Chapter 116
Chapter 116
Chapter 116: Celestials and Demons (1)
Translation: godtl
[They're pouring in! The demons are pouring down like a sudden downpour!]
[Ahh! The participants in the area are being wiped out in an instant!]
[It's only natural. Even low-rank demons are fundamentally a race equivalent to Diamond-tier!]
The heated commentary from TWC's Michael and Jonathan continued without pause.
It was unavoidable.
Normally, the Platinum-rank Debut Match would feature close-ups from over 500 multi-angle cameras at any given moment.
But now, nearly half of the screens showing close-ups were—
"Kihaha! So weak!"
"Pathetic worms, the lot of them! How primitive."
"I'll tear you limb from limb! Kehahah!"
—scenes of slaughter perpetrated by demons.
And what's more—
"Aaah! Run! Just run!"
"Don't even think about fighting! Focus on survival first!"
"W-why are the demons here already?!"
Considering that these were promising talents who stood out as the best in their respective countries, it was only natural for the voices of Michael and Jonathan, who were commentating on the Debut Match, to rise in pitch.
And as if answering the questions of both the participants facing the demons and the viewers watching the broadcast—
[Is it because the demons appeared so early? The participants are completely unable to respond.]
[Of course, Michael. The standard strategy for Platinum Debut Matches is to quickly regroup with players from your faction and secure as many kills as possible before the celestials and demons appear.]
Commentator Jonathan continued his explanation with fervor, practically spitting with enthusiasm.
[But with demons pouring out just 20 minutes into the Arena, it's no wonder they can't respond.]
[I see. But Jonathan, the problem isn't just the demons, is it?]
As Michael posed the question, the screen changed again—this time showing the exact opposite atmosphere.
"Disgusting creatures."
"Your filthy desires have drawn those abominations here."
"Atone for your sins with your lives."
Yet the same massacre was unfolding.
The celestials, who had appeared alongside the demons, were slaughtering the participants in the area.
Jonathan let out a sigh as he watched the screen.
[Ahh! Even the celestials have been summoned at the edge of the map. Normally, they're supposed to appear at the center.]
[I suppose all of this is Faust's fault for summoning the demons too early. Many nations must be resentful, no?]
[That's right! But we can't just blame Faust outright. From the perspective of him and his faction, Europe, there couldn't be a better situation, right?]
As Jonathan said, the demons summoned through the necromancer's sacrificial ritual were exclusively targeting players from factions other than Faust's own—Europe.
And with the celestials summoned in response automatically taking care of the players from other nations, Faust and the European players were practically being handed victory on a silver platter.
In fact—
"Kehehe! Demons truly are the best! Devils reign supreme!!"
Standing amidst the chaos of the Debut Match, Faust spread his arms wide and cheered.
"Despair-filled screams of agony! Ahh... they sound so delightful!"
His pale skin and dark-circled eyes gleamed with manic energy.
Lost in ecstasy, babbling to himself, Faust looked every bit the madman—no, even that description felt insufficient.
"Hey, Faust. Even for you, this is too much!"
One of the players on his team glared at him as if he were dealing with an actual lunatic.
"Huh? What's your problem?"
Perhaps annoyed at having his reverie interrupted, Faust's excitement instantly deflated as he turned to glare back with narrowed eyes.
Startled, the player bit his lip hard before shouting,
"You're seriously asking?! Look at that!"
He roughly pointed toward a nearby ridge.
There, the area was still overflowing with Demonic Energy and the ashen corpses of players.
The strange thing was—
For a sacrificial ritual that should have required 13 kills—
There were far more corpses than that.
And.
"Since when is this something you do to your own teammates?!"
The European player's accusation was precisely about that point.
"Killing your own teammates as sacrificial offerings! No matter how insane you are, there's a right way to be insane!"
The player's voice rose to a shriek, veins bulging in his neck.
But Faust merely picked at his ear with his pinky finger.
"So what do you want me to do? There weren't enough sacrifices to summon the demons."
"You could've just hunted others to make up the numbers! We already had fourteen people gathered—what was the problem?!"
He wasn't wrong.
Less than ten minutes after the Debut Match began, fourteen players from the same faction had already joined forces.
With only one or two exceptions, practically every European player had united.
This was an unprecedented situation, even across all previous Platinum Debut Matches.
It was almost as if the Galaxy Arena itself had orchestrated it—
'Here, you lot, form a team from the very start.'
And yet.
This madman, Faust—
With nothing but a single, one-sided question—'We're short on sacrifices... You'll help, right?'—
Had slaughtered seven of his own faction members.
He had outright committed team-killing.
And yet, with a voice dripping with annoyance, Faust spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"It couldn't be helped. The summoning requires exactly twenty sacrifices."
"You call that an excuse?! Seven people—that's half our combat strength! Half of fourteen, you bastard!"
The player clutched the back of his neck, seething with rage.
And it wasn't just his grievance alone.
"Yeah, this is too much!"
"You crossed a line, Faust. None of them wanted to die."
"Right. If they die like this, they won't even make it into the rankings later."
The surviving players all shot Faust sharp glares and accusations.
And rightfully so.
Though teaming up within the same continent or faction was tacitly permitted—
At its core, the Platinum-rank Debut Match was still a Survival event.
In the end, only one victor would remain, and ranks would be determined accordingly.
And the alliances formed between players of the same nation would inevitably shatter at the very last moment.
'I'll give you something in exchange for yielding your rank to me.'
'Last time, I carried you—so this time, I'm taking the rank.'
'Let's settle this cleanly between us.'
Through various means, the final battle would unfold under mutual agreement among the players of the same faction.
That was the final spectacle of the Platinum-rank Debut Match.
Of course, it hadn't always been this way.
But ever since the Continent Guild and a few other national guilds had initiated this practice—
It had naturally become an unspoken rule of the Platinum-rank Debut Match.
Therefore—
"What about compensation for the dead, you psycho?!"
"Germany never used to be like this—you've ruined our image!"
"Faust, you'll face sanctions even at the national level."
Faust's actions—arbitrarily slaughtering his own faction's players—were absolutely unforgivable.
The European players tightened their grips on their weapons, glaring at him.
Their resolve was clear: if pushed, they wouldn't hesitate to team-kill either.
Perhaps sensing this—
"Keh... Kehehe! Right, of course!"
Faust covered his face with his pale, bony hand and let out a grating laugh.
But only for a moment.
"In the end, we still have to decide our ranks. Right—only one can be first."
Nodding to himself like an enlightened pilgrim, Faust murmured.
And then—
CRACK.
"GAAAH!"
"R-Richard?!"
A sickening sound of flesh tearing echoed, followed by screams erupting from all directions.
The player who had been leading the verbal assault against Faust—
Richard—had his chest pierced clean through by something massive.
Then, like a discarded glove—
THUD.
His body, chest gaping open, was flung aside like a ragdoll.
The one who had eliminated him—a fellow German representative—in a single strike.
"Tsk. A black mage like me shouldn't have to deal with such trivial matters."
Even his languid voice carried an eerie chill as the figure shook his arms in irritation, flicking off Richard's blood. Drops cascaded from his massive limb—each as thick as a decent-sized tree trunk.
The five players who had been raising their voices froze solid at this shocking spectacle.
Only one—
"Kihit! How delightful!"
—Faust, a fellow player from the same nation, let out a vicious chuckle.
Then, with the grace of a European noble, Faust bowed politely to the towering demon whose sheer size suggested he could tear an ogre apart with ease.
"My apologies, Lord Marte. I didn't mean to trouble you with such trivialities."
The demon called Marte gave an indifferent nod, his bull-like horns swaying above his rock-jawed face.
"Black mage, I'm only sparing them this far because of your request. Don't expect any more mercy beyond this."
"Of course. I can only express my deepest gratitude for your benevolence."
Faust bowed like some sycophantic courtier, all while casting sidelong glances at the petrified European players.
See?
His eyes seemed to say.
"......"
"......"
The European players sank into silence.
They had just witnessed firsthand the fate of those who dared defy—and hadn't Marte, a high-ranking demon, outright stated it?
"I'm only sparing them because of your request."
The moment a high-ranking demon openly acknowledged Faust's influence, the matter was effectively settled.
And since they were still alive—and benefiting from it—
The European players had no choice but to watch Faust's every whim.
"Kick! Wouldn't it have been better if you'd just obeyed from the start~?"
Perhaps pleased by their submission, Faust smirked.
"Stay quiet like this. Maybe then your rankings will actually improve, hm?"
He shot them a venomous smile before turning his attention back to Marte.
"Lord Marte? Now that the area's cleared, shouldn't we proceed to deal with those repulsive celestials—"
Faust's words trailed off.
And for good reason.
The high-ranking demon Marte—
That overwhelmingly powerful being—was silently staring at one spot.
With an unusually grave expression.
Naturally, Faust's gaze followed.
"...This can't be."
His sunken, shadowed eyes widened in shock.
It was only natural.
'The... the demons...'
The Diamond-tier race.
Those proud, warlike demons—
'They're kneeling?!'
All of them, bowing in unison toward a single man.
### Demons
The representative race of the Demon Realm, commonly referred to as "devils" on Earth.
But there was a clear distinction between demons and true Devils.
Generally, demons ranged from low to supreme rank—
Only after surpassing all these stages could one ascend to become a Devil.
Naturally, only those who became Devils could claim a place in the Demon Realm's hierarchy.
And among those countless Devils, only 72 could claim a throne—
The right to reign as Demon Kings.
So when faced with a Divine Artifact containing the knowledge and Authority of such beings—
"Ugh...!"
"H-how could a mere human possess His—!"
Lower demons had no choice but to bow their heads.
And above those kneeling demons—
Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
Annihilation Cannon.
Beams of ink-black energy fired relentlessly.
Demons grazed by the light had parts of their bodies erased instantly.
Those struck in the head or heart—whether mid-rank or low-rank—were obliterated without exception.
A one-sided massacre.
In this bizarre slaughter where even screams were forbidden—
'Ah, annoying.'
A strikingly handsome man.
Si-mun fired annihilation blast after annihilation blast, his face filled with irritation.
'They just won't fucking die.'
Thanks to his 150 Transmutation Power and 75 Demonic Energy stats, the continuous barrage wasn't overly taxing—but it was still a hassle.
The demons, true to their Diamond-tier race, boasted formidable resilience.
In fact, unless you targeted their heads or hearts, they simply wouldn't die—regenerating endlessly.
That was why Si-mun was meticulously picking them off, one careful shot at a time.
'If it weren't for the Lemegeton, this would've been a nightmare.'
He blinked his left eye, which was still spewing curses.
The golden hue of his left eye had darkened, now tainted with an inky aura.
An effect of the Lemegeton—now a Demon Eye—absorbed into Odin's Eye.
Ping.
Firing the Annihilation Cannon mechanically, Si-mun opened the status window of the Lemegeton—or rather, the Demon Eye it had become.
[Lemegeton]
Grade - Imitation (40%)
A creation of the vanished Constellation Solomon.
Though it contains knowledge and Authority over demonology, for some reason, it cannot fully exert its power.
The Lemegeton.
A Mythic-grade weapon that had appeared only once in the Arena during his past life.
Si-mun recalled that memory.
'Back then, Faust used this to summon the 71st Demon King, Dantalion, and hard-carried against the Insecters.'
The incident that earned Faust the epithet Demon King.
At the same time, it was the event that truly showcased just how terrifying the Demon Race was.
Not only were there 72 Demon Kings, but one of them had effortlessly slaughtered dozens of ranker-level Insecters.
Of course, it was later revealed that all 72 Demon Kings were Constellations of the Demon Realm, so people dismissed it as an obvious outcome—"Well, a Constellation intervened, what did you expect?"—but still, the event undeniably redefined the threat level of demons and Mythic-grade weapons.
Si-mun shook his head slightly and closed the status window.
'Of course, the Lemegeton I transmuted is completely different.'
For one, its grade wasn't Mythic but Imitation.
'Faust in my past life definitely said there were five originals, right?'
After encountering the one-time-use Lemegeton, Faust had ranted like a madman about needing to find all five originals.
It was highly likely that the Lemegeton was a special Mythic-grade item split into five fragments.
So, not only did his version lack all five originals, it didn't even qualify as Mythic-grade.
The version embedded in Odin's Eye as a Demon Eye was nothing more than an extremely degraded imitation.
And yet, even this degraded version—
"Hii... Hiiik!"
"Mercy! Please, have mercy!!"
—was enough to render mid and low-rank demons completely helpless.
Watching them, Si-mun let out a dry chuckle.
'Almost like the Death Eye.'
The Death Eye, which had paralyzed even a Dragonkin like the Naga.
Though the mechanics were different, the effect of immobilizing opponents by continuously infusing them with Demonic Energy was similar.
'Well, considering what kind of energy this is...'
As Si-mun shrugged and raised his hand again—
SCREEE—!
A violent sonic boom tore through the air.
Like a meteor crashing down.
But Si-mun didn't bother moving.
The reason was simple.
That falling meteor wasn't aimed at him.
KOOOOM—!
The earth trembled nearby, and a thick cloud of dust swallowed the surroundings.
Si-mun stared at the source.
"You vermin...."
Colossal.
Was there any word more fitting to describe this being?
A figure that could casually fold an Ogre in half emerged from the dust.
Two towering horns, like a helmet, flared with crimson flames—as if expressing his current emotions.
Whoosh.
"To kneel before a mere human... How disgraceful for our kind."
The colossus growled, voice thick with contempt.
"Your incompetence will be buried in the homeland."
With a casual flick of his massive arm—
CRACK!
The demons' heads exploded simultaneously.
Without so much as a glance at his fallen kin, he turned his gaze—
"Human. What are you?"
—toward the human staring indifferently back at him.
No, more precisely, toward that pitch-black left eye.
Marte questioned the dissonance he had sensed from this insignificant human from afar.
"What are you, to wield the primordial Demonic Energy?"
And in response, that insignificant human uttered just two words:
"Kneel."
THUD.
The high-rank demon Marte was driven to his knees, his legs slamming into the ground.