[Oh- the demon hunter from back then, s this the first time since the trial in Nakajaniye?]
"...."
Vikir did not answer Flauros's question.
Talking to demons was an energy drain in itself, and he didn't feel it was worth the effort.
So Vikir decided to just give a short pep talk.
"Die."
The magic sword Beelzebub emitted a crimson aura.
…Flash!
There was no guarantee of a one-hit kill anyway, so Vikir chose the most confident of the options, 4th Form.
A four-toothed slash.
His strongest attack in his previous life and his most comfortable attack in this life.
Not only does it cost almost no mana, but it's more skillful than breathing.
Vikir's sword attack perfectly grasped in all four directions, biting through the space of Flauros.
But Flauros's skill with the spear was just as impressive.
'Original Uroboros'. A deadly weapon, a terrifying artifact that creates red death.
Flauros smirked.
[Seven Demon Sword... Is that Beelzebub? However, there are many other weapons made from the remains of ancient demon constellations. At that time, there were more than one demon constellation. And my spear is one of them].
Are these the remains of demons who lived in some distant past?
The two weapons containing poison were clashing fiercely, creating countless sparks.
kwakwang!
The Red Evil Spirit and the Dark Sun clashed.
Before he knew it, Vikir was using his full power against Flouros.
"Tsk-"
Vikir stepped back, spitting blood that had turned red from the plague poison.
Madame's poison was rapidly circulating in his body.
It bubbled through his veins, churning through his body as it ate up any plague poison that came in from outside his body.
It had been a long time since it had reacted so violently, perhaps recognizing the Red Death as an unwelcome rival.
… Pakang!
The Original Uroboros slammed down on Beelzebub with the tip of its two blades.
At the same time, the hilt made from the sack of the Hell Tree struck Vikir's head.
"...!"
Vikir, who tilted his head back to avoid it, had a scar on his forehead.
It was a vicious wound that would not easily regenerate, even with Basilisk's regenerative powers.
[A sack carved from the shards of the Hell Tree. When Amdusias was killed, I also obtained some fragments.]
Flauros smiled wickedly, his eyes still full of amusement.
Then.
"Vikir!"
"Vikir-nim!"
"Brother!"
Red, white, and gold. Three shimmering lights emanated from the sides and behind Vikir.
Camus, Dolores, and Sinclair were supporting Vikir.
Camus's fire, Dolores's holy power, and Sinclair's magic and money were now directed at Flauros in front of him.
wagigigigig- ujijig!
The sound of powerful intangible forces clashing and twisting against each other.
The ground shifts, breaks, and reconnects, naturally changing the landscape around them.
Even in the midst of his struggle, Flauros looked at Vikir and his companions and spoke in wonder.
[You guys fight really hard for others. There will be no benefit to you personally in confronting me...]
Fighting together, a sight that would certainly be incomprehensible to a demon.
A demon is basically a being who engages in 'the struggle of all against all'.
In the first place, demons are a concept defined by humans, so they are not grouped into a single species.
For example, 3rd Corpse Andrealphus and 4th Corpse Cimeries are as far apart as a goldfish and a grasshopper in terms of biological characteristics.
Vikir knew this, and could somewhat understand Flauros's puzzlement.
"You might not be able to sympathize with beings who don't know how to do anything other than fight and steal."
[Isn't that the same for you too? In the first place, humans are a deteriorated version of demons. The part you occupy in this worldview could be better performed by demons.]
Flauros smirked, but continued to thrust his spear.
Apart from the swinging spear, the demon's tongue also continued to wriggle like a snake.
[My poisonous soldiers have probably begun the siege by now, and I'm very curious to see how long your friends in Tochka will hold out].
"...!"
Vikir gritted his teeth.
House Leviathan's poisonous soldiers had finally begun the siege of Tochka.
It was unclear how long they would be able to hold off such a powerful army of mutants.
They are fortunate to have Major General Orca and Marquis de Sade on their side, but in the face of overwhelming numerical superiority, they are helpless.
[There is no hope for you. No water has been found, and you cannot protect your comrades. I can't wait to see the look on your faces when you see that all the humans in Tochka have been turned into poisonous people.]
The faces of the entire group fell as they heard Flauros' words.
But there was nothing to argue with.
So Camus, Dolores, Sinclair, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca all just stared at him in disbelief.
Except for ...Vikir.
"You underestimate the power of humans."
Flauros narrowed his eyes in surprise at Vikir's words.
[Is this the kind of situation that can be solved by force?]
"That is unknown."
[I see, hahaha- you seemed to have the most realistic personality, didn't you?]
"That's why I say that."
[...?]
With that, Vikir drew Beelzebub out even longer.
8th Form. The black sun spun even more fiercely, crushing Flauros.
Soon, the distance between Vikir and Flauros has narrowed to the point where their noses are touching.
udeudeug- udeug!
At the forefront where energy clashed with energy, Vikir whispered into Flauros' ear.
"It is not wise to predict the future, for it changes just as quickly as you predict it."
[....]
"Just like right now."
[...?]
Flauros just shook his head.
…peoeog!
His vision flashes black for a moment.
Flauros jerks his head back with a jolt that feels like his throat is being ripped out.
An iron arrow the size of a child's forearm was stuck in his temple and was trembling.
An arrow much stronger than the one fired by Bianca.
How tough does the bowstring have to be to send off such a large and thick arrow like that?
And how strong does one's arm have to be to pull such a string?
Even Flauros had experienced such a powerful arrow before.
A memory of how everything almost went to waste with just one carelessness.
A night when he had truly feared for his life.
[...No way!?]
Flauros turns his head in horror.
Pfft.
Another arrow flew by, this time lodging itself in the center of Flauros' forehead.
[Keug!?]
Flauros backs away, spraying black blood.
And a thin shadow flutters over the cliff behind it.
"Long time no see, Husby."
The female warrior turns to Vikir and offers a brief greeting.
Seeing her face, Vikir can't help but breathe a sigh of relief in many ways.
Aiyen. A female warrior of Balak. A colleague who was imprisoned at Level Ten in the Nouvelle Vague has appeared again.
Aiyen smirked at Vikir, then greeted the Night Walkers behind them.
"Some I've seen, some I haven't. Anyway, please take care of me."
"That! Where can you pretend to be friends!?"
Camus exclaims through gritted teeth, and Aiyen's eyes narrow.
"Why? Do you want to be stripped off again?"
"Kyaaaaaah! You're behind!"
Camus's hostility was even stronger than when she was fighting the demon.
But their confrontation was interrupted by another figure.
[Hohohoho- If it's Uroboros, you have the same name as me, isn't that stealing?]
A thick whip flew out and struck Flauros across the torso.
Sady. The professor who rode all the way to Nouvelle Vague to save her grandfather, Marquis de Sade.
She activated Belial's eyeballs and turned into a demonized version of herself, blocking Flauros' path.
…cheolsseog!
The whip swung like a snake, slicing through the poisonous people in the area.
Aiyen was also sending arrows and punching holes in Flauros' body.
"I caught almost everything before, but then lost him. But not this time."
Aiyen, who is a native of Balak's hunting grounds, had once tried unsuccessfully to sneak into Leviathan alone and assassinate the patriarch, Hobbes.
It is a matter of shame for Balak's hunters to pursue the same prey twice.
So it's no wonder that Aiyen is so eager to make amends.
…peong!
Flauros dodged the spur arrows with an annoyed expression.
Flauros forcibly pulled out the two arrows lodged in his head and growled, showing his fangs like those of a leopard.
[Fate does not change just because two miscellaneous things increase.]
Just then.
"Two?"
One more voice whispered in Flauros's ear.
[...!?]
When had he been caught from behind?
Without even realizing it, they were right behind him.
Through the gap that Aiyen and Sady had created.
…cheolsseog!
A large leech clung to Flauros's back.
The Magic Sword Asmodeus.
A terrifying weapon that sucks the blood of its victims.
It was sucking the life force out of Flauros's body in a single gulp.
[Keuhag!?]
For the first time, a bloody scream came out of Flauros' mouth.
"...."
Vikir's eyes narrowed as he recognized the face of the figure holding Flauros tightly behind him.
A body connected to the Magic Sword Asmodeus, black veins covering the entire body, and a black aura fluttering fiercely over the shoulders.
Black Tongue.
An old acquaintance from Nouvelle Vague, whom he had thought he would never see again, glared at him.