Chapter 97 – Nothing Changes

Darkness falls. And humankind is the most vulnerable in the darkness.

Having conquered the darkness with fire since ancient times, it was only natural that they would become more helpless than anything else when darkness descended.

Even those with abilities, blessed with gifts from the gods, could not escape this fate.

There were a few special cases, but these were possible only because their physical abilities were superior to others.

In other words, abilities alone could not allow them to operate in the pitch-black darkness as if it were day.

It was precisely this weakness that gave Puceu a critical advantage.

‘Seir is over there. If I hurry and join him and retrieve Amdusias, we can preserve our forces!’

Seir appeared to be engaged in battle, much like himself. In fact, he seemed to be in an even worse situation than he was. He had to go help him quickly.

They were the last hope of hell. They had to collect energy and resurrect the place that was about to sink into the Abyss, and ultimately devour this world.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that Herald or Trumpet fellow was there.

If he was, there would be no joining, nothing. He would just have to turn tail and run.

Fortunately, he did not sense such a threatening presence.

Of course, that did not mean the lesser beings there were easy prey. They were different from the ones he had encountered a moment ago.

If Seir, who was stronger than him, was struggling to this extent, then they must also be dangerous.

He breathed a sigh of relief and leapt forward, closing the distance in an instant.

—Ssssst!

Puceu realized that something was approaching at incredible speed, piercing through the darkness.

It was fast. And it carried an eerie aura. He hesitated, slowing his stride toward their rendezvous.

He quickly turned his head and caught sight of something rushing towards him.

Its blood-soaked, matted hair whipping around. Its eyes, burning with a sinister red glow. A lesser being was charging straight at him.

‘Could it be, that one?’

This can’t be happening? If it really is the Trumpet or Herald fellow, I have no chance of winning!

Should he abandon Seir? Should he look for Amdusias immediately? Or should he just run away alone and meet with Astaroth?

But upon seeing the enemy that stood before him, Puceu realized that his fears were unfounded.

‘At least it isn’t that bottom-feeder!’

The weakest are always the first to sense those they cannot defeat.

Had *he* stood before her, instinctive dread and terror would have surely risen.

But the presence now before her, no matter how she looked at it, stirred no such feelings or thoughts.

“Hahaha! How dare a mere bottom-feeder block this body’s path!”

A single opponent. And seemingly wounded, to a significant degree. She, in contrast, remained untouched.

She’d been chased by espers just moments before, but that wasn’t due to any weakness of her own, there were other reasons, so she’ll dismiss it. In any case, Puhs declared with supreme confidence.

—*Shwuk!*

But the response wasn’t words, but rather Yuriisia’s fist, flying directly for a fatal blow.

‘How is she so fast!’

—*Kwajik!!*

Barely managing to block it, Puhs gritted his teeth.

His arm throbbed, feeling like it might fall off. This was definitely no ordinary bottom-feeder.

Well, to have fought Seir, she must be at least this strong.

“You damned thing!”

Drawing a stiletto and claws just as sharp, Puhs took the offensive.

If nothing else, he was confident in his speed. Though in Hell he’d mostly used it to flee, here he could apply it purely to attack!

A storm of killing intent rained down upon Yuriisia. Each strike brought wounds and splattered blood.

An aching, stinging pain assaulted her, and the strain on her stamina, though slow, was undeniably growing.

No matter how strong one was, they couldn’t ignore accumulating injuries. Especially if the opponent was similar in strength, or even weaker. It would become an ever-heavier burden.

Knowing this well, Puhs didn’t push recklessly. He exploited his strength of speed, focusing solely on Yuriisia’s periphery, forcing injuries in a methodical fashion.

“What will you do? Bottom-feeder. Fighting so honestly, you’ll eventually die from exhaustion or bleeding out. Which will it be?!”

“….”

Yuriisia offered no reply. She merely moved her feet again.

Only forward. Only one strike. Only… Breakthrough. The only path she desired, the only way to reach Deus.

Astaroth had questioned her, why so stubbornly cling to a frontal assault? With her skill, she could employ so many different tactics, why did she persist?

‘I know. With my current abilities, I could use other methods. Like that devil, thoroughly deceiving the opponent, chipping away from the outside, or circling around without attacking, just to distract them.’

She had been trained by Deus to perform all of those. She had practiced them extensively on her own.

But in the end, she had chosen this path. This alone was the weapon Yuriisia had selected as her own.

How long would it take to whittle them down from the outside? Deus had reached the point where a single strike to the outside would completely destroy the inside!

Even if replicating that was impossible, shouldn’t she follow in his footsteps?

This wasn’t a question of cowardice or anything else. It was simple. Slow. And less effective. It couldn’t be that way. Otherwise, she could never become like Deus.

To crush whatever stood before her and press onward. To shatter everything and advance.

To overcome fear and terror with ease, never disappointing anyone. She wanted to become him.

—*Pshwit! Pish!*

Flesh tore and split. Red blood streamed and spattered.

Her whole body felt as if it were being ripped apart. That stiletto, those claws, were a nuisance and something to be taken seriously.

But Yuriisia paid them no mind. Let the devil gnaw at her from the outside, if he wished.

‘Do as you like. Flee and evade all you want, endlessly. Do it. I won’t be like that anymore. Whatever stands before me, I’ll collide with it. Shatter it. Surpass it.’

The child who had to abandon her mother was gone. She had finally become an adult.

She grew into someone who, rather than fleeing from fear, held what needed protecting in her gaze, her ideal swirling in her mind, ready to deliver a searing blow to death itself, should it dare to flicker before her eyes.

You think you can endlessly gnaw at me, drag me down into dread and terror?

You clearly don’t know I’ve already thrashed around in that mire enough. I won’t return. Not ever.

Because I’ve finally seen the one who would pull me out. Because I know the path. Absolutely. Absolutely.

No looking back. No looking to the side. Nothing else enters my vision.

Discarded. From my mind. For this moment, I focus solely on my two fists, my two legs, and the reflexes of my own eyes and body, hammering the enemy.

“Keeuuuh!”

The demon recoils. With each and every punch that lands from Yurisia, a scream erupts.

Not merely a pain, or a sting. It’s as if pieces of its very soul are being cleaved away, chunk by chunk.

A stark testament to the intensity of Yurisia’s focus with each single strike.

Pus, however, resists fiercely, unwilling to simply submit. Each flash of his daggers and claws carves deeper wounds into Yurisia’s flesh.

No longer just cuts. Another fraction deeper and muscle and bone will be compromised. Injuries that would discomfit even a gifted one, let alone a normal human.

Yet, Yurisia does not falter. She doesn’t care if the opponent is faster or stronger.

She’s willing to endure hundreds of wounds for a single, decisive blow. A stance that promises to shatter even fear and terror themselves.

“Y-you crazy thing! Aren’t you afraid of being hurt, of dying?!”

“I overcame all that long ago. Now, all that’s left is to plant one right in your solar plexus.”

Yurisia’s fist shatters Pus’s guard in a single impact. His arm hangs limp, forced to the side.

He scrambles to regain his stance, but a kick arrives first. Not a flashy display of technique, not some elaborate skill, but a devastatingly solid and penetrating attack.

—Thwack!

“Kghack!”

The attack connected cleanly twice. Only twice.

A paltry sum compared to the countless injuries and wounds Yurisia has endured, the torrents of blood she’s shed in her advance.

But those two blows have caused Pus to shrink back, visibly diminished.

‘This is bad! Damn it! I’ve met an opponent whose very nature is my weakness!’

If he had known she was this kind of frontal assault type, he would have already fled! Doomed! Cursed!

Like any demon, Pus immediately recognizes his disadvantage and begins searching for an escape route.

Perhaps this is how someone who has survived through fear and terror always behaves.

A tactical retreat isn’t always a bad decision. Sometimes, disengaging to regroup is the right call.

But Pus’s fatal mistake was making that decision against an opponent to whom it would never work.

“Absolutely.”

Yes. Absolutely. You. Will not leave here. Alive and on your way to my people.

She willingly offers her flank to Pus’s dagger aimed at her abdomen. Soon, a chilling, searing, scream-inducing wound rips a long gash across her side.

But it’s precisely this sacrifice that allows Yurisia to reach the optimal position for delivering a direct hit.

‘Deus. I’m getting just a little closer to you.’

Be sure to praise me. Thinking that to herself, Yurisia unleashes her fist with all her might.