Necromancer Of The Black Bible (123)

‘This should do.’

What Damian had made was a mana detector.

It measured the concentration of pure mana to tell how powerful a spell could be cast.

It also had the capacity to store enough mana to use a level-5 draconic-word magic.

If used well, an incident like this wouldn’t have happened.

Damian looked at the still-sleeping Emma and thought.

‘Just how far can you go in the underground Demon Realm?’

Emma didn’t know Damian’s purpose.

She simply believed her mission was to kill Belphages.

And judging by Belphages’ actions, he was moving with a plan.

‘He came here in one stride and was with the Lord of Frost.’

That meant he had asked Lord of Frost Qairas for help.

It also meant he was different from ordinary demons.

‘I’ve never heard of a demon asking for help before.’

The rules of the underground Demon Realm were the same as on the surface.

The strong take everything.

The weak here have no choice. They can only give in to what the strong want.

So the strong rule and the weak submit.

You seek help in a world like this?

Is that even possible?

Damian lifted his head and surveyed the wasteland around him.

Only now did the corpses of Frost Demons strewn about catch his eye.

And Frost Demons standing on the far hill were watching them.

There were not few of them.

By the look of it, thousands?

They probably found it strange that Pentacrios stood silently in the shape of a Frost Demon.

‘I should break their expectations.’

If they still didn’t surrender despite the situation, it was one of two things.

Either stupidity or arrogance.

Either way, there was no reason to spare them.

Damian tapped Pentacrios’ shoulder, which stood with blurred focus, and spoke.

[Someone is watching us. It’s very displeasing.]

Damian’s words were delivered in Icera’s voice, and Pentacrios’ gaze flashed sharply at that moment.

After that, he immediately transformed into his true form.

Kukuk-kung-

With a heavy reverberation, Pentacrios completed his transformation, rose slowly into the sky, and looked down at the Frost Demons on the hill.

At the front stood Lord of Frost Qairas, shouting something toward them.

Damian nonchalantly gave an order.

[Sweep them away.]

Again, Damian’s order changed into Icera’s voice and echoed inside Pentacrios, who exhaled a breath.

Krorarara-!

The freezing breath that had been protecting them moments ago slammed into them.

In an instant, the cluster of Frost Demons froze or turned into white frost and vanished.

Having completed its task, Pentacrios descended behind Damian.

At that moment, something approached Damian swiftly.

‘A shadow?’

For a moment the name Murak came to mind, but that couldn’t be.

Murak had been said to be handled by Equinox, after all.

‘Equinox doesn’t handle things like that.’

Damian watched the approaching shadow.

When he focused his mind, the shadow’s movement slowed and it became clearly visible.

The figure approached wrapped in swordlike shadow, holding a dagger in its hidden left hand.

Damian smiled thinly and took a step toward him.

He then grabbed the other’s left wrist and snapped it.

Crack-

“Ugh!”

A small groan escaped, but Damian was impressed.

Even with the left wrist completely broken, he made only that sound.

Is he really a demon?

This sort of behavior felt like a thrall whose soul had been taken by a demon.

Damian, still holding the left wrist, swung Nocturne.

Whack-

This time there wasn’t even a groan, but the opponent’s left knee was completely broken.

Having neutralized the ambusher in an instant, Damian reached out with his right hand and brushed away the shadow that cloaked him.

Then an unexpected figure revealed himself.

“You’re Belphages.”

“You… know me?”

Belphages scowled violently and looked at Damian.

Deep black eyes.

Those eyes flickered with rage.

Seeing that, Damian seemed to understand why he had attacked.

Damian met Belphages’ gaze calmly and spoke.

“Are you angry?”

“Of course! You killed my kin for no reason, even my Mother…!”

Belphages couldn’t continue easily.

It seemed to be because of Eckhart’s remains behind Damian.

But Damian couldn’t sympathize with him.

Was that truly something to be angry about?

If you risked your life over that, then all the weak in this world would be dead.

Damian accepted Belphages’ angry gaze calmly and spoke.

“It’s because you were weak. That’s the way of this world.”

“Th-that’s…”

Belphages couldn’t even reply.

He understood it too.

That the rules of this world were like that.

It was precisely for that reason he abandoned the world and became a demon.

At least in the underground Demon Realm, something called a ‘contract’ existed.

By using that ‘contract’ well, the weak could demand something from the strong.

But that was a misconception.

To make a ‘contract’ required a sacrifice, and those sacrifices didn’t exist in the underground Demon Realm.

And the sacrifices he could offer were only what he had before becoming a demon.

Once those sacrifices were gone, he had to seize or trade for them from other humans, mostly stealing from those weaker than him.

To the now-speechless Belphages, Damian said,

“You’re no different from the others. You were simply robbed because you were weak. If you run at someone in anger over that, you could lose the body you painfully obtained.”

There was a kind of magic in Damian’s voice that had never been felt before.

A subtle yet irresistible dignity and terror pervaded it.

Somehow, the anger that had been burning in Belphages’ heart subsided.

In the end, with his head bowed, Belphages asked weakly.

“Will you kill me?”

Damian released the arm he was holding and raised his foot to press down gently on his head.

Belphages was pressed down helplessly until his forehead touched the ground.

Damian looked down at the back of his head and spoke.

“You don’t seem to want to live, do you?”

A moment later, fear invaded Belphages’ heart.

The fear of death intensified and his whole body began to tremble.

Damian continued calmly in the same tone as before.

“Answer me.”

“…I-I want to live.”

For Belphages, the current situation made no sense.

He was simply confused.

His emotions were crushed by fear, but anger, grievance, and sorrow hadn’t entirely disappeared.

That frustration burst into tears.

Belphages bowed his head to the ground, crying, and spoke again.

“Why are you killing us? Did we ever wrong you?”

Questions belong to the strong.

Belphages had no right to ask questions.

He already knew that, but he was still terribly curious.

Why would this man, with such overwhelming power, seek to annihilate his kin?

Did he hold some grudge?

Or some special purpose?

Then Damian spoke.

“You had my possession.”

“…!”

One fact flashed through Belphages’ mind.

‘Could that ‘possession’ be…’

The spirit called Erisia that was brought by Astarene.

Come to think of it, the man had encountered Erisia yet did her no harm.

Instead, he had only annihilated the Eckhart clan that possessed her.

‘Is that what it was?’

Belphages’ mind began to turn rapidly.

At the same time, his confused emotions settled.

Soon he spoke with a voice clearer than before.

“You have already obtained the item you wanted. I will never infringe on your ownership.”

A small laugh escaped Damian.

And then he spoke.

“You are the smartest of all your clan members I’ve met so far.”

“…Thank you.”

The foot pressing down on Belphages’ head disappeared.

Still, he kept his forehead on the ground and spoke.

“I’m sorry, but I have one question. May I ask just one?”

“Then what will you give me?”

Belphages thought for a moment.

His opponent knew about bargaining.

In deals with demons, even asking such a small question demands a price, and that price varies by situation.

Right now, Belphages’ life was on the line.

A wrong question here could cost his life. So what he offered had to be chosen carefully.

‘Something worth as much as a demon’s life.’

Belphages, without deep deliberation, drew the dagger from his bosom.

It was a knife forged using a piece of his mother Eckhart.

A blade as valuable as his own life.

“I will offer this.”

Damian glanced at the dagger and replied.

“Fine. Ask. With a sacrifice of that value, I’ll answer three questions.”

Belphages spoke.

“Will you… kill me?”

“No.”

Belphages swallowed, and Damian looked down at him with intrigue.

Two questions remained.

Belphages desperately racked his brain and then spoke.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

“Because you’re useful.”

At that moment, Belphages’ eyes widened.

Useful?

What kind of use could he possibly have?

He wanted to ask, but held back.

Because the other wouldn’t answer properly.

‘This man knows the demon way of speaking well.’

A manner of speech that answers only definite facts briefly.

This style provokes more curiosity and leads to additional bargains.

At this rate, even if you asked a hundred times, you’d never get the answer you want.

‘Then…’

Belphages decided to ask a more fundamental question.

A question that, if he survived here, would let him prepare before meeting this man again.

After organizing his thoughts for a long while, Belphages spoke.

“You are sufficiently strong. Stronger than anyone in this world. With such absolute force, besides conquering this place, what else do you wish to do?”

Having finished his question, Belphages cautiously looked up at the man.

Sure enough, the man stroked his chin and pondered.

That he was thinking meant Belphages’ strategy had worked.

‘What kind of answer will he give?’

Belphages waited, and the man soon spoke.