Chapter 484: Descent

In the past, during his time at the orphanage, Oliver had witnessed women giving birth.

Though it wasn’t common, it happened occasionally.

Some women, without a home, family, or anyone to help them, came to the orphanage to give birth.

There were usually two reasons. Either they had no other place to go for help, or they intended to leave the baby at the orphanage.

The orphanage director never refused them. Helping deliver a baby was troublesome, but it brought benefits such as reputation and potential new funding.

Additionally, if the mother died, the director could collect her clothes, personal items, teeth, and hair as a small side income.

It was a fairly reasonable deal.

Even so, helping with childbirth was still a demanding task.

And so, when the orphanage was short-staffed, Oliver would sometimes help out.

Though Oliver was a strange and unsettling child, he was also unnervingly calm. No matter the situation, he would carry out any task assigned to him.

Because of this, Oliver was able to witness the birth of new life with his own eyes.

At the time, he didn’t feel much about it. It was like a seed that couldn’t sprout in barren soil.

The pleas for help, the screams during birth, the blood, and the baby’s cries all felt numb to Oliver.

Perhaps that’s why he could assist so well.

Yet, occasionally, Oliver did show an interest in childbirth.

Specifically, when a woman held her newborn, the emotions radiating from her were pure, clear, and warm—emotions never seen at the orphanage.

Back then, Oliver didn’t know the word to describe it, but now he could.

It would likely be ‘holy.’

The process of new life being born and the emotions that came from it felt holy.

It was something sacred.

However, what Oliver was witnessing now was the complete opposite.

It was profane and blasphemous.

It resembled childbirth but instead of life, it was giving birth to death.

‘Aaaaaah…!! Aaaaaaaak…!!!’

A girl from the Red Ones, with a bloated stomach and skeletal body, screamed from her cracked and bleeding lips.

She flailed her withered limbs, as if trying to escape the pain, but her arms and legs were forcibly fixed into a birth position, as if something was holding her down.

‘Gkk…!! …!!’

Her ballooning scream reached its peak and burst, causing her to spit blood, and she silently screamed with her ruined vocal cords, her mouth tearing at the seams.

‘Ueeeek!!’

One of the Pinkman couldn’t bear the sight anymore and vomited on the ground.

It wasn’t because he had a weak stomach. Everyone here was considered an elite in their organization.

The scene unfolding before them was simply beyond what anyone could endure.

All they could do was watch in horror, unable to move. Oliver included.

‘Grrrlk…!!!’

The girl from the Red Ones, screaming silently, made a face that could no longer be considered human, and started foaming at the mouth.

Her legs were spread to their limits, defying the body’s natural structure, as her grotesquely swollen belly convulsed, something inside her trying to come out.

‘Puhook!’

The first thing to emerge was a foot.

A foot mixed with muddled clots of blood and flesh.

It emerged very slowly, with nearly tens of seconds passing just for the ankle to show.

‘….’

Everyone was frozen by the surreal sight, unable to act at all, while the girl from the Red Ones leaned back in an attempt to escape the pain.

Crack.

Eventually, her spine snapped.

But shockingly, the girl neither died nor fainted, nor did she escape her agony. She remained conscious, held there by some blurry force.

Oliver instinctively knew.

The girl would find no peace until this ritual was over, and even after it ended, there would be no peace for her. Only pain remained, horrific and blasphemous pain.

The Red Ones surrounding her began chanting the profane prayers faster, while the campfire roared, blasting hot winds in all directions.

The temperature inside steadily rose.

Thud… Thud. Thud.

One of the Pinkman collapsed, bleeding from the ears, while two others sweat profusely before collapsing.

Now, even less than ten remained of the Holy Knights and Pinkman combined.

Yet, no one gave those individuals any attention, overwhelmed by the indescribable terror and twisted fascination.

Rustle, crackle!

The legs, which had slowly emerged, suddenly shot out, past the ankle, with the force of an explosion, scattering blood and chunks of flesh.

Everyone’s pupils dilated, and in that moment, the wildly dancing campfire suddenly extinguished, plunging the surroundings into total darkness.

The only things they could feel were the suffocatingly hot air, the girl’s resumed screaming, and the Red Ones’ chanting.

It was a sound that should neither exist in reality nor ever be allowed to.

Fwoosh!

The campfire momentarily reignited.

One leg had fully emerged, and half of a head was visible.

Snap!

The campfire was extinguished again, darkness consuming everything.

The screams and chants echoed clearly.

Fwoosh!

The campfire briefly flared up.

One leg, a head, and one arm had emerged into the world.

Snap!

The campfire went out once more, plunging the surroundings into darkness.

The screams disappeared, leaving only the cursed chanting echoing.

Fwoosh!

The campfire briefly flickered to life again.

A gaunt man made of blood clots and flesh stood.

Snap!

The campfire was extinguished once more, and darkness claimed the surroundings.

The cursed chant grew louder and louder until it stopped abruptly.

Fwoosh!

This time the flames that lit up the place weren’t from the campfire.

The man made of clots and flesh was burning, driving away the darkness around him with his own flames.

The stench of burning flesh and the suffocating heat shook the air, heating the entire space.

The environment was becoming worse and worse.

As everyone staggered and vomited, Oliver looked ahead and saw the ‘demon’ standing before him.

It was different. Different from the last time with Joseph, and different from the time with the Flesh Cook.

If the demons back then were like shadows on the surface of water, this one was different, it had substance, though only partially. Oliver didn’t understand why, but he could instinctively feel it.

Crrack.

As the yellow, orange, and red flames gradually died out, the burnt demon’s body was revealed.

Its charred skin, broken and mummified body, and fissures along its surface resembled a struck log.

It stood there, emitting a faint light, until cracks formed on its melted and burnt face, revealing eyesockets and a mouth.

Lightning-like flames flickered within its hollowed-out eyesockets, while thick smoke poured from its cracked mouth.

As soon as the mouth emerged, the first thing the demon did was inhale-

Whoooomp…

-and exhale.

Phew.

And with just that breath, all the remaining Pinkman were burned alive where they stood.

***

All of the Pinkman were burnt to death. Not a single one survived.

Even though Oliver saw it all, he couldn’t believe it. Everything had gone far beyond comprehension.

Oliver looked at Ricky, who had been alive just moments ago, and thought about what had just happened.

A demon emerged from the girl’s body, set itself on fire, inhaled deeply, and exhaled.

The instant it exhaled, a scorching wind swept over, which was hot enough to burn flesh. The Holy Knights used Holy Power to stabilize their bodies and minds, forming a great wall of light.

Oliver and the Pinkman took cover behind it.

Everything was clear up to that point. But after that, it became unclear. It was simply too unbelievable.

The scorching wind that shook the air melted and burned the golden wall.

Like pouring hot water over a snow wall.

The Holy Knights, Pinkman, and Oliver all witnessed this and, in shock, instinctively prepared their defenses.

The Holy Knights formed armor using Holy Power, the Pinkman strengthened their bodies with magic, and Oliver added ice magic to his Black Suit.

It was a technique he rarely used and prided himself on, but it was useless.

The demon’s fiery breath melted the Holy Knights’ armor of light and easily nullified Oliver’s ice armor.

The Holy Knights dropped to their knees, feeling their lungs burning from the intense heat, while the Pinkman, who reinforced their bodies with magic, burned to death on the spot without a single flame.

Their bodies dried out as if all moisture and fat had evaporated, their skin turning black.

It was impossible to tell if they were rotten, dried-up, or burnt—a bizarre form.

Everyone was silent, suffering in the unbearable heat, but Oliver could see.

He saw the demon controlling its breathing through the cracks in its mouth.

Just looking at it made his eyes burn, but Oliver could feel that the demon was controlling its breaths to spare those who remained.

A truly bizarre scene.

But this bizarre scene was real. The gradually lowering temperature within the space was proof of that.

It was still hot, but at least the environment became bearable.

‘Grrr…’

The Holy Knights who had been kneeling began to slowly stand up.

Even though the terrible heat inside and out was driving them mad, the duty they carried as Holy Knights pushed them to rise.

Oliver genuinely admired them. Having seen the pain they were going through up close, it was truly remarkable.

At the same time, Oliver also admired the demon. With just a breath, it burned people alive and brought the Holy Knights to their knees.

The Holy Knights were supposed to be the ones to battle against demons, yet they couldn’t even scratch this one.

The difference in power was as clear as that between an ant and a human.

‘Is this demon particularly strong?’

Oliver wondered and shook his head internally.

From what he could tell, there wasn’t much of a difference between this demon, the old man on the horse, and the demon he had seen with the Flesh Cook.

Though it was just a gut feeling with no evidence, Oliver was convinced.

It meant that other demons could kill the Holy Knights with just a breath as well.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t match anything Oliver knew.

Which meant there were only two possibilities.

Either what Oliver knew was wrong, or there was something he still didn’t know.

‘Could this be a part of it?’

Oliver’s thoughts grew curious.

Why did he feel less pain than others? To be honest, it was bearable.

Maybe it was because of the Flesh Cook’s meat he had eaten, but that wasn’t it.

He could see that the remaining Pinkman, who had burned, and the Holy Knights, who were suffering but not burned, were experiencing a heat that went beyond the physical. It was something more conceptual, something higher in nature.

It wasn’t something one could withstand with just a strong body.

This was something more fundamental-

-Step.

The unnamed demon straightened and turned its gaze towards him.

A being able to kill with just its breath bowed to him.

Although it might have been an illusion, Oliver felt like the demon was looking directly at him.

Their eyes met, and the demon began to walk towards him with confident strides.

Every step it took left a charred footprint as the ground beneath it flared up briefly and then died out, while the landscape around it wavered from the heat.

The Holy Knights stood still, too afraid to challenge it.

Step.

The demon stopped in front of him.

It gazed upon Oliver with its burning eyes, then placed its hand on its chest and bowed deeply.

Everyone held their breath. Except for Oliver.

Though slightly flustered, Oliver responded in kind, bowing as well. It was the polite thing to do.

Seemingly pleased, the demon smiled with its cracked lips. Playfully, it grasped Oliver’s right hand and placed its forehead against the back of his hand.

With that gesture, Oliver’s right arm began burning without a single flame.