Chapter 12: Still Can’t Accept It

From the moment I was born as a demon, this was without a doubt the worst, most humiliating battle of my life.

Even back in the days when I had no strength, when all I could do was scrape by in the slums, I had never felt such bitter disgrace.

It had been an hour since those purple tentacles appeared.
Corpses everywhere. The Third Army now had only a handful left. You could call it annihilation.

The Demon King’s power was absolute. Whether a general-class or a lowly demon, the difference hardly mattered before him.

Almost no soldiers tried to flee, but those few who attempted to run were devoured from behind, swallowed up by tentacles fired at the speed of sound.

If it weren’t for Deji, who still carried that demon sword capable of cutting through the tentacles, I would be dead too. The only reason I was still alive was simply because Zebul had no intention of killing me yet.

Because the way I’m “eaten” takes a lot more effort.

Zebul licked his lips with a wet flick of the tongue. Perhaps because the numbers had dwindled, his tentacles had decreased, his form shifting back toward that of a human. But that meant nothing.

Too fast to dodge.

"Fufufu, as expected of Lust… such beautiful skin. A little lacking in curves, but you look like you’ll taste exquisite. I can’t wait."

The hunger glittering in his eyes made my head flare up hot and red.

The armor that once covered my body had already melted away, digested inside him.

Here I was, stripped bare on this barren wasteland, with no means of breaking through, running in vain—what could be more pitiful for a demon?

My body felt heavy as lead, flushed from exertion I hadn’t felt in ages.
But I couldn’t give up.

"But that’s strange… for a demon of Lust, you don’t reek of lust at all… what are you, a closeted pervert?"

The mocking words tossed at me in that sing-song tone. What an insolent woman.

"Kikiki, damn right! Would’ve rather seen this on a bed than here!"

Never losing his sharp tongue, Deji launched yet another attack—his umpteenth by now.

Only Celeste remained alongside us. And yet, her sword still carried undeniable might. Flames of divinity surged forth, manifesting in a torrent of hellfire to strike at Zebul.

"Good grief, you’re persistent too… I’ll admit, flames taste good, but they don’t sit well in the stomach. Not really my favorite."

But that didn’t work either. Repeating the motion he’d done countless times, Zebul opened his mouth.
As though being sucked into a void, the flames were drawn into that small hole and disappeared.

"…Damn it, that’s outright cheating…"

"Fufufu, relax. You three are—far stronger than the Demon King I ate two days ago. That sword of yours is terrifying."

"Kikiki, just the sword, huh!"

"Fufufu, give it ten thousand years, and you might finally reach the soles of my ‘Desire.’"

"You’re not planning to let us walk away, are you?"

"I’m starving here!"

Another demon was ensnared and swallowed whole by the writhing tentacles.
The slime-soaked ground was dissolving, riddled with countless pits.

"Oi, Midia…"

"…What?"

"There’s still one hand left to play. One chance."

Deji’s face was drawn tight with exhaustion. His treasured sword had been swallowed, yet his eyes burned with hatred for the Demon King before us.

And then he said it.

"Give me your… ‘Partial Phantasmal Dance.’"

"…Huh? What are you talking about?"

Deji glared sharply at the Demon King. Was it confidence, or arrogance, that kept him from pressing the attack?

"That skill… it lets you create phantoms with real substance, right?"

"…Yes. To be precise, it creates illusions, and within that domain, their physical form can be freely altered."

The skill that turns the body itself into an illusion upon death. It was a power from high up in Luxeria’s skill tree—far beyond what most could ever reach. Classified under conceptual abilities, this overwhelming skill was all but impossible to pierce, even by mental resistance, since the phantoms existed as physical bodies until struck.

"It’s the same thing. Listen up, girl. As we are now, we’ve got no way of beating Zebul. If there’s even the tiniest chance… it lies with this sword."

He raised his cracked demon blade for me to see.

Indeed, only Celeste’s flame attacks ever forced Zebul to act—if only by consuming them. That much was undeniable. He did it every time, meaning he had no choice, or else he would take damage.

Not that one strike would be enough to bring him down.

"I’ll steal your ‘Partial Phantasmal Dance’ with my ‘Usurpation,’ then use it to surround him with Celeste’s power and burn that bastard from every direction."

Those words were unbelievable.

In reflex, I clutched at my chest, trying to cover myself. But Deji’s eyes held nothing but deadly seriousness.

"Impossible… ‘Partial Phantasmal Dance’ is an SS-rank skill! To use that on top of Celeste’s power… it’s impossible!"

"kikiki, so that’s all it is… just a matter of mana, huh? Either way, if we don’t do it now, we’re just gonna get eaten alive. Carved up into some weird dish."

…He was right.

If we just wasted more time, defeat was certain. Then taking this gamble wasn’t a bad choice. I gave a small nod.

"Fufufu, done with your little chat? My hunger’s about to hit its limit."

"Yeah… kikiki, I’ll roast you whole."

I grabbed the arm Deji thrust toward me.
The moment I touched him, the Greed skill tree’s power—『Usurpation』—was activated.

『Usurpation』, as the name implies, is Greed’s most infamous skill, the power to seize another’s skill.
It requires fulfilling many complex conditions, which is why snatching a skill mid-battle is nearly impossible. Still, once taken, the stolen skill can be wielded freely and even strengthened. It is an extraordinarily powerful ability.

Class skills of demons are normally granted only by fulfilling their associated deadly sins. To acquire one while ignoring such prerequisites is an immeasurable advantage—since the conditions themselves are what make demon class skills so strong.

A creeping sensation slithered through me, like someone prying inside my body. I clenched my teeth against the vile discomfort, enduring it.

But then Deji’s face twisted wide with shock, and he muttered blankly.

"Impossible… the skill 『Partial Phantasmal Dance』… it’s not there… what the hell!?"

"What!?"

Deji tightened his grip, hard enough to crush my hand, probing my existence inside and out.

"It’s not there… impossible… no way. I met the conditions! Even if it’s an SS-rank skill, for it to not even show up—that’s absurd!!"

"…Maybe you just don’t have enough proficiency with the skill?"

My suggestion was instantly denied. He glared down at me as if I were some kind of monster.

"No, no, no. Usurpation doesn’t work that way. …Girl, do you even have that skill in the first place?"

"…I just used it earlier, didn’t I?"

"…But—damn it, we’re out of time. Fine, take Celeste. You do it!"

Impossible. That was absolutely impossible.

Between me and Deji, the gap in swordsmanship was unmistakable. Not just in technique, but in muscle, in footwork, in subtle quirks—tiny movements etched into the body by a lifetime of experience.

I couldn’t handle Celeste. Even if it was just firing flames, demon swords like this demanded a swordsman’s mastery. On top of that, I no longer had enough mana to wield 『Partial Phantasmal Dance』.

"No good… I don’t have the mana to activate 『Partial Phantasmal Dance』."

"Tch, then our last hope… is to bet on a miracle?"

His sharp gaze bore into the nonchalant Demon King.

…A miracle?

At that word, a flash of light crossed my mind.

No, not quite a miracle—but there was one thing. Just one option left. Not a high chance of victory, but a single way for me to restore mana.

But if I used it, my true nature would be exposed. No—after using it once already, it was only a matter of time before I was found out anyway.

I looked up at Deji, whose face I never much liked.
This man who had earned more achievements than I had.

But now wasn’t the time for likes or dislikes.

I steeled myself and opened my mouth.

"Deji… listen, I—"

"…Huh? Impossible… what kind of miracle is this?"

But what came back was an expression of utter stupefaction. The same look he’d worn when he saw Zebul survive even as Celeste’s flames scorched the wasteland.

The look of a man confronted with the impossible.

Deji stared down at me with dreamlike eyes.

"Girl, don’t you feel it?"

"Eh… ah! …What!?"

A few seconds later, I felt it too. I understood what he meant.

The wind was blowing. A black, untainted wind that swept everything away.

I stared blankly at my own palm. My body, which had been exhausted, now had a trace of strength returning. The mana tank that had run dry—refilling, even if only a little.
The sticky heaviness that clung to me—washed away.

"Lord Lazy’s 『Chaos Domain: Abyss Zone』… it’s back!?"

"…Impossible… why now, of all times, would the master’s Domain return…"

Yes, why now.

『Chaos Domain』 wasn’t supposed to be adjustable. Sure, when a Demon King’s power increased, its range and intensity rose accordingly. But that came from changes in the king’s base ability, not from will.

Zebul too seemed to notice, his expression twisting in confusion.

It shouldn’t affect the Demon King himself, but when the very territory he had controlled flawlessly was suddenly broken into, suspicion was inevitable.

"…Oi, oi, what did you just do? Is this your trump card?"

Of course not.

『Chaos Domain』 was a Demon King’s class skill. Neither Deji nor I, who hadn’t awakened it, could possibly wield it.
Not unless a true miracle had happened.

But perhaps… the real miracle was only just beginning.

Deji’s eyes suddenly snapped wide open.
His lips trembled, his strength gave out, and he dropped Celeste.

An obvious opening. If anyone attacked now, he’d be ripped apart in an instant.

“Impossible… why, after all this time… no, more importantly—how? It’s absurd.”

But I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that.
Because I noticed where Deji’s gaze was fixed.

Glossy black hair carefully tended by the maids, unhealthy pale skin without a blemish.
A jet-black cloak that was said to have been gifted by the Demon King himself, though no one knew if that rumor was true.
No blade, no staff, no crown, not even a single ornament.

His fine black silk clothes were untucked at the hem, and since he wasn’t even wearing a belt, his pants looked like they could fall off at any moment—even though he wasn’t making any wild movements.

That figure had no business appearing on this battlefield. No—there was no way he could appear.
I’d sooner believe some tall tale about a sudden spear falling from the sky and killing the Demon King.

“Midea… is this your illusion?”

“…Of course not.”

I had neither the leisure nor the reason.
To show my own master’s image as an illusion? That was far too presumptuous for me.

“…I see. Then it must be Zebul’s trick… damn, you scared me. There’s no way the boss would actually show up in a place like this.”

“…That explanation I can accept.”

My frozen thoughts thawed a little at Deji’s still-plausible reasoning.

Yeah… what a twisted sense of humor the Demon King must have. No matter how close we are to death, he’d never send Lord Lazy here. To show us his image like this—just another part of the banquet?

Like raising us up just to drop us, because it makes the flavor better?

Whatever the case, I wish he’d stop. Before I was killed, I thought my heart was going to stop instead. The shock still had my pulse hammering like a war drum.

Even so… it was done with uncanny precision.

It had been so long since I last laid eyes on Lord Lazy. Especially outside—who knew how many years it had been? Looking back, the only time I had ever seen him out of his chambers was that very first meeting. That had been the first and last, and I’d assumed it always would be.

The hair, messy but still shining—that was because the maids fussed over it like they were dressing a doll. The sickly pallor of his skin was a flawless recreation of someone who hadn’t set foot outdoors for three hundred and sixty-five days a year.

And that sleepy, drifting expression, swaying unsteadily, was exactly how he looked in his bedchamber—so frail I wanted to rush over and support him right now.

“Damn… that’s seriously spot-on. If the boss actually stood up, he’d look exactly like that.”

“…Agreed. …Ah!!”

That was when I realized something important.

I wasn’t wearing anything!

Panicked, I dropped into a crouch, trying to cover myself. Even if it was just an illusion, to let my master Lord Lazy see me naked was unthinkable. Even if Lord Lazy wasn’t the slightest bit aware of me.

My mind burned crimson with shame, so hot it felt like it would blot everything else out. But even curled up, even covering myself, I realized it wasn’t enough, and I shot a desperate look at Deji.

“Deji… your cloak.”

“…Yeah, here.”

He tossed me his tattered cloak, and I managed to wrap myself in it. Not exactly easy to move in, but that didn’t matter right now.

Deji kept his wide eyes on the “illusion,” studying its every move.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me. The boss just laid down and started taking a nap in front of Zebul.”

“…Uncannily accurate.”

Zebul, still wearing an utterly baffled expression, finally spoke to the figure that looked exactly like Lord Lazy, now lying right before him.

“…Who are you?”

“…I see.”

The figure replied with a vacant expression, words with no meaning, no connection at all to what had been said.