A Pain Worse Than Death
They say that if you were to rank the worst pains a human being can endure, burning alive sits at the very top. A soldier who had suffered through fire torture once said, “I could bear the beatings, the water torture, even the agony of having my tongue cut out… but the flames? I would have shoved my own mother’s head under the wheels of a moving bus if it meant escaping that torment.”
Leonhart’s screams as he burned echoed across the base camp in raw, gut-wrenching despair.
Even though it was the dead of night, the cross he was bound to blazed a furious red, casting an eerie, hellish glow over the entire base camp. Beneath the flames, the party members—especially Jeanne—shook violently, some of them even wetting themselves in terror. They wanted to help him, but there was nothing they could do.
“Please… spare me. I was wrong. I’ll apologize… *huk*… *huk*… I swear I won’t take revenge! I’ll do anything! Anything at all! Just please, spare my life…!”
The hero’s desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. At this point, from the imperial army’s perspective, there was no turning back. If they didn’t kill the hero here and now, there would be endless trouble later. They had no intention of putting out the flames.
Yet the battalion commander felt a faint sense of unease stirring somewhere deep in his chest. It was because of the secret order the emperor had given him before they set out.
“Listen carefully. No matter what happens, do not let the hero die.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“I will say it again. Even if you encounter something that defies all common sense, you must keep the hero alive and send him back safely.”
At the time, he had answered lightly, thinking it was only natural. After all, the entire battalion had been formed specifically to protect and support the hero. The commander, who had served in the military for over thirty years, was experiencing a proper war against the demon king’s army for the first time. He had taken the emperor’s words as mere encouragement—to help the hero fight bravely no matter what difficulties they faced.
But now, looking back, those words carried a completely different weight.
Could His Majesty have said that with this exact situation in mind?
What if the emperor had already known the hero’s true strength, and still wanted him anyway?
Suddenly, the commander grew anxious about whether they should really kill Leonhart like this. He spoke cautiously to his subordinates, who were drunk on madness and vengeance.
“Listen, everyone. I heard something strange from His Majesty before we left—”
But before he could finish, the commander’s head was severed cleanly, as if sliced by an invisible piano wire, and floated into the air. The soldiers screamed their commander’s name, but the headless body simply toppled forward and never rose again.
“—Since ancient times, when the heavens are stained with darkness, secret conspiracies and murders dance beneath the starlight on earth. Humans truly do love killing their own kind, don’t they? If there is any difference between us demons and you humans, perhaps it is refinement. Why is it that human murder is always so ugly…? I would very much like to teach you all the aesthetics of murder.”
A man descended from the sky, unfurling a cloak that resembled bat wings. On the surface, he looked like nothing more than a handsome man with glossy long hair. But his true identity was Morphino, the fourth seat of the Eight Protection Army, a master of mental manipulation magic who used sound to hypnotize humans.
“Who the hell are you?! Did you just kill our battalion commander?!”
“Everyone, draw your swords!! Let’s avenge the commander!”
“Stop! That’s not an enemy you can fight!!”
Atlas’s eyes darted frantically. He was the only one who truly understood Morphino’s strength.
Rank: A
Type: Mental Manipulation Mage
Threat Level: Extreme — Immediate Retreat Recommended
Among demons, an A-rank was an extremely rare and high-tier classification. The imperial army taught its soldiers specific manuals for encounters based on rank. When facing an A-rank demon, there was only one recommended action.
Run.
“Avenge the commander!!”
“Die, you demon bastard!!”
“How dare you kill our commander, you piece of shit!”
“Aaaagh!! The demon cut off my arm!”
“Don’t give up! I cut his arm off in revenge!”
For soldiers who were mostly D-rank, there had never been any chance of victory. They appeared to be fiercely swinging their swords in a chaotic battle, but the truth was entirely different. The soldiers were slashing at each other like berserkers, committing fratricide in a frenzy of self-destruction.
Morphino simply stood at a distance, leisurely playing his violin. He wasn’t even being attacked. The saintesses, drawn in by the hypnotic melody, formed a circle around him, knelt down, and began to pray.
“Oh… we are finally meeting God…”
“From now on, we will follow only you for all eternity.”
“Please… take us under your wing…”
Their eyes were unfocused, like those of people addicted to dangerous herbs, and drool dripped endlessly from their mouths. Soon after, the female knights staggered over as well. They dropped their swords and knelt on one knee.
“We shall serve Lord Morphino as our liege.”
“We will become Lord Morphino’s sword and shield. Please give us any command you wish.”
The soldiers who had been fighting each other collapsed like fallen leaves in a battle with no enemy, while the saintesses and female knights became loyal servants of the very demons they had once hated. All of this had happened in less than five minutes.
All Morphino had done was descend from the sky and play his violin. At least, that was how it looked to the naked eye.
But to Atlas, who possessed the status window, the violin’s notes emitted an overwhelmingly sinister magical power. Anyone touched by that power would lose their sense of self and be forced to surrender to the hypnotic melody Morphino created.
“The first movement, ‘Fratricide,’ ends here. What did you think of my performance?”
“It was as if the God of Music himself had descended!”
“It was music like chains that bound our hearts forever in submission.”
The women belonging to the church and the knight order clapped for the demon. Morphino hummed mockingly at human foolishness, lamenting with an expression that held not a trace of sorrow.
“Ah, how truly ugly humans are! Saintesses and female knights who trained their entire lives to kill demons… and yet it only took five minutes for them to swear obedience to me. I had hoped they would resist a little longer… how disappointing. To make you all at least a little more beautiful, I shall give you a mission. Each of you will return to your churches and homes. Tempt your families and friends, and bring them to me. You will betray the ones you love most. Well? Can you do as I command?”
“If it is Lord Morphino’s order, I will offer my own family.”
“I will do exactly as you command, Master.”
The women, whose eyes had already lost all spark of life, answered without hesitation—like fools handing over their entire fortunes to a host at a bar. Morphino turned away from them as if they no longer interested him and looked at Atlas.
“You possess an S-rank item. Are you a direct descendant of the Gauss family? How impertinent that you remain unaffected by my performance.”
“W-what is your goal, Morphino? Why would a great demon like you bother with small fry like us?”
“What a foolish question. The demon king’s army and humanity have been mortal enemies for over a thousand years. If we win, we return home alive. If we lose, we die. Is any other reason necessary?”
“…Then it seems we have lost. The soldiers are all dead and cannot return. And those fragile women will never go home as themselves. You have won as you wished. Are you satisfied?”
“I grow tired of humanity’s shallow perspective. I have nothing more to say to you. You are nothing but a fool who happened to be born into a good family.”
Morphino began playing his violin again. Even Atlas, who was not particularly knowledgeable about music, recognized the tune. It was a welcoming piece often played at celebratory banquets to greet guests.
While the saintesses and female knights listened to the performance with rapturous expressions, three more demons of power equal to Morphino descended from the night sky one after another.
A… A… No way. Two more A-ranks? Damn it… So these are the Eight Protection Army. If they’re direct subordinates of the Four Heavenly Kings, A-rank must be the baseline. Shit… Even to deal with one A-rank, the empire would need to mobilize half its forces. There’s no chance of winning this.
Atlas knew his life was already over. It would have been easier if he could lose his mind like those foolish girls and become a fanatic, but thanks to the S-rank item that granted him immunity to mental manipulation magic, even that escape was denied him.
Three A-ranks gathered together. Even if the entire imperial army were mobilized, it was doubtful they could win. And yet, something even more terrifying than that waited for Atlas, who had already given up on survival.
Huh…?
A mysterious demon wearing a black robe. Even though Morphino was already a powerful demon, this one radiated a bottomless strength that seemed to have no limit. Sure enough, the status window displayed a character Atlas had never seen before.
S… rank? S-rank? That’s impossible… This is the first time I’ve ever seen an S-rank demon in person. If it’s S-rank… it’s over. For us. For Lydorphia. For all of humanity… There is no hope.
Atlas collapsed onto the ground and gave up on life. There was no point in resisting anyway, and the Eight Protection Army paid no attention to a small fry like him. They were too busy pulling the hero out of the flames and throwing him roughly onto the dirt.
Surprisingly, aside from having fainted from shock and terror, Leonhart was completely unharmed.
“It seems to be thanks to the Holy Sword’s protection,” Morphino said, observing the faint membrane of light that shielded the hero.
Mapharlok, whose face resembled a wild boar compared to the handsome Morphino, snorted loudly.
“Hey, Morphino. Why are you doing all this pointless crap? If I hit them with one Balrog Flame, I could wipe out the hero and every human here in three seconds flat.”
“That wouldn’t be proper revenge for Lord Bael. You are simply too strong. A death so quick they don’t even realize they’re dying is practically a blessing for humans. What they deserve is a long, drawn-out death filled with regret and utter ruin.”
“Hmph… So that’s why you didn’t bother putting your fancy hypnosis on those guys,” Mapharlok said, pointing at the hero’s party huddled together.
They were tied up with ropes, unable to run or fight—a perfect stalemate. Jeanne was so consumed by fear she was barely conscious. Cynthia seemed crushed by the demonic energy radiating from the Eight Protection Army, struggling even to breathe. Only Theresa managed to raise her voice with some spirit.
“W-what are you planning to do to us?!”
“We will give you despair. A kind you have never tasted before… so that you may repay twice over the suffering our revered lord, Bael, endured.”
“Y-you’re going to torture us, you cowards! Do you really think we’ll break so easily?! We are the proud hero’s party! Even if our bodies are torn apart and crushed, our noble souls will find rest in the gods’ banquet! Go ahead and kill us if you dare!”
“Oh, do not worry, Saintess Theresa… Unlike the crude Mapharlok, I do not simply kill or torture. As I said, I will give you despair. I will break your minds, not your bodies, until you beg to kill yourselves.”
“What… what exactly are you going to do?!”
Morphino slowly began to stroke the strings of his violin, like a snake coiling around its prey. The elegant movement of his bow was so graceful that even Theresa found herself momentarily entranced.
“W-what is this…?”
The moment the dreamy music began to tickle their ears, the base camp was swallowed by darkness. An unfamiliar space appeared before their eyes. Theresa realized with a chill that even her bound companions had vanished somewhere. She had no idea where she had been transported, but she remembered the name of the vicious demon approaching her with perfect clarity.
“Y-you’re… Bael! Weren’t you dead?!”
—Morphino smiled faintly as he listened to Theresa’s scream. He was still in the forest where the base camp had been, continuing to play his violin.
Title:Put Yourself in Their Shoes
While the bodies of Theresa and the rest of the party remained tied up in place, their minds alone were pulled along by Morphino’s melody and flown straight into the room where Bael had once tortured Werther.