Meliodas felt as if he were sinking into a bottomless pool. There was no light, no air, only bone-deep cold.
He could faintly hear some jumbled sounds, but they seemed to be coming from above the surface, and he couldn't make them out down here.
With each activation of the curse, more and more of his soul had come to Purgatory, even forming a complete shape.
Purgatory is a chaotic world, where the boundary between soul and body is blurred. That gives a soul-body the same senses as the original—but that only makes Purgatory more painful.
Meliodas had thought countless times of escaping the Demon King's control, but he was only a portion of his true soul—the "weakest" part that represented emotion.
Never mind that he lacked the original's strength; even his true body couldn't rival the Demon King's unmatched power.
After failing more times than he could count, despair was inevitable.
In Purgatory, losing hope means corrosion by darkness; he, too, became a shadow monster.
Only his love and promise to Elizabeth could not be forgotten, so he kept a final scrap of awareness, slumbering in the deepest part of his soul.
Seeing this, the Demon King was at ease and didn't bother stopping the monster Meliodas from running off.
To the Demon King, this emotional soul was the part Meliodas "didn't need"; so long as it didn't return to the body, it didn't matter.
But one day, the sleeping awareness seemed to hear a voice. At first it was faint, intermittent; Meliodas thought it would fade as before.
But after a while, instead of fading, it grew much louder.
"Boss... do...n't sleep—wake... up!"
Meliodas couldn't tell who was calling him. He was straining to open his eyes and look toward the source.
But there was only absolute darkness. As he struggled, cracks suddenly spread across the dark before him, and light streamed through them onto his face.
To Meliodas, steeped in darkness, the light was almost blinding, and he squinted. Even so, he didn't retreat; he drew closer to the light.
He didn't know if it was an illusion, but he wouldn't pass up any chance. Then he knew—it wasn't an illusion.
The cracks spread in all directions from in front of him, and with a thunderous crash all the darkness shattered. Meliodas saw what was shining: a fist wrapped in blazing flame.
That fist had smashed the darkness confining him—but for someone who'd just woken up, wasn't that a bit much?!
But the fist's owner was deft, stopping in time and not hurting Meliodas in the least.
Charles swung an arm across and caught the collapsing Meliodas.
"Finally awake, huh? There's a lot waiting for you out there—you should've been up ages ago," Charles said.
…
At night, the three sat around a campfire, a huge slab of meat roasting over the flames.
Meliodas accepted the plate Charles handed over. "Thanks—both of you, Charles and Ban!"
Charles smiled. "Ban did the roasting—what are you thanking me for?"
Meliodas shook his head. "I'm thanking you for coming to Purgatory for me—and for pulling me out of despair."
Ban said, "Then there's even less need. We're friends, aren't we?"
Charles added, "Instead of being polite, we should figure out how to get out of Purgatory. The Gate of Purgatory is right by the Demon King. Slipping past that god's watch won't be easy.
How about you bat your eyelashes, Boss—maybe the Demon King lets his son off."
Meliodas gave a wry smile. "Don't say things that'll never happen. But if the exit is by him, no wonder he'd let me leave."
The joke worked; though Meliodas was still troubled, he relaxed.
After slicing off a small piece of meat, Charles said, "Then there's no helping it—we'll have to fight the Demon King.
But we don't need to beat him. As long as all of us make it through the Gate of Purgatory, that's our win."
Meliodas nodded. "True. If we're just escaping, we have a shot."
Ban patted Meliodas's shoulder. "It's not about odds. We're all making it back—back to the ones who matter most."
Meliodas smiled. "Exactly. We have to go back."
Charles grinned. "Just thinking about fighting that god has me fired up!"
Meliodas hurried to say, "You're strong, Charles, but don't underestimate my bastard old man.
With his magic, he's not easy to bring down."
Ban took a bite of meat. "Come to think of it—we never asked. What is the Demon King's magic?"
Meliodas's face grew grave. "His magic shares his name—\[Demon King]. I don't know the specifics; what I do know is that no magic attack works on him.
Unlike my Full Counter, he simply isn't hurt by any form of magic—that's why it's also called \[Ruler]!"
Charles didn't chime in; he knew the truth of the Demon King's power.
The actual ability of \[Demon King] is inversion—any magic directed at him is reversed.
Which means whether direct magical attacks or curses and secret arts, not only do they fail to hurt him, they increase his strength.
It isn't unsolvable. For instance, buffs would harm him instead, and physical attacks still work.
What's truly troublesome is his unfathomable base strength.
As one of the first beings of this world, holding a god's rank and authority, the Demon King possesses peerless might.
And in the millions of years in Purgatory, he's done only one thing: ceaselessly devour Purgatory's power.
Measured in millions of years, the accumulation is beyond even Charles's imagination.
So even if physical attacks work, few can hurt the Demon King's immensely powerful body and armor.
That's the strength of a god—a difference of tier from mortals.
So while Charles acted relaxed, he felt no small pressure—along with a fiercer fighting spirit.
To battle a god—good enough to count as a great feat for leveling up! And he had something on hand to try a long-conceived experiment.
Meliodas tore off a piece of meat, blowing on it as he said, "There's one more problem. I can't find the way back. Finding the Demon King is an issue too."
Charles said, "On that, I do know someone who can find the Demon King… a pig."
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