Hmm? So they sent Rikel, huh? I thought to myself, recalling the preparations I had made.
After returning to the estate, I realized that taking advantage of House Kael would be the best course of action. But convincing them without evidence was no easy task. I couldn't simply barge in and claim that I had seen suspicious figures attempting to summon a demon.
It took me an entire day to devise a method to lure out someone strong from House Kael.
In the end, I purchased a messenger pigeon and tied a letter to its leg—one written in the guise of the Elder Council's secret organization. Of course, I didn't possess the official seal of this time period, but I gambled. I reproduced the very seal I had seen in my last life.
Thankfully, they hadn't changed it. Had the seal been altered in this era, Rikel wouldn't be out there fighting at this very moment.
Though only at the 4th Severance, Rikel was the most talented of House Kael's previous generation. From what I had heard, his combat prowess was close to that of a 5th Severance. But even so, he could never truly defeat a warrior or mage who had already stepped into the 5th Severance—after all, with each stage, the gap in strength widens like a chasm.
On the other hand, I made sure to kill the pigeon instantly with a poison reactor. If I hadn't, they could have tracked it back and discovered who had sent the letter—then all my efforts would've gone to waste.
The letter reached Vitra, and, as I expected, he immediately summoned all the executives of House Kael. They held an emergency council that dragged on for two full hours. In the end, they decided to dispatch Rikel Kael, along with the Eternal Division.
Hmm? It's taking longer than I anticipated. Of course, I already knew the truth—it was a higher-ranking demon. But in the letter, I had deliberately downplayed it as a mere mid-ranked one. I even stretched the estimated time a little, just enough to let the sacrifices proceed without suspicion.
That was why they had sent Rikel, a 4th Severance knight, instead of sending someone much stronger.
The clash between the fanatics and the knights of the Eternal Division still raged on. The knights cut down the zealots with disciplined precision, yet the fanatics refused to yield. So long as even a single breath lingered in their bodies, they clawed, bit, and bled to halt the advance.
The demon is taking longer than expected, I thought, my gaze fixed on the cone-shaped sphere of blood, where all the sacrificed lives were being drawn in and devoured.
The knights, however, showed no sense of urgency. They still believed it to be a mid-ranked demon—creatures usually no stronger than the early stage of 4th Severance.
On the other side, Rikel was mowing down the fanatics one after another. He had just finished off the woman who had earlier tried to rouse their morale, her corpse collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
Creak… creak…
After a while, deep cracks began to spread across the blood sphere. An ominous pressure descended, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on my chest like a mountain.
The knights froze in place, their faces pale. Yet on the other side, the few remaining fanatics dropped to their knees, tears streaming from their eyes as though they were welcoming a god.
Chik… chik…
The knights, snapping out of their shock, didn't let the chance slip away. Blades flashed, and the fanatics' heads rolled across the blood-soaked ground.
Rikel barked hurried orders, and the Eternal Division advanced toward the sphere, each step a battle against the suffocating weight of the demon's presence.
At the very front, the vice-division leader raised his sword high, veins bulging in his arms as he resisted the crushing aura.
Creak…
A massive crack split open the sphere, and from within, a hand—human in shape, yet radiating unnatural malice—shot out, clamping around his throat.
"Cough… cough…" The vice-division leader choked violently, his sword slipping from his grip.
Rikel moved instantly, about to cut the hand down—
Creak…
The sound deepened, and with a sickening twist, the hand wrenched.
The vice-division leader's head tore free from his neck.
*****
Creak…
The sound cut through the battlefield like the groan of a dying world. Rikel's eyes snapped toward the blood sphere. Thin, jagged lines crawled across its surface, splitting the crimson shell open.
A crushing weight slammed into his chest, suffocating him as though his very lungs were being squeezed shut. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
What… What is this pressure?
Around him, even the Eternal Division faltered. Veterans who had marched through dozens of campaigns froze mid-step, their discipline buckling under the suffocating aura that poured from the sphere.
"Hold your ground!" Rikel barked, his voice hoarse but unyielding. He forced his body to move, to breathe, to stand when every instinct screamed at him to kneel.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fanatics. Not trembling in fear—no, their faces glistened with tears of ecstasy. One by one, they dropped to their knees, arms raised toward the cracking sphere as if greeting a descending god.
The creaking deepened. Another fracture split across the sphere's surface. A low hum reverberated through the air, making his ears ring.
Rikel's heartbeat thundered. This pressure… there's no way this is a mid-ranked demon.
His blade flashed, cutting down a fanatic before him. "This isn't the time to be stunned!" he roared. "Kill them all before the demon awakens!"
But even as he swung, his arms felt leaden. Damn it… even moving my sword is this difficult?
His gaze shot toward the vice-division leader. "Gordon! Shatter that sphere—now!"
Gordon nodded sharply and stepped forward, forcing his trembling body through the crushing pressure. He raised his greatsword with both hands.
Creak…
A fissure burst wide open. A hand—pale, human in shape yet drenched in malice—shot out and clamped around Gordon's throat.
"No—!" Gordon's voice broke into a strangled gasp. He struggled, veins bulging, eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to lift his sword, but his arm wouldn't obey. Through the corner of his vision, he caught sight of Rikel rushing toward him.
Creak…
With a sickening twist, the hand wrenched. Gordon's head tore free from his neck. No scream escaped his lips—only his wide, disbelieving eyes remained as his body crumpled to the ground.
"GORDON!" Rikel roared, his knees buckling beneath the weight of the demon's aura. His sword scraped against the blood-soaked earth as despair clawed into his chest.
No… no, how can this be? The report we got from the Elders' Council's secret organization said it was definitely a mid-rank demon… but… I can't even move, despite being at Fourth Severance!?
Rikel's thoughts twisted in despair as dread clawed into his chest.
"C-Captain, what's this? Why… why can't we even move?" Jake, one of the Eternal Division's most renowned knights, stammered. His voice trembled with fear.
All around them, knights were forced to their knees, gasping for breath, their faces pale as if the very air had betrayed them.
"Do not be afraid, Eternal Division!" Rikel barked, his own legs quivering as he fought to rise. Even in the suffocating pressure, he forced his voice steady, trying to ignite their fading morale. "We will kill this demon. It might just be a demon stronger than—"
Creak…
The sound split the silence. A jagged fracture tore across the blood sphere, and with a sickening crack, half of it broke apart. A glimpse of a body emerged—the demon's right side now visible.
Hissssss…
With that hiss, the pressure doubled. The weight crushed down like a mountain, forcing their bodies deeper into the ground.
"H-how are we supposed to fight this…?" one knight whispered, his voice broken with horror.
"...." Rikel could not respond. His body shook, his teeth clenched, his willpower alone keeping him half-standing.
Creeeak…
Another rupture. The crimson prison tore fully open, and from within stepped a man—completely bare, eyes closed, body unmarred and lean like that of a scholar rather than a warrior.
"Huh…?"
Gasps echoed across the ranks.
"What… what the hell is this thing?" another knight croaked, his throat dry.
Panting heavily, the Eternal Division struggled against the invisible force that suffocated them. Their breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts.
Then—
"My, my… it has been a long time," the figure spoke, his voice carrying an unsettling thrill.
As his eyes opened, crimson light burned within them. Long red hair spilled to his waist, wild and untamed, framing a face too sharp, too perfect to belong to a human. But what drew every gaze… were the horns.
Two obsidian-black horns jutted from above his ears, curving upward and forward like a crown—a crown of onyx proclaiming his sovereignty.
All the knights of the Eternal Division had given up. Their bodies sagged as they stopped resisting the crushing pressure, faces pale and eyes dull with despair. The weight was unbearable, like chains dragging their very souls into the earth.
But Rikel… Rikel did not yield.
Teeth gritted, veins straining across his temples, he forced himself to rise. His knees shook, his back screamed in agony—but still, inch by inch, he managed to stand upright.
The crimson-eyed figure tilted his head, his lips curving into something that was not quite a smile.
"Impressive," the demon remarked, his voice smooth, almost curious. "To stand beneath this… your will is commendable."
"Wh–who are you?" Rikel managed, his voice trembling despite his effort to steady it.
"Who am I?" The demon paused, as if the question itself amused him. Then, a low chuckle slipped from his throat. "An odd thing to ask… after waiting so long for me. You summon me here, and don't even bother to explain why?"
As he spoke, strands of scarlet energy unfurled from the air, weaving themselves into a flowing robe that wrapped around his bare form, regal and ominous in equal measure.
"..."
Rikel's silence was heavy, his breath ragged.
The demon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hmm. Now that I think about it… you aren't the ones who summoned me, are you?"
He tapped a clawed finger against his chin, thoughtful, before his voice deepened—resonant, commanding.
"Very well. Since you seem so desperate to know, I shall reveal my name."
The air trembled as if the world itself leaned closer to listen.
"I am the twelfth son of the Demon King of Vengeance. The one who bears the True Lightning Physique."
A pulse of red lightning cracked across the sky, splitting the silence.
"My name…" His eyes burned like twin suns as his lips curved into a sinister grin.
"Dikargo Retrakes."