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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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We were at Andy’s place for drinks. No special occasion, just a chance to catch up. It was also a good opportunity to tell him something.
“Senior, the dungeon exploration exercise is next week, right?”
“Dungeon ‘exploration’? It’s more like a dungeon picnic. I just finished the preliminary survey yesterday. Why do you ask?”
He sipped his wine, looking puzzled. The dungeon exploration exercise, a yearly event for freshmen, was notoriously uneventful.
“Preliminary survey? Did you find anything… unusual?”
“It’s the same dungeon every year. What could be unusual?”
Dungeons were typically treacherous, filled with traps, monsters, and tight corridors that made combat difficult. The exercise, however, was a sanitized, theme-park version, designed to give freshmen a taste of the dungeon environment without the danger. The boss room was sealed, the boss itself removed, and the entire dungeon was enchanted to lower the difficulty. It was so easy even a farmer could navigate it safely. A true picnic.
“Senior, are you aware of the Devil’s Church’s presence in the Academy?”
Except for the cultists.
“Pfft! Wh-what?! How did they get in?!”
He choked on his wine.
“They infiltrated, posing as staff, one by one. They might be preparing a summoning ritual.”
“That’s… that’s a disaster! What do we do…? It’s been five years without incident! Why now?! Why are you telling me this now?!”
A Devil’s Church incident involving his class would ruin his career. He asked why I hadn’t told him sooner, but there was nothing he could have done.
“This is the important part. Picking them off one by one is pointless. Have you dealt with the Devil’s Church before?”
“I have…!”
The Devil’s Church, a subversive organization aiming to overthrow the Empire, was a constant target for the Royal Knights. I had eliminated countless cultists. I assumed he had too, but apparently, they only sent the higher-ups on those missions.
“Listen then. They’re gathering for a ritual. This is our chance.”
“Shouldn’t we inform the Academy?”
“No. They’ll scatter and hide. We’ll never catch them all.”
The Devil’s Church was like cockroaches. Killing a few wouldn’t solve the problem. They would simply reappear later. You had to destroy the nest.
“We have to make them think… we’re unaware. And that’s today.”
Assuming they were planning to use the dungeon exercise as cover, today was the perfect opportunity. They would all be gathered.
“We’re going to wipe them out.”
Time to exterminate the cockroaches.
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The Devil’s Church worshipped infernal demons. Unlike the Church, which promised salvation and paradise in the afterlife, they promised a hell on earth, a paradise for believers, and eternal torment for non-believers. They denied God, embraced demons, and preached the coming of hell as a form of salvation. They were fanatics, willing to do anything to prove their devotion. They were heretics, mocking God, whose existence was proven by the miracles of divine power. The Empire had declared them enemies of the state. The Church’s inquisitors and the Empire’s Knights hunted them relentlessly, but like cockroaches, they thrived in the shadows.
They’re just… con artists.
I believed in the Church, not the Devil’s Church. Divine power, granted through faith, was a tangible miracle, though not omnipotent. The Devil’s Church claimed demons granted wishes in exchange for… well, anything. But if demons kept their promises, they wouldn’t be called demons. In the original story, those who made pacts with demons always met a tragic end.
I had eliminated many cultists during my time in the Knights. They were a nuisance, hiding in plain sight, their black robes concealing their identities. And they weren’t weak. Some were demon contractors, wielding demonic power. Demons, being extradimensional beings, were immune to conventional attacks. There were three ways to harm them:
First, divine power.
Second, pure substances, like silver or salt, or rare metals like adamantite or mithril, the purer the better.
And third…
“Gah…!”
“Disgusting.”
A cultist’s death rattle, followed by a spray of blood. I was covered in their blood. My black longsword, ideal for night raids, didn’t show the stains, but I felt them. The source of the blood was obvious. Bodies, decapitated, lay scattered throughout the dimly lit cave.
I targeted their heads because some cultists, infused with demonic power, could regenerate limbs. Decapitation was the only surefire way to kill them. It was harder than it sounded, but I was skilled. The clean cuts, no other wounds visible, would horrify an ordinary person, but a fellow swordsman would recognize my mastery.
That sounded a bit… psychopathic… Let’s rephrase that.
This hidden cave near the deep forest wasn’t the target dungeon, but the cultists who were supposed to sabotage the exercise were all here. Not anymore.
“This was quicker than I expected.”
They were mostly weaklings. No demon contractors, no elite fighters. Preparing a ritual didn’t require combat skills. With them gone, the dungeon exercise should be safe.
“Hmm? What’s this…? Demonic energy…?”
A sudden surge of demonic energy emanated from the pentagram, like black smoke from a fire. The ritual had begun, despite the absence of living participants.
“They’re all dead… Those bastards set it to activate upon their deaths…!”
It happened sometimes. They set the ritual to activate upon their deaths, using themselves as sacrifices. The pentagram glowed, drawing power from their blood. The demonic energy coalesced, forming a shape. A demon, complete with horns, materialized.
[Who has summoned…?]
-Slice.
“Nobody. Go back.”
I decapitated it with a short, silver dagger. I had no business with demons. It clutched its severed neck, demonic energy spewing from the wound.
[Gah…! How… human…!]
“So dense. I told you to go back. Nobody summoned you.”
-Stab. Stab, stab, stab!
I grabbed its horns and stabbed it repeatedly with the silver dagger, the blade sinking into its form like a knife through sand. It happened often. Demons, being extradimensional, often underestimated the effectiveness of certain substances. But knowing their weaknesses was enough. This one was a lesser demon, hastily summoned, nameless and weak. It offered no resistance, its form dissolving into black smoke.
“A pathetic demon, killed by a silver knife.”
A nameless lesser demon, acting all high and mighty. Higher-ranking demons were immune to anything less than rare metals.
The demon was gone, the cultists were dead. I just needed to sneak back to my dormitory, take a shower, and wash my clothes. The dungeon exercise should be safe now.
“Hmm?”
Someone was approaching. A surviving cultist? Or someone from the Academy? I waited. A sudden surge of killing intent.
-Bang! Bang, bang!
Gunshots?
The sound echoed through the cave. I deflected the bullets with my sword, recognizing them instantly.
Those aren’t ordinary bullets. Those are anti-demon… silver rounds!
Holy scriptures were etched onto their surfaces. These were rare and expensive. Silver was a precious metal, and the engravings required skill. And few in this world wielded firearms. This could only mean one thing.
Hayden’s finally making his appearance?
The protagonist of Academy’s Devil Slayer, the one who had been conspicuously absent, had finally arrived.
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