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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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“Allow me to introduce myself. I am a humble advocate of the Devil’s Church, entrusted with the sacred duty of spreading the good word of our Great Demon Lords. And what brings you two sisters here today?”
He was… unsettling. Polite, yet his voice grated on my nerves. He wore the standard black robe, but the large horns on his mask gave him an aura of authority.
“What is that…?”
“A Devil’s Advocate… They prey on innocent villagers, tricking them into joining their cult.”
River drew her sword, sensing the danger.
“Tricking them? We merely open their eyes. I have never forced anyone. They join us willingly.”
-Bang! Bang, bang!
I fired my silver bullets. They seemed to have no effect.
“Hmm? So it was you. I heard there was someone… interfering with our plans. Did you… destroy our precious altar? How sad.”
“We didn’t do it.”
“Such flimsy excuses, with those weapons… The one beside you might still be salvageable, but you… are beyond redemption.”
His gaze, like a serpent’s, flickered towards River. I didn’t like the way he looked at her.
“Amy, can’t we attack now?”
“Not yet. Wait.”
River was eager to fight, but I held her back. Devil’s Advocates were the elite fighters of the Devil’s Church, capable of defending themselves against even seasoned Knights. They roamed the Empire, recruiting new members, impervious to the Church’s persecution. River, though skilled, wasn’t trained in fighting demons.
“Ivan, Freya, James, Charlie… your sacrifices will not be forgotten. Our Great Demon Lords will remember you. May you find peace… in hell. I will carry on your will.”
Two black arms sprouted from his shoulders.
“Now, let’s dispose of this… nuisance… and welcome our new sister.”
“Like I’d ever join you!”
He had chosen violence. River raised her sword.
*No more talking. Use it.
I had faced Devil’s Advocates before. They were fanatics, immune to reason. I had waited, hoping he would leave, but he hadn’t. I wasn’t prepared for this, but I had a weapon specifically designed for demons.
I drew my left pistol, the one I hadn’t fired yet. I had deliberately used my right pistol, loaded with silver bullets, to create a false sense of security, to make him believe guns were ineffective against him. My left pistol looked identical, but the two bullets inside were different. This one required a different trigger, a mana infusion.
“Release. Holy Flame of St. MacIntosh.”
I channeled mana into the pistol, feeling the power surge within. Before he could react, I fired.
-Bang!
The same dry sound as my right pistol, but what emerged wasn’t a silver bullet. It was the holy breath of St. MacIntosh, a red dragon who had ascended to sainthood, his breath imbued with divine power. The holy flame, released from its confinement, engulfed the Devil’s Advocate.
-Whoosh!
The white flames, lasting for five seconds, incinerated the remains of the altar.
“Whoa!”
River, who had been ready to attack, was startled by the intense flames. The Holy Flame of St. MacIntosh was powerful enough to harm even greater demons. Acquiring it required more than just generous donations to the Church; it required years of cultivating a strong relationship. I had spent years building that relationship, finally receiving my first bullet two years ago. I had three, used one initially, and now I had used another. I would have fought him conventionally if I were alone, but with River here, I had to prioritize her safety. It was a valuable resource, limited to one bullet per year, but her safety was worth it.
“Well, well…”
“?!”
His voice, still dripping with mockery, emerged from the smoke. The Holy Flame had engulfed him completely. How was he still alive?
“Such a powerful attack… I’m afraid I’ll have to… use both hands… no, one hand will suffice.”
He emerged from the smoke, most of his body gone, his left arm and leg reduced to ashes. He was still alive, somehow, balancing precariously on his remaining limbs.
“You think you’ve won?!”
He was bluffing. He was half-gone. I discarded the useless silver bullets, drawing my mithril greatsword. This would end it.
“You don’t have time for me.”
A sudden surge of demonic energy.
“Where’s it coming from?! The altar is destroyed!”
A summoning required an altar and a sacrifice. Both were gone.
“Amy, what’s that… on the ceiling?”
River pointed upwards. I saw it. A swirling black sphere of demonic energy, descending slowly from the ceiling, from the highest point of the chamber.
“This dungeon has… an interesting structure. Sealing the boss room, taking control… a brilliant idea. But they didn’t understand… what lay within… Our Master was pleased. He said… this sealed room would make a fine offering.”
The boss room’s seal was intact. The ritual was consuming the sealed room itself. Human sacrifices were irrelevant. They were after the dungeon itself.
“This altar… was a decoy?”
“No, it was essential. This is directly below the boss room. The ritual here… activates the altar above… the one inside the sealed room. Ordinary cultists can’t perform a ritual while hanging upside down.”
Those cunning bastards…!
I hadn’t realized the ritual was using the sealed boss room as the altar. There should have been warning signs, but this was too sudden. The Devil’s Advocate, seeing our confusion, laughed.
“Our Master enjoys… conversing with lambs. If you please him… you might be spared… and join us.”
The black sphere continued its descent.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
He vanished.
[You insignificant insects… dared to summon me?]
The sphere dissipated, revealing a figure within. Descending from the darkness, like a nightmare emerging from a black egg. The demon, at first glance, resembled a frail old man: wrinkled face, stooped posture, protruding belly, a long beard reaching his feet. If not for the curved horns on his head and the sharp fangs protruding from his mouth, he would have looked like a grumpy old man.
But he was a greater demon, radiating a terrifying aura of power, his form wreathed in demonic energy. His presence shook the chamber, filling us with dread. My hands trembled. He looked harmless, yet he exuded an aura of primal fear. He opened his eyes, gazing at us, the trembling humans before him.
[I am Belphegor… Lord of the Infernal Swamp.]
His voice, deep and resonant, like rolling boulders, echoed through the chamber.
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