Cordelia felt the bile rise in her throat but forced it back down, her voice shaking as she muttered, “So he does exist… Why is it that gut feelings are always right, especially when they’re about nightmares?”
The boy stood there with a pure, childlike grin that was utterly out of place amid the battlefield carnage.
Koharu didn’t waste a second. She said nothing, just reached into her coat and drew her final iron sphere. Her lips curled into a feral smile as she locked eyes with the horned boy.
“This is my last shot,” she muttered. “Body’s got nothing left. But I don’t need more than one.”
Her tone turned razor sharp, wild with resolve.
“You’re no Ogre Emperor. I know your type. You don’t regenerate. That much is in the legends. That’s all I need to end this.”
She raised her hand.
“My Zero-Type pierces anything, from armor to bone, even spirit. You’re gonna pop like a balloon, one limb at a time!”
The railgun fired with a thunderous crack.
Lightning tore through the air, and dust exploded from the impact. The shockwave scattered pebbles and debris for meters in every direction. Wind howled across the field as the strike landed cleanly at the center.
And yet…
As the smoke cleared and the golden haze lifted, Koharu’s jaw dropped.
He stood there.
Untouched.
Not a scratch on him.
Her voice cracked. “No… That was a direct hit. I know it landed. How is he still…”
Lilith sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as if this were the most predictable outcome in the world. “You really are an amateur,” she muttered. “That’s the problem with raw power and no judgment. You think a being with ‘god’ in his title is going to be taken out by a single railgun? He’s not even winded. Also, by the way, that legend you quoted? It’s wrong. He absolutely has regeneration, absurd levels of it.”
Cordelia stepped forward, eyes still locked on the boy. “Lilith.”
“What?”
“If I push harder, burn myself, I can extend berserker mode. Might only get seconds, but it’s something. You got a plan?”
Lilith didn’t answer. She simply shook her head.
“There’s nothing to plan. It wouldn’t matter what we tried. This is like a pack of mantises ganging up on a lion. It’s not just unlikely. It’s impossible.”
For a moment, silence.
The three of them stood rooted, the reality of the situation beginning to settle like a stone in their guts.
And then the boy spoke, smiling all the while.
“Ah, where are my manners?” His voice was light, singsong, almost amused. “I forgot to introduce myself. I am a god, after all.”
Cordelia didn’t even blink. “Yeah, we figured. The aura made that part very clear.”
The boy let out a soft snort, amused by Cordelia’s words.
“The Demon God. That’s the title I’ve been given. In your terms, I rank among the highest of calamities, far beyond the Ogre Emperor you just barely managed to take down. Think of me as several tiers above.”
Cordelia, Lilith, and Koharu stood frozen, their silence stretched taut with dread. The fact that Koharu’s railgun had done nothing, the suffocating weight of spiritual pressure that pulsed from the boy just by standing there, all pointed to a horrifying truth: they were facing a monster far beyond their comprehension.
The three of them had just wiped out hundreds of ogres, including Kings and an Emperor. From the ogres’ perspective, they were mass murderers, indiscriminate reapers who had slaughtered their way through the ranks. If they were captured, no appeal to reason or morality would save them. This was war. And war had no room for pleas.
Koharu still trembled slightly. But Cordelia and Lilith, at least, had made their peace with this reality.
So it was Cordelia who broke the silence, swallowing down bile and steeling her nerves as she glared at the boy.
“So, what now? What are you going to do with us?”
For a moment, the Demon God blinked, as if caught off guard by her bluntness. Then he grinned, delighted.
He tilted his head, tapping his chin with one finger. “Hmm. Well, let’s see. East, west, north, south… every front has collapsed, except this one. The rest of my forces? Completely wiped out. And if I had to point fingers…”
His gaze flicked over the three of them, eyes glinting like blades.
“It’d be your fault, wouldn’t it?”
Cordelia didn’t flinch. “Yeah. So? I asked what you’re planning to do with us.”
He shrugged, as though they were discussing the weather.
The boy nodded solemnly, as though explaining a simple principle to children.
“Correct. You have slaughtered countless underlings of mine. That doesn’t come without… consequences. You will answer for it. However, I am merciful.”
“Merciful?” Cordelia echoed through clenched teeth.
With a precise snap, the boy struck his palm. “Let me ask you something else. Have you ever eaten vegetables preserved in salt?”
“Salted vegetables… You mean pickles?”
“Exactly. Pickles. And do you know why salt draws moisture from the veggies?”
“Well, I grew up in a village,” Cordelia replied, her tone wary. “I understand basic food preservation—from pickles to smoked meats.”
He grinned, as if pleased, but launched into another, more unsettling question. “So do you understand why salt draws water out of vegetables?”
“Um… honestly, I’ve never thought that deeply about it.”
He smiled, almost indulgently, then turned toward Lilith. “You, the Mage. Can you explain?”
Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Osmosis. Water moves from lower to higher solute concentration. That’s why salt draws it out.”
“Excellent.” He flashed a wide grin. “It’s osmosis.”
“I learned that on the road from Ryuto. The laws that govern all things in nature strive for equilibrium. Osmosis, atmospheric pressure, thermal dynamics… they all push things toward balance and create weather, tides, all of nature’s movements.”
Cordelia’s eyes narrowed.
“So, what the hell does osmosis have to do with us?”
The boy leveled his gaze. “Everything. Vegetables are living matter. So are humans.”
“And?”
He leaned in, voice turning cold. “If you don’t hydrate living things properly—if you salt and pack them without providing moisture—they’ll dry up. By osmosis.”
A chill raced down Cordelia’s spine as she realized where this was going.
He lifted a single finger, pointing at them with unnerving calm.
“I’ll have you pickled in salt for a month. Ah, yes, that’s it. The pickling containers I’ll stuff you into will be human coffins. Haha, even I have to admit that’s a brilliant idea. Once you’re dead, there won’t be any burial hassles either. Haha! Hahaha!”
“Human… pickling?”
“I’m quite the neat freak, you see. I’ll replace the coffins with fresh salt every day, so you can rest easy about that. Oh, and after your skin withers, your lips crack, and the life drains from your eyes, if we don’t give you water, it usually takes less than two days.”
After a moment of stunned silence, Cordelia spat out her words with disgust.