The Road, Beelzebub

Wind and thunder roared.

"Your wish, I already know it. Sankarabi." A hand reached out from the vortex of energy—a sacred, powerful hand belonging to the First Fallen Angel.

Sankarabi stepped forward, his shriveled, ugly demonic claw lightly resting on that perfect creation.

"I will impart to you every law I know. Regardless of faction."

A surging force, smooth yet hard, erupted from Yicha's hand like a steel needle piercing straight through the cult leader's withered palm.

"You will retain your choice. A road will grow before you. May you find your own laws and direction within it."

Clang, clang, clang.

The piercing sound of metal striking metal.

Everything before Sankarabi's eyes shifted and fell apart. Countless nested, wildly spinning and trembling geometric patterns appeared in the cult leader's eyes.

Triangles, concentric circles, blocks layered into staircases, end-to-end spirals, six interlocking hexagrams, every sixty-six forming another flawless solid.

A cold, hard, dull pain shot rapidly upward from his palm, as though steel nails had instantly been driven through his veins. Murmurs in the demon tongue flooded his mind, chanting of laws.

Laws poured in.

Great terror welled up in the heart of the Fallen Angel Cult's leader, who had never undergone any training in spells.

"Relax," Yicha said.

Sankarabi's lips trembled as he repeatedly recited the prayers he knew by heart with all his strength. The cult members knew nothing, but followed his example and began whimpering prayers beside him.

"Great Holy Spirit, you have opened my heart..."

"Grant me understanding in your presence. Awaken my ears, that I may hear your teachings."

"Please confirm your words to your servant."

"Do not abandon me in times of trial."

"Let us bear witness to your grace and kindness, forever and ever..."

Again and again.

His trust in the First Fallen Angel, deeper than the abyss of grudge-devouring worms, finally rose like a crimson sun and dispelled every shadow.

"Go. Protect your kin. Help yourself." Yicha gently withdrew his arm.

A shudder like an electric shock passed through him.

The magnificent sight of Calamity Stone Floating Island and Hell's twisted sky returned to Sankarabi's vision.

The contents of the crystal vial in his hand drew him powerfully. He lowered his head, staring blankly at the exquisite runes—the symbols upon them were no longer obscure and incomprehensible.

The leader of the Fallen Angel Cult looked around.

Every symbol of law revealed its true nature before his eyes.

Above him, the mana dome, more crystalline than dreams, was composed of dense grids. Tiny geometric shapes flowed through it, gradually completing their outlines and slowly thickening.

His gaze fell upon the First Fallen Angel.

Yicha was already beyond the dome, flying farther away.

"You stay here. Do not leave."

Something gleaming gold fell from the sky. Sankarabi caught it.

It was a golden horn chain.

"Take it to my hellhound..." The voice gradually drifted away.

Sankarabi turned around.

Yifomiet perched high atop Disaster Stone Tower, maintaining his indifferent stance as a guard. The low-ranking demons under his command had already been evacuated, leaving only one commander holding another direction.

Nese's forehead was drenched in sweat from excessive spellcasting. Upon hearing Yicha's words, he did not pause for even a moment, beginning to seek a suitable position to set up a formation and continue reinforcing it.

A blue-purple figure flashed past the cult leader, half harpy and half demon. She wanted to follow the First Fallen Angel, who had flown off alone to face the enemy.

Bang.

It was as if invisible hands had seized her, sending her crashing to the ground.

"Xiqisi. Don't make me order you."

Yifomiet remained seated atop the highest point of the tower without moving. Yet judging from the resentful gaze the Joyful Saintess cast in that direction, it was obvious he had stopped her.

"Hey..."

"The King of All Demons is coming. Do you want to die?"

"What King of All Demons... I'm not like you people, groveling and..." The Joyful Saintess sat on the ground in a highly ungraceful posture and sneered.

Sankarabi did not hear what else Yifomiet said. He spotted the hellhound among some broken statues and hurried over.

"Puppy." He grabbed the golden chain and gave it a shake.

Goodbye barked, took its master's horn chain into its mouth, swallowed it with a gulp, then twisted around and leapt into an emerald-green pool.

The sky suddenly darkened, and the inverted sulfur river became ash-gray and dim in Yicha's eyes.

Countless black dots converged upon him from every direction along utterly irregular paths.

The sound of ten million sesame-seed-sized wings beating began to surround him.

"Command. Buzz."

Yicha heard that familiar voice. He resisted the itching that was beginning to rise within him and tried his best not to turn back.

He had not flown very far. Calamity Stone Floating Island was just behind him. Though he himself could now resist Beelzebub's rank suppression, the other demons could not.

Even Yifomiet might not be able to endure it—almost certainly not might, but definitely could not.

The floating island's defenses should be sufficient.

The rewoven and thickened mana dome. And the martial deterrence of Yifomiet, the Hand of Destruction. Sankarabi and Nese could defend with spells, and within the dome filled with protective power, Xiqisi should be able to protect herself as well.

Keir was absent. The greatest variable should be gone too. Probably.

As long as Beelzebub did not cross him and descend personally, even if his courtyard were ambushed by two other Grand Dukes at once, it should still hold.

Yicha had already evacuated the low-ranking demon soldiers who might be unable to withstand the other party's "command," avoiding chaos and making the situation even more difficult.

It could not be called foolproof, but given the urgency of the situation, it was already a sufficiently thorough plan.

Now, he only needed to stop Beelzebub.

He had better be able to stop him.

"Command command command. Buzz."

Three soft, incomplete, untargeted commands. Like three little claws scratching an itch. Without rank empowerment, Yicha could endure them.

He continued flying onward without a word.

"Huh~ buzz~" said a voice like satin rubbing together.

It sounded as though ten million voices were speaking at once.

The sky went black all at once.

Yicha stopped, hovering in the air.

Dense black specks surrounded him in the blink of an eye, draining every trace of light from this vast area.

Demons could see in darkness.

But Yicha's vision was utterly black.

Silently, a pair of arms gently wrapped around his legs, waist, and shoulders at the same time.

Furry arms with pads, ending in two-jointed, four-toed claws.

"Respected King of All Demons. A command has to be followed by what you want the other person to do. I believe you asked me that three thousand years ago."

Yicha spoke without emotional fluctuation as the Light of Order of the First Fallen Angel shone from his fingertips.

He raised his hand like lightning and slashed swiftly downward. The three arms clutching the right side of his body were severed at their roots and fell.

The thing holding him lost its balance. Its three arms on the left slid slimily down his body, and he forcefully pushed them away.

"I don't care. Darling. Saying command should be enough. Darling. You're not listening to me anymore. Buzz."

Those ten million voices sounded again from behind him.

Three new pairs of arms wrapped around him from behind.

Beelzebub.

He viciously seized one of her arms.

Beelzebub, whom even the holy light of the First Fallen Angel could not illuminate.

After studying the matter, Yicha believed that equating all demons with evil was a prejudice that disregarded the facts.

But this thing was absolutely pure evil, pure chaos.

That was right.