Hell Mode: Volume 7, page 27
BOOM!
The impact shook the church, but Bask did not stop there.
BOOM! BOOM!
He laughed happily as he repeatedly smashed Makkaron’s body into the floor as if slamming a club down. The stone floor eventually shattered and was stained with blood, but he merely used it as a marker of where he should swing Makkaron’s body.
“Makkaron!” the Great Pope shouted.
“Here! He’s all yours!” Bask threw Makkaron’s body, which moved about like a rag doll, toward the Great Pope.
The Great Pope, who remained suspended in the air, realized that this was a feint but was unable to avoid his best friend and held his position. He caught Makkaron’s body as it flew toward him, and while his hands were occupied, Bask, who was hiding behind the guildmaster general’s body, approached with a greatsword from below. His aim was to cut both the Great Pope and Makkaron in two.
However, his blade was repelled by an expanding wall of air. Instead of moving upward, it was pushed in the opposite direction and sent digging into the floor of the church. Bask bared his teeth and glared at the silver-haired man who had stepped between him and the Great Pope.
“Olvahs! You made it in time!”
In response to the Great Pope’s words, the silver-haired man—the ebony-skinned dark elven king, Olvahs—answered with a frown.
“Both of you, why are you taking so much time dealing with such a brat?”
He held one of his hands out toward Bask’s greatsword. The reason he had been able to force the greatsword back without touching it was that he had created an air shield with the help of a wind spirit. No matter how unbelievably powerful Bask’s Berserker Mode was, it seemed that he could not cut through the compressed air head-on.
Moreover, Bask’s intuition told him that a strong murderous spirit was approaching from the entrance to the church on his left.
“Graaahhh! You damn braaat!”
A bestial roar made the church’s pillars tremble, and then a gigantic figure approached with tremendous speed. It slammed its shoulder into Bask’s arm like a massive hammer.
“What the— Gh?!”
Immediately, Bask abandoned the greatsword that had dug into the floor of the church and tried to defend himself, but his opponent was a split second faster. He was blown away in an incomplete defensive posture and collided with one of the pillars.
“Oh, Yoze! You made it too!”
The Great Pope descended to the floor and, while still healing Makkaron’s wounds, looked up at the beastman and rejoiced.
“Hmph. You’ve gotten old, Makkaron. You’re certainly not holding up your title as the God of War.” Yoze, the current Beast King of Albahal, called out to Makkaron while keeping his eyes on Bask. “I’ll let Olvahs apologize for us being late. It’s that asshole’s fault for being so slow to get moving.”
“Unlike the rest of you, I do not fear looters,” Olvahs stated. “Even if I wouldn’t normally go out of my way to attack them, if they sneak into my village, they won’t leave alive. In any case, I’m glad that you two are safe.”
Apparently, the Beast King had convinced the dark elf king to come by saying that if something was not done, it would only be a matter of time before Bask destroyed the dark elf village as well. That was why, Yoze explained, it was best to defeat him before that happened.
“My country isn’t afraid of brats like him either. But the people who live in Garlesia are making a fuss and asking us to get revenge for them.”
Countries that had been attacked by Bask, including Lehmciel, ruled by Birdkin King Uron, relied on Albahal. The Beast King had accepted Makkaron’s invitation because he had seen it as a good opportunity to show his power to other countries.
“What happened to Nenebee and Gressa?” the dark elven king asked. “If we had golems and magic, this wouldn’t be so difficult.”
Makkaron, whose wounds had healed, slowly stood up and responded.
“Those two are no longer with us.”
Hearing that, a slight gloom appeared on the dark elven king’s face. Nenebee, a golem user, and Gressa, a wizard, had once been friends of the four of them.
Makkaron did not miss the slight change in the dark elven king’s face. He reached into the pocket of his tattered jacket and pulled out a dirty adventurer’s ID card. It was one with a gold emblem on it. Makkaron looked at it for a moment, then narrowed his eyes nostalgically.
“The hell? That’s useless garbage,” Bask said, his voice coming from the pillar he had smashed into.
“You don’t seem to understand the true value of this.”
Makkaron’s words caused Bask’s eyes to light up.
“Huh? What do you mean? I don’t need to just hold on to that thing? If I can use it properly, it’d make me stronger?” he asked with a bit of eagerness, but Makkaron quietly shook his head.
“This is proof that I was with my friends in our party, Majestic Wind. All life on this planet, not just humans, is supported by others. That fact gives me strength.”
He put the dirty adventurer’s ID back in his pocket, then bent down and braced himself.
“Bah. That’s it? Then it’s trash after all.”
Practically spitting out those words, Bask drew the greatsword he carried on his back and held it at the ready.
“Yoze. Your son has succeeded the beast throne, right?”
“Yes. I have granted some of my power to Muza, but I am still the same as usual.”
After responding, the Beast King looked up to the sky. “Beast God Garm, lend me your strength! Beast Mode! Graaah!”
Following his loud roar, the Beast King’s gigantic body swelled further, turning him into a bipedal lion over three meters tall. Bask looked up at the Beast King, who was moving toward him while letting out a beastly roar, and smiled, narrowing his dilated eyes.
“Awesome! This is so fun! Looks like there’s something worth killing, heh heh!”
Then, just as he took a casual step, he jumped at the Beast King’s chest and raised the greatsword he held in both hands. The Beast King’s fist, equipped with orichalcum knuckles, struck the side of the blade, deflecting the thrust. When Bask realized that his stabbing attack had failed, he swung his sword and blocked the Beast King’s follow-up punch with it, at the same time searching for an opportunity to attack.
It was then that the voice of the dark elven king echoed. “Great spirit of the swamp, give me power! Bottomless Swamp!”
Bask caught sight of the dark elven king out of the corner of his eye. The floor of the church turned into mud from beneath the man’s feet, and he was shimmering as if enveloped in a heat haze.
“Huh?! What’s happened to my legs?!”
When the mud reached Bask’s feet, parts of it rose up like tentacles and tangled around his ankles.
“Raaah!”
“Hrngh!”
For a moment, Bask was glued to the spot, and the Beast King and Makkaron did not miss their chance to attack him. They threw a flurry of fists at him, and even when he shook off his muddy restraints, they quickly chased after him and continued their assault.
Eventually, Bask was cornered against the wall of the church. He pressed a Flower of Muellerze against his abdomen, which had been torn by the claws on the Beast King’s feet, but the healing effect was insufficient. He would not stop losing blood.
“Damn it!”
“Looks like you’ve run out of recovery items.”
Calmly assessing the situation, the dark elven king, who served as the brains of Majestic Wind, looked to the Beast King and Makkaron to deal the final blow.
“Wait. This man can still change his ways.”
“Have you truly gone senile, Makkaron?” the Beast King objected. “It’s hard not to realize that this guy has reached the point of no return. Even if you spare his life here, he will only end up shedding more blood as a result of his own greed.”
The dark elven king nodded silently at the Beast King’s words. Makkaron looked at the Great Pope, but he, too, shook his head. His trusted friends’ decision helped him make up his mind. By then, however, Bask had decided to withdraw.
“Heh heh heh. I wanted that necklace, but if I die, it won’t do me any good. Hrah!”
Bask slammed his elbow into the wall behind him, causing the stone wall to crumble and leave a gaping hole. The group of four hurriedly tried to chase after him, but he quickly crawled through the hole and emerged in the corridor outside the hall. He smashed the wall of the corridor in front of him with a kick and exited into the outer courtyard.
“You flee now, Bask?!”
The angry voice of the Beast King, whose body was too large to fit through the hole, coming from behind him was all Bask could hear as he ran straight through the silent courtyard. He slashed the wall separating the courtyard from the outside with his only remaining greatsword, then slammed his shoulder into it.
Beyond the wall was the top of a hill overlooking the religious capital of Teomenia, and at Bask’s feet was the edge of a cliff. If he took one step, he would drop more than ten meters headlong to the loading ramp surrounding the hill.
“Bask! Wait!”
The moment Bask heard Makkaron’s voice, he took the final step without hesitation.
When Makkaron’s group of four arrived in front of a hole in the outer wall of the church, they saw that Bask’s bloodstains stopped in front of it. And when they peered far below, they saw new bloodstains that had been left behind. They entered the loading ramp from the stairs in front of the church and headed to that location, but apart from the numerous bloodstains, they found no trace of Bask.
“Istahl, stop the departure of all magic ships and blockade the city. Don’t let him escape.”
“Of course.” The Great Pope nodded deeply at the Beast King’s words.
＊ ＊ ＊
Bask had escaped before Teomenia was locked down. However, he was still deeply wounded and had run out of recovery items. It would not be possible for him to return to Teomenia, which was guarded by holy soldiers, so he fled into the nearby forest and hid in a convenient tree hollow. He spent several days there without eating or drinking.
“Damn, I’ll kill them all eventually.”
Bask, who could have died on the spot just from his fall, had escaped the city while losing blood from a wound in his stomach that had never closed. It was only thanks to his incredible life force, more akin to a beast’s than a human’s, that he had managed to get as far as he had.
However, when Bask finally lost too much blood and started to lose consciousness, his wounded animallike senses picked up on the presence of someone approaching him. He gripped his remaining greatsword while his other hand pressed down to prevent his internal organs from protruding out of the wound in his stomach. If he did not kill these pursuers, the Beast King and his party would soon be arriving next.
As he held his breath and waited for the moment the enemy was closest so he could attack, he saw an upside-down face peering in from above the entrance to the tree hollow.
“What?!”
Bask immediately tried to thrust out his greatsword.
“Wait a minute! I’m on your side. Now put away that terrifying thing!” the upside-down face said in a childlike voice.
“Who the hell are you?! I don’t have any allies!”
Even though Bask was shouting insults, he instinctively knew that this person was not his pursuer and was inwardly relieved.
“Then I’ll be your ally from now on, so please don’t attack.”
As the person spoke, their face flipped over to reveal a clown-like man wearing a mask standing at the entrance to the tree hollow. Although his hands were raised to his face to indicate that he was unarmed, Bask did not trust even unarmed opponents.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Heh heh. My name is Kyubel. I came to help you. So, come on! Put down your weapon!”
“To help?”
“It’s more like a solicitation, to be precise. If you come with me, you’ll be able to fight against strong enemies and get your hands on amazing weapons and magic tools. Of course, I’ll heal that wound as well.”
“Huh? I don’t understand. How does that benefit you at all?” Bask said as he looked for an opening in his opponent. In doing so, he came to the unquestionable realization that this playfully dressed opponent, contrary to his appearance, had no openings to speak of.
“I am the Strategist of the Demon Lord Army. There’s a plan I would really like to put in motion, but for it, I need someone as powerful as you.”
“I don’t like groups,” Bask spat, remembering the four people who had cornered him as well as all those who had interfered with his life.
“Your help will only be needed when the plan requires it, and there’s no need for you to worship the Demon Lord. He said so himself, and I don’t worship him either.”
“Give me some time to think it over.”
The moment Bask said that, the man who called himself Kyubel took a quick step back and suddenly started screaming.
“Heeey!” Kyubel hollered. “I found Baaask! Someone! Anyone!”
“You son of a... I’ll kill you!”
Bask rushed out of the tree hollow, his face red with anger, but his cornered beast’s senses registered the footsteps of those approaching who seemed to have heard Kyubel’s voice.
“So? What now? They have already contacted Makkaron and the others using magic tools. Will you stay here, or...?”
Bask looked at Kyubel. He could not tell what the Strategist concealed behind the mask was thinking, but his intuition told him that Kyubel was not lying.
“You better not be lying to me,” Bask finally said.
“Of course not.”
“Hmph, I guess that’s interesting too. I was just thinking that the human world was getting to be troublesome.”
If the Demon Lord Army became troublesome as well, Bask would just kill them all and leave.
“We’re comrades, then.” Kyubel held out his hand.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go along with your plan. But in exchange, you’re going to make me stronger.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
Soon after, holy soldiers located a huge tree with a hollow in it, but only bloodstains remained inside. Bask was nowhere to be found.
Side Story 4: Supreme Commander Ardoe’s Loyalty
Ardoe, the Supreme Commander of the Demon Lord Army, walked quickly through the halls of the Demon Lord’s palace.
He had short-cropped hair and the purple skin typical of the demon race, and stood two and a half meters tall, wearing a long cloak that reached down to his knees. As the cloak embroidered with the emblem of the Demon Lord Army fluttered on his back, his lean body could be seen underneath.
When demons passing through the halls saw him, they stopped where they were and stood at attention until he had passed by and the emblem on his back was no longer visible. This was not only because Ardoe was the Supreme Commander of the Demon Lord Army, but also because he was a high-ranking demon god and the head of the Six Great Demon Gods, an operational unit under the direct control of the Demon Lord. There were very few demons who did not tense up in front of him, as he truly was the Demon Lord’s right-hand man. In fact, when Ardoe swiftly walked by them as he frowned without providing even a passing glance, the other demons were terrified. What could have possibly occurred that made even the Supreme Commander look so discontented?
Eventually, Ardoe arrived in front of the door he was heading to. He called out to the two high-ranking demons guarding it.
“Is Director Shinorom here?”
“Supreme Commander, sir!”
“Of course the director is here!”
The high-ranking demons saw murderous intent on Ardoe’s already frightening face and managed to open the door even though they were on the verge of fainting.
Ardoe entered the laboratory belonging to Shinorom, the head of monster soldier research. Near the entrance, there were magic tools that appeared to be research equipment, as well as the limbs of dismembered monsters and humans. There was still a path through this mess, and Ardoe followed it without slowing down.
Blub blub.
After a while, he could hear the sound of bubbles bursting. His path was blocked by transparent tubes, lined up at equal intervals like pillars in a temple. The tubes were filled with some sort of liquid, and in one such tube was a human body whose lower half had been replaced by that of a giant scorpion. In another, a human face was embedded into the head of a giant salamander, and elsewhere, other bizarre fusions of humans and animals could be seen submerged. Bubbles spouted from the bases of the tubes, rose around the fusions, and burst at the surface.
Ardoe ignored the tubes, walking past them before coming to a halt in front of a particularly large transparent cylinder that sat in the center of the laboratory. Inside was a fused body featuring the heads of both a man and a woman, as well as two sets of limbs. Unlike the other fusions, however, this one’s muscles were trembling and blood vessels were constricting all over its body, making it appear to be alive.
In front of the tube was a small demon man surrounded by several assistants. The back of the white coat he wore was bent, his white hair was greasy and disheveled, and wrinkles and spots spread all over his face. Yet his large eyes shone brightly as he gazed at the stone tablet with glowing letters that was attached to the base of the transparent cylinder. The expression on his face as he touched and stroked the tablet was somehow childlike.
“There you are, Director Shinorom.”
Ardoe’s voice echoed in the dimly lit laboratory, but the old man in the white coat, Director Shinorom, did not seem to have heard him.
“I’ll just do this, then this, and that! Perfect! What?! Th-These numbers! Magnificent!”
Unlike Director Shinorom, who continued to scream with excitement as he compared the letters floating on the stone tablet against the parchment spread out before him, the assistants had gone pale. They were terrified of the extremely imposing Ardoe.
Ardoe could clearly feel blood rushing to his face, but in an effort to calm his anger, he let out a long sigh. He then took a deep breath, his toned chest doubling in size as he inhaled.
The impact shook the church, but Bask did not stop there.
BOOM! BOOM!
He laughed happily as he repeatedly smashed Makkaron’s body into the floor as if slamming a club down. The stone floor eventually shattered and was stained with blood, but he merely used it as a marker of where he should swing Makkaron’s body.
“Makkaron!” the Great Pope shouted.
“Here! He’s all yours!” Bask threw Makkaron’s body, which moved about like a rag doll, toward the Great Pope.
The Great Pope, who remained suspended in the air, realized that this was a feint but was unable to avoid his best friend and held his position. He caught Makkaron’s body as it flew toward him, and while his hands were occupied, Bask, who was hiding behind the guildmaster general’s body, approached with a greatsword from below. His aim was to cut both the Great Pope and Makkaron in two.
However, his blade was repelled by an expanding wall of air. Instead of moving upward, it was pushed in the opposite direction and sent digging into the floor of the church. Bask bared his teeth and glared at the silver-haired man who had stepped between him and the Great Pope.
“Olvahs! You made it in time!”
In response to the Great Pope’s words, the silver-haired man—the ebony-skinned dark elven king, Olvahs—answered with a frown.
“Both of you, why are you taking so much time dealing with such a brat?”
He held one of his hands out toward Bask’s greatsword. The reason he had been able to force the greatsword back without touching it was that he had created an air shield with the help of a wind spirit. No matter how unbelievably powerful Bask’s Berserker Mode was, it seemed that he could not cut through the compressed air head-on.
Moreover, Bask’s intuition told him that a strong murderous spirit was approaching from the entrance to the church on his left.
“Graaahhh! You damn braaat!”
A bestial roar made the church’s pillars tremble, and then a gigantic figure approached with tremendous speed. It slammed its shoulder into Bask’s arm like a massive hammer.
“What the— Gh?!”
Immediately, Bask abandoned the greatsword that had dug into the floor of the church and tried to defend himself, but his opponent was a split second faster. He was blown away in an incomplete defensive posture and collided with one of the pillars.
“Oh, Yoze! You made it too!”
The Great Pope descended to the floor and, while still healing Makkaron’s wounds, looked up at the beastman and rejoiced.
“Hmph. You’ve gotten old, Makkaron. You’re certainly not holding up your title as the God of War.” Yoze, the current Beast King of Albahal, called out to Makkaron while keeping his eyes on Bask. “I’ll let Olvahs apologize for us being late. It’s that asshole’s fault for being so slow to get moving.”
“Unlike the rest of you, I do not fear looters,” Olvahs stated. “Even if I wouldn’t normally go out of my way to attack them, if they sneak into my village, they won’t leave alive. In any case, I’m glad that you two are safe.”
Apparently, the Beast King had convinced the dark elf king to come by saying that if something was not done, it would only be a matter of time before Bask destroyed the dark elf village as well. That was why, Yoze explained, it was best to defeat him before that happened.
“My country isn’t afraid of brats like him either. But the people who live in Garlesia are making a fuss and asking us to get revenge for them.”
Countries that had been attacked by Bask, including Lehmciel, ruled by Birdkin King Uron, relied on Albahal. The Beast King had accepted Makkaron’s invitation because he had seen it as a good opportunity to show his power to other countries.
“What happened to Nenebee and Gressa?” the dark elven king asked. “If we had golems and magic, this wouldn’t be so difficult.”
Makkaron, whose wounds had healed, slowly stood up and responded.
“Those two are no longer with us.”
Hearing that, a slight gloom appeared on the dark elven king’s face. Nenebee, a golem user, and Gressa, a wizard, had once been friends of the four of them.
Makkaron did not miss the slight change in the dark elven king’s face. He reached into the pocket of his tattered jacket and pulled out a dirty adventurer’s ID card. It was one with a gold emblem on it. Makkaron looked at it for a moment, then narrowed his eyes nostalgically.
“The hell? That’s useless garbage,” Bask said, his voice coming from the pillar he had smashed into.
“You don’t seem to understand the true value of this.”
Makkaron’s words caused Bask’s eyes to light up.
“Huh? What do you mean? I don’t need to just hold on to that thing? If I can use it properly, it’d make me stronger?” he asked with a bit of eagerness, but Makkaron quietly shook his head.
“This is proof that I was with my friends in our party, Majestic Wind. All life on this planet, not just humans, is supported by others. That fact gives me strength.”
He put the dirty adventurer’s ID back in his pocket, then bent down and braced himself.
“Bah. That’s it? Then it’s trash after all.”
Practically spitting out those words, Bask drew the greatsword he carried on his back and held it at the ready.
“Yoze. Your son has succeeded the beast throne, right?”
“Yes. I have granted some of my power to Muza, but I am still the same as usual.”
After responding, the Beast King looked up to the sky. “Beast God Garm, lend me your strength! Beast Mode! Graaah!”
Following his loud roar, the Beast King’s gigantic body swelled further, turning him into a bipedal lion over three meters tall. Bask looked up at the Beast King, who was moving toward him while letting out a beastly roar, and smiled, narrowing his dilated eyes.
“Awesome! This is so fun! Looks like there’s something worth killing, heh heh!”
Then, just as he took a casual step, he jumped at the Beast King’s chest and raised the greatsword he held in both hands. The Beast King’s fist, equipped with orichalcum knuckles, struck the side of the blade, deflecting the thrust. When Bask realized that his stabbing attack had failed, he swung his sword and blocked the Beast King’s follow-up punch with it, at the same time searching for an opportunity to attack.
It was then that the voice of the dark elven king echoed. “Great spirit of the swamp, give me power! Bottomless Swamp!”
Bask caught sight of the dark elven king out of the corner of his eye. The floor of the church turned into mud from beneath the man’s feet, and he was shimmering as if enveloped in a heat haze.
“Huh?! What’s happened to my legs?!”
When the mud reached Bask’s feet, parts of it rose up like tentacles and tangled around his ankles.
“Raaah!”
“Hrngh!”
For a moment, Bask was glued to the spot, and the Beast King and Makkaron did not miss their chance to attack him. They threw a flurry of fists at him, and even when he shook off his muddy restraints, they quickly chased after him and continued their assault.
Eventually, Bask was cornered against the wall of the church. He pressed a Flower of Muellerze against his abdomen, which had been torn by the claws on the Beast King’s feet, but the healing effect was insufficient. He would not stop losing blood.
“Damn it!”
“Looks like you’ve run out of recovery items.”
Calmly assessing the situation, the dark elven king, who served as the brains of Majestic Wind, looked to the Beast King and Makkaron to deal the final blow.
“Wait. This man can still change his ways.”
“Have you truly gone senile, Makkaron?” the Beast King objected. “It’s hard not to realize that this guy has reached the point of no return. Even if you spare his life here, he will only end up shedding more blood as a result of his own greed.”
The dark elven king nodded silently at the Beast King’s words. Makkaron looked at the Great Pope, but he, too, shook his head. His trusted friends’ decision helped him make up his mind. By then, however, Bask had decided to withdraw.
“Heh heh heh. I wanted that necklace, but if I die, it won’t do me any good. Hrah!”
Bask slammed his elbow into the wall behind him, causing the stone wall to crumble and leave a gaping hole. The group of four hurriedly tried to chase after him, but he quickly crawled through the hole and emerged in the corridor outside the hall. He smashed the wall of the corridor in front of him with a kick and exited into the outer courtyard.
“You flee now, Bask?!”
The angry voice of the Beast King, whose body was too large to fit through the hole, coming from behind him was all Bask could hear as he ran straight through the silent courtyard. He slashed the wall separating the courtyard from the outside with his only remaining greatsword, then slammed his shoulder into it.
Beyond the wall was the top of a hill overlooking the religious capital of Teomenia, and at Bask’s feet was the edge of a cliff. If he took one step, he would drop more than ten meters headlong to the loading ramp surrounding the hill.
“Bask! Wait!”
The moment Bask heard Makkaron’s voice, he took the final step without hesitation.
When Makkaron’s group of four arrived in front of a hole in the outer wall of the church, they saw that Bask’s bloodstains stopped in front of it. And when they peered far below, they saw new bloodstains that had been left behind. They entered the loading ramp from the stairs in front of the church and headed to that location, but apart from the numerous bloodstains, they found no trace of Bask.
“Istahl, stop the departure of all magic ships and blockade the city. Don’t let him escape.”
“Of course.” The Great Pope nodded deeply at the Beast King’s words.
＊ ＊ ＊
Bask had escaped before Teomenia was locked down. However, he was still deeply wounded and had run out of recovery items. It would not be possible for him to return to Teomenia, which was guarded by holy soldiers, so he fled into the nearby forest and hid in a convenient tree hollow. He spent several days there without eating or drinking.
“Damn, I’ll kill them all eventually.”
Bask, who could have died on the spot just from his fall, had escaped the city while losing blood from a wound in his stomach that had never closed. It was only thanks to his incredible life force, more akin to a beast’s than a human’s, that he had managed to get as far as he had.
However, when Bask finally lost too much blood and started to lose consciousness, his wounded animallike senses picked up on the presence of someone approaching him. He gripped his remaining greatsword while his other hand pressed down to prevent his internal organs from protruding out of the wound in his stomach. If he did not kill these pursuers, the Beast King and his party would soon be arriving next.
As he held his breath and waited for the moment the enemy was closest so he could attack, he saw an upside-down face peering in from above the entrance to the tree hollow.
“What?!”
Bask immediately tried to thrust out his greatsword.
“Wait a minute! I’m on your side. Now put away that terrifying thing!” the upside-down face said in a childlike voice.
“Who the hell are you?! I don’t have any allies!”
Even though Bask was shouting insults, he instinctively knew that this person was not his pursuer and was inwardly relieved.
“Then I’ll be your ally from now on, so please don’t attack.”
As the person spoke, their face flipped over to reveal a clown-like man wearing a mask standing at the entrance to the tree hollow. Although his hands were raised to his face to indicate that he was unarmed, Bask did not trust even unarmed opponents.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Heh heh. My name is Kyubel. I came to help you. So, come on! Put down your weapon!”
“To help?”
“It’s more like a solicitation, to be precise. If you come with me, you’ll be able to fight against strong enemies and get your hands on amazing weapons and magic tools. Of course, I’ll heal that wound as well.”
“Huh? I don’t understand. How does that benefit you at all?” Bask said as he looked for an opening in his opponent. In doing so, he came to the unquestionable realization that this playfully dressed opponent, contrary to his appearance, had no openings to speak of.
“I am the Strategist of the Demon Lord Army. There’s a plan I would really like to put in motion, but for it, I need someone as powerful as you.”
“I don’t like groups,” Bask spat, remembering the four people who had cornered him as well as all those who had interfered with his life.
“Your help will only be needed when the plan requires it, and there’s no need for you to worship the Demon Lord. He said so himself, and I don’t worship him either.”
“Give me some time to think it over.”
The moment Bask said that, the man who called himself Kyubel took a quick step back and suddenly started screaming.
“Heeey!” Kyubel hollered. “I found Baaask! Someone! Anyone!”
“You son of a... I’ll kill you!”
Bask rushed out of the tree hollow, his face red with anger, but his cornered beast’s senses registered the footsteps of those approaching who seemed to have heard Kyubel’s voice.
“So? What now? They have already contacted Makkaron and the others using magic tools. Will you stay here, or...?”
Bask looked at Kyubel. He could not tell what the Strategist concealed behind the mask was thinking, but his intuition told him that Kyubel was not lying.
“You better not be lying to me,” Bask finally said.
“Of course not.”
“Hmph, I guess that’s interesting too. I was just thinking that the human world was getting to be troublesome.”
If the Demon Lord Army became troublesome as well, Bask would just kill them all and leave.
“We’re comrades, then.” Kyubel held out his hand.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go along with your plan. But in exchange, you’re going to make me stronger.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
Soon after, holy soldiers located a huge tree with a hollow in it, but only bloodstains remained inside. Bask was nowhere to be found.
Side Story 4: Supreme Commander Ardoe’s Loyalty
Ardoe, the Supreme Commander of the Demon Lord Army, walked quickly through the halls of the Demon Lord’s palace.
He had short-cropped hair and the purple skin typical of the demon race, and stood two and a half meters tall, wearing a long cloak that reached down to his knees. As the cloak embroidered with the emblem of the Demon Lord Army fluttered on his back, his lean body could be seen underneath.
When demons passing through the halls saw him, they stopped where they were and stood at attention until he had passed by and the emblem on his back was no longer visible. This was not only because Ardoe was the Supreme Commander of the Demon Lord Army, but also because he was a high-ranking demon god and the head of the Six Great Demon Gods, an operational unit under the direct control of the Demon Lord. There were very few demons who did not tense up in front of him, as he truly was the Demon Lord’s right-hand man. In fact, when Ardoe swiftly walked by them as he frowned without providing even a passing glance, the other demons were terrified. What could have possibly occurred that made even the Supreme Commander look so discontented?
Eventually, Ardoe arrived in front of the door he was heading to. He called out to the two high-ranking demons guarding it.
“Is Director Shinorom here?”
“Supreme Commander, sir!”
“Of course the director is here!”
The high-ranking demons saw murderous intent on Ardoe’s already frightening face and managed to open the door even though they were on the verge of fainting.
Ardoe entered the laboratory belonging to Shinorom, the head of monster soldier research. Near the entrance, there were magic tools that appeared to be research equipment, as well as the limbs of dismembered monsters and humans. There was still a path through this mess, and Ardoe followed it without slowing down.
Blub blub.
After a while, he could hear the sound of bubbles bursting. His path was blocked by transparent tubes, lined up at equal intervals like pillars in a temple. The tubes were filled with some sort of liquid, and in one such tube was a human body whose lower half had been replaced by that of a giant scorpion. In another, a human face was embedded into the head of a giant salamander, and elsewhere, other bizarre fusions of humans and animals could be seen submerged. Bubbles spouted from the bases of the tubes, rose around the fusions, and burst at the surface.
Ardoe ignored the tubes, walking past them before coming to a halt in front of a particularly large transparent cylinder that sat in the center of the laboratory. Inside was a fused body featuring the heads of both a man and a woman, as well as two sets of limbs. Unlike the other fusions, however, this one’s muscles were trembling and blood vessels were constricting all over its body, making it appear to be alive.
In front of the tube was a small demon man surrounded by several assistants. The back of the white coat he wore was bent, his white hair was greasy and disheveled, and wrinkles and spots spread all over his face. Yet his large eyes shone brightly as he gazed at the stone tablet with glowing letters that was attached to the base of the transparent cylinder. The expression on his face as he touched and stroked the tablet was somehow childlike.
“There you are, Director Shinorom.”
Ardoe’s voice echoed in the dimly lit laboratory, but the old man in the white coat, Director Shinorom, did not seem to have heard him.
“I’ll just do this, then this, and that! Perfect! What?! Th-These numbers! Magnificent!”
Unlike Director Shinorom, who continued to scream with excitement as he compared the letters floating on the stone tablet against the parchment spread out before him, the assistants had gone pale. They were terrified of the extremely imposing Ardoe.
Ardoe could clearly feel blood rushing to his face, but in an effort to calm his anger, he let out a long sigh. He then took a deep breath, his toned chest doubling in size as he inhaled.
