!
Hahaha! Happy, Mamon?! You just bought yourself a little more time to live!
Having cleaned up every last minion, the double scooped up the Hero and flew toward the far side. It would gather the two unconscious humans as well and deliver them to where the others were.
One of the conditions for his rampage was, after all, that those three still had their heads attached.
Ha. Look at you. You think clinging to the Hero is going to break your seal?! Idiot! You're nothing but a mutt fawning over the hunter who's going to boil you alive!
At that display, Mamon mocked his actions and set the lava giant they had held in reserve into motion.
It had no special abilities—only pure, enormous bulk and crushing mass—and it swung its arm.
True. Maybe so. But at least I can kill you, can't I?!
But if he fell to a mere lava doll, the name that had once made Hell itself ring would not be worth much.
Mephisto blithely ignored Mamon's words and used demon energy to forge a temporary blade.
Slash!
And swung. Demon energy stretched in an instant and split the lava doll like a whip.
Without the slightest waste, the blade compressed to its absolute limit was so keen it left not even a scar on the lava construct.
But the central nerves controlling it were cleanly severed. The sword-strokes that bloomed a half-beat later on either side did the same. They cut precisely through what could, if one insisted, be called the "cores."
BOOM!
The moment the demon energy supporting the vast mass of lava was cut away, the whole thing exploded, spraying lava in every direction. What remained melted downward, dissolving and burying the buildings below.
CRASH!
In the midst of it, Mephistopheles's arm thrust forward. From his fingertips a colossal pillar of fire shot out, aiming for Mamon's body.
Damn it!
Splash!
The one who dodged by plunging into the lava and moving at speed swallowed a curse.
BOOM!
A half-beat later, an explosion bloomed where the fire pillar had struck, burning away every last scrap of lava. Black flame stuck to the earth like embers, crackling and popping.
Chilling, I'll give you that!
Mamon looked at the scene and muttered a laugh that was pure irritation. Around the body that had just risen from the lava, the sparks Mephisto had scattered in every direction at the start of the fight still lingered.
Burst.
At their master's command, the sparks swelled into round orbs and prepared to detonate.
A cheap trick…!
Instead of panicking at the developing pattern, Mamon smothered them under lava packed with even denser demon energy.
Then, using the opened distance, they drew up still more power. Stone masses closer to meteorites than volcanic bombs hurtled toward Mephisto, and spikes jutted densely from every surface of lava.
Fine! Let's fight dirty, Mephisto!
There was more than enough demon energy to spare. While they were at it, they spread lava across the earth with every step Mephisto took.
Spreading lava painted the surroundings crimson, and the gas and ash that leaked out on top of it rewrote the landscape into something like a world already ended.
I've got more cards in hand!
At that, Mephisto—who had been holding the attacks at bay with a wall of black fire—faintly furrowed his brow.
The amount of demon energy each of them held. Under normal circumstances it might have been different, but right now, he was clearly and decisively outmatched.
Yeah. That is a bit annoying…
But so what? Mephistopheles did not paint a picture of his own defeat. Instead, he used that very gap to feed his wrath—higher, and higher still.
Wrath toward Satan. The body stolen as the price of losing to that bastard. The endless wandering in search of vessels. The present situation, in which a mere human had refused to yield control so easily that he had finally been forced into a contract. Another soul, so far removed from wrath that it should never have been a condition of any deal. A body that had to be returned the instant the promise ended.
He had so very many things to be angry about.
Angry enough to burn.
Black fire fueled by wrath climbed higher and wound about his entire body. Fwoosh. Rising between those flames was a crimson redder than anything else in the world.
I'll erase you.
Just then, the sword that had finished its assigned task returned to his hand—and that sword was swung.