Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (3)
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On the surface, the only difference between an upper demon and a high demon was a single horn. But the actual gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth.
An upper demon was a being that had reached completion, while a high demon stood at the threshold of transcendence.
Upper demons had no names, but high demons did. Upper demons commanded monsters, but high demons commanded other demons. Upper demons possessed at best tricky abilities, but high demons toyed with the laws and principles of the world. To face an upper demon, one needed an army—but bringing an army against a high demon would only lead to catastrophe.
That was why Kadim had come prepared. He had steeled himself for a grueling battle and made every preparation imaginable. He had spared no means at his disposal, never once letting his guard down.
Yet all that resolve and effort had been rendered meaningless by an opponent who defied all reason.
"Hrraaagh!"
――――――― Kwa—jik!!
After a desperate struggle that shattered bones, he succeeded in splitting its head once more. But the reversing clock hands nullified his efforts yet again. The demon, with its clinging mask, sucked in his flesh and offered mocking applause.
- Congratulations... This time... you killed 'me from 7 seconds ago'... Now... it's... time.
[......Wait, Kadim! ......Knew it would...... ......Something you know about...... Finally facing a great demon together......]
"......"
Kadim clenched his fist tighter. The red haze overlaying his vision grew thicker. The whispers in his ears were gradually forming coherent words. His berserk state was moments from erupting.
Tschik—!
Kadim ripped out his own thumbnail. To jolt his mind awake with pain. Fortunately, the hallucinations subsided temporarily, and the crimson shadows clouding his sight thinned slightly.
He exhaled raggedly, glaring at the demon.
"Hoo... Filthy tenacious life you've got. Feels like I've killed you five times already..."
- Strictly speaking, it's not that my life is tenacious. 'That me from that moment' truly died, after all.
"......Cut the bullshit. So, how many more moments do I have to slaughter to put you down for good?"
He hadn't asked expecting an answer. Yet the demon, tracing a clock pattern over its mask, gleefully replied.
- Every moment, every time.
"......"
- To completely erase me, you must kill 'me from every moment, every time,' you pathetic worm.
Arrogant leisure dripped from the demon's delicate voice. The leisure of invincibility. The leisure of a being on a higher plane, knowing no worm at its feet could ever harm it, no matter how it writhed.
Kadim let out a hollow chuckle.
It was absurd. A power that already possessed countless lives, with more added every single moment. Among all the high demon abilities he'd faced so far, this was异質ly overwhelming. Killing it five times through mortal agony was akin to scooping out a single teaspoon of seawater.
Still, that couldn't be the whole story. Even 'great demons' that had seemed utterly invincible had ways to be slain. There had to be some exploit, some vulnerability.
For instance, smashing that pocket watch.
"......"
Unfortunately, that was a mistaken guess.
Kadim had already destroyed it three times. Each time, just like the demon's flesh, it reformed in an instant. It probably wasn't some artifact or magic tool—it felt more like a manifestation of the demon's power.
For the moment, no clever ideas came to mind, no matter how hard he racked his brain. His bloodlust was fading, like red-hot iron cooling. The demon ticked the second hand on the clock pattern etched on its mask, urging him on.
- Tired already? Dragging this out won't do. While you've stood there dumbfounded, '21 seconds' worth of me' has already spawned.
"......"
Kadim snapped back to attention. For now, he'd have to recharge his bloodlust, keep fighting, and search for a weakness. He gripped a vial of demon blood with trembling hands.
In that instant, the demon's mask emitted an eerie blue glow.
- I've indulged you once or twice. How long did you think I'd tolerate that obvious trick?
Following the demon's gesture, the condensed demonic energy on the ceiling poured down all at once.
――――― Kwaaaaa—!!
A heavy torrent of demonic energy crushed Kadim. The vial in his hand shattered, as did those at his waist and in his pockets. The intense pressure burst his leather waterskin, staining his clothes dark red. Blood pooled around him lavishly.
Kwaaaaa, whooong—
The demonic energy absorbed the blood wholesale and dispersed into the air. The carvings on the ceiling gained a fresh coat of crimson hue.
- From now on, face me with nothing but your own flesh's power. I wonder if you can even handle 'this me' without demon blood... Oh, I can hardly contain my excitement.
Kadim rose unsteadily. The situation had grown even more hopeless. No blood left, bloodlust depleting, vision reddening, hallucinations burrowing into his ears...
[......Unbelievable...... Hiss, I speak the truth............ You'll realize it in the end......]
Yet instead of collapsing in despair, he gripped his sword hilt.
Demon blood was right there. Right in front of him, in that damned mask—split it open and take the blood pooling on that skinless face.
"Hrraaagh!!"
Kadim roared and charged the demon.
He dodged the scythe's afterimages, evaded demonic traps and arrows, sidestepped returning shadows, pursued the demon as it swapped positions in the blink of an eye. Even as his heart and lungs threatened to burst, even as every muscle screamed in tearing agony, he never stopped. All for a single drop, just one drop of blood on his blade.
It was futile.
His thoughts dulled. His senses numbed. His strength waned. His agility faltered. Without bloodlust, Kadim could no longer match the high demon evenly. He couldn't even claim a drop of blood, let alone reach its feet.
The demon openly eased up, moving lackadaisically. Like a child toying with a bug, it casually multiplied afterimages, delighting in the berserker's frantic struggles within its grasp.
"Huff, huff, huff..."
Tschik, tschk!
Even ripping out all his nails couldn't rouse him anymore. His eyes barely saw, his ears barely heard. He felt himself sinking slowly into a red mire.
Faces of old comrades flashed through Kadim's mind.
If Melissa were here, she'd incinerate the demon with magic and bind it in place.
If Gordon were here, he'd heal me with holy spells and weaken the demon.
If Cyril were here, she'd seal the demon's powers at the source with curses.
If Gale were here... he'd have already found the demon's weakness and pierced it with his holy sword.
But all that was just feeble, uncertain excuses. Kadim knew the truth. The real reason he was plummeting into defeat wasn't the absence of comrades.
He lacked the strength.
The strength to seize that masked face's blood and tear apart 'every moment, every time.'
[......Someday on fields where the sun never sets...... ......Hope we meet again......]
The final thread holding his sanity snapped. His vision flooded scarlet, whispers of madness piercing his eardrums. As he sank deep into the red mire, Kadim made one last desperate wish.
Even if he lost his reason, may his body fight that filthy demon to the end.
Atala, may he someday confront that damned god and smash its skull.
And please...
May the place he arrived at moments later not be an inescapable room inscribed with 'Game Over.'
Pebilatus narrowed the pattern on its mask.
"Kraaaagh!"
- ......
Something was different. From the memories of that worn-out dream.
The hulking warrior he faced again didn't exude the overwhelming killing intent or presence from 300 years ago. At best, when he'd guzzled blood, he'd seemed threatening—but compared to the mountain-like pressure of their first encounter, it was less than a mere hillock.
Pebilatus roughly grasped the reason.
'I've grown too strong. Strong enough to truly see that brute as nothing more than a pathetic worm...'
After breathing his last in the demon realm and falling to hell, he'd undergone unprecedented growth. From a lowly lesser demon to a high demon wielding transcendent power.
Adults see things from childhood as small. Having grown to the point of being reborn as another being, his perspective had inevitably shifted.
"Kraaaagh!!"
Without blood energy, the brute was just a loud bug. It was laughable that he'd once trembled in fear of such a thing. Killing it now was easier than squashing an ant underfoot.
Yet Pebilatus had no intention of finishing the brute off immediately.
The sudden anomaly just moments ago. A stabbing pain and foreign sensation piercing from within his brow.
This was the omen of a second horn sprouting.
The eye sockets behind the mask widened hugely.
To ascend from high demon to the next stage required slaughtering millions of higher beings or toppling an empire. And now, merely tormenting a single human was about to sprout a horn? The 'pain and despair' of higher beings held far greater value, but... did this worm possess such caliber?
Incomprehensible, but an opportunity not to be missed.
The next stage after 'high demon' was 'great demon.' The pinnacle all demons revered and worshipped.
Even setting aside prestige, reasons to become a great demon abounded. His power, the 'Pocket Watch of Life's Moments,' appeared transcendent but came with many limitations.
As mentioned earlier, it didn't truly possess lives from 'every moment.' It could only manipulate living beings and demonic energy, not inanimate objects or other energies. Even that required sufficient absorption against high demonic resistance, and it couldn't affect beings of higher rank than itself.
But if he could ascend to 'great demon'...
'......I'd gain near-immortality, and freely manipulate the time of all things without restraint.'
Thus, he resolved. Torment the brute to the utmost, then crush it like a worm in abject misery.
...Just as he'd suffered 300 years ago.
"Kraaaagh!"
Having absorbed enough demonic energy, he could now manipulate the brute's time too. If it suddenly aged to the point of collapse amid such desperate thrashing, it would surely exude utter despair.
Pebilatus grinned sinisterly and shook the pocket watch.
Ting—
But the hands halted midway, and the brute barely aged.
"Krahk, kraaaagh!!!"
Instead, his hair and beard grew wilder, and he rampaged with even greater ferocity and savagery. Moreover, the tattoos sprawling across his upper body began emitting an ominous red glow all at once.
Woooom—
Pebilatus panicked and reversed the watch. Fortunately, he restored the brute's form before it could draw on the tattoos' power.
Pebilatus pondered why such a result had occurred.
- ......
He soon realized the cause. This power could only age targets up to a few years before their physical death. Meaning the brute's lifespan wasn't long to begin with.
No big issue. If aging didn't work, reverse it instead. Even the most fearless berserker had a timid, frail childhood.
'He doesn't show much despair even when I break his bones and tear his flesh now, but if I revert him to childhood and do that...'
He could hardly wait to see the reaction. Baring scarlet fangs in ecstatic glee, Pebilatus vigorously shook the watch in reverse.
He realized it was a mistake.
A fatal, irreparable, catastrophic mistake.
Only after more time had passed.
At first, it seemed to go as planned. Spin, spin. This time, the hands turned smoothly. The brute's wild hair shortened, his momentum faltered. Tattoos and scars vanished from his body. The madness in his eyes faded, his muscles shrank.
The brute was shedding his inhuman monstrosity step by step, assuming a somewhat normal appearance. Pebilatus leisurely traced the clock pattern on his mask, awaiting the terrified barbarian boy.
But when time's regression crossed a certain line, something utterly unforeseen happened.
A divine form of destruction emerged without warning, in place of a child's visage.
- ......?
In an instant, the air throughout the space changed.
The clock hands froze as if by lie. Pebilatus furrowed his brow. But it wasn't just the hands—time itself across all creation seemed halted. In the inexplicable, chilling silence, the demon slowly raised its gaze to the brute.
- ......Hm?
For some reason, the brute's bulk was even larger than before. The atmosphere felt different too. But at a glance, it wasn't mere size or aura—something fundamental had completely changed.
Wondering what it was, the moment he scrutinized it, it struck.
A tension like someone crushing his heart with all their might. A strangling pressure like a noose from the gallows. A crushing weight like a giant in iron boots stomping his shoulder. A killing intent like thousands of blades shredding flesh and cleaving bone.
The terror born from all those images entwined. Chattering teeth, surging nausea, tears and screams, an urge to cry out to an absolute savior. Overwhelming dread.
- Uh, uhh, uhk, uhk...
An emotion he'd never felt since becoming a high demon. Pebilatus couldn't believe it. He groaned like a throttled beast, desperately denying it as illusion, a plunge into that old dream like before.
But a voice he'd never heard, and the events unfolding before his eyes, proved it all too real.
"......Long time no see."
The brute with hollow eyes turned and stepped forward.
――――― Thud—!
That simple motion sent the demon's heart plummeting to its ankles.
A cold premonition of doom coiled around his waist like a serpent. Trembling, he staggered back and tripped over a stone, sprawling. Pain stabbed madly behind the mask. The demon's mind tumbled into an abyss of distant time, forgetting its rank and regressing to the lowliest being in the demon realm.
- Kee, keee...
Just like back then, the brute loomed before the demon, casting a mountain-vast shadow.
"You said I just need to slaughter 'every moment, every time'?"
Just like back then, the demon groveled, palms scraping raw, begging pathetically for life.
- Keeik, keee... Please spare me... Anything, anything...
Place, time, rank, form, power—all different, yet the demon's fate remained unchanged. Before that unreasonable judge, the demon was still less than a mote of dust. No matter its desperate struggles, the mortal grasp closed in inescapably.
Just as in the demon realm 300 years ago.
"......Not so difficult, then."
――――――― Splut—crack!
The berserker from the returned first playthrough seized the high demon's head in one hand and crushed it effortlessly.