No Face
[[[A new contractor. Thanks to you, I can join the festival now too. Kuhuhuhu...]]]
[Dantalian. Are you joining the festival as well?]
In a space of pure darkness, the owner of the grotesque pillar of flesh adorned with countless human faces—Dantalian—awaited the coming festival. Thousands of moonlit faces cackled ominously in the shadows.
Then, before him appeared a boyish figure with disheveled, ash-gray hair as if scorched by fire, pale green eyes blazing like flames peeking through the tangled locks. This boy stood unflinchingly before Dantalian, a pillar fused from myriad human faces, transcending humanity just like the demon himself. He was a demon too.
[[[Of course. The festival of the 666 demons. It's been ages—I'll make an appearance.]]]
[Then from now on, we're enemies. Pray you never cross paths with my contractor.]
[[[If they die, so be it. It's just a festival, after all.]]]
[[[Hell's festival reopens. The myriad changes it unleashes—that's my purpose. Faces twisted in screams, resentment, terror... I merely collect them.]]]
[No interest in climbing higher?]
[[[Don't delude yourself into thinking it's possible. The top spot's already taken.]]]
[...I see.]
[[[No one in this world can defeat that arrogant one's contractor. I'll just enjoy the spectacle.]]]
Their conversation ended there.
The demons' festival loomed near. To them, contractors were mere insects wriggling in futile struggle—entertainment to watch. Nothing more than clowns in their grand circus.
"Ughhh... fuck, my head hurts. That goddamn demon bastard... tricked me... argh!"
I barely endured the splitting headache and staggered to my feet, scanning the kids collapsed around me like I was. At least the demon hadn't lied about one thing. Their steady breathing told me everyone who'd nearly died as sacrifices to that lich had survived.
"Yeah, demons don't lie, huh? They just conveniently leave shit out!"
Grinding my teeth, I recalled the lifeline tossed to me amid my fading life—a desperate salvation in a ticking clock. No time for calm reflection then; the situation was dire. But the price? Not just my face, but forcing me to claim countless lives.
The contract to offer my face. Yeah... I'd done it, just as he said. My face flayed alive by his scythe-like claws. The agony was so excruciating I wanted to bite my tongue and die. But he'd promised life in exchange, so maybe he'd saved me from bleeding out or shock during it all.
Contracts must be fulfilled. Demons don't lie, but they twist words—omitting key details unless asked outright.
I never imagined it'd mean ten thousand faces!
Ten thousand. Hundreds were tough; thousands impossible. And not just any—the demon had imprinted the terms in my mind: faces ripped from the living, just like mine. Fresh, screaming victims.
This world was harsher than a dog's life, with dozens starving or dying of plague daily. But thousands vanishing? Nobles, officials, the king—they'd notice. Population meant labor, markets, taxes. No one cheers a plunge. Only wars, plagues, famines cause that.
But the contract demanded living faces. Ten thousand.
Harvesting them on battlefields? Tedious, risky—easy to catch a spear or arrow. Plague zones? Dangerous too.
Worst: doing it myself. Hands soaked in blood.
"Dantalian... you fucking prick. Even in this dogshit life, forcing murder for survival. Damn demon scum!"
Spilled milk now. Regret too late. Survive first.
"Hoo—escape comes next. But first... kids! Hey, kids! Wake up!"
Save the fallen brats. Loot this lich's lair for valuables too.
"Good, you're all up? Names, one by one!"
...
...
No response. More like they couldn't process it?
Makes sense. I was the youngest here physically (six years old), but with reincarnation, a nearly fifty-year-old soul. These monster-kids? Barely ten max.
Four boys, three girls. Girls all transformed. One unbelievably huge for ten—bodybuilder muscles. Arms like a trained adventurer's, 40cm around? Ripped six-pack, thick quads split four ways. 160cm tall—towering over me by two heads. Orange bob-cut with a 6:4 part, green eyes. Rina.
Next: brown hair to her waist, eyes bandaged. Blind-born. Bullied worse than me as a "parasite" by the beggar king. Cute enough he planned to whore her out later. Made me sick, but powerless. Before my past-life memories, I'd share beggar coins out of shared misery—best I could do. Probably the most loyal to me.
Now? I didn't know exactly, but the lab horror lingered: petrified rabbit shards where she looked. Like Medusa—basilisk eyes. Bandages back on.
Last girl: spider lower body. Arakne. Human upper, black shoulder-length hair, amber eyes. Spider abdomen twice her torso size, jet-black. Nails long, sharp, dripping black ooze—corrosive venom, sizzling the floor.
Boys like me: used in the summoning ritual, mostly human-looking. But altered. One spewing flames, another telekinetically moving objects, one's hair iced with frost everywhere, another muttering mad spells...
"Names, c'mon!"
...
...
"Sigh—what's wrong? We survived, didn't we? Time to plan ahead!"
"W-we... won't eat us, right?"
"Huh? Eat us? What're you on about?"
"Demon Lord... p-please spare us."
"Me? Demon Lord?"
Oh, my face. Bloodied mess facing them—grotesquer than the monster girls.
"Wait! I'll cover it quick! Stay put!"
Thudthudthud!
First, hide the face. Then regroup.
Up from the basement lab to the living room, I scoured for a mirror—and got a full view of the lich's pad. Run-down, but pricey: magic tomes, potions, jewels. Black market this haul, and we'd live easy forever.
Finally spotting the mirror, I froze speechless.
"What the hell is this?!—";
Body human, but face? Swirling black smoke. Like smoke shaped vaguely into a head, roiling. Crimson glow from eye sockets. Eerie as fuck.
No wonder the kids clammed up.
Black smoke—demon flames? Undulating like a face, red eyes glaring murderously. They had to call me demon!
Offer your face!
I thought Dantalian just skinned mine. Nope. I was beyond monster—his minion. No mere contractor: a full demon now.
The Faceless Demon.
That was my new reality.
"DANTALIIIAAAN!!!—"