Chapter 22The Blood Devil died.
Ruling over her domain, she relied on her subordinates' search and somehow obtained a clue that supposedly led to the Primal.
"Upward, downward, or forward—the place where the Primal resides is the true Hell."
The Blood Devil didn't understand a word of it. She felt mocked, so she casually drained every drop of blood from the devil who gave her the information—then used that same blood to carve the corpse into a thousand pieces.
"Utterly reckless! Information even this great one—with Hell-shocking wisdom—can't comprehend must obviously be fake!!!"
That's what the Blood Devil declared.
But after hearing those words, she casually replayed them in her mind—intending to delete the useless data—then took one step forward.
One step.
In an instant, she stood somewhere else entirely.
A bizarre aura and crushing pressure instantly warned her to leave immediately.
"Tch. What kind of bullshit warning dares order this great one?!"
The Blood Devil strode onward with arrogant, heaven-defying steps—charging straight ahead without hesitation.
For some reason, her eyes could now only see forward. Flashes of herself defeating everything and ruling Hell completely kept flickering through her vision.
While the Blood Devil marched forward with her head held high—
From a distant view, the door behind her grew smaller and smaller.
Beside that door stood a flaming, centaur-like devil (?).
From its perspective:
Hands covered the Blood Devil's eyes. A phantom sword hovered above her head.
With every step forward she took, the hands over her eyes grew fainter—while the illusory sword overhead became more solid.
As the door shrank, the centaur-shaped devil turned and walked in the opposite direction—its back growing smaller in the darkness until it vanished completely…
The Hell the Blood Devil once knew: chaotic mess, nothing but wilderness, nothing but devils, nothing but dull gray negative matter—no bright colors anywhere.
This place was different. The terrain was just as chaotic, but every so often she glimpsed things she'd never seen before: "golden auditorium buildings," "red-and-white dual-faced wooden houses," "strange-shaped rockets," "volcanoes," "forests"… "tombstones."
"Oh oh! This great one has seen that one!"
Finally—something familiar!
The Blood Devil instinctively moved closer to the recognizable object.
At some point the blinding hands had completely vanished—so the Blood Devil was "free" again.
As she approached the tombstone, she noticed its blood-red color. One glance—and she froze.
Confused, she muttered:
"Is this… about this great one?"
The scent was familiar. Not only was the name on the tombstone "Blood Devil"—the words themselves were written in the Blood Devil's own blood, by her own hand.
The Blood Devil had never written before. She couldn't even read. She recognized it through pure instinct.
But once she understood, the Blood Devil suddenly became lifeless.
She watched herself—watched the shell called "Blood Devil"—blindly marching toward some direction.
She couldn't stop it. She could only watch. Keep watching. Until the "Blood Devil" reached an upright empty coffin and lay down inside.
The coffin lid closed automatically. Her perspective finally returned to the Blood Devil inside the coffin. Nothing to see. Only darkness—and the approaching "judgment."
The sword that had hovered above the Blood Devil's head still rested on the coffin.
As the Blood Devil lay inside, the sword—carrying the will of "certain death" and "formatting"—slowly descended.
Suddenly, an invisible presence gripped the hilt.
"Came looking for it herself? Interesting… let me see…
Hm~ Interesting. To grow this 'big' in Hell… should make a nice toy."
With that, the invisible presence casually flung the sword away.
The coffin still emitted faint, almost imperceptible sounds. The invisible presence leaned closer and heard the Blood Devil's lively death struggle.
"Pretty lively, huh~"
The same hand that had held the hilt now pressed against the coffin. In one instant, the coffin transformed through countless forms.
Each form was a sealed torture device evolved from the most horrific "sins" and "punishments" in human history.
During this process, inside the coffin, it felt like an eternity passed.
After the hand withdrew, the coffin finally went still.
"Haha~ Such an interesting little thing. Maybe that one would be interested too."
The invisible presence carried the coffin to a certain place.
Loose gray-white powdery surface soil. Densely packed circular craters of varying sizes. Uneven terrain, exaggerated depth…
"Black,"
A single byte escaped.
In the deepest, darkest part of this mysterious domain, a small hand pointed.
The invisible presence was "driven away."
It was unharmed—but cracks appeared on the coffin beside it.
The coffin gradually lost color. The lid shifted open a fraction. A pair of mangled, heavily tortured, deformed arms squeezed out from the gap.
The hands weakly clenched—regaining a little strength—
Then detonated themselves.
It committed suicide.
"Ah… what a waste. If that one doesn't want it, I was planning to keep it as a collectible for a long time…"
…
Sinking and floating between life and death.
Even during the turn, that soul-deep fear clung like maggots to bone—constantly tormenting the Blood Devil.
Arriving in the human world, her broken form was about to die again.
No, no—I don't want to…
Struggling, dragging her near-dead body, as if fated—she obtained that human corpse…
Afterward, she "lost her memories." She forgot everything.
Wandering like a savage, meeting Meowy, encountering the Bat Devil… "Branch■" (myopia terror—recalling the deepest fear), "losing memories again," "Power"—
"Power"
"Power, Denji, and Meowy"
"Nightmare"
"Denji, Meowy, and Power"
…
Back to the present.
Denji tried to peel Power off his body.
Lifting her arms that were wrapped around his neck and shoulders.
Then supporting her hips, unwrapping the legs coiled around his waist.
The moment he freed her legs—her arms latched back on.
He freed her arms—her legs hooked again.
"Seriously…"
With no other choice, while unraveling Power's "golden unbreakable lock," Denji also stripped off their obstructing work uniforms.
Uh, yes—both of them.
After all, Denji didn't want to bathe with clothes on.
"Sigh… whatever. It's not like I haven't done this before in my last life."
In his previous life he'd long grown used to this level of intimate care for Power—though that habit hadn't lasted long…
Well, this life will be different. This life—he can do it as long as he wants~!
Eyes firm. Denji never lies.
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