Chapter 11: Incomprehensible

"You bastards, you call yourselves the Third Army!? How long are you gonna waste on a single opponent!?"

With a line straight out of a stock villain’s mouth, Deji burst into the battlefield.

The Third Army, once a thousand strong, had been reduced to half its numbers by just one Demon Lord. Was it impressive that half were still alive against such a foe, or was it pathetic? By the usual laws of warfare, this was nothing less than a complete defeat.

Still, the enemy’s entire force had been reduced to just one.

The sword Celeste, gripped in Deji’s dominant hand, blazed crimson and came slashing down through the air. The heat wave raised scorching winds and kicked up clouds of dust. Deji opened his mouth wide in a sneer.

"Kik-kik-kik, so you can block a direct hit after all."

"…The Corps Commander, I take it."

The reply was husky, unexpectedly composed.

An ivory scimitar caught Celeste’s strike. It was the Demon Lord’s first direct move.

Deji’s body was well-trained, but the Demon Lord’s strength was bolstered by his own skill, far beyond anything Deji could muster. His body burned as his arm strained to the point of tearing, yet Zebul’s expression remained cool.

Deji swung his other sword, but the tentacles sprouting from Zebul’s back intercepted the blow. Six arms meant nothing when compared to the countless, freely moving appendages of the Demon Lord.

"Good arm you’ve got there."

"Kik-kik-kik, I’m honored by the compliment!!"

The demon sword flared with explosive fire, flames licking at Zebul. A crimson light flashed—met by the white blade. The erratic, flame-shrouded edge was nearly impossible to follow, yet the Demon Lord parried as if he had already read every move.

Of course, we knew as well—this wouldn’t be settled with a single blow.

Deji pressed forward head-on. I took the opening, lowered myself, and struck at Zebul.

The tentacles had no discernible pattern. Fast, but not beyond sight. With my left-hand dagger I severed them, and with my right-hand ice sword I cut upward.

In an instant, Zebul spun away. My blade struck only air. His eyes were on me.

Eyes burning hot—like the Demon Lord of Lust staring at Deji’s demon sword.

But this was different. It was worse. It was pure revulsion.

If Zebul ruled over Gluttony, then that emotion could only mean one thing—

"Two of you, hm? A bit small, but… you both look rather tasty."

—『Appetite』.

To be desired as prey by one’s own kind. A chill raced through me, freezing my arms for an instant.

There were many who embodied Gluttony, but among them, how many would willingly devour their own kind? Almost none.

Zebul Glaucus, the Depraved Eater.

He devoured earth, devils, and even Demon Lords themselves, rising to become one of their kind—the Demon of Gluttony.

A tentacle shot from his back and pierced my left chest—straight through the soul core. My body unraveled, my magic scattered.

"Hmm… thin… an illusion? This taste… you must be Lust, boy…"

My last fragmented vision shattered. My Phantom Dance ended.

Now, only I remained.

But I had made an opening.

"Kik-kik-kik, not bad at all, little lady!"

Into the brief gap of awareness, Deji’s blade fell.

Celeste, the demon sword said to annihilate even angels, came cleaving down onto Zebul’s exposed back—only for Zebul to twist his neck and open his maw wide.

Rows of fangs, a mouth split to his cheeks. From that throat came a disturbingly calm voice.

"A demon sword… I’ve never tasted one. Might be a delicacy."

"What!?"

With monstrous strength, he caught the strike in his jaws. His fangs sank into the red blade.

Flames ravaged his teeth, yet even the inferno that burned all in an instant left his face untouched. His jaws ground down, chewing the steel.

Deji tried to pull the sword back, but the grip of those fangs was unyielding.

Still—if he was biting down on the blade, then his true body couldn’t move.

Deji’s upper left arm swung down with another sword. Zebul caught it with his own weapon. Now both his hands were occupied.

A chance!

I dashed low, sword aimed at his unguarded back—when a voice came from somewhere impossible.

"So you’re the real one… your magic smells delicious."

His back split open, slime soaking his black cloak.

A massive maw gaped there, lined with fangs the size of daggers.

I pulled my blade back in panic, but a long tongue lashed out, chasing after it.

It coiled around my sword with ease. Cold surged through the tongue, freezing it, but it ignored the chill, yanking with brutal force.

"Fufufu, not a bad texture at all…"

The Demon Lord’s voice brimmed with pleasure.

To feel such emotions toward another sword-wielding devil… it wasn’t mere appetite. It was an incomprehensible, alien craving.

"Y-you monster!"

Another of Deji’s swords came down, only for Zebul to block it barehanded.

No—his palm had sprouted a mouth.

Those jaws bit through the sword as if it were nothing. The once-proud demon blade scattered in fragments. The tongue slithered out, gathering every shard, wrapping last around the broken hilt.

He could have caught Deji’s arm then and there. But instead—

"…Not bad at all. Quite 『tasty』. Good bite, good flavor."

The hilt vanished into his palm-mouth, chewed slowly, savored. Zebul’s eyes softened in bliss.

"That bastard… my collection…"

"Fufufu… so you’re Greed, then. At last, I’ll be full."

My sword was ripped away by the tongue’s greater strength. Regret stung, but I had no choice—I leapt back.

The crunch of fangs grinding steel echoed, like the scream of a dying blade. Deji’s face twisted in silent horror.

"H-hey! Girl! Don’t just let him eat it! That’s my sword!"

"I-it couldn’t be helped!"

Zebul’s tongue writhed, hungering for more prey. Its target was Deji—closer than I.

I opened my mouth to shout, but before I could, a massive sword intercepted the tongue.

"…And what might you be?"

"…"

A towering skeleton—the slaughter puppet of Lord Lazy—swung its iron-pillar arms.

Its colossal sword, taller than Zebul himself, gouged into the earth. The ground erupted, but the swing never slowed. With impossible mobility, the blade carved a wild arc upward.

Tentacles and tongue tried to coil around it, but the sheer brute force hurled them aside. The strike drove toward Zebul’s face.

The skeleton gave off no presence. Its strike bore no trace of life.

"Well done!"

Deji drew another sword from a pocket of subspace with one of his empty arms.

The skeleton’s strength was monstrous, likely surpassing even the hardened might Deji had forged through training.

Zebul’s expression clouded with confusion. He released Celeste and leapt back to gain distance.

Celeste dripped with mucus, small cracks running along its blade.

"…What is that thing? It’s no demon… I can’t sense a presence."

"Kik-kik-kik, just a candlestick! Well, with a little skill from the boss layered on top, that is!"

The skeleton responded to Deji’s will and stomped the ground, propelling itself forward with explosive force. Zebul met it head-on, fully prepared.

The bastard sword and the Demon Lord’s blade clashed.

From a frame twice Zebul’s size, the swings came fast as a storm, slashing wildly in every direction.

But Zebul’s blade deflected each strike precisely. His eyes tracked every movement, unwavering.

"…Doesn’t look very appetizing. I may look like this, but I’m a gourmet."

"…"

Spare me! Since when does a glutton get to call himself that!?

Zebul slipped past the bastard sword’s arc and swept his ivory blade upward.

The skeleton’s left upper arm, slashed at the joint, flew into the air.

But the puppet felt no pain. It simply swung its remaining right arm, slashing horizontally with the sword.

Zebul ducked low, dodging the strike.

Pain meant nothing to the puppet, but in the end, it was still only a puppet. Against a Demon Lord, its strength was clearly lacking.

Still, it created openings. With another fearsome opponent forcing him to split his attention, Zebul’s awareness was divided, leaving cracks to exploit.

Yet that was all. Our blows never truly landed, while our weapons were devoured one after another.

The situation was still dire. That we were even alive was a miracle.

And Zebul had yet to use a single true skill.

Our magic was nearly drained, our stronger skills unusable.

Zebul sighed and pulled back.

"My, what troublesome ingredients… But then, a meal prepared with time and effort always tastes better."

Tentacles burst from his body in swarms. Please, not again.

This time their number and thickness dwarfed the earlier ones.

His small frame was now completely engulfed, to the point that it was impossible to tell if the tentacles weren’t his true form.

Only his mouth remained visible in the center. Even warped into this grotesque shape, his voice had not changed one bit.

"The demon of Greed… if I eat your collection first, it gives the flavor more depth."

His sudden words filled the air.

Power surged through his gaunt form. The once scattered mana floating in the air now condensed, focusing tightly.

"The demon of Lust… when I devour while I violate, the taste becomes so very sweet. Fufufu, let me teach you the ultimate pleasure. Don’t worry. You’re both decent enough ingredients. Unlike other devils, I won’t eat you improperly—I’ll consume you in the proper way."

…There’s nothing good about that at all.

To be devoured while being violated. To be violated as you are eaten.

Just imagining it sent shivers down my spine.

Even to another devil, this was utterly incomprehensible.

Something was wrong. I didn’t know what exactly, but letting him take his time would be fatal.

And yet… my legs wouldn’t move. The crushing pressure held my body in place.

It was the Demon Lord’s skill. He himself couldn’t move either, but it bound others in turn. It only worked on weaker beings, but it was enough to buy him the charge-up time he needed for a greater skill.

Deji, stiff-faced, spoke up as if he too were bound.

"Quit joking around. What the hell is your goal…?"

"My goal…? Hmm, if I had to say… I’m hungry."

The words were so plain, I doubted my ears for a moment.

But there was nothing more behind them.

An endless hunger… Thank goodness I wasn’t born into Gluttony. Or maybe… this one was simply abnormal.

"I’ve always been a bit of a heavy eater, you see… before I knew it, I had finished all of my allotted portion. So, I had no choice. One must eat to live, after all. And I had a duty to feed my people."

"…And those people?"

"I already ate them."

The subjects granted to him by the Great Demon King… devoured.

Zebul spoke as if offering an explanation.

"Well, they were poor quality to begin with, but they filled my stomach enough. Fufufu… though my subordinates seemed satisfied, to me the taste was far too foul. Honestly, Greed-boy, your sword was far more delicious."

"…"

Even Deji was at a loss for words. What comeback could anyone have to being told their sword was tasty?

No—the urges this one carried were something I could never comprehend. The Second Army had gluttonous devils too, but at worst they were simply heavy eaters. Nothing this deranged.

"But don’t worry. You’ll live on—inside of me!"

A storm of tentacles came flying, faster than anything before.

Something was coming.

Pure wariness alone kept me alive. The instant the tentacles launched, strength returned to my legs and I reflexively kicked off the ground to the side.

Each one dripped with a different slime than before—purple, glistening in the light.

Deji, realizing the danger, didn’t try to meet them head-on. He pulled back without hesitation.

Only the puppet stood its ground, swinging its sword with a single arm to meet the tentacles.

It slashed away those that came from all sides—

—but then the blade ‘slipped.’

The massive sword clattered to the ground with a loud crash.

The purple tentacles tore straight through the obstacle, wrapping around the skeletal puppet’s body. Despite the reinforcement of Lazy-sama’s skill, its metal form was literally dismantled on the spot.

"What…!"

So quick, so final—Deji cried out in shock.

The tentacles dragged the broken pieces of the skeleton into the writhing mass, swallowing them into a hole within the tangle.

"…As I thought, just metal. Not a magic tool. Must be from some kind of skill. Not tasty, but… edible enough."

"Damn it! Do you have any idea how much I suffered, how many I killed just to get that thing made…!?"

"Fufufu, my apologies. Don’t worry—you’ll be seeing it again soon enough, inside my belly."

Deji swung Celeste, hacking away the purple tendrils as bloodlike tears streamed from his eyes. He narrowly dodged the attacks, but one of the Third Army behind us was caught.

The tentacle shredded him apart with ease. A spray of blood misted through the air and was instantly absorbed by the slime.

Eaten…? Those tentacles—each one is a mouth!?

"Not a commander, but still rather tasty. You’re strong enough."

"…"

The speed of the tentacles was nothing like before. They lashed out wildly from every angle, impossible to track.

My cloak was pierced at the edge; the fabric around the wound rotted away, hole spreading. I ripped it off and ducked low, slipping past.

He wasn’t even serious. If he were, I’d already be dead.

The missed tentacles slammed into the earth, skewering other devils and absorbing them. Every time, Zebul let out a voice dripping with ecstasy.

Why isn’t he going all out?

No—wait. That’s not it. He’s…

One tendril grazed my belt. The touch corroded it. I cut it free without hesitation.

Again—he didn’t seize the opening. He isn’t pressing to kill me. He’s—

Tentacles lashed from all sides. I had no room to counter.

They scraped across my plated armor. Again.

The slime corroded even steel with ease. It didn’t matter if it was enchanted or not.

I tore off the plate, putting distance between us.

Deadly tentacles, endless pressure, the Demon Lord’s crushing aura—my stamina was almost gone.

And worse: every time they tore through another of the Third Army, Zebul’s mana regenerated.

But one thing was obvious—this Demon Lord was holding back against me, and me alone.

"What are you playing at…?"

"Fufufu… tell me, when you eat a meal, do you swallow the shell whole?"