While the Wilder sister lamented the truth of her convictions, the killing inside the third barrier enveloping Retly's castle escalated quickly, shedding enough blood to paint a whole town red.
The Superior, the Kingdom doppelgänger of the New Allfather and holding 1,125 points, wielded his trusty hatchet Asmodeus. Seated in the throne room, slouching against the chair's arm, he silently utilized the Six Eyes of Satan to survey the entire infrastructure. So far, nothing alerted him to anyone's infiltrating presence.
The Demiurge, one of the Old Allfather's Children and holding 2,475 points, sat atop the castle—meditating against the roof. Right now, its galactic body reflecting the endless stars and nebulas of the universe was motionless. It was searching for more victims, for what surrounded the deity's idle form was none other than hundreds of mutilated corpses. Who would be its next victim?
Beau Edmund, son of the Smoldering Chariot and holding 250 points, roamed the castle's darkened halls as a flaming skeleton. The crackling his ignited bones produced was nonexistent, even as he turned the corner. As expected—what he was met with was pure darkness, just like all the other halls he'd stumbled through. So, he continued his march, striving to burn anyone who crossed his path.
Azazel Karlo, holding 0 points, stepped over a corpse to enter the castle. Almost immediately the trio's eyes simultaneously dart toward the front door's general direction, whether that be straight ahead, over their shoulder, or below them entirely. The Demiurge startled cackling, covering its face with its glowing hand.
"So, HE's still alive, huh?"
But while everyone else was contemplating what to do against their newly-entered enemy, one of them had already made their move. Once the Crow set foot into the castle, the door behind him slammed shut. Momentarily watching it, his neck turned, he sighed and scratched his neck as his head turned back.
"Mmm…"
'Everyone got separated the moment we all entered the barrier. I have my phone but nobody's called me… could it be that, for enhanced resistance that prevents escape, the barriers don't disrupt reception between cellular devices? It's a smart idea, but if my hunch is correct, we should be able to communicate easily. All I need is to take care of this chaos, steal everyone's points and meet up with someone. That's good enough for now.'
An unusual aura's scent slipped its way into his mind. For some inexplicable reason, deep within the Detective's heart, he felt that presence was… familiar. He turned around, raising his arm in the process—and it was lucky he did so. The mere instant his limb ascended, the hatchet's sharpness shattered against his wrist.
The Superior's eyes widened and were sent tumbling back after his weapon shattered. Arms thrown into the air, his surprised expression accompanied him to the floor as he descended ever so gradually.
Azazel's fist smashed the Superior's face into the ground, effectively breaking his cheek and shattering most of his skull. Upon removing the fist from his face, he noticed no blood stained his knuckles. The Detective's blue eyes moved from his hand and back to the body, watching as it immediately decomposed into crows that fluttered around Azazel.
"Ironic, isn't it? Considering who you are and all…" commented the doppelgänger.
Karlo looked over his shoulder, glaring deeply into the Superior's blood-red eyes. He didn't even say anything. He recognized that face better than anyone. After all, he was dedicated to serving it for so long.
"Azazel Karlo. Ya know, I talked with your father one time, way back when. Ugh, what was it, what was it—? Oh! When I was pumping him full of demonic blood and watching him beg for mercy!"
He'd so obviously goaded his enemy into attacking first, yet it worked to his favor. The Superior jumped back after finishing speaking, realizing the Detective dashed ahead at the same time he'd retreated. Manifesting the hatchet into his right hand again, the Superior giggled, going for an overhead attack once he slid to a halt.
The Crow caught it between his armored fingers, throwing his foot ahead so the Superior would fly through the door behind him. Briefly falling onto his back, he flipped back to his feet, still wielding the demonic hatchet.
"Come at me—"
Azazel had already finished punching him in the throat, following up with a roundhouse kick across the Superior's face. Just after that, the Crow's gauntlets were raised; covering his face with both armored arms.
'Purge of Demons: Simple.'
He blitzed the Superior, reappearing right behind him and listening as the spray of blood splattered into the air from his cut-open chest. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, he hitched his breath and spit out blood while thoughts streamed through his head.
'Impossible! He managed to slip past me and countlessly slice me at the same time! How the hell is he so fast?!'
Before he could even hit the ground, Azazel turned around and caught his enemy by the collar. Glaring through strands mimicking curtains, the Crow's grip against his adversary's attire only tightened as memories of the past came uncontrollably flooding in. Gritting his teeth, he shakily exhaled—all the while the Superior watched with a sweaty face stained with uncertainty.
'Isn't he gonna kill me?' he thought.
'Not yet. I need them both to leave my range before I slaughter him—that way, they won't get the message that I've acquired his points. I can already tell that the one on the roof, whoever they are, is on a different level than any other player! I have to end this quickly if I want to live to see Katie.'
Azazel released the Superior from his hold, the demon's bottom thudding against the floor. Staring up at the Detective, his face bloody, the Prince's glowing red eyes confusedly shimmering as they reflected the Crow's disturbing appearance. The gauntlets covering his limbs speedily retracted, revealing his skintight suit's blackened sleeve. Rubbing his wrist—his eyes closed—he vented a sigh and looked to his victim, one hand on his hip.
"Oi, you there." The Crow pointed with his other hand. "Do you have any warping capabilities?" he asked.
The Superior seized awake from his trance, peering through oozing gore toward him. "U-uh, yes? Why do you ask?"
"Tch." Azazel rubbed his nape, grumbled under his breath, and momentarily averted the defeated's gaze. "Sorry bout this but—"
The Superior's head flew from his shoulders flawlessly. Lowering his claws with widened eyes, Azazel watched the skull splat against the wall and roll onto the ground beside his bloody corpse. His pupils darted and shot forward, gaping into the darkness concealing the corridor before him.
"Sorry, sorry! I didn't know whether that was the signal or not so…" The familiar voice emerged from the shadows, revealing his black-shaded outfit. "I took the liberty of ending it myself," said the Jester.
Killing Game player - Icarus Chrollo. Points: 1,625.
"I wish you'd tell me before you do such reckless things. How many points do you have?" Azazel asked.
"Enough. Why? Jealous?" Icarus teased, hands pocketed.
"If you have over 2,000, we can make a rule to enforce conditions upon other players—"
The Jester and Crow turned in unison. Gazing down the same long hall enveloped by blackness, Azazel's gauntlets once again peeled over his arms.
"Wait," warned the Jester.
An orange light crackled at the darkened corridor's end, but this couldn't be. To both black-haired comrades, it seemed like that orange light was getting closer. Chrollo's palm threw itself forward, quickly blocking the imminent fireball with his open hand.
The projectile's flames split upon impact, immediately dispersing once grazing the walls. Fires' vibrancy temporarily enlightened half of Azazel's stoic face, he squinted ahead and watched a burning skeleton march from the shadows. Nothing about these ignited bones seemed human-like; exactly reminiscent of Retly's disturbing demons. Despite that, deep within the Detective's heart, he felt an unexplainable familiarity with it.
"You seem hesitant. This a friend of yours, Detective?" Icarus queried.
"I… I think it is. That's—" He gasped, surprisingly jolting forward with shimmering widened eyes. "That's Beau!" he exclaimed.
"'Bow'? What kinda name is that?"
"Not 'bow', you dickhead. Beau. It's French?" Azazel reminded him.
"Oh, those insufferable people who speak that despicable language in the West? Tch… now that you mention it after I kill Alex, I'll be slaughtering them first," uttered the Jester.
'I shouldn't have said anything, to begin with.'
Beau stepped forward, his burning bones engulfed by a raging blaze heating the air around him.
Icarus pointed at him. "Hey you," he said. "Are you on our site or not? Our Detective seems to recognize you so… answer carefully, freak."
The Jester's face was enlightened by those unrelenting flames, his finger still aimed ahead—awaiting the skeleton's answer. Then, his entire hand was abruptly sliced off. The wound had been immediately cauterized at breakneck speeds, for even Icarus was unable to register and block such a swift attack. Falling to the ground after losing his hand, Chrollo chuckled.
"Shit…"
But Azazel dashed forward, swiftly lunging two kunai at his flaming opponent. Expectedly, the projectiles burnt upon touching the space around Beau. The Detective reappeared already in mid-air, wielding a shortened sword customized with blackened steel and thrusting it into his blazing skull. Beau caught the blade with his skeletal hand, watching the sharpness stab through his bone with an unnatural hum.
Karlo flipped back, tearing out his sword and landing on the ground away from Beau. He stepped back. Watching the skeleton begin to corner him, he looked back to his retrieved blade. Unfortunately, the sharpness had melted during the initial attack—all that remained was the useless handle. He discarded it with one throw, throwing both fists forward.
Icarus's palm tapped Azazel's shoulder, garnering his attention enough so his eyes would follow as the Jester walked past to now stand in front of him.
"I can handle this alone. There's someone on the roof stronger than both of us combined. Deal with that and then we'll rendezvous together," the Jester said.
His aimed fists slowly lowered, widened eyes reflecting the back of Icarus's long-haired head. Diverting his footing, Azazel stopped himself from sprinting away, opting to tightly grab Chrollo's shoulder.
Glaring deep into the Jester's dead eyes, the Detective said: "You better not die yet, you inhuman monster!"
The monster stifled a chuckle, swatting Karlo's hand away from his shoulder and turning back to the skeleton. "Shut up and go before I kill you, too," he warned.
Without any reason to object, the Detective stumbled into a sprint, vanishing around one of the corners Icarus stood between. While cracking his fingers, the flaming skeleton curiously hummed, examining his aura with a skeptical head tilt. The energy surrounding Chrollo's soul was unlike anything humanly possible, for from every invisible node spread across his skin leaked ruthlessness akin to an uncaring monster. Even with enough speed to blitz the weakened Jester, the muted skeleton deduced this would be a match-up for him. Then again, it wasn't like he had any other choice.
The fire burning Edmund's bones erupted around him, increasing its heat so the fiery brightness would shine against Icarus's uncaring features.
"Let's start with a little taste… shall we?"
Next chapter: Icarus and Edmund duke it out while Azazel intercepts the Demiurge on top. Witnessing another demon from his past wrongfully incarnated before his eyes—Azazel sees no other choice but to slaughter it without remorse.