Chapter 2: The Imprisoned Priest.

“This is… where?”

Perth forcefully suppressed the urge to vomit, warily scanning his surroundings.

The only exit was a massive spiral stone staircase winding upward, disappearing into the unfathomable darkness above.

He summoned the last remnants of holy light within his body, attempting to dispel the bone-chilling cold and discomfort.

At that moment—

Tap… tap… tap…

Crisp, steady footsteps—like a death knell countdown—echoed from the very top of the spiral staircase, sending heart-shaking reverberations through the dead-silent space.

“Oh? So this is what the humans call their ‘strongest priest’?”

A low, icy voice with the texture of scraping metal slowly rang out. Every syllable struck directly against Perth’s taut nerves.

The footsteps drew steadily closer. A tall, dark silhouette gradually emerged at the end of the staircase.

Perth’s entire body tensed in full alert. Holy light silently gathered in his palm. He stared fixedly at the figure steadily coming into focus:

Two strands of jet-black, disheveled hair framed an increasingly cold and handsome face. On either side of his head rose sharp, elongated dragon horns. Most unnerving of all were those eyes—dark crimson irises with pupils narrowed to two needle-thin vertical slits.

He wore an opulent, intricately patterned black-and-red robe. Though he deliberately restrained his aura, the invisible pressure radiating from him made Perth instinctively realize—this person was no ordinary being.

Perth’s heart sank. Without hesitation, he pushed the gathered holy light to its limit, preparing to unleash a thunderous strike—

“Plop-lu-lu-lu—!”

Just as the holy light was about to erupt, four thick, slippery black tentacles shot out from the sewage beneath him. Covered in suction cups, they moved like venomous snakes endowed with life and will, instantly wrapping around his four limbs with lightning speed.

The tentacles were ice-cold and slick. Carrying an overwhelming surge of demonic power, they caused Perth to feel, in horror, that the holy light he had painstakingly gathered was being frantically drained—like floodwaters bursting through a dam. His internal mana was instantly depleted.

“I suggest you behave.”

The figure on the stairs finally descended the last step, looking down condescendingly at the completely restrained Perth.

A cruel, delighted curve tugged at the corner of the man’s mouth.

“My little pets that live in the water have always loved the pure, unadulterated taste of holy light on you priests the most. They’re quite famished.”

Perth struggled desperately, but the tentacles only tightened further.

He furrowed his brows and roared upward in fury:

“When my companions realize I’ve gone missing, they will definitely come looking for me. When that time comes—you’re dead!”

“Oh? Will they really?”

In those needle-like vertical pupils, naked contempt and mockery shone openly—cutting straight into the deepest wound in Perth’s heart.

“A single priest… is he really worth Maca Charlemagne risking himself to infiltrate enemy territory just to search for?”

Perth’s face instantly drained of color.

Yes… Maca would not.

Right now he was probably busy writing letters, selecting a more “suitable” replacement for himself. His disappearance would only be regarded as the cowardly flight of a weakling.

The man seemed to greatly enjoy Perth’s despair. He slowly stepped forward, his boots producing clear echoes on the damp stone floor.

“Let me tell you where this is.

This is the end of the continent—the heart of the Snow Plains, the nightmare land of your kind—

Demon King City.”

He leaned down slightly. His icy breath almost brushed Perth’s face.

“Your companions want to take you back? Heh. First they’ll have to step over the mountain of corpses piled on that plain.”

Demon King City!

So the man before him… was none other than Demon King Restel himself?

Perth’s pupils contracted violently from extreme fear and rage.

If not for his mana being sucked dry by these damned tentacles, if not for being completely unarmed—he truly wanted to purify the source of this world’s greatest evil right here and now!

“What exactly do you want by capturing me and bringing me here?”

Perth forced himself to stay calm. His voice came out hoarse from humiliation and anger.

A hostage? Blackmail them into surrender? Don’t even dream!

He knew very well—in that Hero’s strategy, individual lives were nothing more than cold numbers.

His death would merely bring the next priest dispatched by the Church, and the war would continue without end.

“Surrender?”

Restel laughed low, as though he had heard the most amusing joke. The sound echoed through the vast stone chamber.

“No, no, no, dear little priest.

The reason I invited you here… is of course in the hope that you…”

He deliberately drew out the words, his tone carrying demonic temptation,

“…will join us.”

“Ha?!”

Perth could hardly believe his ears. The sheer absurdity almost dispelled his fear for a moment.

“Join you? Become a lackey of the demons? I think the filthy air here has rotted your brain! Daydreaming!”

A holy priest joining the demon race—this was blasphemy of the highest order!

The smile on Restel’s face deepened, carrying a cruel playfulness.

He took one elegant step forward—directly stepping into the foul, turbid water—and slowly closed the distance to Perth.

A hand clad in pure white gloves slowly rose, aimed straight at Perth’s blood-stained yet still strikingly handsome face.

“Get away! Don’t touch me with your filthy hands!”

Perth violently twisted his head aside, as if that white glove were more nauseating than the foulest sludge.

For a member of the clergy to be touched by evil demonic power was the ultimate humiliation!

“Such fierce resistance?”

Restel’s hand paused in mid-air. He looked at the man before him with great interest.

Even in such a miserable state, in the most filthy corner of Demon King City, this young silver-haired priest still emanated an almost stubborn, unerasable aura of sanctity.

“The purer it is, the more interesting it becomes when it is completely defiled, don’t you think?”

Malice pure and unadulterated flickered in Restel’s eyes.

He was very curious to see just how long this proud young priest could keep his mouth so hard.

As he spoke, Restel reached into an inner pocket of his luxurious robe and took something out.

It was a fist-sized crystal emitting an ominous black-red glow.

It lay quietly in Restel’s palm—like the frozen core of sin itself. The powerful, pure surge of dark energy made the surrounding air feel stagnant.

Perth’s breathing stopped instantly. His pupils dilated from extreme shock. He recognized the terrifying aura radiating from it.

“…This is?!”

“You humans only know how to refine the corpses of magic beasts into crystals—commonly called magic crystals. Those are merely low-grade inferior products formed from the mana condensation of weak monsters after death.

What I hold is a Demon Core.

Only after an extremely powerful high-tier demon—or an ancient dragon—perishes will its core mana condense into such a supreme treasure.”

He admired the horror in Perth’s eyes while gently stroking the dangerous crystal with his fingertips.

“Since I want you to become one of us, naturally I need a small… insurance.

Come now. Open your mouth.”

Watching the silver-haired man’s resistance, his tone was as gentle as a lover’s whisper—yet carried an ice-cold, irresistible command.

“Don’t force me to do it myself.”

“You—dream—on—!!!”

Perth let out a desperate, hoarse roar.

To swallow a Demon Core filled with ultimate darkness and destruction into his body? That was no different from pouring the most violent poison down his throat.

Rather than become a puppet of the demons, he would rather die right here!

He clenched his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums. His lips were sealed like welded iron. With every ounce of strength, he resisted this terrifying fate.

He even felt that the pristine white gloves on the Demon King’s hands were the most vicious mockery of the very concept of holiness!

In the midst of his violent struggling and twisting—

The Demon Core in Restel’s hand suddenly slipped.

With a soft “plop”, the black-red crystal fell into the turbid water.

In that instant, the tentacles lurking beneath the surface went mad—like sharks scenting blood—and frantically surged toward where the core had sunk.

“Hmph!”

Restel gave a cold snort.

An invisible pressure instantly enveloped the entire space.

The frenzied tentacles froze as though struck by an unseen hammer, then trembled violently and sank back into the depths, not daring to move again.

“It seems you don’t particularly like this method of joining us.”

Restel’s gaze returned to the restrained silver-haired man. In those needle-like vertical pupils, dark crimson killing intent surged like molten lava from hell.

“No matter.

You still have other entrances on your body.”