Chapter 158
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 158
Chapter Title: Artificial Demon -4-
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The scene of a brawl that ignored their difference in size.
Even swinging a massive greatsword infused with savage momentum that could easily hack a human body to pieces and toss half away.
The demon, frustrated by the human who blocked and dodged its attacks with ghostly movements around a single unbreakable chain, finally poured all its focus into black magic.
Crack-!
A kick slamming down with outward force twisted the demon's knee.
-Boom-!
Black smoke billowed from the man's body amid the explosion.
Strikes and blasts.
A nonstop exchange.
The adventurer hosting this life-or-death game of chicken—not for money, but for survival—gave the cornered demon no chance to slip away.
Clink-!
In the chaos of melee, too focused on regenerating its body and attacking.
Its mana to repel the chain burrowing into its neck amid roaring white flames was dwindling.
The sacrifices piled up like they could last years were scraping bottom.
The sensation of death closing in grew ever more vivid, and the victor's silhouette sharpened with time.
—
They say physical pain is better than mental agony, but pain pushed to its absolute limit inevitably bleeds into the mind.
It had given up swinging its greatsword; he snatched it away and jammed it into its shoulder.
Under the barrage of breathless blows, the horns sprouting from its temples shattered to powder, and its flesh reached a state where regeneration was nearly impossible.
The demon halted its barrage of black magic.
With half its tongue left, drooling blood and spit, it flaunted fluent speech to propose a deal—the hallmark of a demon.
"Grk... Human...! At this rate, we'll both die... You really gonna throw away all the time you've lived in this foolish stunt?!"
'Not really?'
Sure, he was a blood-soaked mess on the outside, looking like hell, but there were no real fatal wounds.
The strong resistance to impurities granted by his perfected Nachal body wasn't something a black magic spell ended with a single word could pierce fatally.
Of course, even with resistance, endless hits would eventually spell danger.
'Taking hits is a skill, a knack.'
To avoid lethal damage, pinpointing where the magic would strike was key.
He concentrated his mana at those points where the black magic converged, locally hardening his body.
It demanded extreme focus—one slip, and he'd eat a spell bare-skinned. A mad gamble bordering on insanity.
But it became the decisive factor in victory.
'Fooled by my looks, huh.'
On top of that, twisting his body moment to moment to deflect from vitals was basic basics for a seasoned pro living by the blade.
Skin tearing and bursting into bleeding messes aside, no real problems.
With the bleeding resistance from Blood Ghost, blood loss that would kill a normal person amounted to mere scratches. His ghastly appearance belied his stable internals.
"I'll promise to leave this place too! And—"
It wouldn't lay a hand on Chloe, and if he wanted something, it'd help make it happen.
Its tongue had been severed clean, yet it stretched on.
When it started spinning sweet visions of a future sealed by contract, he knew it in his gut.
This demon had backed itself to the absolute cliff's edge, enough to swallow its pride and seek compromise with a mere human like him.
Showing impatience first and proposing a deal was as good as advertising it had hit its limit.
"Ptoo...!"
He spat out the congealed blood clogging nose and mouth, then seized the demon's last remaining horn atop its crown.
"Don't go fizzling out at the end after such good fun. The real show's just starting, right?"
This demon reeked of a half-baked prodigy—cunning like a veteran at times, yet green and underdeveloped.
Perfect timing to nip its potential in the bud before it could grow.
As they delved deeper, the thickening sinister aura and debris from collapsed buildings and walls made the saintess grimace.
"...It's vicious. Mazella can hold out somehow, but is the knight all right? Shall I bestow a blessing if needed?"
Those with holy power were less susceptible to viciousness than those wielding ordinary mana.
"No issue."
Eclair Dreitna of the Empire's Five Knights wasn't a holy knight but a knight to her core.
Yet she faced this evil aura head-on without a hint of strain—not pretending unaffected, but genuinely untouched.
'What incredible fortitude...'
Even among the Church's holy knights, she outdid the elite like Mazella in stamina and speed, charging ahead to cleave dozens, hundreds of undead at invisible velocities.
Her red eyes darted about as if searching for something, finally landing on the saintess.
"Saintess. Mind if we punch through faster?"
"...Of course. Just don't push too hard."
Thanks to Eclair, Mazella could focus solely on guarding and carrying her.
They reached what they suspected was the source of the Empire's impurities far quicker than expected.
Deeper in, the devastation made it unthinkable as the capital.
Was this the origin of that massive explosion heard from the reception room?
The saintess, bracing for battle in Mazella's arms, crested a mountain of debris shattered by blasts.
She let out a foolish sound at the bizarre sight.
"Eh...?"
Clank!
"Grk... guk!"
A man of unknown identity, covered in blood and wounds.
And under his foot.
An evil mass hanged on the floor stage, neck bound by an iron chain spewing white flames.
The massive lifeform bubbling black froth had a vicious form unlike anything in books.
But the saintess knew from its aura: an absurdly powerful demon.
'Who is that man...?'
Definitely not a holy knight or priest.
Yet this was her first time seeing someone solo a demon this dangerous without Church escorts—and holding the upper hand.
"Grrk... mgh..."
The demon's futile scrabbling at the chain gouging its neck, thrashing in asphyxia, looked utterly alien.
Its demonic pride and regenerative might vanished; crawling on the brink of suffocation was enough to stun the three women senseless.
"Roman!!"
Eclair abandoned the stunned pair and kicked off the ground, charging ahead.
In an instant, she drew a sword radiating holiness from gods-know-where, her speed surging as if the approach here hadn't even been her full throttle.
Mazella snapped out of it faster than the saintess and set her down, drawing her weapon to guard the front.
"Saintess! That wicked abomination—!"
"I'm fine! Mazella, help the knight!"
"...Got it!"
The saintess clasped her hands to prepare holy spellcraft, struggling to assess the situation.
'Pure white flames... what in the world?'
Her eyes beheld it, yet was it even fire?
Blazing along the chain, yet pristine like fresh snow—akin to holy power, yet distinct.
Even she, who had studied exhaustively to smite all that defied reason, had never seen its like.
Curiosity burned; she yearned to uncover its nature now.
But purging evil came first.
Vast holy power gathered in her praying hands, erupting in brilliant light.
The demon, teetering on the ultimate shame of asphyxiation, flicked its single eye toward it.
"O messenger of the goddess above. Guide the sinners and grant the light of repentance."
⟨ Great Purification ⟩
Light radiated from the saintess, peeling away the corrupted earth where evil thoughts crawled.
Roman, Eclair, and Mazella felt their bodies lighten, spurring them to their tasks.
····
Roman had spotted Eclair's arrival and confirmed her charging toward him.
The demon would die soon enough at this rate, but it had minutes left in it.
No need to drag things out with reliable backup here.
"Eclair. Finish it!"
Mazella, starting slower and pushed back, hadn't arrived; only Eclair was closing in.
Roman yanked Gleipnir hard, forcing the demon's head up to bare its neck.
Clank-!
"...Guh!"
Eclair, Innocence already drawn mid-charge, locked her breath solid.
"Hup...!"
The thick demon neck wrapped haphazardly in Gleipnir's white flames—she had to carve the empty gap precise and deep.
'Hesitate, and the cutting power drops. Surface slice means nothing.'
A path a normal knight or adventurer would pore over? She read it clean.
No halting her rush; at contact, she hurled her body forward and swung Innocence without a shred of doubt.
Shing-!
Her sword path evoked a streak of light.
The demon's head—torso-sized for a human—floated into the air, still bound to Gleipnir.