Chapter 105
Satan was starting to panic.
That damned Saint—no, Amael—he’d finally realized it.
He couldn’t be killed.
But why?
The torture Amael had just endured wasn’t something a normal human could’ve withstood. In fact, it was strange that he hadn’t broken by now.
Does he... want to die?
Among humans, there was only one fear greater than death—destruction of the soul. Total annihilation. No afterlife. No heaven, no hell. Just... erasure. A complete and permanent end.
No one could face that without fear.
And yet, this bastard. This fool. Even now, with his body broken beyond recognition, he still swung his limbs like a man who wanted it all to end.
Watching him, Satan realized the truth:
His plan was falling apart.
He was the Demon King of Wrath. His expertise was brutal, merciless destruction. But what good was that to someone who wanted to die? To someone so broken that violence didn’t even frighten them anymore?
“[Sa...tan!! Hurry!!]”
Asmodeus was raging out of control now. Belphegor and Leviathan were struggling to hold her back, groaning with the effort.
Time was running out.
With a grimace, Satan summoned his infernal blade, Valtarukh, once again and gripped it tightly.
“[I’ll respect your choice. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.]”
He charged.
Amael tried to conjure another weapon with time-stopping magic—but his ruined body couldn’t even hold it. That was Wrath’s domain. Satan’s power corroded the body from the inside out.
Even Asmodeus couldn’t fully mend such wounds. Not without pouring in so much divine power that it would destroy Amael in the process.
That’s why the Demon Kings were fighting in the mortal realm to begin with.
In a single swing, Amael’s half-hearted defense was shattered.
Satan grabbed him and slammed him into the ground. Then, with slow, deliberate pressure, he crushed Amael beneath his boot.
The cursed blade Valtarukh pierced through Amael’s leg.
The searing smell of burning flesh filled the air. A scream—long, raw, and ragged—tore out of Amael’s throat.
“[Give in! Just give up already!! Grab my hand! You don’t want this anymore, do you?! I know how much it hurts! It’s not just your body—your soul is being torn apart!! Just grab my hand!! Grab it!!]”
Satan shouted, desperate, as he poured more of his power into the blade.
The sound of sizzling meat echoed across the battlefield. Amael’s scream intensified, until he bit down so hard he cracked his own teeth. Blood dripped from clenched fists.
In all his endless years, Satan had never felt so helpless.
“[Take it! Take my hand, Amael!! I don’t want to hurt you anymore!!]”
If he went too far, Amael would die for real.
And that would be catastrophic.
The world didn’t need another disaster like the one from 300 years ago.
Satan pulled the blade free from Amael’s leg.
Amael wheezed, unable to pass out, his body quivering in agony. He looked up at Satan with a face twisted in torment.
“Just... kill me, you bastard. Just f***ing finish it!!”
Satan was speechless.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
He raised Valtarukh once more.
Where next?
His arm? His stomach? Maybe burn his face?
What if that actually killed him?
Amael’s body was beyond saving. His heart was pounding so fast it could burst at any moment.
His teeth were shattered, his body convulsing—one more strike might push him into shock.
“Kill me!! Please!! Just stab me already!!”
From the mangled ruin of his leg came waves of pain so intense, Amael could do nothing but scream.
Satan hesitated. He couldn’t swing.
“[Goddamn it!! Belphegor!!]”
He turned to the Demon King of Sloth.
Belphegor rushed forward.
Asmodeus, momentarily free, reached for Amael—but Satan caught her just in time. A strangled grunt escaped him as he struggled to restrain her. Even he could barely contain the power she was radiating.
“[Amael!! Amael!!]”
Asmodeus thrashed in fury, and the whole of Talahaim’s rocky peaks shook violently.
Her black left wing writhed and shimmered unnaturally. High above, Lucifer was doing everything he could to suppress it, but even his limits were close.
“[Belphegor!! Do it now! Corrupt him, quickly!!]”
Leviathan screamed in desperation.
Belphegor dove toward the Saint lying broken on the ground. Her hand turned pitch black.
“[Not my preferred method... but I’m out of options too, aren’t I?]”
She lifted Amael into her arms. His body still convulsed in pain, unable to die, unable to pass out.
Her fingers—stained in demonic shadow—slipped gently toward his temple.
“[Don’t worry. This’ll be over soon.]”
Like a finger pressing into soft tofu, her hand slipped into his mind.
Satan and Leviathan brightened with anticipation.
This was Belphegor, after all.
During the Celestial War, no one had corrupted more humans than she had.
There was no way she would fail. No way she couldn’t twist a single human soul to her will.
“[Belphegor! Finish it!!—]”
But then—
“[Ah... how the hell do I...]”
Belphegor’s voice cracked.
She was diving into Amael’s mind.
The memories rushed in—
Wandering the land with Kanya. Scrambling to save people in Scrap Yard. Getting forcibly seduced by three women. Rescuing the twin princesses. Straining his brain to save the witch Erfa. Getting ignored and sidelined in the prophetic House Jericho.
And then—
The memories went further back.
Belphegor stopped reading in reverse.
To understand a human, to corrupt a human—you had to know their story from the very beginning.
Only by understanding... could you unravel them.
Her spirit followed Amael’s life from the start.
She watched the moment he was born.
He was born to ordinary parents and lived an unremarkably peaceful childhood.
Amael—or back then, Mingyu—was never an exceptional student.
“Mrs. Kim, Mingyu’s grades... they’re not that great. With this record, it’ll be very hard for him to get into his desired university.”
As he entered adolescence, Amael’s memories began to darken—blackening like burnt film.
And Belphegor, ever so attentive, honed in on that exact moment.
Pain. Trauma. Deep wounds.
Those were always the most important pieces when it came to corrupting a soul.
One snowy winter’s day.
Amael tasted his first bitter failure.
“I think I blew it. I did okay on Korean, but I bombed the math section. I’m not getting in anywhere.”
Belphegor saw him in the backseat of a strange machine—what mortals called a “car”—on the way back from the exam. His eyes were brimming with tears.
“Don’t worry, son! You can always try again next year!”
“Yeah, don’t beat yourself up. I made dinner reservations. Let’s eat out.”
His parents’ comforting words brought a faint glimmer of light back into his memories.
But it didn’t last long.
Soon after, Amael’s world was plunged into deep, pitch-black despair—Belphegor’s favorite color.
“It was a heart attack. If he’d been found even one minute sooner…”
His father collapsed and passed away quietly.
The sudden loss devastated his mother. Her health rapidly declined in the weeks that followed.
“Don’t worry, Mingyu. I’ll get better soon, and then we’ll figure everything out... okay?”
She smiled, but Amael couldn’t.
“This isn’t the right time for me to study anymore, Mom. We’ve got debts. I’ll find a way to cover your treatment.”
It was the moment he gave something up.
He started working. Any job he could get, no matter how difficult, no matter how painful.
His life turned into a ceaseless cycle of grinding labor and quiet grief.
And yet, the mother he worked so hard to save… eventually passed away too.
Less than a year after his father.
No time to mourn. He had to survive.
Even with both parents gone, he couldn’t stop working.
Day after painful day piled onto his shoulders like a curse.
And Belphegor knew, instinctively—this was the critical turning point.
No human could endure this much pain without breaking.
He had to snap soon.
If she could just pinpoint the exact moment and replicate that trauma… the human psyche would shatter.
That was when she’d have her toy.
A delicious grin touched Belphegor’s lips as she traced the memories further.
And then—
There was a fire.
Amael was working the night shift when it happened.
“We’ve gotta get out!! Now!! Hurry!!”
He was running through the burning building, evacuating children from a cram school.
He was their night guard.
Frantically, he combed every hallway, searching for stragglers. He soaked his shirt in water,
wrapped it around the last remaining child, and pushed him toward safety—
—just as the ceiling collapsed.
Amael threw the child forward and was buried by the debris.
“M-Mister…?”
“Go!! Run!! I’ll get out on my own! Just go!!”
The child sobbed but fled the building.
Amael struggled beneath the rubble, trying to crawl free.
But it was too heavy.
“Goddammit! Why me?! Why does this always happen to me?!”
Smoke filled his lungs. His vision blurred. His scream turned into a sob.
“Why… me…”
Then silence.
The memory ended.
Belphegor said nothing for a long time.
This was the worst type.
The most difficult kind of human to corrupt.
Someone who’d endured a hellish life—and still chose kindness in the end.
People like that didn’t break easily.
It would’ve been easier if he’d been righteous from the start. Because then, she could unearth all that buried anger and resentment.
But this one?
This one didn’t even believe he was good.
He walked through hell, convinced he was flawed, that he wasn’t enough—and still chose to do what was right.
A man like that…
He was nearly impossible to corrupt.
Belphegor slumped, drained.
Even after such a pitiful, tragic life, Amael’s spirit and soul hadn’t changed.
Instead of cursing the world, he simply tried to help where he could.
[...How... how the hell am I supposed to break this?]
If she’d had time, maybe it could’ve been done.
But time—that was the problem.
She didn’t have it.
“[Damn it, Belphegor!!]”
The furious screams of Satan and Leviathan pierced the air.
[You useless, brainless fool!!]
Lucifer howled in fury.
“[Amael!!]”
And then—
With a roar, Asmodeus’ divine power surged explosively.
And finally…
You arrogant bastard. Daring to blind me and pull this kind of stunt behind my back?
A voice like rot and ruin crept into the world.
It was him.
The Archdemon of the Abyss.
Abaddon.
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