Since that day, I have performed the 'Daily Rite of Skull-Crushing Atonement' once every twenty-four hours.
Of course, the atonement isn't mine to perform; it belongs to the sinners. And it isn't my skull being crushed; it's theirs.
To be precise, I stay true to the 'once a day' rule—if I kill them once, they're done for the day.
It's not because I feel pity for those bastards. It's purely because I'm short-handed.
If I truly wanted to, I could pop all 320 of their heads in a single second like I was cracking open soda cans. Instead, I take my time, killing them one by one with deliberate care.
"Get lost!! Stay away from me!!"
"Like hell I'm going anywhere. Give me more."
"Ugh—Aaaargh!!"
I gave a thin smirk as I spoke. The sinner charged at me with his fists raised, and I let him hit me.
The man swung his fists with desperate, life-ending fervor. But when he saw that I didn't even blink, he seemed to lose his mind, sinking to the ground with a deranged giggle.
His head was at the perfect height for a kick. I obliged.
Thwack! With a wet sound, his head was torn clean off, colliding with a nearby boulder and turning into a bloody mess.
"Gasp...!"
"Hm?"
I heard the sound of someone catching their breath near that boulder. I scanned the area, but I didn't see anyone immediately.
"Must have misheard."
...He's probably waiting for me to think exactly that and move on.
I scratched my ear and pretended to walk away, whispering, "Did he go...?" Once the hidden bastard let his guard down, I instantly teleported right next to the rock he was crouching behind.
"Did you really think I left?"
"Waaaaaaagh!!!"
He let out a scream that could pierce the heavens. Apparently, I gave him such a fright that his heart simply stopped, and he died on the spot.
...I didn't expect him to be *that* shocked.
Anyway, this is how I've been killing all 320 of them, one by one. It takes about two to three minutes to catch and kill each one. Times 320... it takes thirteen hours just to kill these pieces of shit.
I'm spending more than half my day slaughtering these scum. It's a total drag.
If it's such a drag, why do I bother? Because death must never become a habit. That is why I go through the effort.
A painless death that arrives in a fraction of a second ceases to be a terror; it becomes a routine. Death without suffering is no longer a punishment.
If dying in Hell becomes daily life rather than a penalty, these bastards might eventually start lining up to be first in the queue whenever I show up, thinking, 'Might as well get it over with.'
"Please... Stop...!! I'm begging you, I'll do anything! Please, let me live...!"
"I'm sure the people who died by your hand begged like that too. What did you say back then?"
"...Th-That was..."
"If you wanted to live, you shouldn't have committed the sin."
I slowly crushed the begging sinner's head under my heel.
I turned toward another sinner creeping up on me from the side. I saw something glinting in his hand—a jagged obsidian shard he'd broken off to use as a blade.
"Dieeee!!"
Stab. I let the obsidian dagger strike my stomach. Forget a puncture wound; it didn't even leave a scratch.
"Why... Why won't you die...!!"
"You're tearing my clothes, you brat."
I delivered a kick to his shoulder, tearing off the arm holding the dagger, and then separated his head from his body in one smooth motion.
Basically... the conclusion is that I'm putting in the effort to prevent them from becoming accustomed to the end. Since I was the one who volunteered for this, I should at least put in the minimum amount of work.
But damn it, why is the 'minimum' so high? Motherf—
I don't just rest in the time between skull-crushing, either. I'm currently undergoing the massive restructuring of Hell I discussed with Shiryu. Splitting the land, dividing sectors, planting an entire forest of Hell Trees in one area, moving various objects—stuff like that.
As a result, I haven't slept in months.
Fortunately, this body isn't the type to get sick from lack of sleep, but the mental fatigue is agonizing.
The project itself is a long-term plan that couldn't possibly be finished in a day or two, so I don't technically need to keep such a tight schedule. But because I'm so short-handed, I can't keep up if I don't work like this.
It would have been great if I could use Hozuki as labor, but that's not an option. I have to do it all alone.
What use is a kid trapped in some idealist fantasy about saving 'pitiful' sinners?
"Speaking of which, where the hell has he been lately?"
I haven't seen his face in weeks. What exactly is he doing?
I spread my senses to locate him and felt his presence near the crater where he had tried to fish the sinners out before.
The good news was that there were no more sinners in that crater. The confusing part was what he was doing there if the crater was empty.
I ripped the 320th sinner's body into upper and lower halves and then began walking toward the mountain where Hozuki was.
"What the..."
When I arrived at the crater, Hozuki was kneeling, staring off toward the direction where the sinners were gathered.
He didn't speak. He didn't even seem to be breathing. He just sat there with tears streaming down his face.
"What are you doing?"
"I was contemplating how to save the sinners from their agony."
Hozuki was weeping, but strangely, his voice didn't tremble at all.
"Are you still on about that 'pitiful' nonsense? I told you, those bastards don't deserve that treatment. These are guys who took joy in slaughtering others, who lived by ruining people's lives. What's so pitiful about them?"
"It is not because of that."
What...?
I didn't expect those words to come out of Hozuki's mouth, of all people.
As I stared at him with wide eyes, Hozuki watched the sinners in the distance and spoke.
"From this distance, the sinners do not look like sinners. They simply look like ordinary people."
"Because those bastards are..."
"I am not speaking of their essence. I am saying that despite their sins, their outward appearance here is no different from any other human being."
...Something has changed since last time.
I sat down next to him and looked out toward the sinners.
Hozuki was right. If you watched them without knowing they were sinners, they did look like normal people.
It was obvious, really. In the end, they were humans too.
Their actions were lower than vermin, but they were still human-adjacent beings.
"So? What's your point?"
"I was thinking: Why did they have to commit sins unlike ordinary people? What forced them to sin?"
"And? Did you find your answer?"
"It is because they wandered without anyone to lead them. My heart aches so much that my tears will not stop."
If there had been someone to guide them, they wouldn't have had to suffer like this.
They wouldn't have had to fall to Hell.
"So? What do you want to do about it?"
"I... do not know yet."
"I shall contemplate it further."
Hozuki just kept his eyes wide, staring at the sinners.
When Hozuki first caused that mess, I never thought he'd end up thinking this way.
Seeing him lost in thought like that... it was a chilling reflection of how Kagaya used to look just before he reached his own 'Enlightenment.'
"...Good luck with that."
As long as he doesn't do something crazy to 'save' those bastards right now, I have no reason to interfere.
Leaving Hozuki behind—who was watching the sinners with unblinking eyes as if afraid to miss a single moment—I walked away to finish my work.
I'd already finished splitting Hell apart a few days ago.
Hell is obscenely vast, so it was a bit of a hassle, but since it just involved smashing things according to my intuition, it wasn't particularly difficult.
Instead, a much larger problem had cropped up.
The Eight Hot Hells and Eight Cold Hells—the realms of the Ten Kings.
As far as I remember, the Ten Kings' judgment starts with the Hell of the Mountain of Needles...
"Fuck... where am I going to find enough swords?"
I'm just getting started, and there's already an error.
For places like the Hell of Boiling Water or the Hell of Tongue-Pulling, I can just use existing lava and pull tongues out by hand. But the Hell of the Mountain of Needles and the Hell of the Forest of Swords require actual blades. I have no blades.
And then there's the Eight Cold Hells. How the hell do I manage those?
There is a desert, but it's just 'a bit chilly' if you stand there. It's nowhere near what could be called 'Hellish.'
I racked my brain for an answer, but nothing came to me.
"Sigh..."
If I'd known this would happen, I would have at least learned some Demon Arts.
Ah, wait. Even if I knew them, I can't use them because I have no spiritual power.
"...Wait a minute?"
If I can't use them, I just have to find someone who can and make them do the work.
Why didn't I think of that before?
"The bastard who actually created Kido is right here in Hell, after all."
A grin spread across my face as I turned toward the absolute edge of Hell—the Naraka.
I stretched my senses as far as they could go. Deep within Naraka, the 'Hell outside of Hell,' I felt a presence. It was curled up, floating aimlessly like someone who had given up on thinking altogether.
That's right. Tsunayashiro Jomon.
Even if he's a sinner, it's only right to put his skills to use if he has them.
Actually, that's just an excuse. There's no way I'm going to work my ass off alone while he's lounging around, floating in the abyss.
'Hey Jomon, buddy, come do a little job with me.'
'It's nothing hard. Just a simple assistant gig.'
'When we're done, I'll even let you wear one of the Ten Kings' hats.'
As I planned how to cook and serve Jomon, I began walking toward the Naraka.
"Hehe... a new slave."
You're sentenced to twenty-four hours of unpaid labor a day.