Chapter 97
As the followers of Jealousy charged toward her, Kanya felt a strange vibration beneath her feet.
In a split-second, she realized it wasn’t just a tremor—it was the sound of hollow space below.
Acting on pure instinct rather than logic, she hurled herself toward a shadowed entrance in the ground.
It wasn’t calculated, but it was divine intuition—and Kanya’s instincts, guided by a goddess of war, had never betrayed her.
There really was an underground cave system down there—one she might actually stand a chance in.
Slipping through the narrow opening, she glanced back at the flood of Jealousy cultists pushing into the tunnel and slowly cocked back the hammer of her revolver.
In the days when she was nothing more than Sloth’s “beloved collection piece,” she had often overheard conversations from the other cultists. That included details about the various demon cults—especially those aligned with Sloth.
She remembered what she’d learned about the cult of Jealousy:
They were infamous for receiving unmatched physical blessings—unbreakable skin, monstrous strength, nearly limitless endurance.
But that was it.
As warriors, they were laughable.
Compared to Satan’s cult, their tactical awareness was almost nonexistent.
“Find her! Spread out and search!”
The cultists, now crawling inside the cavern, cast enchantments to enhance their darkvision and began stumbling around in every direction.
But it wasn’t organized. It wasn’t a sweep. It was a panicked scramble—more like children playing hide-and-seek than trained fighters.
Kanya didn’t fire. Not yet.
Instead, she quietly picked up a small rock from the floor and tossed it into a distant corner of the cavern.
Clack.
The sound echoed through the tunnels.
Every cultist’s head snapped in that direction at once.
“There! Move in!”
If they’d been from Satan’s cult, they might have paused to question it.
But these meat-headed brutes didn’t hesitate.
They all charged like wild dogs.
And just like that, Kanya circled behind them, toward the entrance.
“Where is she?! She’s gotta be near!”
“Outta the way, idiots! I’ll find her myself!”
With their leader barging ahead to chase the phantom noise, not a single cultist remained guarding the exit.
Kanya climbed back up to the surface.
“No... no, you bitch!”
The shriek of clawed feet scrambling after her echoed too late.
She had already emerged into the light.
She pulled her revolver and aimed it straight at the narrow cave entrance.
“You little—! Get back he—AAARGH!”
The leader had foolishly stuck his head out—only to be rewarded with another bullet smacking his left eyelid.
He slumped back down, howling in fury.
Others tried to follow, but lacked the reflex to blink in time.
Three cultists fell, brain matter dripping from their punctured eye sockets.
The leader erupted.
“I’ll make you regret this, you hear me?! I swear on every damn bone in your body, you’re going to—!”
Reloading her revolver with smooth precision, Kanya scoffed.
“Say it after you get up here.”
The entrance was small.
She was camped right in front of it.
And if she kept popping eyeballs every time one of them climbed up…
It didn’t matter how strong they were. She had the advantage.
All she had to do was hold out until Jericho came back.
It was the best strategy her war-scarred brain could offer.
She prayed.
Please. Please just let this standoff hold until Jericho returns…
But her prayer was cut short.
The ground beneath her feet began to shake.
A subtle tremor at first—then a deep, threatening rumble.
Kanya realized something was wrong.
The cult of Jealousy were known for their brute strength, not their brains. She had used that to her advantage—trapped them underground where tactical precision would fail them.
But now, they were solving the problem their way.
The stupidest way.
A claw burst upward through the rock below her.
“You think you can play games with us, bitch?!”
The cultists were clawing upward—tearing through the cave roof with raw power.
Kanya sneered.
“You idiots! If you keep that up, the whole damn cave’ll—”
Too late.
They didn’t stop.
With a deafening crash, the ceiling of the unstable underground tunnel collapsed.
Boulders and slabs of stone began to fall in a chain reaction. The entire cavern system shook violently.
Kanya scrambled back just in time as the rocky plateau caved in.
Breathless, she turned and stared at the aftermath—an entire hillside swallowed by its own weight.
She exhaled, voice thick with disbelief.
“...Unbelievable.”
The cult of Sloth had been right.
The followers of Jealousy truly couldn’t think ahead.
There was no way anyone could survive having literal tons of rock crush them like that.
“Kanya!!”
She barely had time to blink.
A claw burst through the rubble.
Not just one.
More followed.
Untouched. Unscathed.
One by one, Jealousy’s cultists began slicing through the fallen boulders with their claws like they were paper.
They rose from the ruin, stone crumbling around them.
No broken bones. No visible injuries.
Their absurd strength and monstrous resilience had saved them.
Kanya turned and ran.
Why didn’t these cultists strategize?
Simple.
Because they didn’t have to.
With bodies that could brute force their way through nearly anything, they had no need for tactics.
“S-Stay back! Stay away from me!!”
Even as she fled, Kanya turned and fired.
She clipped a few who were still emerging from the rockfall—clean shots to the eye, as always.
But it wasn’t enough.
The rest charged after her, unfazed.
And at the very front—
“Close your eyes when you see her shoot, idiots!!”
—was their furious leader, the ruined bullet still embedded in his eyelid, roaring like a beast as he led the chase.
***
The flaming sword hissed through the air, shrieking past my head.
I seized the opening and threw my fist toward Quattuor’s helmet.
My knuckles met steel—followed by a surge of agonizing pain.
The helmet exploded under the impact, shattered to scrap metal. But the price? My hand was wrecked. Jagged spikes growing out of his armor had punched clean through it.
It healed quickly, thanks to Kon, but that sharp, nerve-ripping agony still haunted my spine and skull. I really didn’t want to go through that again.
[Hurts, doesn’t it?]
Quattuor stood there like nothing had happened, mocking me as his helmet began repairing itself—despite being blasted to pieces just seconds ago.
Beneath that shattered helm, there was nothing. No face. No flesh. Just clinking, grinding metal that pulled itself back together like it was alive.
[Amael, what the hell are we gonna do? Huh?! Most of our skills don’t work on that thing—it’s not even alive!]
Kon’s voice cracked with panic.
This, from the self-proclaimed “alpha male” who never stopped bragging about his conquests?
Funny how quiet he got when a real monster appeared.
I backed away, watching Quattuor slowly piece himself together again.
I was getting anxious.
What happened to Kanya? Was she safe?
I had no weapon. My fists were useless—they hurt like hell every time they landed, and that bastard just healed right back up anyway.
“I don’t know, Kon.”
[This is why I told you not to mess with the demon lords!! This was exactly what I was afraid of! You don’t pick fights with divine-level entities!!]
“You’re not wrong.”
Logically, yes, this was insane.
But then, I wasn’t exactly driven by logic anymore, was I?
The fact that they sent something like this down meant the demon lords were getting desperate. Angry.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
Just a little more. Just enough to push them to the edge—until they couldn’t take it anymore and descended personally to kill me.
“Kon. Can you make my skin heat-resistant?”
[Wha—WHAT are you thinking, you lunatic?!]
“I’m going to steal that sword.”
[WHAT?!]
“That freak keeps regenerating. But that sword? Anyone it cuts doesn’t heal. So if I use his own sword to slice him up…”
[…That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard—You insane son of a—!]
I didn’t wait for Kon to finish.
I was already charging forward.
He’d complain now, sure—but he’d still do it. He’d reinforce my body exactly how I needed, just like always.
“Also—hypnosis boost. Kill my fear.”
The terror I’d felt from the earlier injury—the sharp sting of panic—vanished like mist.
Kon really was good at his job. If only he’d stop talking so much crap…
[You actually think you can win, Amael?]
Quattuor’s voice growled through the reformed helmet.
The flaming sword swung down toward my throat again.
But this time, I didn’t dodge.
I ran straight into it.
With my reflexes enhanced 3000 times, there was no way I wouldn’t see the attack coming.
Everything slowed.
My arms reached up—aiming not to block, but to grab the blade midair.
I saw Kon bulk up my skin right on time—reinforcing it thick as a shield.
It was going to hurt. But I’d endure it. Just long enough.
Just long enough to snatch the sword away.
Then—just as I reached out to intercept the blade—
[H-Huh?!]
To my shock, Quattuor pulled back. Mid-swing.
The hell?
He’d stopped. Frozen, just inches from cleaving me in two.
Even without a face, I could sense it—he wasn’t trying to kill me.
What the hell?
He… didn’t want to kill me?
Weird.
But it was all the opening I needed.
Instead of grabbing the blade, I lunged for the hilt.
“Kon!”
[Finish it!!]
My arms surged with unnatural strength, pushed beyond the limits of a human body. Muscles tore and screamed. Bones strained.
[WARNING!! PHYSICAL MODIFICATION EXCEEDING SAFE LIMITS! SIDE EFFECTS MAY OCCUR—!]
Screw the warnings.
I didn’t have time for that.
“DIE, YOU DAMN TIN CAN!!”
Quattuor wasn’t ready for my power.
The entire gauntlet—still gripping the sword—ripped clean off his armor.
The burning blade was mine.
Without hesitation, I swung.
[Wa—]
That was the last sound he ever made.
The sword cleaved him from crown to groin in one fluid motion.
The searing edge sliced through metal, melting the armor as it passed.
And, finally—
There was no regeneration.
He was gone. For good.
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