Reverse Dungeon

The Western Demon Archduke Belial watched the pathetic spectacle of humanity unfold.

Keith was infected by demonic magic, black smoke seeping from his body in visible streams. He was unmistakably cursed.

The Pope pointed at him and shouted.

“It is the mark of a heretic! Arrest Sir Keith—no, arrest the sinner Keith! He has abandoned God!”

At first, the people did not believe the Pope’s words.

But once they saw Keith like that, they had no choice but to believe.

Even after everyone in the Vatican turned against him, there were still some who trusted Keith. They helped him escape, knowing full well that doing so would mean their deaths.

That knight certainly has charisma.

That was precisely why he was so troublesome.

Each time Keith fended off his former comrades and was struck in return, he swallowed down his groans of pain. His eyes, already clouded with despair, could not stop the demonic magic from seeping in. The whites of his eyes turned black.

Even his once-blue irises were threaded with burst blood vessels, glowing a faint, bloody red.

Tears of blood spilled from his eyes.

Watching Keith flee in such a miserable state, Belial burst into laughter.

“Ha. Hahahaha!”

It was amusing, watching these antlike humans kill one another without the faintest idea of what was right or wrong.

It was delightful to see the knight beloved by God stabbed and wounded by the very people he had saved.

Keith was nearly at his limit.

A forest thick with mamools blocked his path. Keith had survived this long through his advanced horsemanship and martial skill, but a dense forest would strip him of those advantages.

How was he supposed to weave through those heavy branches on horseback?

He had no choice but to slow down.

And once he did, his pursuers would have the advantage.

Belial wanted to see it.

He wanted to see the knight of God pierced through and killed by those who called themselves servants of God.

However, someone interrupted his entertainment.

A handful of humans, not even mounted, moved through the forest as though it were their own backyard.

A young archer nocked an arrow °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and fired at one of the Vatican’s Holy Knights from within the broken formation. The Holy Knight fell from his saddle, and the freed horse bolted into the forest, dodging its rampaging kin.

The young archer immediately gave chase and caught it.

Then he shouted.

“Lord Ian, get on!”

“I’ll go first. Follow slowly!”

The man called Ian swiftly mounted the horse. The Holy Knight’s steed had been thoroughly trained for battle and did not buck, even with a stranger on its back.

Ian lowered himself against the horse and urged it faster.

Even while riding, he shot down the mamools in the forest with an astonishing power of purification.

He looks so gentle, yet he possesses such incredible strength.

Belial was surprised.

But he soon realized the truth.

That was not Ian hitting them.

The arrows were flying into the targets on their own.

The power of purification was so strong that it sought out impurity by itself. It was not that the arrows carried the power of purification.

It was the reverse.

“Is he a priest?”

No.

He did not have that peculiar, unpleasant presence of one who served God.

But then how could someone who was not a priest wield purification magic of that caliber?

What astonished Belial even more was that this rigid, inflexible knight had companions outside the Vatican—companions capable of recognizing his crisis and helping him without hesitation.

The man spotted Belial and the demons following behind him, then shouted.

“You lackeys of demons! You claim to believe in God, yet you feel no shame? Divine punishment will fall upon you!”

“Aha?”

Belial laughed.

Was this not an unexpectedly quick wit?

An unexpectedly agile move from Keith?

Thanks to that, the Holy Knights pursuing Keith fell into confusion.

But that was all.

The man managed to get Keith off his exhausted horse and seat him behind himself, but in the process of escaping, he exposed his own hideout to Belial.

Belial laughed and gestured to the demons behind him.

“Bring them to me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The demons, intoxicated by their master’s smile, entered the cave.

Belial followed them at a leisurely pace.

*****

The last dragon, no larger than a medium-sized dog, beat his wings through the air.

“It’s coming.”

He could feel the nauseating demonic magic.

It was approaching.

Strangely, whenever he sensed that magic, he grew sleepy. The dragon opened his mouth wide, nearly yawning, and breathed fire.

HAAAAAM!

Flames poured from his nose and mouth toward the entrance.

The demon entering the cave raised one hand, and the flames turned to smoke before dispersing.

But—

“Still not working.”

Disheartened, the dragon spread his wings and immediately took off.

A spear of demonic magic shot through the place where he had been only moments before. The dragon barely avoided it and flew down the passage at full speed.

“Is that a gatekeeper?”

“Seems like it.”

“But that’s a dragon. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one. Weren’t they extinct?”

“I thought so too, but apparently not. What a treasure. We can use it to decorate the master’s room.”

“That’s a fine idea. I like beautiful things. Dragon eyes are beautiful. Useful, too.”

The dragon had already passed through the trap room, but he hesitated.

As a proud dragon, he could not let such insults pass.

He stopped, bared his teeth in hostility, and the demons burst into laughter.

“What a pitiful fallen race,” said the Western Demon Archduke.

“Do not insult the dragon race!”

Just as the dragon was about to attack, a trap activated.

The floor dropped away.

Spears shot up from below and down from above.

The dragon, nearly skewered between them, felt a chill run through him.

But even more terrifying was the voice that followed.

“Come here right now!”

His mother’s voice echoed through the dungeon.

“Uh, Mom!”

“Keep acting crazy. See what happens.”

“Okay, okay! I won’t! I’m going! Don’t be mad!”

The dragon shot upward.

The demons spread their wings, mocking him.

Did they truly think something like this could stop them?

Humans were weak, pathetic creatures.

And that voice—what had it been?

It had been too loud and clear for an ordinary human voice, but it was definitely human.

How amusing, that a young dragon had been tamed by humans.

They were about to witness something entertaining.

The death of the Holy Knight who had long been a nuisance.

And perhaps the skinning of the last dragon alive.

As they passed the wall studded with spears, wolf mamools leaped out from both sides and sank their teeth into the demons’ wings.

It was an unexpected attack.

An attack the demons were forced to take.

Was this not an unusually structured cave?

More than that, it should have been impossible for low-intelligence mamools to hide so silently and wait.

“Argh!”

“These inferior creatures...!”

Shocked and enraged, the demons extended their claws.

The wolf mamools were torn to pieces in an instant.

The demons were unharmed.

But they were insulted.

To be attacked by mere mamools was intolerable.

They were demon nobles.

The highest class of demons serving the Western Archduke.

“Stop!”

Feeling as though their cloaks had been grabbed by beggars, the demons hurled spears of demonic magic at the dragon.

One spear pierced the dragon’s back.

KYAAAH!

The young dragon screamed, but staggered onward through the air.

PAPAPAPAK!

Humans hidden in every corner of the cave fired arrows.

Nets dropped from above.

Poison arrows followed.

The demons folded space around themselves and flew forward, piercing human hearts.

“Aaah! Help me!”

A soldier screamed as he shot another arrow, not yet realizing his heart was already gone.

The demons savored the feast as the others fled.

Ah.

Delicious.

How long had it been since they enjoyed a meal like this?

“Do not linger too long in one place. What became of the loyalty you promised to offer me?”

Belial asked with a laugh.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty.”

The demons burst into laughter, their red lips stained with blood.

Following the trail of the dragon’s blood, their excitement reached its peak.

The scent of humans filled the cave.

Living force.

Vitality.

The thought of turning all that life into despair and absorbing it sent waves of pleasure through their bodies.

Of course, the finest offering would belong to the Archduke.

The greatest despair.

The supreme fruit.

Keith’s heart.

But the hearts of the other inferior humans would taste good as well.

Had the one they had just eaten not been wonderfully fresh?

Humans who had survived by hiding in a place this deep were on a different level from the starving wretches they had consumed until now.

The demons trembled with anticipation at the promise of a true feast.

Then, suddenly, the cave ahead grew bright.

They realized they had entered a vast cavern.

At the center of the cavern, the World Tree scattered its light.

It was a strange structure.

It was difficult to believe humans had built such fine tents, buildings, and a plaza deep inside a cave.

And above them—

All the escaped humans had gathered.

They stood on the steps built into the circular cavern wall, surrounding the demons from every side.

Then the humans fired.

The arrowheads seemed to shine of their own accord as they took aim.

For one brief moment, it felt as though the demons had wandered into a gigantic beehive.

Their vision flashed white.

Arrows of flew toward them.