#11
As the command was given, the dozens of men surrounding Hereis tightened their grip on the sharp weapons in their hands.
Their weapons were diverse: short daggers, large, thick knives typically used for butchering meat, crudely carved wooden spears that might have belonged to paupers, and even rusted sickles.
It seemed their intention was to mutilate Hereis. They likely meant to hack him to pieces, preventing even his divine power from self-healing, in an effort to extinguish his life as quickly as possible.
“Kill him!”
The leader roared, charging toward Hereis. The other men, too, raised their various weapons and rushed him.
The divine power, overflowing within his entire being, naturally began to exert its strength, attempting to protect his body. Yet, Hereis deliberately suppressed it, forcing it down completely. He then closed his eyes, surrendering his entire body to the agony of being torn apart.
Thrust! Slash! Hack! Rend!
Daggers and spears pierced Hereis’s body. An overwhelming, searing pain paralyzed his entire being.
A blunt knife hacked at his arm, nearly severing it, while a rusted sickle grazed his neck, tearing through his flesh.
Splurt!
Streams of blood erupted from various parts of his body. The crimson gushes from Hereis’s wounds drenched the assassins, who were dressed in pauper’s rags.
The assassins were not content with a single strike. They repeatedly pulled out the blades embedded in his body only to stab him again and again. Hereis, experiencing the extreme agony of his body being torn to shreds, managed a faint smile. Blood gushed from his half-severed throat, filling his mouth.
Only the divine power, forcibly suppressed, barely clung to his life force; Hereis was effectively already dead. Just as his consciousness began to fade, he uttered a name he had never dared to speak aloud, a name he had yearned for desperately in his heart.
“…Bella…rossa….”
The Demon King’s name, forbidden even to utter, faintly escaped Hereis’s lips, mingling with streams of blood. The moment he fearlessly called out his name before others, the Seal of the Contract near Hereis’s heart erupted with light. Witnessing that radiance, Hereis felt a thrill and ecstasy that instantly quelled his terrible pain.
‘This time, you simply must come to me, Bellarossa. Otherwise, you will lose your contractor without having fulfilled the contract. So please, reveal yourself. My savior, who will drag me down to the very depths of hell….’
****
[‘…Bella…rossa….’]
The faint call, as if piercing his very soul, shook Jeha.
Jeha, who had been deep in a languid afternoon nap, snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright. The Seal of the Contract, etched upon his heart, pulsed faintly as if on the verge of extinguishing. He knew instinctively that his contractor, Hereis, was dying.
Without a moment’s thought, Jeha dissolved into the air.
When he opened his eyes again, the scene before him had completely transformed. The sensation of the air against his nose and skin was subtly alien. Just as it had been when he first stepped into this world, summoned by Hereis, the thick stench of blood assailed his nostrils.
He saw a throng of humans clustered together, frantically swinging their arms. Drenched in crimson blood, they were madly stabbing and slashing at someone. Lying amidst them, eyes closed, was the pale man—now stained crimson, just as he had been when Jeha first met him.
Hereis was, quite literally, a mangled mass of flesh. Had it not been for his blood-soaked silver hair, his face would have been utterly unrecognizable.
The moment he registered Hereis’s gruesome appearance and his faint, flickering breaths, Jeha’s mind felt as though it would explode.
“Stop!”
Jeha roared, unaware of what he was even shouting. In that instant, his vision turned crimson.
One second? Or perhaps two?
For a brief moment, his vision went utterly black, as if he had lost consciousness, before slowly returning.
When his blackened vision fully recovered and Jeha looked forward again, the surroundings were splattered with crimson blood, shredded flesh, coiled fragments of intestines, and stark white bone shards.
It was a gruesome sight. Yet, in Jeha’s eyes, only Hereis, lying still in the center, was visible. His entire body was torn to pieces, to the point where even his beautiful face was unrecognizable, his life clinging on by a thread of divine power.
“You… you are…!”
A man dressed as a paladin, standing at a slight distance around a street corner, muttered with a dazed expression. Then, as if regaining his senses, he hastily turned to flee. Jeha extended a finger towards him. The paladin, attempting to escape, froze solid like a stone statue in that very posture.
Squish. Squish.
With every step he took toward Hereis, blood, flesh, intestines, and bone fragments soiled Jeha’s feet. Had he been in a rational state, he would have immediately vomited, but instead, Jeha walked on, as if possessed, solely towards Hereis.
His heart pounded like a drum, as if it would burst. The Seal of the Contract, etched upon his heart, was roaring.
To save his contractor, and to uphold the contract.
Finally reaching Hereis, Jeha stood still for a moment, looking down at him.
Seeing Hereis’s pathetic state, his blinding beauty cruelly defiled, a shiver ran through Jeha’s entire body. He couldn’t distinguish if it was fury, pleasure, sorrow, joy, or something else entirely, something beyond all those emotions.
Jeha slowly knelt beside Hereis. Then, driven by his instincts as Bellarossa, he picked up a nearby dagger and, without hesitation, slashed his palm.
From the gaping wound in his palm, crimson blood, no different from a human’s, streamed down. Jeha began to let that blood drip into Hereis’s mouth.
The first to show change were the wounds around his mouth. The mutilated injuries on his lips began to heal cleanly the moment Jeha’s blood touched them, as if they had never existed.
Once the wounds around his mouth had healed, his face mended, then his half-severed neck, his chest, and his abdomen. The healing spread, gradually reaching his limbs, fingers, and toes, until in an instant, Hereis’s body returned to its pristine white state, leaving not even a trace of the previous injuries.
Color returned to his pallid face, and his barely clinging breath, which had seemed on the verge of fading, became regular and peaceful. Soon, his silver eyelashes, which had been closed as if in death, fluttered and slowly began to open.
His brilliant blue eyes were revealed. The gaze, which had been vacantly staring into space, slowly regained its light. Witnessing this, Jeha shivered once more. He still couldn’t distinguish if it was fury, pleasure, sorrow, joy, or something else entirely, something beyond all those emotions.
Their eyes met.
The brilliant blue eyes widened slightly in surprise for a moment, then soon shone radiantly, curving into a smile.
“Bellarossa.”
The man, Hereis, called to him.
“You’ve finally come.”
His voice, a soft whisper, was unbearably sweet.
“Master.”
Paimon, who had followed without Jeha noticing, called out to him from behind.
“Humans are gathering. We should leave at once.”
Just as Jeha, having heard those words, prepared to rise.
A pale hand, thoroughly drenched in blood, gripped Jeha’s wrist tightly. Brilliant blue eyes pleaded, gazing at Jeha with desperate longing. Jeha watched Hereis for a moment, then sighed and swept his free hand through the air.
The next moment, what the arriving people saw was only a slum alley plastered with blood, flesh, intestines, and bone fragments.
****
“And him?”
Jeha, who had been absently doodling on a piece of paper with a troubled expression for quite some time, asked. Zephyr immediately stepped forward and spoke.
“He has been thoroughly washed, dressed in fine clothes, and settled in a comfortable room.”
“And that human?”
“That paladin has been roughly thrown into the monster cage in the basement.”
Jeha let out a long sigh.
He had, indeed, ignored Hereis’s calls several times. After all, rushing off to the human realm just because he was summoned for what seemed like a trivial matter wasn’t befitting a Demon King’s dignity. Moreover, even if Hereis had immediately demanded to be ‘defiled,’ Jeha hadn’t yet decided how to go about it. He had only just managed to resolve himself to abandon his human identity, and he was reluctant to keep getting entangled with humans.
But to think he had ended up in such a gruesome state….
“Zephyr.”
“Yes, Master.”
“With Hereis’s level of divine power, wouldn’t it be easy to repel ordinary humans?”
“Indeed. Though it’s nothing compared to the strength of us demons… still, wasn’t he the human who slaughtered all the high priests and paladins possessing divine power? With that kind of strength, it would be easy for him to protect himself, even if dozens of ordinary humans attacked him.”
As expected….
Jeha let out another long sigh.
Why would Hereis, possessing such power, end up in such a gruesome state at the hands of mere humans with not even a speck of special ability? No matter how much he thought about it, the only conclusion he could reach was that Hereis had simply given up on protecting himself.