Chapter 19

Rosary.

Cross.

Known as Rosario. This item, which means offering a spiritual bouquet of roses to the Holy Mother, had absolutely nothing to do with me until I met Saintess Maria.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It did have something to do with me—but in a bad way.

Every time someone came at me waving a cross, I’d personally test them and then crush them. They would wave their shiny crosses in my face while desperately shouting,

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit! I shall purify this demon!”

They were weaklings. All they knew how to do was chatter nonsense while relying on divine power.

Occasionally, there were some who could actually summon a Holy Spirit, but even then, it was laughable. What could some measly Holy Spirit possibly do to me, the second-in-command of the Demon King’s Army? Unless they summoned an Archangel…

It wasn’t until I encountered the saintess in Tartarus that this rosary began to truly capture my interest.

“We must embrace even the neglected lambs that we fail to care for. The blackness of the rosary symbolizes this meaning.”

“You mean the trash in back alleys?”

“It refers to those who are marginalized in the shadows where light does not reach.”

To the saintess, the rosary wasn’t just another trinket like those fake priests carried—it was sacred and significant.

It was her guide, her god, her master. She valued her rosary more than her own life.

Of course, all priests claim the same thing. They passionately declare they’d give up their lowly lives for their lord. The problem is, it’s all talk.

I’ve never seen a single one of them say that when a shotgun is pointed at their heads.

Nothing special about that. Life reveals its true nature in the face of death, so thanks to me, they finally faced their inner lord.

That’s why the saintess was fascinating.

Even as the guillotine blade fell mercilessly, and the sharp edge approached her graceful neck, she continued to preach her unwavering love.

In the dim twilight, the saintess clutching her rosary, emitting a soft glow, remains vivid in my mind.

Still, there’s one thing I can’t quite wrap my head around.

Clack-clack.

“This is enough to make ghosts weep.”

Clack-clack.

“I didn’t play with crosses as a kid or anything… tch, really.”

Why is this holy rosary now in my pocket as a child?

No matter how many times I blink, I’m certain this is the rosary the saintess always carried in Tartarus.

A slightly worn, dirty black cross. There’s no mistaking it after constantly seeing it there. When was the last time I saw this rosary?

Clearly…

“It’s been a treasure I’ve cherished my whole life.”

“Treasure? Pfft.”

“Please take it. It’s my sincerity, my faith, my love.”

“What’s dirty and grimy like this supposed to be a treasure? Is this how treasures are managed these days?”

“In that case, Mr. Joker will surely clean it up later.”

The day before her execution, the saintess handed it to me.

I asked her to put it in my coat, and after that, I don’t remember anything else.

“…”

There’s nothing to figure out right now.

Clack-clack.

I held the rosary in my hand. Its sharp edges pressed against my fingertips.

The saintess must’ve guessed I would regress. Her final words and this black rosary hint at that.

And somehow, this black rosary she left me traveled 500 years into the past with me.

“Tch.”

There doesn’t seem to be anything special hidden in this rosary. It’s just a pretty solid and sharp cross.

“What a bother.”

I pulled out a clean handkerchief from somewhere in the room.

“Telling me to clean it? Damn, who treats me like their servant?”

Muttering complaints under my breath, I still wiped the rosary clean.

It was something given to me by the saintess. That alone gives me plenty of reason to cherish it.

She’s the only human who ever treated this lowly demon with respect. I’m a demon who repays both grudges and favors thoroughly.

Puff, puff.

Before long, the rosary started gleaming despite its dark color. Though black, it had an elegance and dignity unmatched by any other treasure.

How ironic that a creature of the devil is polishing an object meant to spread God’s love.

“If anyone finds out, it’ll be trouble.”

Among the seven nations of the continent, the country most hostile to the Demon Realm is the Holy Nation where the saintess was born.

Naturally, the rosary—a sacred artifact of the Holy Nation—is considered contraband in the Demon Realm. Just possessing it could get you charged with treason or blasphemy. I don’t want to end up back in Tartarus again.

“And I can’t just throw it away either… what a cursed heirloom I’ve received.”

After polishing it until it gleamed, I slipped the rosary into my pocket, zipped it up tightly, and changed into my outdoor attire.

Though delayed momentarily by the unexpected appearance of the rosary, I still need to go see Duke South quickly. Information only gets less valuable the longer you wait.

Creak.

With that decision made, I opened the door—

“Sis?”

A female demon stood outside the door, her pale skin wrapped in jet-black hair.

Her crimson eyes cast downward, her fingers nervously interlocked as if uncertain about something.

“What brings you here, sis?”

“Well, Oscar, I need to talk about what happened earlier today.”

“Something to say? Should we go inside?”

“No! No need! I just need to hand over this item…”

My sister, Adela, carefully reached into her coat and pulled out a small container.

Adela extended it toward me, her lips trembling as if confessing sins.

“For what happened today, I apologize right here.”

“Huh?”

“My unilateral actions seem to have caused serious problems for your head…”

“I’m fine though…”

“This is the egg of Horus, the Eagle King, which I obtained recently from the Demon Forest. Eating it should help heal your injured head.”

“Gah! M-my, my head…!”

At the mention of “Eagle King Horus’ egg” from Adela’s mouth, I immediately clutched my head and collapsed, contorting my face as if in immense pain.

Seeing this, Adela panicked, flailing around like a frightened puppy.

“Kuh…! Sis…! My head hurts so much…”

“I’m sorry! I’ll fetch better elixirs! I’ll go to Vega immediately and bring back every healing medicine available! Please hold on just a bit longer!”

“Healing medicine would be nice, but maybe something to restore energy would help more…”

“W-what? You mean energy-restoring medicine? Got it! I’ll bring it right away!”

Adela still seems to think I’m injured. Maybe it’s because of her past trauma. To put it kindly, she’s been a warrior her entire life, but bluntly speaking, she knows nothing outside of combat.

Her combat abilities are extraordinary. I’ll admit that. Her battle sense, tactical awareness, martial arts, fighting skills, and magic control surpass those of most demons. Even in the world five hundred years later, she was among the absolute strongest.

If she hadn’t died pointlessly trying to protect me in my previous life, the position of second-in-command of the Demon King’s Army would’ve been hers. That’s how talented Adela was in combat.

But outside of that, she’s completely illiterate. This is because, at a very young age, she suffered a severe accident that damaged her intelligence. I don’t know the full details since I wasn’t born yet.

For instance, even though she’s a battlefield warrior, she doesn’t know basic medicine. With her poor social skills and preference for solo play, she doesn’t understand medicine either. And considering her body isn’t easily harmed by most creatures, it makes sense.

If Adela had even a little knowledge of medicine, no matter how dense she might be, she would’ve realized my head is perfectly fine. But this misunderstanding works in my favor.

“Keke.”

“Lucifer? Why have you been laughing so strangely since earlier?”

“Aaagh! My head! It hurts!”

“Kuh…! I-I’ll be right back! Please hold on just a moment!”

“I need… I need an elixir…”

“A-Alright! Just hang in there! I’ll be back in the blink of an eye!”

Thanks to my convincing sick act, Adela hastily placed the container on the ground and rushed off, kicking off forcefully and disappearing beyond the horizon in a flash.

For such a powerful demon with incredible leg strength to fall for such a simple trick—it’s embarrassing, but it’s an incredible advantage for me.

“Keke.”

One of the Five Kings ruling the Demon Forest, the Egg of the Eagle King Horus, is worth more than any material goods. Even the best poachers in the continent couldn’t find one.

There’s no record of its taste since it’s so rare, but knowing it can elevate magical power to its limits, it’s definitely worth eating.

A golden opportunity has dropped right into my lap, and in the future, I’ll likely keep getting these kinds of treasures. Honestly, I wish I could get hit by a frying pan hundreds more times.

How could I not smile?

When the Demon God smiles upon me like this…

Should I fry Horus’ egg or roll it into an omelet? Such a delightful dilemma…

*****

It didn’t take long to travel from the northern Demon Realm to the south.

The Demon Realm is vast and desolate, but thanks to teleportation scrolls—a product of magical civilization—I don’t need to worry about the distance.

Humans may have cars and ships, but for demons who ride wyverns and soar through the skies, such things aren’t necessary. Some even say humans developed science so rapidly due to their lack of magic. The difference is clear.

As a high-ranking demon, I have teleportation scrolls far more convenient than wyverns.

Knock-knock.

“Ah, is anyone home?”

Not a single servant lives in the southern duke’s mansion.

Duke South King turned them all into artworks and displayed them.

Knock-knock.

“Oh, beautiful, elegant, gentlemanly Duke South, can’t you hear me?”

I sang out while knocking on the door.

After a short pause, the iron gate of the mansion slowly creaked open, revealing a pitch-black, winding path ahead.

“Wow, are you testing our courage or something?”

Having survived 111 days in total darkness in Tartarus, a dark cliffside path like this is laughable.

However, while the darkness may be laughable, I don’t underestimate the southern duke’s mansion in the slightest.

“Just eight-year-old kids using magic circles? If I wet myself, it’ll only embarrass you further, sir.”

An ancient being who has existed since the dawn of the Demon Realm.

A demon who committed so much evil he lost interest, eventually turning to art.

Having lived over a million years, watching friends, lovers, and grandchildren pass away, he sunk into lethargy and secluded himself in his mansion.

The sole absolute powerhouse in the Demon Realm whose strength rivals even the Demon King’s.

Duke South, King.

The entity at the end of this dark path is none other than him.

How could I possibly approach this lightly?

Step.

Step.

Step…

The path behind the gate seemed endless.

Given the limited space of the mansion, King must’ve set up a dimensional-distorting magic circle.

Whether this is a trap designed to mock me or fireworks welcoming me, I can’t tell.

So, I walk forward, exuding nonchalant confidence.

Chuckle.

Around what felt like an hour or two of walking, the path still hadn’t ended.

But my steps halted when I noticed a peculiar creature floating in midair ahead.

“Wow, looks like you’ve taken a liking to vegetables lately, huh?”

What a strange creature.

Its eyes were bright red tomatoes.

Its cheeks were fiery red apples.

Its forehead was an orange pumpkin.

Its chin was a purple eggplant.

Its nose was a green cucumber.

Its ears were yellow oranges.

A creature whose features were composed entirely of various fruits and vegetables. Likely, there’s nothing stranger than this in the Demon Realm, at least.

Even so, the harmonious colors and regular shapes demonstrated Duke King’s exceptional artistic talent.

“Still, gotta give you props for creativity. Not many people your age can come up with something this fresh.”

The brown lips woven from fiber quivered, and surprisingly, a normal voice emerged from within.

“You look like you haven’t even weaned off milk yet. Are you lost?”

The question was clearly mocking.

I get it. To a million-year-old elder, I probably seem like a newborn baby.

“Yeah, kids wander around. Sometimes we get lost too.”

Alright, here we go.

“Better than some old guy cooped up at home for thousands of years, right?”

“…”

From this passionless old man, I need to extract some form of “interest.”

To obtain information about my regression…

---