Mascot == Guardian Angel
There was an old saying: strike while the iron is hot.
Having returned briefly to Hell, Dantalion summoned Sitri and ordered her to bring Belma.
"Wouldn't it be easier just to strip the memories from the hell under her charge?"
"There are things you can't learn by skimming memories alone."
Experience, after all, held greater value than memory. The two might feel similar, yet they belonged to entirely different domains. Just because Friend A told you about Friend B didn't mean you truly understood B, did it?
"What a pain."
"Dealing with the painful parts is a secretary's job. Fetch her quickly."
"Fiiine…"
Besides, there was someone else to handle the bothersome work. Dantalion sipped his canned coffee at leisure and sank into thought.
Still, that one clung to pride until the very end. If she grasps my intent, she might turn rather rebellious.
Most souls cracked within a week in Hell. Yet exceptions always existed. Those with powerful egos sometimes endured the torments.
If that's the case, I may have to administer the punishment myself for the first time in a while.
What sort of sentence would suit? The last one he had personally carried out had borrowed an idea from the King of the Five Paths' Black Darkness Hell—eternal silence steeped in pitch black, like stars scattered across a night sky—
"Chief Justice~! Fresh, piping-hot sinner delivery!"
"When will that playful streak of hers ever fade?"
Dantalion drained the rest of his coffee and turned. Thud! Belma, clad in tattered rags, sprawled across the floor. The claim of a "piping-hot sinner" was no exaggeration; the reek of sulfur rose thick from her scorched hide. Probably the demons had skewered her with harpoons in the lava baths as a little welcome ceremony.
And yet…
"She's in terrible shape. Did you do something extra?"
Every part of her body that could tremble was shaking violently; nothing about it looked normal. Sitri merely shrugged and snickered.
"Didn't need to do a thing. She was already like that when we hauled her out of the lava. The harpoons went for the eyes—"
"Hiiiiiieeek—!!!"
Apparently the harpoons had left a trauma. Belma recoiled in pure terror. She hadn't wet herself, though; those guilty of the sin of insult had their urethras and anuses sealed shut, which explained that much.
Snap! Dantalion flicked his fingers and summoned a strip of crimson cloth, yanking Belma upright. Bound and thrashing, she looked as ridiculous as a marionette on tangled strings. Taking pity on her inability to keep balance, he caught her face and fixed her gaze. Far from grateful for the courtesy, Belma let out a piercing scream—
"From this moment on, every scream earns you additional punishment."
"…"
Eye-level education silenced her at once. He regarded the woman frozen stiff as a taxidermy specimen, then posed his questions.
"Explain the organization you belong to. And offer your opinion on what they will attempt once you vanish."
As he spoke he drew a single cigarette from the pack. The creature was terrified, yet she had once held her pride even before death. If she refused, he would simply toss her into the punishment grounds and enjoy a leisurely smoke—
"ThegroupIbelongtoiscalledGuinhweanorganizationofevilgodworshippers. Theleaderisexpertatmentalmanipulationand—"
"…"
How could anyone's deliberation last shorter than the time it took to smoke a single cigarette? He felt like a fool for having bothered to invent punishments at all.
Stripped of dreams and hope, Belma proved thoroughly obedient. Once he had confirmed everything he needed, Dantalion issued an order to Sitri.
"Send her back by the most roundabout route possible."
"Th-thank you! Thank you!"
There was nothing to thank him for. Knowing that happy people still existed even in Hell would only make the punishments more agonizing. Sometimes a brief rest hurt more than a full-speed sprint.
After confirming the two had left, Dantalion attempted a connection to his mascot. He surrendered himself to the flow of dimensions and followed the mascot's signal for a short while.
Already night, is it?
Awakening inside the mascot's body, Dantalion surveyed the surroundings. Soft chirps of insects filled the night. Yoanna and Emily lay deep in sleep, surrendering themselves to the warmth of the campfire. Common sense dictated posting a watch for safety at times like this…
"Ghhhk… koff!"
"Sleeping soundly, I see."
Judging by Thomas, who dozed with his back against a tree, the night watch had been his duty. Perhaps trailing after Yoanna and witnessing so many horrors had simply worn him out. Still, forgetting the watch was a problem.
"The man who has to escort Yoanna all the way to the capital can't be this frail."
He stirred his sluggish body and climbed onto Thomas's shoulder. No great power was required—just a tiny measure of aid.
This much should suffice.
A crimson droplet formed at the tip of his finger: power diluted to the extreme, flavored with honey out of consideration for the eater. He slipped it into Thomas's mouth; the old man licked his lips and swallowed.
"Mmm… delicious."
The sleep-talking smack of lips confirmed success. Of course it tasted good—this was no ordinary honey, but Hell's own.
"No, that isn't the point."
What mattered was the effect, not the flavor. Wrinkles smoothed. Lifeless hair regained its luster. Muscles grown soft with age drew taut once more; lungs and heart settled into the steady rhythm of something brand-new. Lingering aches and minor ailments would likely vanish as well.
"If he falls asleep on watch again, I suppose I'll just reclaim the power."
"Mmmph…"
Feeling the chill, Thomas shivered. Dantalion looked down at him, then moved to a suitable spot. With no watchman, he would simply stand guard himself for the night.
So this is the 'fire-gazing' Sitri mentioned.
Seated before the campfire, Dantalion opened the crimson book and cast the lowest-level barrier. The liquid that composed his body streamed outward in every direction. The barrier's name was Arachne's Nest. It possessed no physical force, yet beasts and lesser creatures instinctively feared it. And when beings of human-level intellect stepped inside—
Rustle!
"I didn't think Belma was strong enough to die… so there were other companions."
"They slept so soundly; that woman must have kept her mouth shut after all."
A band of humans emerged, shattering the forest's quiet. Every one of them wore robes that hid their faces—clearly Belma's comrades. One of them snickered as he spoke.
"Keh-heh, you have any idea how hard I worked getting here first to scatter the sleeping incense?"
"A man whose head is filled with nothing but raping women finally did something useful."
"Don't act so high and mighty. Half of Guinhwe's funds come from my brothels—forget that?"
So there had been a separate reason Yoanna's party slept so deeply. That made Thomas's lapse forgivable; it was a problem beyond his own power to solve. The two men's verbal sparring began to leak killing intent when—
"This is hardly the time to fight. And we can't deny that Jeffrey has given us an excellent opportunity."
"Joseph… for your sake I'll let it slide this once."
The one wearing a golden badge atop his robe appeared to be the leader. Joseph, head of Guinhwe, mediated the quarrel and ran his eyes over Yoanna and Emily.
"The wench we originally targeted is nothing special. The greater prize is that other girl."
"I skimmed the memories of the scene—she's no ordinary monster. If she grows any further she'll become a serious obstacle to the great work. Better to snip the bud now…"
"On the contrary, if we put that talent to our own use, it would be a tremendous help in achieving the great work."
Unconcealed greed colored his voice. Several of the group drifted closer to Joseph in agreement.
"Heh-heh, pretty girls are useful, right?"
"I think I'm prettier, but… chances to gain strong fighting power don't come often."
"Let's put it to a majority vote. Majority vote."
Worshippers of evil gods were greedy by nature. Otherwise, why bother serving an evil god while deceiving the eyes of the world?
"Best to subdue them quickly and move them to headquarters. Everyone, link minds."
"Ugh, I hate that—it feels disgusting…"
Nerve-like tendrils of energy unfurled above Joseph's head. The writhing power reached toward his comrades and attempted to connect through their skulls. Considering how mental-type abilities scaled with spiritual strength, it was a rather clever method. Ten minds were naturally stronger than one.
"Then we begin."
Preparations complete, Joseph strode confidently toward Yoanna. Or rather, he tried to. The instant his foot touched the spider silk, every one of them—Joseph included—froze in place.
The experience of severed memory is never beneficial. Awkwardness, nausea, confusion, fear… It was as unpleasant as having one arm torn off and another roughly stitched in its place.
"Bleeegh?!"
"Where—where is this?!"
"I can't see a thing! Fire—someone light a fire!!!"
Awakening amid the tangle of memories, the members of Guinhwe flailed and scanned their surroundings. This space of absolute darkness held nothing but a suffocating silence. Though they had been dragged here together, they could not recognize one another. Sight, hearing, touch… every stimulus had vanished from the world.
"Welcome to my mental barrier."
Dantalion appeared before them. The sole visible presence in a world of darkness immediately put Guinhwe on guard. Dantalion himself remained utterly at ease.
"The last guest visited a hundred years ago, was it? This is rather enjoyable."
"From the moment I confirmed Belma's life had been cut short I knew you were no ordinary foe… so you are a demon's lackey."
Joseph nodded as though he finally understood. This space was surely an illusion crafted by a demon. Ordinary people would panic at their first encounter with such a phantasm and have their minds devoured. But Joseph was no stranger to battling mental entities.
"You chose the wrong opponent. This is not my first time facing a demon's mental form."
Demons bestowed power upon their followers in order to find vessels capable of descent. Without a vessel they could not draw upon their true strength and became extremely weak. Having already faced a demon's mental form twice, Joseph brimmed with confidence—
"Such splendid confidence. Very well… try not to let your mind collapse."
"What?"
In that instant Dantalion's form vanished. Joseph was baffled. Facing a demon's mental body usually meant summoning imagination for combat. Yet it was not Dantalion who opposed him, but the space itself.
The pitch-black sky split open, revealing things both large and small.
"Eyes…?"
Dozens, hundreds… no, a number beyond reckoning of eyes. No longer was this a world of darkness alone. Hundreds of pupils now gazed down upon them. Hundreds of unblinking, silent, motionless eyes.
Someone lashed out with weapons and magic, attacking the eyes. But has anyone ever seen the stars of the night sky fall simply because an arrow was loosed toward them? Every attempt produced not the slightest change in this world.
The members of Guinhwe raged at the meaningless space.
"This—this is absurd!"
"If you're a demon, fight fair and square like one! This… this isn't a fight!!"
"What do you even want?! What is the meaning of those eyes!!"
Yet the true terror of rage begins when it falls. Like the debris of an erupted volcano crashing to earth, the scorching emotion struck the ceiling and plummeted into the abyss.
When would this time end? How could one escape this place? Why did those eyes merely stare and do nothing? Am I… unable to leave?
Minds that craved change began to loop only despair.
"Ha… haha! Hahahahahaha—!!!"
Reaching the conclusion that escape was impossible, Joseph laughed like a madman. He laughed at the eyes that filled the world, laughed and laughed. A man who had despised laughter his entire life now laughed with vulgar, deafening noise. He kept laughing until he forgot there was nothing else left to do. He continued laughing until his mind scattered and vanished.
"Mmm…! I feel unusually refreshed today."
The next morning, the first to wake was Thomas. Rising with a clear head, he rolled his joints in wonder. Never in his life had he slept so deeply on the open road…
…But I was on watch, wasn't I?
Recalling his duty through the gap in memory, Thomas flinched. He had never imagined he would commit the insanity of falling asleep on night watch outdoors—not even at an inn. Was he out of his mind? After watching the young lady butcher people, he had slept like a log?
He whipped his head around, confirmed the two girls still slept soundly, and exhaled in relief.
"Whew… thought my head was about to fly off."
Fortunately nothing seemed to have happened during the night. Thinking so, he brushed himself off and turned the other way.
"Huh…"
Then he spotted the robed figures and blinked. Why would ten finely crafted statues be standing in a place like this…
Twitch!
"Hiiyaaaaaaak???!??"
When their gazes fixed on his face, Thomas shrieked like a girl. He flailed the sword he clutched so carefully and screamed for a while. Realizing nothing was happening, he cracked his eyes open a fraction…
"…What?"
Their eyes merely gathered; the figures did not move. When nothing further occurred, courage returned. Thomas poked the foremost one with his sword. Still no reaction. Boldly he pulled back the robe.
"What in the world is this."
"Drr…?"
Dilated pupils, a gaze splayed like a cross-eyed stare. Completely broken, Joseph drooled freely and smiled a vacant little smile.