Chapter Fifty-Nine: Crazy Demon (Part Two)
“You’re all going to d*e here, how tragic.”
Mr. J wore an excited smile as he spoke, strolling into the crowd with his kn*fe in hand, tilting his head slightly. The eerie aura emanating from him made the villagers tremble in fear, parting ways to create a clear path.
Some, completely losing their minds from terror, pushed through the crowd, yelling and fleeing, only to be caught and dragged back.
“I’m planning to k*ll you all… slice by slice, peeling your flesh and tossing it into boiling water… I told you, the crazies have been starving for a while. They want to eat, especially since they just took care of a fair number of your so-called heroes. You get it, right?”
“Y-Your Excellency…”
“Please spare us!”
The villagers were petrified, men, women, and elders alike dropping to their knees, unsure how to plead for their lives, especially with such a gruesome d*ath hanging over them. Fear gripped their souls as they prayed to the demon, tears and cries echoing across the clearing.
“We’re innocent! We’re innocent—”
“The ones against you are those knights, not me! Not me!”
“I’ll do anything for you! Please—”
“You’re a great person, rich in mercy, please spare me! I have children at home…”
At that moment, the villagers were giving it their all.
Desperate pleas, pinning their hopes on the mercy of a demon.
Yet none dared to rise against him.
“But…”
Mr. J ignored the cries around him, striding straight to the village chief and the little girl, halting just in front of them.
“I am indeed a merciful person, or a sympathetic madman, if you will. I like giving people opportunities, but there’s only one—”
He reached out, patting the girl on the head.
The blonde girl trembled, pulling back sharply, clutching the old man’s trousers, glaring at him with fierce eyes, yet fear, cowardice, helplessness, and trembling hands betrayed her.
“Grandpa… I’m scared…”
After all, she was just a child.
“Don’t be scared, dear… close your eyes…”
The old man hugged his granddaughter tightly, desperation etched on his face, his eyes reddening.
Mr. J laughed unabashedly.
“Your grandpa’s right, don’t be scared… I said I like giving chances. Little girl, I like you, and I’m giving you this chance. But there’s only one.”
He flipped the kn*fe over and offered the handle to the little girl.
“Come… take the kn*fe.”
Then he looked up at the old man’s mournful face, giving him a wild, silent grin, softly saying, “k*ll this old man.”
The elder froze, suddenly going rigid, eyes wide open.
“You… what did you say…”
He hadn’t quite heard the demon.
But he clearly understood the extreme malice behind that smile.
“You, you monster…”
Mr. J sighed lightly.
“It takes a few times for you to grasp this; I’m not a monster. But, with your head, it’s tough to comprehend. Feel free to think whatever you want. Anyway, let’s have the girl take the kn*fe and stab you. I’ll agree not to k*ll her. How about that? She’s your granddaughter, right? So young. Do you want her to d*e here? You don’t want that, and neither do I. So… hmm? Understand?”
Mr. J raised a finger, shaking it slightly.
“There’s only one chance. I gave it to this little girl, and to you… Or do you want to pass the chance to others, let someone else k*ll you so they can live?”
“You… what are you saying? I… I can’t hear clearly…”
“I’m going to start counting down.”
“Grandpa…”
The little girl began to cry.
“Three.”
“Y-You need to speak louder!”
“Two.”
“Grandpa… waaa—”
“What do you want me to do? I don’t understand… what do you want us to do…”
“One. Time’s up.”
Mr. J pulled back the kn*fe.
“What a pity… You actually refused my kind offer? I was really starting to like you.”
He pretended to feel genuinely sad, a frown creasing his face.
“Hahahahaha—”
The surrounding heretics burst into hearty laughter, as if witnessing the most ridiculous theater in the world.
Then, in the midst of laughter and cries, Mr. J turned abruptly.
He no longer looked at the pitiful village chief and the little girl, letting the old man shout helplessly behind him, “What did you say!,” “I’ll do it!,” “Please don’t harm my grandchild!” Those desperate, sorrowful cries swept away the demon’s earlier disappointment, twisting his smile further.
He viewed himself as a sage, arms open wide for the world, raising his sharp kn*fe high above his head, bestowing mercy upon the cowering, ugly villagers controlled by fear.
“You all heard my words! This opportunity is here, who wants it? Show me with your actions—”
He threw the kn*fe high into the air.
“Grab it, k*ll! Anyone can! As long as you can drive that blade into someone’s chest or cut someone’s throat! If they d*e, you live!”
Clang clang clang—
Countless sharp knives glinted ominously as, amidst maniacal laughter, the first kn*fe was tossed skyward, quickly followed by others, falling at the villagers’ feet.
They hesitated for just a moment.
But it was only for a heartbeat. Immediately, the first person reached down to pick up a kn*fe.
It was a burly man.
He grasped the kn*fe, looking down at the curled blade, his eyes flickering momentarily before darting up to the frightened, numb, or ducking faces surrounding him.
Those were faces he saw every day, familiar and close, now in disarray, even the elders and friends. As he gazed at them, at their dirty, wary expressions, it was like time rewound to the night of the Lunar Festival, when everyone raised their cups in celebration.
How could he do it…
But then he thought: if he couldn’t do it, then he would d*e.
…I can’t d*e.
But he didn’t want to k*ll anyone.
Didn’t want to k*ll…
While he pondered, his gaze skimmed the crowd, suddenly locking onto a repugnant face.
He recognized that face.
It was Andrew, the laziest, most disliked good-for-nothing in the village.
As they made eye contact, Andrew panicked, scurrying away into the crowd—why was he hiding?
Suddenly, he recalled that months ago, that rascal had taken advantage of his absence at sea to h*rass his beloved wife, who was even aging gracefully in her thirties.
In that instant, his wife’s grievances and tears replayed in his mind, how she lamented his frequent outings at sea, not wanting to stay by her side… and yet now, six months later, the memory of that awful night should have faded away.
But for some reason, seeing that rogue’s face and realizing he was hiding from himself ignited a sudden anger in him.
That d*mn good-for-nothing…
Had the gall to show his face!
The man’s expression contorted into a snarl.
He walked towards the scoundrel with his kn*fe raised, unsure of what he wanted to do, just moving forward, step by step… Andrew screamed in terror, pushing through the crowd, trying to escape. The man quickened his pace, not really intending to k*ll him, but if he had to k*ll someone to survive and perhaps reunite with his wife lost in the flames, then…
Thud!
Suddenly, the man froze, eyes widening.
He looked down at the kn*fe deeply embedded in his gut, disbelief taking hold as he followed the grip of the kn*fe back to an all-too-familiar, aged face.
“Vi… village chief…”
bl**d gushed out.
The surrounding chaos erupted.
At some point, the villagers began fighting over the knives.
The elderly village chief had stabbed himself in the abdomen. Tears brimming in his eyes, it seemed he tried to say something, but the man didn’t catch it. After a couple of shocked seconds, fury surged within him. He grabbed the blade, roaring in anger, kicking the elder away. Just as he tried to pursue further, his legs buckled, and he collapsed into the tumult.
Breathing became a struggle; his kn*fe lost somewhere amidst the chaos. Excruciating pain tore through his abdomen, sending waves of agony to his head, blurring his vision.
I’m going to d*e…
Faintly, he saw the village chief he had kicked away, still struggling on the ground, getting trampled underfoot. His frail form couldn’t evade the kicks, bloodied and battered, until he succumbed to unconsciousness.
The loquacious little girl knelt beside him, crying loudly. Someone soon noticed her, yanked her by the hair, forcing her down, and pummeling her head while muttering, “Not my fault, not my fault…” The girl’s cries echoed heart-wrenchingly, but soon her voice was silenced.
We’re all going to d*e…
The man watched as the figure dragged the motionless girl away, like a broken puppet, desperately running towards the edge of the crowd, yelling in wild glee.
“I killed one! I killed one!”
That voice faded away in his ears, and then a dark shadow flitted past his blurred vision. In the next instant, a blade pierced his chest.
He felt nothing, and darkness rushed in.
The last image in his mind was his wife’s bright smile.
…………
Mr. J emerged from the chaotic crowd, stepping aside, his smile still intact, when he noticed a tall, scruffy man approaching.
“Oh, Fog Hidden,” he greeted.
Then he saw the man toss something round, bloodied, rolling to Mr. J’s feet, which he stopped with a toe, revealing it to be a human head.
“…Pope Knight?” he asked.
“Pope Knight.”
The man nodded, glancing briefly at the chaos among the villagers before losing interest, quickly approaching Mr. J. “He was a guy using the Order of Earth, named… I forgot to ask. Anyway, he had quite a terrifying brute strength and gave me a decent workout.”
Mr. J twisted his neck, a smirk creeping onto his face. “So, did you enjoy yourself?”
The man, known as Fog Hidden, shook his head gently.
“Compared to the little girl we met at sea, this one really doesn’t live up to the standard of a Pope Knight.”
“Ha! You’re really hung up on that little girl from the sea.”
“Well, I truly found myself in a tough battle… It’s been years since I felt that life-or-d*ath thrill.”
“But you won in the end.”
“No, I lost three times and won on the fourth.”
“Is that so? Sounds like a formidable individual… Did you k*ll her?”
“No, she escaped. But at that point, she was heavily injured and in the sea, she probably didn’t make it.”
“That’s quite unfortunate…”
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. There will always be stronger foes looking for us.”
“When that time comes… let’s have some fun.”
The demons exchanged smiles.
They eagerly awaited new prey.
…………
Ten minutes.
The villagers’ slaughter game came to an end.
The survivors, bloodied and dazed, dropped their knives, staring at the corpses scattered around, there were strange expressions on their pale faces, some kneeling, others laughing.
Mr. J approached them.
“Congratulations!”
His exaggerated smile beamed as he approached a nearby middle-aged man, cupping his bloodied face with his hands. His fingers traced the man’s cracked lips, gently stroking his head as if calming a child.
The man trembled.
“Shh! Shh… don’t be scared… you did great, you surpassed yourself, well done… don’t be scared, don’t tremble… what’s your name?”
“…Kubard, my lord…”
“Very good, Kubard. Don’t be scared… I won’t harm you again.”
With those words, Mr. J embraced the man warmly, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years.
“Take a deep breath, relax… that’s it, don’t drop the kn*fe, pick it up and hold it tight… your mission isn’t over yet; now, go k*ll those knights for me.”
The demon’s cold whisper reached the man’s ears, causing his recently revived heartbeat to falter again, plunging him into a frozen state.
But…
He instinctively glanced at the battered knights, completely devoid of the will to fight back.
Then he tightened his grip on the kn*fe.
There was no turning back…
“Hey, hey haha… wuwu… hahahahaha—”
The man laughed and cried, looking utterly insane.
Mr. J watched him, a slow smile spreading across his face, half of it swallowed by the last rays of the setting sun, as the other half broke into a wicked grin.
“Welcome to the Gate of Truth.”
