Chapter 92 – So, This is Hell

There exists a law the world has set in place, inescapable for demons and lesser beings alike.

That a fatal wound leads to death. That one cannot survive without energy in some form.

And that facing the incomprehensible, the unacceptable, leads to terror.

“Gyaaa!”

A scream, one never before uttered by Beelzebub, continues to burst forth.

He, who valued his pride so much that he stubbornly endured even when fighting Astaroth. A demon who made up for his lesser strength compared to other powerhouses with extreme patience and tenacity.

That’s why the other demons tried to avoid clashing with Beelzebub whenever possible. Because there was no knowing when, where, or how that stubborn b*stard would get his revenge.

But even such a Beelzebub was helpless before the onslaught pouring out of the darkness.

‘This, this can’t be happening!’

This darkness is mine. This void is a dominion only I can command.

No one, not even another demon, can surpass Beelzebub in this place he created with energy. That is one of the established rules of this hell.

Right now, piercing this blackness is something no one can do or should see. Nor should they hear or be heard.

Nothing should be felt. That is the law of this world. The inherent right to exercise power as the master of this realm…!

—*Thwack!*

Such questions were soon shattered by a fist that landed squarely on Beelzebub’s gut.

A monster. This is just a monster. No, a demon. *This* is a true demon.

This shouldn’t be possible. This isn’t their world, this is hell. A place where demons dwell.

And yet, the demon that I am is being beaten like some animal without being able to mount any resistance.

“Krrraa!”

No. He could not fall like this. Not out of spite, not out of wounded pride. He simply *could not*.

How much suffering had he endured to reach this place? He’d outwitted devils with overwhelming power, using only his cunning to ascend so far.

–Kaaa!!

Beelzebub’s maw gaped wide, and from within, something nauseating began to pour forth.

A venom, a paralytic. Simultaneously, an acidic emetic, also a stupefacient.

A repulsive substance no living thing, *none*, could withstand. Astaroth herself avoided a life-or-death struggle with Beelzebub for this very reason.

A broad-spectrum assault unleashed from the darkness. Even a single drop was lethal.

Devils equal to, or even stronger than, Beelzebub would recoil in horror, scrambling to escape.

But, alas, it was his misfortune that the creature before him was immune.

‘He… he absorbed it? How… what happened to him?’

In this murk, even his vision was utterly blinded. He must rely on all his other senses.

Sound. Scent. Touch. Gathering information from every possible source, he assessed his foe.

“…”

Nothing. No breath, no aura, no presence. And yet, there was no stench of rot, no metallic reek of blood. It was difficult to believe he was dead.

What now? Time was fleeting. Should he flee, rather than linger here?

Escape and inform the other devils. Yes. That was the best course.

‘Is it truly… the *best*?’

Unconsciously, he bit his lip. What would follow if he did?

He, who already suffered subtle scorn. If he fled in this state, he could all too easily imagine the insults that would follow.

His attack had landed squarely. Even Astaroth couldn’t withstand such a blow.

If the damage had been inflicted, he could manage it himself. Then, this was not a crisis, but an opportunity.

And Beelzebub, had never, not once, missed such an opportunity, seizing each one to rise to this point.

What should he do? What decision must he make? Live? Or…

“Seemed like you were pondering some earth-shattering choice, so I waited.”

A radiant light tore through the inky blackness, filling his vision in an instant.

“Time’s up.”

A monstrous hand seized Beelzebub’s face. He thrashed, desperate to escape, but the sheer, impossible strength held him captive.

Realizing his plight, he tried once more to spew forth his vile vomit.

But he was denied. As if knowing his intent, the hand tightened, and then, with a *crack!*, Beelzebub’s face was pulverized.

“Gurk…!”

Ah. aaah. He had erred. He should not have hesitated. He should have fled, guided only by instinct.

His damnable pride. That foolish, paltry thing had cost him his last chance.

Sensing this was his end, he stared at his assailant through his ruined face.

A trumpet blast echoed in the dawn. A monster, descended into Hell itself, to devour devils.

He understood. This was an unavoidable calamity. Resistance had been futile from the start.

Like a king, like a fate ordained by the world.

[Hey. Fly.]

Astaroth’s next words reached him amidst the carnage.

He wanted to curse her as a traitor, but seeing his own state, he almost understood her betrayal.

Perhaps, given the chance, he, too, would have surrendered anything, everything, to save his own life.

[Perhaps if you still held on, well done. Now it’s truly over, so farewell.]

“…Shit.”

I’m so envious. That was the final testament of Beelzebub, a demon counted among the highest echelons of Hell.

—Crunch!

Frankly, it was a testament so hollow and pathetic it was almost laughable.

*

“…?”

At first, I thought it was merely a trick of the mind. A problem caused by the depletion of all my energy.

Next, I wondered if the demons, their nerves frayed, had finally begun to quarrel amongst themselves. They were forever squabbling at any opportunity, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes had passed that I finally realised something deeply amiss was occurring.

‘What is this.’

Suddenly, beginning with Beelzebub, the presences of demons, so clearly felt only moments before, began to disappear one by one.

Perhaps they crossed the gate? Impossible. They lack the energy to.

Ah, of course, they *could* go. Their strength could simply fail them mid-crossing, or their bodies could turn completely to ash, their very existence extinguished.

Then, are they sleeping? No. Hidden somewhere? Not that either. Even then, a sliver of their aura should remain detectable.

Therefore. This situation is neither normal, nor should it be happening.

‘Just what is this…’

The moment Belial ventured beyond his domain, that’s when he saw the man.

“Hello.”

You’re the last one, aren’t you? A grin, and a man sat perched before him.

The instant Belial saw him, he felt goosebumps erupt across his entire body.

“…Who.”

“Everyone asks that. I thought they’d be more interested in how I got here, something like that.”

“….”

In an instant, *snap snap snap!* Belial’s mind raced. As the one who had led these demons through their chaotic times as the king’s substitute, his cognitive functions were remarkably quick.

And within seconds, he arrived at the most likely conclusion.

“How are you here… Ha. Damnation. Could Beelzebub have been right.”

Astaroth contacted us. He reconnected the path. And immediately, an uninvited guest arrived. If this is the case, then Astaroth’s betrayal is all but confirmed.

Moreover, the probability of Astaroth betraying them because of some random nobody is low. Meaning he had good reason to betray them, and that very reason is the man standing before him.

“Ha.”

My skin prickles. My entire body trembles with a strange tingling. Is this fear? Or terror? Perhaps both? Yes. Maybe. But there is something else too.

What to call it? It’s like the undeniable fate that one bearing the name of demon simply cannot refuse.

“The others…”

“Regrettably, I wanted to avoid giving them any chance to turn the tides. I scattered them about on my way here, so if you wish to find them, do so.”

If he could. At the man’s final words, Belial unknowingly bit down slightly on his lip.

This was no empty boast. The thick scent of blood clung heavily to the man’s hands.

Those who, mere moments ago, had been conversing together, were undoubtedly reduced to their constituent parts by that man, scattered across the plains of Hell.

“Are you the trumpet that echoes through the Dawn—”

“Ah, please. Enough. How long are you planning on using that embarrassing title? Damn it.”

“…?”

Belial found himself bewildered. Why the anger? Wasn’t he the one, above all others, who called himself that? And he’s just echoing that, so why the hell?

“There was originally one reason I’m here today, to erase this place, to erase you all with it, you know? But because you guys kept calling me that, I’ve got another one.”

So don’t play the victim. Belial couldn’t help but look utterly stunned at Deus’s words.

Seriously? You’re the one who called yourself the Dawn. The Trumpet! Even demons honor their own words, what kind of nonsense is this?

“Looks like you’re actually pretty decent, though. Guess I can have some expectations? I’ve been pretty disappointed with how weak all the other demons have been.”

He simply ‘flexes’ his fingers, and instead of a *crack*, it’s a *creak*!! that echoes.

Belial, who had yet to venture beyond the door to the human world, couldn’t help but lament, “Are all humans this… *like this*?”