Chapter 14: Shred the Snail Bride (3)
……Chill ran down his spine!
Goosebumps broke out all over.
It felt like being drenched in cold water.
A surge of confusion came over him in an instant.
‘H-How……?’
Pikamir was appalled.
He couldn’t understand it.
The grip clenching the back of his neck right now. The head that leaned over this way, just above his shoulder. Thanks to that, he ended up getting a rather uncomfortable close-up view of the side of the face.
It was clearly the Demon Lord, Credos.
Which made it even more incomprehensible.
‘I was…… hiding perfectly, without leaving a trace…… How?’
He was a ghost without a physical body.
He could only exert physical force temporarily by overlaying himself with mana. So when he went all out to conceal his presence? Most beings couldn't detect even a trace of his energy, let alone his very existence.
But now, it was different.
‘He found me…… instantly…….’
Did he sense his presence?
Impossible.
No way.
Not even for a Demon Lord.
‘Seriously, how on earth……?’
Pikamir stared at the Demon Lord, feeling his mental state evaporate in real-time like poof poof.
Then the Demon Lord—Kim Jangcheol—also looked at him.
"Hey there."
“……!”
Pikamir’s eyes wavered uncontrollably.
Kim Jangcheol gave a bright, radiant smile.
"You're wondering how I caught you just now, right? Doesn’t make any sense to you, huh?"
“……!”
"It’s simple."
“……?”
"The compost I made smells so strong and concentrated—did I even need to sense your presence or whatever?"
“……!”
Pikamir’s chest sank once again.
Kim Jangcheol tightened his grip on the back of his neck.
And then he recalled it again.
The joy and the sense of danger he’d just felt a moment ago.
‘At first…… I was dumbfounded, but also happy.’
It was just one minute ago.
Until then, he had come out to the potato field under tremendous pressure. From early in the morning, he had steeled himself.
Because today, he planned to start plowing the field.
He had intended to give it his all.
Even if it was tough, he would do it thoroughly.
He would push the lower-ranking demons only within safe limits, while personally moving around as much as possible to cover the work.
He had made that promise to himself.
But then—what the heck?
The field had completely changed.
Compost, spread so meticulously! A field so perfectly overturned that even the local worm and mole associations would’ve given it a standing ovation!
It was exactly the ideal potato field preparation he had imagined. And somehow, right before his eyes, it had become real.
He was left speechless.
Honestly, he had been overjoyed.
Because free things were good.
Because free things were delicious.
Because free things were excellent.
He even thought he wouldn’t mind going bald if it meant chasing after free stuff.
Because it was free!
He was happy. Overwhelmingly joyful. Though he wasn’t a kid anymore, it felt like getting a gift from Santa Claus.
And that’s why… he felt a sense of danger.
‘Who did this?’
The bigger the joy that filled his chest, the stronger the wave of suspicion and unease that followed. The moment he became aware of it, he had looked around, scanning his surroundings.
‘Someone plowed the field overnight. For free? Because they were a snail bride? No. The world isn’t a fairy tale. That kind of thing doesn’t happen. Someone definitely plowed it. Was it one of my subordinates? No. None of my guys would ever do such a thorough job on their own initiative. The Four Great Demon Generals? Even less likely. None of them are covered in dirt or look tired either. That means, clearly, an outsider did this.’
An outsider.
That was the starting point of his deduction, which then began to flow smoothly like water.
‘An outsider… from where? The nearest location is the 1st Castle Lord’s territory. It’s the closest to here. And the 1st Legion is entirely composed of undead and ghosts. Yeah. If it were them, it’d be possible to sneak in and do something like this without leaving a trace. How did they till the field? Did they seep into the soil in ghost form and apply physical force from within? Probably. But why? Out of kindness? To help me? No. If they were trying to help, they wouldn’t have done it like this.’
Came secretly and helped, then left?
For free?
Out of goodwill?
And this was within the Demon Lord’s forces?
That was nonsense.
That kind of thing just doesn’t happen. Impossible. A spotted hyena wearing a business suit and complaining in the break room that the Maxim coffee had run out sounded more plausible.
‘So this wasn’t an act of goodwill. It must have been sabotage. But these bastards… it seems like they didn’t know a thing about farming. Did they think dumping all the compost and overturning the soil would ruin the crops? That must be it. But if they were trying to sabotage things, they wouldn’t have just quietly left. They must still be hiding, trying to see how I’d react. Watching me. From not too far away.’
Not too far away.
He had reached that conclusion about twenty seconds ago. And once he did, finding the mysterious snail bride(?) who had done the free plowing took no time at all.
"You seriously thought I wouldn’t smell the compost I made myself?"
“……!”
"Aigoo, the smell. It reeks. You must’ve worked real hard, the way it’s soaked in. Tsk, tsk."
“……Kh, khhk!”
At last, Pikamir realized his mistake. He immediately scattered the mana across his entire body. His form began to shift, becoming loose and formless.
A unique skill only he possessed.
A covert secret art, optimized for escape.
He activated full-body liquefaction.
……Shhaaa-srrrk!
Pikamir’s form blurred in an instant. Like sand crumbling and spilling down, or like a plume of cigarette smoke exhaled on a day with a typhoon warning.
He dispersed in a blink.
He slipped out of Kim Jangcheol’s grasp.
Internally, Pikamir cheered.
‘It worked!’
He had to return to his lord at once and report!
They had succeeded in sabotaging the field, but in the final moment, he had been caught. His identity had been exposed. He had unintentionally given the Demon Lord a lead to uncover his lord’s intent.
He had to report it.
He wanted to report it.
But that hope(?) was shattered in an instant—by the jolt of a punch landing squarely in his face.
“Thunder Punch—!”
BPAKA-KH!
“……!”
Kim Jangcheol’s fist exploded forward.
Pikamir’s face crumpled with a sickening crunch. He was slammed into the ground.
“……Khh! Kehhek!”
Just one hit.
One punch, and his mind was left dazed.
On the contrary, his body tingled as if it had been electrocuted. No—it actually tingled. So much so that his liquefied form unraveled right then and there.
“H-How……?”
How?
How on earth?
Pikamir was thrown into confusion.
And it was understandable.
His liquefaction wasn’t just a technique that distorted his form. It was a secret art that transformed his entire body into liquid—like smoke—making him intangible, ungraspable.
A punch?
Something like that couldn’t land.
Even if it carried mana, it still wouldn’t work.
Striking a part of smoke doesn’t mean you can grasp the smoke itself. If anything, the smoke would just scatter even further.
‘Then…… how……. No—now’s not the time to wonder……!’
Now wasn’t the time to analyze the reason.
Escape was the top priority.
Pikamir, regaining his focus, attempted to activate liquefaction once more. But at that moment, he saw it.
“Huuup!”
Kim Jangcheol inhaled sharply, drawing his fist back. Blood covered his tightly clenched knuckles. No—that was the wound he had made himself, by scratching into his own skin.
“……!”
That—surely…
That bright red stuff on his fist…
A self-inflicted wound?
And the blood pouring from it?
Then that was… the Demon Lord’s blood?
The blood of Credos, the Demon Lord?
Could it be… the most fearsome technique of the Demon Lord Credos—the one that summoned the crimson lightning storm… that one?
...The moment that thought crossed his mind,
Kim Jangcheol’s fist rushed in with no mercy, no compassion, no discount, and no installment plans.
“Thunder Punch—!”
Ppa-ga-hak! Ppajijik!
“...K-kaghkkkkyah!”
It became certain.
The instant it landed, the Demon Lord’s blood smeared on the fist unleashed a fierce electric shock. There was no need for contact or even smoke—everything within the arc of that fist got electrocuted.
And it wasn’t just a normal shock.
It was the Demon Lord’s innate authority.
A paralyzing jolt imbued with that destructive and violent power, rendering any resistance impossible.
“Kurgh! Kurgeokgok! Krgh... kyahookh...!”
Pikamir’s ethereal form, having been electrocuted twice, completely unraveled.
His softened, formless shape reverted back to its original appearance.
Only then did Pikamir fully realize it.
‘I’m doomed…’
There was no way he could escape now. Ethereal form? He couldn’t cast it anymore. In that case, should he fight back? Against Demon Lord Credos?
“……”
No.
That wasn’t going to work either.
Then the only option left for him was…
‘I won’t say a word! Even if I’m destroyed!’
He braced himself with conviction.
For his lord,
He burned with loyalty.
And he prepared for the brutal interrogation that was sure to come.
However—
“Thunder Punch!”
Ppakahk!
“Thunder Punch! Thunder Punch!”
Ppakat! Ppukkak!
“……!”
The dreadful punches kept pouring down.
It felt like his entire body was being deep-fried alive. The pain was overwhelming.
But amidst it all, Pikamir clenched his teeth even harder.
He would say nothing.
Even under vicious torture, he would preserve his loyalty to his master until the end.
No matter how harsh the trial or how excruciating the suffering, he would endure it.
He waited, determined and resolved,
For the Demon Lord’s questions to come:
Why he had come here,
What he had come for,
Why he had destroyed the field,
And who had ordered all this.
But—
“Thunder Punch! Thunder Punch!”
Ppeokak! Ppukkeuhwak!
“Thunder Puuuunch—!”
Ppagakak!
“……!”
This was strange.
This was really, truly strange!
‘Why?’
Why wasn’t there an interrogation?
‘Why not?’
Why weren’t there any questions?
Getting roasted in real time by electric fists(?),
Pikamir had no choice but to feel confused.
The Demon Lord should’ve asked something.
That would’ve been the normal thing to do.
Then he could’ve withstood it, kept his mouth shut, and burnt away in silence with at least some sense of purpose.
But—
“Thunder Puuuunch—!”
“……!”
The Demon Lord didn’t seem even remotely interested in asking questions.
He just kept throwing punches like a maniac, endlessly!
‘Stop it, you madman!’
Pikamir felt like crying.
But Kim Jangcheol didn’t stop swinging.
Was it just because he enjoyed the feeling of pummeling someone?
No.
‘This guy runs the moment you let up even a little.’
Kim Jangcheol’s gaze narrowed as he looked at Pikamir.
In truth, he had recognized him the moment they locked eyes. It was only natural.
‘This bastard—he’s that mid-boss from the Cliffs of the Dead, ruled by the First Star Lord…’
Ghost-type enemies that appeared in the late game.
Among them, this one held the position of a mid-boss!
He had a ridiculously difficult strategy requirement. Back during his first playthrough, Kim Jangcheol had died to this guy more than any other boss.
‘You could barely land a hit, and just when you thought you had him, he’d turn ethereal and flee like a ghost, instantly recover all his health, and come charging back again…’
Back then, he couldn’t even begin to guess how to defeat him.
He’d almost given up entirely. Then, by sheer luck, he finally figured out the strategy.
‘You had to lay down electric magic around him like traps.’
Electrocution.
That was the answer.
Now that the guy’s ethereal form had broken—
Only then had he barely, barely managed to take him down. He remembered it clearly.
That’s why—
‘Can’t leave him a single opening.’
He had to fry him until he was a breath away from death.
Roast him completely.
Only when he was in a coma would he finally start talking.
The whereabouts of the First Star Lord, which no one could find even after combing through the whole map—
Just like that scene in the game, where this guy spilled it all once you got him to that point.
…Ppukkakak! Ppeokak! Pachijik!
He didn’t give him a moment’s rest.
He pummeled him from the right, then from the left.
Punched him from the front, then cracked him on the back of the head.
Up, down, up-up, down.
Head, shoulders, knees, and toes—knees and toes.
No pattern, just relentless, unlimited punches.
Before long, he started to feel the fatigue setting in.
As soon as he felt it, he opened the system window.
Ding dong!
[You have selected the Happy Point usage menu.]
[From this window, you can use accumulated Happy Points to purchase various stats.]
[Please select the stat you wish to purchase.]
[Health: 20% (+10% = 50 points)]
[Mind: 20% (+10% = 50 points)]
[Strength: 20% (+10% = 50 points)]
[Agility: 20% (+10% = 50 points)]
[Magic Power: 20% (+10% = 50 points)]
[Current Happy Points: 51]
‘…Health!’
He used the Happy Points he’d been saving up.
The response came instantly.
Ding dong dong!
[You have selected Health.]
[50 Happy Points have been deducted.]
[Your usable Health capacity has increased by 10%.]
[Health: 20% → 30%]
[If you reach 100%, you will be able to fully draw out and utilize the Demon Lord Credos’s potential in this stat.]
[Current Happy Points: 1]
…Hooook?
‘Uwoah!’
The moment he selected Health, his gut felt solid and full.
Energy surged back into him. Vitality returned.
His strength came back to his fists.
And once again, he punched with renewed vigor!
“Thunder Puuunch—!”
Pachijik!
“……!”
A punch that had grown even stronger!
Pikamir’s mouth dropped open from the freshly upgraded(?) pain.
To steel his resolve even more, he began screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Graaagh! I won’t… say a word…!”
“I didn’t ask! Thunder!”
“Pukhakh! Don’t underestimate me! My name is…!”
“Punch!”
“Pika…!”
“What? You little sht, copyright! Copyright!”
Ppajik! Ppeokheok!
“……!”
That was the end.
Pikamir, the loyal servant of the First Star Lord,
Slipped into the distant realm of unconsciousness.
And that was when it happened.
Only then did his mouth start moving smoothly.
What the First Star Lord desired.
What kinds of schemes he was currently plotting and putting into action.
He confessed everything he knew, as a bonus.
It looked like a person under sedation during a colonoscopy, rambling all sorts of things unconsciously—
A scene that could only be called a strange success(?).