[Salvos] 597. Nothing Grand (Patreon)

597. Nothing Grand

***

Torin watched as space opened up— the world unfurled before his very eyes, and a pocket space revealed itself where the Warp Point would have been. Out from the rift stepped a red-skinned Demon. A towering figure that rippled with red muscles stood there, a furious gaze scarred across his face.

It was the Heir of the Netherworld. Or rather, the former Heir of the Netherworld. His name was Haec, and Torin had only ever seen him from afar.

They had never interacted before, but Torin had never liked Haec. The way Haec had so quickly risen up the ranks had always infuriated Torin— especially considering how Torin’s own meteoric rise had been overshadowed. The fact that Torin became a Deathsquad Hunter in such a short amount of time was ignored because Haec had chosen to be the Heir of the Netherworld.

So when Torin heard that Haec had betrayed the Demon King, Torin knew what he wanted to do. He was going to be the one to bring down the former Heir of the Netherworld.

So when Venas was recruiting for other Deathsquad Hunters to track down Haec, Torin immediately volunteered himself. Because now, Torin would be able to prove himself to the Demon King— Torin could bring down the Traitor and show just how competent he truly was.

Unfortunately, Venas had planned a roundabout attack, so there had been nothing for Torin to do. It was a trap that made no sense— to attract the Beast which was an incredibly risky maneuver, rather than facing Haec head-on. Certainly, there was the Enemy to look out for. She was a Primeval Demon who was significantly higher-leveled than all the other Deathsquad Hunters barring Venas.

However, Venas was a Level 188 [Archfiend]. He would be able to deal with her easily. Meanwhile, the other four Deathsquad Hunters should have been able to take out the rest of the defectors with ease. The whole trap was pointless. Or so Torin thought.

That was why he was glad that it failed. He was glad to see Haec emerging from the rift in space right before the Warp Point. Torin ducked low as four flaming figures followed out after the former Heir of the Netherworld. They were apparitions— clones made of fire. And they immediately unleashed an onslaught of attacks onto the Deathsquad Hunters.

Chorus was sent flying back by a blast of silver and gold flames, while Keran and Eros were hounded back and away from the Warp Point. The last clone flew straight at Torin, but he saw the attack coming. He quickly sidestepped the swiping claw before raising a finger.

“[Scramble Senses].”

There was a flash of purple light— dark threads seemed to coil around the clone of the Traitor, before she crashed into the ground in utter confusion. She tried to pick herself up, only to slam her head into the floor.

Torin shook his head with a smug smile on his face, before he turned around. He heard the thudding footfalls approaching. He looked up to see Haec standing there, taking a combat stance.

“So the Traitor has decided to stop running for once. Did you realize that being a coward is fruitless?”

The [Grand Puppeteer Fiend] smirked as he slowly circled around the former Heir of the Netherworld. In response, Haec just rubbed a hand on his right wrist.

“You are right. I finally decided to stop running— to stop being a coward. But I am not a traitor. I did not betray my own people for my selfish goals.”

“What are you implying?”

Torin narrowed his eyes as Haec took a step forward.

“I am saying that the Demon King is the real Traitor. He has sacrificed millions of his own people— of Demons just like you and I— for no real reason other than to further his desires. If you wish to direct your ire towards someone, then direct it towards him.”

It was a simple speech. One that made Torin pause for a moment. Then he laughed as he shook his head.

“I have heard this spiel a thousand times before. The only thing I have heard more often is the screams of you cowards begging for your lives when you have finally been caught for your treachery. Come on now, do you really think that’s enough to convince me to aid you?”

Torin took a step forward as his right hand shimmered, and the shadows beneath his feet shifted. But Haec didn’t seem to take notice of it. He was too distracted by Torin’s words.

“The Lord of Lies tried the same trick on me. He thought that I could see his reason. And I do. The Demon King does not care about us. But… why does that even matter? Going against Regnorex will achieve nothing but my own demise.”

The Deathsquad Hunter continued with a shrug. He watched as the coiling shadows seemed to draw closer to his target. He crossed his arms, pretending to be none-the-wiser.

Haec’s eyes flickered as he finally spoke.

“You knew the Lord of Lies?”

“I wouldn’t quite say we were close friends. Acquaintances, perhaps. We encountered each other quite a few times in the wilderness of the Netherworld— before I decided that it was foolish to resist joining the Demon King. That path leads only to… death.”

Torin’s eyes flashed as Haec blinked. And the ground beneath Haec’s feet seemed to burst open. Tendrils of shadows shot out into the air as Haec tried to leap back. But he was too slow. The tendrils caught him, holding him in place as Torin laughed.

“Seriously? Did you actually fall for that? You’re so weak. I cannot believe that they actually thought someone like you would be fit to be the Heir of the Netherworld!”

Torin strode forward as explosions and blasts resounded behind him. He glanced back once to see Chorus emerging from a pile of rubble, wreathed in a crimson aura as she stared down one of the Traitor’s clones. Keran and Eros moved gracefully across the battlefield— their movements in sync as they sent fractal shards flying in every direction, keeping the other three clones back.

“You do not understand, do you? Not all of us blindly worship the Demon King. Some of us simply have common sense— some of us realize that disobeying our orders means certain death.”

Torin raised a hand, pointing at Haec. He twisted his wrist as the former Heir of the Netherworld yelped.

“Y-you… and you dare call me the coward…”

Haec snarled as his body twisted from the curse. Torin sneered, continuing to crush his enemy with his curses.

“What’s wrong? Can’t break out? Where’s your little Grand Skills they’ve praised so much? I don’t see it…”

Torin waited, but Haec just squirmed where he stood. It was exactly as Torin expected. Haec had no Grand Skills to show. It was all only rumors, made to exaggerate the greatness of the Heir of the Netherworld.

“Goodbye, Heir of the Netherworld.”

And Torin watched as the darkness overwhelmed the red figure. He laughed maniacally, taking a step back. He knew that this would have been an easy victory—

But Torin paused. He blinked as he heard a voice cut through his laughter.

“[Dispel Bindings].”

“What…?”

He spun around just in time to see a tiny [Abraxas] poking out of the rift in space. Bertrugil— one of the other cowards who fled the Demon King’s Domain— stood there with a smile on his face.

Torin’s eyes went wide as the shadows rapidly receded from the red figure. The Deathsquad Hunter snarled, pointing at the rift. But he was too slow. The rift slammed shut as Torin cursed. His gaze darted around his surroundings as space seemed to ripple all around him.

And he heard a distorted voice echoing around the air.

“Haec, get up! You can defeat him! I am with you! [I Am Your Sword And Shield]!”

That made Torin narrow his eyes. He looked back to the ground, watching as Haec rose to his feet, his body bloodied and bruised. But the former Heir of the Netherworld was still alive.

Torin clicked his tongue.

“Annoying… I will deal with you first, then I shall kill all your cowardly friends too.”

Haec looked down at himself as his wounds began to heal. A pink aura overcame him, giving him power. He clenched his fist, before looking back up to face Torin.

“Thank you, Taburas.”

He whispered to himself as he strode forward. The pink aura wisping off his body began to coalesce onto his right hand, and he held Torin’s gaze.

The Deathsquad Hunter smirked, backing up. He was a [Grand Puppeteer Fiend]. That meant he was not quite as durable as others around his level, but he made up for it with his offensive capabilities as well as keen intuition. He, alone, could change the field of battle with the Skills he provided.

He clapped his hands together as the shadows coalesced around him.

“Come now, do you really think you can defeat me in your current state?”

But Haec ignored him. The former Heir of the Netherworld just slowly walked forward as the pink aura wreathing him began to darken.

“You wish to see my Grand Skill?”

Haec shook his head as he took another step forward. His eyes burned in fury.

“Very well, then. I shall show it to you.”

And he raised his right fist. Torin narrowed his eyes, before weaving his hands together. The shadows began to form a barrier around the [Grand Puppeteer Fiend] as he cackled.

“Let us see what you’ve got, oh great Heir of the Netherworld!”

Haec walked forward. He was only a Level 148 [Fiend]. While his exact Subspecies was unknown to Torin, it didn’t matter. There was an entire evolution between the two of them. There was nothing grand about an Archdemon's Grand Skill. So having a Grand Skill would not change the outcome of this fight.

Torin would win with ease. He spread his arms wide as Haec’s right arm tensed.

“[Shield of Shadows]. Come on, what are you waiting for?”

The Deathsquad Hunter raised his barrier with a wild smile on his face. Haec narrowed his eyes.

“Show me your Grand Skill—”

Torin started, and Haec whispered.

“[The Right Hand of the Demon King].”

And the former Heir of the Netherworld swung out with his bulging fist. Torin blinked, hearing the whispered words.

“The right…?”

All at once, a powerful strike ripped straight through the [Shield of Shadows]. Torin’s eyes went wide. But it was already too late. The impact struck him a moment later, and he felt like his entire body was being ripped apart.

“I—”

He opened his mouth, only for blood to cough out. Torin stumbled back, before realizing he couldn’t even stumble back. He looked down at himself to see that he had no lower body. And the realization settled in.

Torin hadn’t just felt like he was ripped in half. He had actually been ripped in half. He tried to work his jaw, but he collapsed down onto the ground, his lower body gone, splattered across the floor in a streak of black blood.

Haec strode up to the fallen Deathsquad Hunter, his shadow looming over Torin’s vision.

“P-please don’t kill me…”

Torin begged. And Haec just shook his head.

“And out of all the Demons who said those very same words to you, how many of them have you spared?”

Haec waited a moment as Torin just stared. There were no words left to say. The former Heir of the Netherworld closed his eyes, raising a leg.

“I thought so.”

And Torin saw nothing but darkness.

Author's Notes:

What thonk?

Read next chapter here