Chapter 12: The Demon’s Sudden Death Part 2

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Morgina stared blankly at the gaping fissure in the Abyss that appeared out of nowhere, then suddenly shouted, “Hey, wait a minute!” and chased after Kriel.

“The depth… isn’t that deep.”

Although Morgina grumbled behind him, accusing him of pulling another crazy stunt, Kriel paid her no mind. The Abyss spawn likely wanted them to waste time methodically breaking through the Abyss, but there was no need to play into their hands.

[No, seriously. This is definitely crazy.]

“I just took the most efficient route down.”

Kriel recalled the structure of the Abyss. True to its name, the deeper it was eroded by the Abyss, the deeper the Abyss itself became.

And so, the danger of the Abyss varied depending on its depth. As expected, the Abyss that had spread within the monastery was relatively shallow.

“Hmm.”

“What is it?”

Kriel touched the wall of the Abyss. This stone wall that was once part of the monastery had been grotesquely warped and fused by the Abyss. Now, it appeared as a bizarre architectural chimera of garden foliage, bricks, and stained glass cobbled together in chaotic mosaics.

Morgina raised her holy mace high. The mace’s crimson light cut through the darkness.

“Two paths, huh?”

“One leads to the core of the Abyss, the other to the main body of the Seed.”

The core and the Seed had been stored separately. Kriel speculated on why the Abyss spawns had made that choice.

“Most priests wouldn’t be able to trace the Abyss like I can.”

Kriel’s sensitivity to the Abyss was abnormal. As a dark knight, his very nature was close to the Abyss, so such feats were possible for him. Perhaps it was easier for him to track down their essence because they were of the same “side.”

If a paladin with a similar level of fighting power to Kriel had been deployed here instead of Kriel, there was a high possibility that they would still be wandering around the entrance to the abyss.

Detecting the weak points of the Abyss’s surface and precisely destroying them to create a shortcut to the deeper layers….this was a feat only someone connected to the Abyss, like a dark knight, could perform.

“Splitting the paths like this is probably to buy time while we tackle the core of the Abyss.”

It meant that the Seed’s main body was deemed more valuable than the carefully cultivated Abyss. Kriel thought about the “Seven Demon Weapons” Morgina and Orishin had mentioned.

“I have no idea about this one.”

The Seven Demon Weapons hadn’t existed in the Tírnanog RPG. According to the stories he’d collected in hopes of finding a clue to returning home, the Seven Demon Weapons were the Demon King Balor’s last insurance. They were left behind after he foresaw his defeat by the heroes.

The rumor went that collecting all seven weapons would resurrect the Demon King. This was a trope Kriel heard countless times before.

Yet it seems even the Abyss isn’t interested in resurrecting the Demon King. They’re just using him as a tool for their own plans. Guess the resurrection thing doesn’t actually work…

Morgina’s voice snapped Kriel out of his thoughts.

“So, what’s the plan? Are we splitting up?”

She had a point. The important thing now wasn’t the identity of the Seven Demon Weapons, but deciding who would destroy what. Whatever those weapons were, their deep connection to the Abyss meant they weren’t something Kriel could use anyway.

“I’ll head toward the Seed and defeat the spawn. The core is yours.”

It was the natural choice if he wanted to build his Nobility.

It was because punishing those who had betrayed the world and thrown themselves into the Abyss was an act that increased nobility in itself.

***

Satranak let out a scream-like roar.

“Hoooow?!”

Although the depth of the Abyss was not very deep, it was still the Abyss. It was still a world of chaos and darkness befitting its name. A realm of distorted space and fading senses that threatened one’s mind.

Yet that person had appeared before him in less than ten minutes after stepping foot into the Abyss.

“You’re quite perceptive.”

For Kriel, it was a bit of a disappointment. There were times when the creatures of the Abyss failed to sense him properly. Whenever that happened, Kriel would grip his greatsword and greet them by taking off their heads.

“Was it because of the Mark of the Grand Warrior?”

The Mark he had received from Morgina concealed his presence as a Dark Knight but, as a result, made the beings of the Abyss even more wary of him. Kriel decided to remove the mark the next time he fought the Abyss. He then aimed his greatsword.

“Mist of Grykenkos!”

It was at that very moment that Satranak’s attack began. A mist forged by demonic power merged with the darkness of the Abyss.

Darkness inspired an instinctive sense of fear. The Mist of Grykenkos was magic that shone a light on that fear. It was an illusion spell that embodied the terror one unconsciously conjured when gazing into the darkness, then tore the enemy apart.

Satranak knew well that a saint would not be overwhelmed by such a low-level spell. However, in order to banish the darkness and shed light into the mist, one inevitably had to expend divine power.

He must have already used up a fair amount of divine power getting through the Abyss. If I make him burn as much as possible, I can wait for my chance…

“A demon, huh?”

A calm murmur reached him. There was no fear of the sudden narrowing of his field of vision or the illusions closing in; there wasn’t even any hostility toward the Abyss.

“This turned out well.”

Satranak had no idea what was supposedly “well”. Instinctively, he prepared his next spell. It was a convulsive reaction like a cornered rat trying to bite a cat.

Even Satranak himself did not understand this response. Certainly, the saint was a tremendous threat, but by properly using the advantage of the Abyss along with his own abilities, escaping this place should have been simple.

How long had it been since he had ascended to the rank of a devil and felt his emotions surge like this? Perhaps only when he had once stood before an archdevil—

The dark knight pointed his greatsword.

Straight at Satranak’s heart.

Neither the darkness of the Abyss nor the Mist of Grykenkos seemed to matter to him. The shadow cast by the depths was fundamentally different from ordinary darkness. It was darkness that devoured light. Any ordinary illumination lacking mystical harmony would simply be swallowed.

There was no way a paladin capable of piercing the Abyss’s darkness so naturally without divine light could exist.

At the moment he realized this, Kriel’s swinging blade filled Satranak’s vision.

***

A red aura of bloodlust, different from the eerie white of pure fighting spirit, clung to the greatsword’s blade. The red trail left behind in the darkness, like a lingering echo, was steadily cutting off any chance Satranak had of escaping.

Sometimes it was easier to face a demon than a demonic beast.

The spawns of the Abyss instinctively recognized the hierarchy. Monsters obeyed demonic beasts, and demonic beasts obeyed demons for that very reason.

And demons, in turn, obeyed devils. That was where the question arose.

Which rank did I belong to?

If this world had still been a game, one could have simply answered, “It depends on your level.” Because the hierarchy changed depending on one’s level or skill-based adjustments.

But now that it had become reality?

The answer was, “The Abyss hierarchy does not apply to you.”

As a Dark Knight in the role of a player character, he had enough potential to defeat the Demon King and inherit his legacy.

Despite such potential, I did not truly belong to the hierarchy of the Abyss. To accumulate demonic power and ascend the hierarchy, I would have needed to use Abyss l skills frequently. But unless I had a death wish or hoped to end up in a psychiatric ward, there was no reason for me to use them.

It was a situation akin to a bug. My potential was at its peak, yet no actual demonic power had accumulated.

It seemed that demons could sense this “potential”.

It was a trait that worked incredibly well for me.

Perhaps because they only granted the wisdom of the Abyss once one reached their rank, demonic beasts were incapable of perceiving the potential of the Abyss inherent to the Dark Knight class.

To them, I was just another enemy to charge at blindly. If I had actively used Abyssal skills and accumulated demonic energy, they would have submitted to me immediately.

But devils were different. Like the saying “you see what you know,” devils instinctively sensed the heights that a Dark Knight could reach.

The moment I unleashed my presence as a Dark Knight by wielding bloodlust or resentment, devils experienced the same overwhelming pressure they felt from the Archdevils they served.

“Grykenkos—!”

This time, luck was on my side. The Grykenkos that creature kept screaming about was a devil of delusion and reverie.

A specialist in mind-affecting magic.

I had relentlessly built up my Nobelity stat to overcome the debuffs of Dark Knight skills.

Incomplete spells, hastily cast under the weight of such pressure, had no chance of affecting me.

***

The dead rose to walk the earth, and shadows given voices whispered despair. Amid the dreadful darkness loomed the awe-inspiring silhouette of an Archdevil residing in the Abyss.

As illusions bewitched the senses, compressed flames and lightning burst through the cracks and struck violently. In the chaos of smoke and darkness, Satranak hid once again.

And yet, all of it was meaningless. The red energy emanating from the greatsword effortlessly dismantled elemental magic and reduced it to nothing.

The knight slowly but surely approached Satranak.

Satranak couldn’t even begin to fathom the identity of this being, who seemed to scorn the authority of the Archdevil while pressing forward.

“Who! Who sent you here? Kromnagh? Archetet? Have they forgotten the Covenant of the Archdevils?”

The knight did not answer.

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