Chapter 485: Descent (3)
The demon's mouth, resembling a crack in the rock, curled up slightly as it mischievously grasped Oliver's hand. The touch was gentle, like a subordinate attending to a superior.
Then, it pressed its forehead against the back of Oliver's hand, and from that point, spreading up to his shoulder, a burning sensation arose without any fire.
It was a bizarre expression—burning without flame—yet, there was no other way to describe it.
Merely the demon's forehead touching the back of Oliver's hand caused it to shrivel, with the affected area expanding as the skin collapsed inward, tore apart, and turned black.
The agonizing burning pain that seemed to incinerate his nerves was indescribable.
But there was no fire.
All that existed was the gruesome burn that swiftly spread to his shoulder, exposing the red subcutaneous tissue beneath, and the heat and smoke that continued to blacken and contort the tissue.
"Ugh..."
The pain was overwhelming enough to jolt his eyes open, make his entire body’s hair stand on end, and even resonate through his bones. It was a kind of pain beyond Oliver's limited vocabulary, an unimaginable agony that surged through him, forcing him to kneel on one knee.
It hurt. It hurt immensely.
This wasn’t ordinary pain, nor was it merely striking the nerves directly. It was something far more fundamental—a type of pain that could neither be resisted nor endured.
For Oliver, the only word that could describe it was a catastrophe.
"Ughhh..."
Oliver collapsed to the ground, groaning. It had been a long time since he'd cried out from pain.
He examined his right arm, scorched by the demon's greeting.
The skin was blackened like burnt firewood, dried and twisted, with only a faint glimmer of red, barely discernible, appearing intermittently between the cracks, whether it was flesh or embers, he could not tell.
Instinctively, he tried to move his fingers, but he quickly regretted it, as he experienced a pain that seemed to pierce directly into his brain and heart.
It was horrific. Truly horrific.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
"Dave!!"
Seeing Oliver unable to stand or even control his body due to the overwhelming pain, Joanna rushed to his side, disregarding the demon's presence and the paladin's watchful eyes.
Her emotions were a chaotic mix of confusion, shock, and sorrow as she used a healing holy magic on Oliver's charred arm.
Unlike magic, the healing holy magic worked miraculously, almost restoring things directly to their original state without any intermediate process.
A faint yellow light enveloped Oliver's arm, but after a moment, nothing happened.
"...What?"
Joanna's pupils dilated in utter shock as she let out a blank voice.
The other paladins were equally dumbfounded.
The reason was simple: it was simply unbelievable. While it was possible to explain away the weakness of the holy wall conjured earlier, the fact that even healing holy magic had no effect was beyond the understanding of the paladins.
Holy magic was the power bestowed by God to oppose demons. How could it fail to even put up a resistance?
As their doubt and fear reached a peak, a voice, like a distant echo, struck directly into their minds.
[It’s not a power given by God.]
The voice came from somewhere indiscernible, prompting Oliver and the paladins to look at the demon.
In such an extreme situation, instinct replaced reason and revealed the answer.
[That power was not granted by Him.]
The demon reiterated, stating that holy magic was not a divine gift.
Oliver found this revelation mildly intriguing, while the paladins felt as though the sky was collapsing.
For a paladin, whose entire existence revolved around their duty, it was a natural reaction. Their whole life was about protecting the mortal realm and its people in God’s stead.
But now, they were being told that holy magic wasn’t a gift from God? It was a truth more unbearable than death.
Amid the indescribable presence of the demon, a paladin, one with red hair who had previously grabbed Oliver by the collar, cried out.
"Don't lie! You demon!"
The demon silently stared at him.
"God gave us this power! To protect the world He created and His children! He entrusted us with this power! Do not try to deceive us with your false words! Your voice alone is deceitful enough!"
The paladin rejected the demon's words, fueled by faith, fanaticism, identity, and the very purpose of his existence.
Though it was a feeble outcry, akin to an ant challenging a human, it held meaning in itself. It was a testament to the paladins regaining their composure and resisting the overwhelming presence of the demon.
That was until the demon spoke again.
"Do you truly seek the truth?"
The demon, with a voice surprisingly sweet yet simultaneously painful, spoke to the paladin.
At the sound of the demon's voice, Oliver began to bleed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
The same happened to Joanna and the other paladins.
They had suffered severe harm merely by hearing the demon's voice up close.
‘Then what about the one who heard it directly...’
Amidst the surging pain, Oliver looked forward and saw the red-haired paladin who had confronted the demon burst apart like a ripe fruit.
Just moments ago, the demon had incinerated all the Pinkmen with a single breath, and now it had killed the paladin with its voice.
"Hiiik..."
The paladin standing right next to the red-haired one wet his pants, tears, snot, and blood mixing on his face as he flailed in terror.
The horrifying sight had driven him insane.
In the despair of the situation, he abandoned his weapon and shield and fled.
His faith, courage, sense of duty, and determination—all virtues a paladin should possess—had scattered like waste on the ground.
Seeing this, the demon flicked its finger, causing the surrounding darkness to swallow the fleeing paladin.
He disappeared into the darkness. Where he went, there seemed to be no place for rest.
"My Father, who art in Heaven, protect us with Thy holy light, and deliver us from the tempests and pains of the world..."
Another paladin, in a state of panic, clutched his weapon desperately and prayed.
Realizing there was neither the strength to fight nor flee, he clung to God.
Though his actions were understandable, they seemed inappropriate.
A paladin was meant to be the weapon and shield protecting humanity and vanquishing evil. Neither fleeing nor solely praying was suitable.
Prayer was enough for clerics and laypeople.
The demon seemed to agree with Oliver's thoughts.
[Holy Father,]
The demon approached the paladin who had given up everything and resorted to prayer.
[Take up the weapon and shield You have bestowed upon me, and I swear in this moment...]
The demon stood before the kneeling paladin.
[I shall be a shield for humankind and a sword that smites evil. I will protect the righteous, the weak, and the good, while repelling chaos, demons, and wickedness.]
It grabbed the paladin by the shoulders and forced him to stand, lifting his chin with an invisible force and opening his eyes.
[I will be the light that drives away darkness, the trumpet that heralds the morning, the armor that guards the world, and the shield that protects Your children.]
The demon stared directly into the paladin’s eyes, which began to boil and emit steam.
[Even if I become ragged like an old shield...]
The paladin's eyeballs bubbled and steamed as he shrieked inhumanly.
[Even if I become broken and worn like a shattered sword...]
As the demon’s prayer ended, the paladin stopped screaming and stood, emitting steam from his body, as he turned into a pillar of salt.
A person turning into a pillar of salt… Though it seemed impossible, Oliver decided not to question it.
He had just learned that demons were beings beyond comprehension or doubt.
What mattered was that three paladins had fallen… Though whether "fallen" was the right term was debatable.
‘…Perhaps it was more of a judgment?’
Dripping with sweat from the excruciating pain and internal injuries, Oliver struggled to stay conscious.
He needed to think about something—anything—to avoid passing out. If he allowed his thoughts to falter, he felt he would lose consciousness.
Clinging to his dwindling awareness, Oliver let go of the quarterstaff in his left hand and searched his pockets for a piece of paper.
A paper imbued with portal magic.
He had to escape. The mission was important, but this was not something that could be dealt with under these circumstances.
No matter how crucial the mission, it became meaningless in the face of a tidal wave or earthquake.
[Are you alright?]
Just as Oliver was searching for the paper, a leg appeared in front of him. There had been no sign of anyone approaching.
Oliver looked up, and as expected, the demon was standing there, its entire body ablaze like firewood.
Behind the demon were Paladins Anselm and Joanna. Neither had been in that position before… The demon had relocated them without them even realizing.
It was not mere spatial magic… It was something far more advanced. A miracle, perhaps?
Amid the repeated incomprehensible phenomena, Oliver surprisingly found a sense of calm and closed his eyes.
The demon waited silently for several minutes as Oliver stood in silence.
After a moment of quiet, Oliver finally spoke.
“…It hurts, but I’m alright.”
[There was no malice.]
“I know.”
Oliver replied, though he couldn’t be certain, he believed it was likely true.
It would have been best to look with a necromancer's sight, but it was akin to staring directly at the sun, and he didn’t dare try.
[It seems I’ve come a bit early. You have not yet shed your shell.]
Oliver tilted his head. Early? A shell? He didn’t understand the words, but something else caught his attention more.
“Do you know me?”
Oliver asked. He wasn’t very good at conversations, but the demon’s tone sounded as if it were addressing an acquaintance rather than a stranger.
He had thought it was just polite speech.
The demon nodded.
[We know you.]
The use of "we" left Oliver even more perplexed, with questions piling up instead of being answered. Just as he was about to ask for a more comprehensible explanation, the darkness surrounding the demon began to swirl and rotate, forming a definite current.
While he had been overwhelmed by the demon’s presence and hadn’t noticed earlier, the surrounding darkness was now clearly infused with a significant aura of hell, even containing Pan's shadow.
Thwack!
As the darkness rotated in the air and concentrated into a single point, a massive iron stake materialized and pierced the demon's chest.
Both its size and sharpness were impressive.
The spell structure forming it, along with the massive amount of souls it contained, indicated that it hadn’t been prepared hastily. It was something that had been carefully and meticulously arranged over a long period for this precise moment.
The demon, now impaled in the chest, was proof of that.
As the first strike landed, a chain reaction of additional spells ensued. The surrounding darkness twisted and concentrated from all directions, filling every gap as it thrust more iron stakes into the demon's body, further pulling it with chains attached to hooks.
Clink… clang!
The demon's flesh was pierced and pulled taut by the chains.
Of course, Oliver, who had been standing right in front of the demon, would not have escaped unscathed, but he suddenly found himself relocated next to Joanna and Anselm, avoiding harm.
"I am the true prince of hell! I summoned you! Though I wished to converse, you dared to ignore me! Now face the consequences!"
Pan emerged from the darkness, bleeding from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, clutching a mass of souls in his hand. He merged them with newly created shadow creatures to deploy an enormous spell, embedding iron stakes and hooks into the demon's body, leaving no room for escape.
Judging by his furious demeanor and emotions, Pan seemed deeply enraged, possibly feeling a mix of disappointment and betrayal.
In the chaos, Joanna helped support Oliver, who was nearing his limit from fatigue. Her voice, dazed and trembling, expressed her exhaustion.
"S-sorry, but I really can’t perform any healing..."
"It’s fine... But could you please support my back for a moment?"
Surprised by the unusual request, Joanna still complied, steadying Oliver as he reached into his pocket and found the portal magic-imbued paper he had searched for earlier.
Whether Pan emerged victorious or the demon did, it was clear that he needed to escape. In his current state, there was nothing more he could do.
"Damn..."
Oliver uttered as he looked at the paper. The portal magic-imbued paper was already burnt to ashes and crumbling apart.
He didn’t know exactly how, but it was undoubtedly the demon's doing.
Unable to fight, unable to escape… This situation oddly reminded him of the mines.
Back then, not just the children but most adults had abandoned hope and resigned themselves to their fate. Now, Joanna and Anselm seemed to be in a similar state.
In hindsight, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant emotion to witness.
"Joanna..."
"Y-yes?"
"Sorry, but could you search my left inner pocket? There should be a silver cigarette case inside. Could you please get it for me?"
Despite her dazed state, Joanna dutifully followed his request. Whether it was due to the demon's overwhelming presence or the sight of their fallen paladin comrades, her movements were vacant, as if half her spirit had faded.
She seemed devoid of the will to do anything.
"Director Amelin."
"..."
"Miss Cecile, Mister Simon, Miss Vanessa."
Oliver mentioned the names of the staff members at the Arkh Orphanage.
He then spoke of the children he met at the orphanage.
"Julie, Antonin, Gerard, Alain, Maurice, Françoise, Hardy..."
With each name Oliver mentioned, a spark of life returned to Joanna's eyes.
"The director is studying the kingdom's language for your sake. The other children wish to visit Landa."
"..."
"Please, the cigarette case."
Prompted once more, Joanna snapped back to her senses and quickly searched his inner pocket, retrieving the silver cigarette case.
Upon opening the case, she found two cigarettes inside.
These were precious cigarettes crafted from light painstakingly gathered from the world outside.
Due to their rarity, he avoided using them unless absolutely necessary, but today was an exception.
"Any one will do, just place it in my m—"
-Clack!-
Paladin Anselm abruptly closed the silver cigarette case Joanna had opened.
Perplexed by his incomprehensible action, everyone turned to look at him.
"Sir Knight?"
"...Depraved, corrupt, destroyer, king of fire and darkness, a deviant preacher."
"...?"
"He forces mothers to lie with sons, fathers with daughters, men with men, women with women, and mingles horses with adults and dogs with children. For mere pleasure, he mixes countless humans, binding them and violating them against their will, even bedding other wives and husbands together."
Oliver looked at Anselm. His gaze, expression, and emotions were unwaveringly serious, revealing a strong determination.
"Thus, the great city defiled by him burned and returned to pillars of salt… That is the nature of that demon."
"...Ah… That's impressive. Did you know this, Joanna?"
Joanna shook her head.
"I didn't kno—"
"You wouldn’t know. Such detailed information about demons can only be accessed by paladins who have served for at least eight years."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed… So, who are you? What is your true identity, having received a greeting and assistance from a demon?"
Anselm questioned. He wasn’t asking out of curiosity but out of suspicion.
The firm emotion and the dagger held in his hand indicated that he had already reached a conclusion.
"...I am—"
Oliver began to speak, and just as Anselm's conflicting emotions of determination and confusion converged into a lethal resolve, he raised the dagger to strike Oliver’s heart.
Joanna was frozen in shock, unable to act, and Oliver couldn’t resist due to his scorched right arm.
Just as the dagger was about to pierce Oliver’s heart—
-Boom!-
Before it could strike, there was a flash of light, and Paladin Anselm was vaporized.
The demon, with iron stakes and chains embedded all over its body, had turned its head 180 degrees to look in their direction. Its gaze was calm and composed.