Chapter 50 – I Saw the Devil

That giggling woman doesn’t know it, but there have actually been quite a few opportunities.

Chances to dodge that axe and smash that smirking face.

I think I contemplated it at least ten times while blocking her attacks.

Should I just rip that mouth of hers open, or sew it shut?

But I held back. Deus was just watching, biding his time.

First, Nefertiti wasn’t far enough away yet.

If she got caught in the crossfire, she’d almost certainly die.

I had to avoid that, so I decided to take a few more hits and buy some time.

Secondly, I wasn’t quite done figuring out just what kind of boss this woman was.

What I was waiting for now was an ‘info-dumping’ type to fill in the gaps.

Killing such a guy right off the bat would only make things harder down the line.

‘Most of the time, the guy who shows up after the first boss is the info-dumping type…’

So, I decided to just silently take the hits, keep guarding.

Someone like that would probably start flapping his gums when he thought he had the upper hand.

But, upon closer inspection, it didn’t seem that second scenario was playing out.

Far from explaining anything, she was becoming even more of a pain in the ass.

Just by looking, this wasn’t an info-dumping type, but just some boss who charged right in.

And the last, the third reason, which was the real reason.

“You just don’t interrupt someone mid-transformation or during their dramatic monologue.”

It was a matter of romance, of dreams, and at the same time, a courtesy, a manner.

Foe or friend. Hero or villain. This was an absolute principle to be upheld.

Even in an apocalypse. Serious enough to make you stop and think.

Deus was a believer in this, which was why he had waited until now.

Now that wait was over. The transformation? Done. The monologue? Delivered.

Neferti had gone even further away, and I had confirmed she wasn’t some ‘splaining boss.

Meaning, now I could really let loose and beat the crap out of her.

“The ‘me’ from before, and the ‘me’ from now, are going to be completely different.”

Seemed that way. Yes. It certainly seemed that way.

The ominous aura from the axe seeped into that woman’s body.

Calling that a ‘transformation’ and waiting for it, she probably didn’t know.

But, a transformation was a transformation. Though her confidence was unnerving.

“Just because you got stronger, doesn’t mean I got weaker, you know?”

I let out a blunt remark without even trying, dumbfounded.

Moments later, Astaroth’s face turning crimson and her bellowing a roar was, of course, inevitable.

“Know your place! In the end, you’re just a lowlife!”

Isn’t humanity supposed to be the masters of all creatures? Since when did we become lowlifes?

Clicking his tongue, Deus charged toward the oncoming Astaroth.

It was certainly different from before. I couldn’t quite tell what she had done.

Transformed? Or maybe she had just gathered power? Or perhaps filled up some kind of gauge.

Whatever it was, she definitely had reason to declare ‘I’m stronger now!’

Not that it would change all that much, or at least it didn’t seem like it would.

– *KWAANG!* –

A colossal tremor, as if heaven and earth were being torn asunder, rippled in all directions.

The demonic fervor that had been so powerfully leading the offensive just moments ago was crumbling.

“…Ugh?!”

For a split second, bewilderment flashed in the eyes of Astaroth, who was gripping the axe.

‘Wh-What is this?’

She confidently proclaimed that the ‘her’ from now on would be different.

But seeing it like this, it’s the man before her who ought to be saying such things.

Her body slides back, a creeping retreat. All the strength seems to drain from her, suddenly.

Just moments ago, hadn’t she been focused on merely blocking, on enduring the blows?

But what is this, all of a sudden? The difference so stark, so pronounced?

It must be a trick of the light. Or perhaps, a lucky few swings.

Or maybe, just maybe, that last one had been his all-out, desperate strike…

“Impossible!”

Then again, as another bone-jarring impact slammed into her.

Astaroth finally realized something was terribly wrong.

[ Duke. Wait. Something… feels off. ]

She wasn’t alone in that feeling. Even the axe-spirit, usually so bold, sounded unnerved.

He’s certainly a human. Nothing had changed, not a whit.

If anything, it’s *they* who had grown stronger. And they were giving this their all!

So how was it that the one taking more and more damage wasn’t him, but themselves?

“Tch!”

Teeth gritted, Astaroth unleashed another furious onslaught against Deus.

The axe in her hands danced, a whirlwind of blows. A symphony of varied strikes.

Power, of course. Speed, indeed. And an exacting precision, leaving nothing wanting.

It was a style that had, until recently, given her every reason to be so self-assured.

But it wasn’t connecting. Only the hiss of the wind being carved apart.

The man before her dodged every strike by the barest margin, closing the distance all the while.

And to make it worse, he hadn’t blinked once, that piercing stare never wavering!

‘What is this? Are you serious? Zagan actually fought evenly with a guy like this? It makes no sense!’

She’d entrusted him with the role of vanguard, but honestly, he wasn’t an exceptional warrior.

Just a brute force, a battering ram to hurl forward. That’s what gave him the role.

His abilities were adequate, and the fact he could be lost without any huge worry played a part.

For him to have been in such back-and-forth, she had become certain of their opponents ability.

She had come with the thought that she could become a somewhat interesting toy.

“Damn it! That fly, did he lie to me?!”

If the yellow-eyed one, the so-called Fly, had heard those words, he’d have snapped back in kind.

When did I ever say that? Didn’t we all infer the same thing?

You jumped in with a glint in your eye, now who are you blaming?

But alas, those yellow eyes weren’t present.

And Astaroth was already far beyond the point of retreat.

“Stay back! Damn you! Stay back!”

Her axe swings, once a fiery offense, were now a desperate defense.

The massive axe-head flashed in such a furious flurry that the eye could barely track it.

Astaroth tried desperately to keep the approaching man at bay.

Good heavens. Called him an insect, and he clung like one.

No matter how she tried to shake him off, he stubbornly stuck, forever reaching, ever trying to connect.

And to allow distance now would mean capture by those monstrous hands!

[Duke. Better to retreat.]

“Easier said than done!”

He had to push the opponent to the brink of allowing an attack, make him stagger.

Or maybe, just maybe, the brute would tire first, slow his pace. Something like that had to happen.

Otherwise, escape was impossible, dead or alive.

Any excessive retreat would only grant him more space.

Astaroth’s instincts, honed through countless battles, screamed as much.

‘What kind of monster *is* this?! Is this real? To overwhelm me like this?’

A chill ran down her spine. A frigid premonition spread through her body.

Winning or losing wasn’t the issue. Could she even escape this?

Why wasn’t he tiring? Even she was starting to feel the strain.

—*Swish!*

‘Damn it!’

Foolishly, she’d allowed her mind to wander during the fight!

He was closer. The massive fist grazed Astaroth’s nose.

Then, *pfoah!* Blood gushed from her nose in a stream.

“Shit!”

No! It was just a graze. Only a graze! And yet, this?!

Her nose throbbed, feeling as if the flesh had frozen and broken off in the bitter cold.

If that had landed directly? Would her entire face have been crushed?

“Tch!”

It couldn’t be helped. Something had to be sacrificed. Yes. That was right.

Capturing this mad beast without taking any damage was impossible!

The decision was swift. Then, what next? What to surrender?

The surest thing would be an arm, but she worried about what came after.

Could she afford to lose it already? What if that wasn’t enough?

If she gave up an arm, she needed to take something even more valuable in return.

But in this situation, it seemed she could only hope to take an arm in kind.

And crucially, trading arms wouldn’t turn the tide.

[An arm won’t be enough.]

“Easy for you to say, when it’s not your hide on the line?”

[You have to give everything.]

Was that truly the only answer? She hated it. Hated that.

With a sigh, Astaroth widened the distance between herself and Deus as much as possible.

Until now, she’d focused on speed to keep him at bay, but this time was different.

Displaying the preparations for a decisive blow, she lured him into range.

There. Here was the situation he so desperately craved.

To break the deadlock, she had chosen a new tactic.

Could he resist seizing such a perfect opportunity?

“Bite. Bite. Bite!”

He set the trap as thoroughly as he could. If it didn’t take the bait, the momentum he’d carefully cultivated would shift.

The next offensive would be something else entirely, so he had to seize this gap, perhaps his only chance.

He contorted his entire body, straining to plunge his opponent into the snare he’d laid.

If it ignored the bait, he could press on with the attack as it was, but its force would be comparatively diminished.

More than that, it was a singular opportunity, not to be squandered!

‘Please! Bite! You mad thing! Just bite!!”

Astaroth was internally screaming those words, when…

“…Heh!”

Got it. The thing charged. Zeroing in on the opening, just as he’d intended.

If things continued like this, a hole would undoubtedly be punched somewhere in his body.

And that place would be right in the center of his chest, his heart.

But it was fine. He could withstand that much damage.

The opponent wouldn’t suspect it in its wildest dreams, but he could shift his heart to another location.

To be precise, he could use the axe he held to temporarily transfer it.

He concealed the axe behind his back. Very naturally. As if preparing for an attack.

As a result, his body was left defenseless. This too, flowed with an equal measure of naturalness.

It wasn’t biting because it was foolish. It was biting precisely because it was so adept.

The opponent had weathered countless battles. Ergo, it possessed an instinct honed to the extreme.

It would strike at a weakness. If it could smash through a trap, it would do so, regardless.

‘Of course! Whatever happens, life is only ever just one. If you kill them, it’s over!’

Being a demon didn’t change that. If you died, you died. That was the end of it.

There was no second chance. However, the instant of death could be momentarily deceived.

‘Here it comes.’

Gazing at that massive fist, looming right before his eyes.

Astaroth was certain of his victory. He believed it with conviction.

―*Kwa-thunk!!*

“Guh…!”

His breath hitched. Excruciating pain followed.

But he endured. He persevered. He gritted his teeth, and thought of what came next.

He seized Deos’ wrist. Positioned it perfectly within striking distance.

If he brought it down now, even that hulking body would be cleaved in two.

That was what he intended to do, but then Astaroth noticed how unusually light his hand felt.

‘…Huh?’

Had he, perhaps, misseen? What was this? Why, why was the axe crumbling?

[ Lord Astaroth…! You were tricked― ]

No. No. This, this wasn’t possible. Even if he had been deceived.

He’d offered his chest as bait, and the axe was hidden behind his back.

A situation where contact was impossible, so how on earth…

“…Wow. This guy is genuinely mental. Seriously.”

Now he understood. The opponent had been reading his moves from the start.

Pummeling his own chest with his fist was merely a preparatory gesture.

The proof was that his heart was still beating soundly within.

The real blow was the axeman’s strike, which had passed right through him.

The agony etched onto his body was nothing more than the monstrous brute’s leftover power.

―Whoosh!

With a chilling sound, Deus’s left hand filled Astaroth’s face.

Good heavens. That’s a big hand. Is that truly a fist? Seems more like a boulder.

‘What is this… a monster even worse than this demon….’

Thinking this, Astaroth slammed into the floor.