Wasn’t This a Night Game

Reverse Ganking

Mamon had divided his followers into two groups, infiltrating the scrapyard.

One faction nestled amongst the factory owners, endlessly stoking their insatiable greed.

The other mingled with the labor theorists, relentlessly fanning the flames of their fighting spirit and rage.

When that rage and avarice, now at their breaking point, collided and sparked a monumental explosion, a civil war that could last for ages would erupt.

And it wouldn’t stop here.

The entire Empire was likely to descend into chaos, a battleground of labor theorists against capitalists.

Then, Mamon would happily devour the souls and grudges spilling from that Asura’s field where power lust and material greed danced, growing ever larger.

And the most important thing in that process was that Mamon’s identity remain concealed.

Mamon only needed to orchestrate everything from the shadows and feast upon the grudges.

Unlike the Satan of rage who charged headfirst into battles with the Pantheon, or the Leviathan of envy, it was a safe and certain way to profit.

Therefore, his followers also took every precaution to avoid revealing their identities.

They were cautious to a fault, careful not to provoke the Pantheon or the Imperial Family……

They certainly were.

“Just who *are* you lot? Why isn’t my ability working on you?”

As the Saint spoke those chilling words, belt unbuckled and clutched in his hand, the expressions of the followers curdled.

What on earth was happening?

As if time had been halted, nothing in the room moved, and amidst it all, only themselves and the Saint were able to move about as if the only thing that mattered.

“You filthy b*stards. You were intentionally inciting Carl Renarro, planning to make him spill blood, weren’t you? Shedding blood for the one you serve, intending to offer up your grudges and souls?”

The eyes of the followers darted wildly at the Saint’s furious voice.

Utterly disoriented, the followers were quick to judge.

“Mammon! Grant us strength!”

In their hands, crimson daggers forged from blood materialized.

And thus, they charged toward the Saint.

Now that their true nature was exposed, he had to be eliminated.

It would incite the Pantheon and draw the Imperial Family’s attention, but with their identities revealed, assassination was the only recourse.

Reinforcing their bodies with sorcery and imbuing their daggers with potent dark magic capable of directly harming a soul, the followers saw the Saint as nothing more than easy prey as they lunged.

The narrow space, once time resumed, resembled a back alley; they were experts, seasoned in the art of discreet assassination and cursing their targets to death in such places.

Confident that the naive, seemingly harmless Saint, who looked as though he’d never been in a fight, wouldn’t stand a chance, they descended upon him.

But then, in the next instant…

“Alright. Let’s do this. You sons of b*tches.”

A belt cracked through the air, a sonic boom ripping the silence.

And the followers’ skulls began to fly.

*

Mammon.

I, too, knew the name of that demon lord.

Of course.

There had to be rats in this festering, putrid sewer.

Their excessively aggressive treatment of Kal Lenaar.

Thinking about it, it was clearly a ploy to pit the working class against the capitalist class, intending to siphon the resentment and souls of those caught in between.

It was unbearable.

Out there, people were starving to death for lack of food and suffering without access to treatment, and these b*stards were planning to build a resentment factory using it all?

“You demonic scum!”

I swung my belt.

Dodging past the followers attempting to rush me, I swung my belt.

*Thwack!* The satisfying sound echoed as one follower launched backward, scattering brain matter in his wake.

But because the area where time had resumed was so confined, in the time it took to subdue one…

The other two managed to reach me and plunged their daggers into my gut.

Smiles bloomed on their faces.

“Got him!!… aaargh!!”

But both of them cried out in agonizing screams, dropping their daggers and stumbling backward.

Blood streamed from their hands.

How did I do it?

Simple.

I placed a stasis field on the space directly in front of my abdomen.

The daggers couldn’t cross the frozen space, stopping dead, and as a result, they injured themselves with the very weapons they held.

Thank you, Archmage Jürgen.

This psychic amplifier’s performance is truly something else.

The control is on a completely different level of precision than before.

“Who, who are you?! Just who are you that you can wield such power?!”

“Can’t you tell? I’m a Saint, you sons of b*tches.”

“That’s impossible!! None of the Gods of the Pantheon can freeze time!! Who, who are you! What are you really?!”

“That doesn’t matter. What *does* matter is that you’re about to get your asses kicked by me today!!”

With a crack of displaced air, my belt lashed out once more.

Having already lost their daggers, the two remaining cultists were no match for me.

Having boosted my strength and reflexes to ridiculous levels through body modification, these followers, these *fanatics*, were utterly outclassed.

After several more satisfying *thwacks* that sounded like bursting skin, the three cultists, swollen like *Hoppangman* buns, collapsed to the ground.

I intentionally avoided killing them.

I needed to interrogate them.

To find out what plan they were hatching.

Why these demon worshippers were masquerading as followers of Labor.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I approached the three.

Preparing to unleash amplification at 3000x sensitivity.

“This is going to hurt. *A lot*. But you won’t die. I don’t want to get any more blood on my clothes, so let’s just get this over with quickly. Just be honest. What exactly were you planning to do in this city—”

I stopped.

All three cultists had begun to convulse, as if seized by a violent seizure.

Yet, their faces were contorted in expressions of utter rapture, like they were experiencing an orgasm.

“Ah!! aaah!! He manifests!!”

“M-Mammon!! We offer you!! We offer you our flesh!!”

The *Hoppangman* cried out, and then something dark began to take root in their bodies.

The three bodies melted, then in a heartbeat, they coalesced, like clay, into one.

I didn’t know what was happening, but one thing was clear.

This was bad.

Flee, my instincts screamed.

I frantically tried to activate Time Stop again.

“Ghk! Uhk!”

But I was too late.

Before I could even react, a hand seized my throat, slowly lifting me into the air.

[Skill Unavailable!]

[Skill Unavailable!]

Time Stop too.

Body Modification too.

Absolute Hypnosis too.

Sensitivity x3000 too.

Nothing obeyed my commands.

So I writhed helplessly in the air.

[I thought the Worm of the Abyss was lying when it told its tale.]

A grotesque form, dozens of eyeballs sprouting all over its face.

A familiar, soul-resonating voice of divinity.

The mass of flesh, born of the combined three bodies, now took the complete form of a human, looking up at me and chuckling.

[Time Stop, you say? Among the gods of the Pantheon, there is no being with such power. I dismissed it as absurd, preposterous, not believing it for a moment… But it was the truth after all.]

Dozens of eyeballs turned towards me in unison.

Though it didn’t bother to introduce itself, I could easily discern who stood before me.

[Asmodeus of Lust playing the saint. All of Pandemonium will be aghast.]

Mammon.

The Demon King of Greed had manifested before me.

*

The power to stop all time in the human realm, as well as in the heavens, hells, and the Abyss, and to move freely only by oneself.

As far as Mammon knew, Time Stop was a power synonymous with the very essence of Lust.

How many times had he been backstabbed and escaped with that power?

Even thinking of certain memories was enough to send Mammon’s blood boiling.

But thankfully, the one who had cast time stop wasn’t properly utilizing such an overpowered ability.

Releasing the time stop right in front of his own followers.

It was practically advertising Asmodeus’ power right here.

He was making it far too easy to pinpoint his location and manifest a physical form.

Truly, compared to how Asmodeus used to wield it in his prime, this was a wretched, almost pathetic display.

Mammon gazed at the Saint.

A grimy figure, having barely eaten or washed while tending to the sick.

Matted hair.

A musty odor.

What kind of insane charade was this?

Mammon let out a hollow laugh.

Amusing and surprising, yes, but not shocking.

Lust had always been this kind of being.

A desire that could be the ugliest, filthiest, and most repulsive of all, yet simultaneously, the very root of life’s most glorious act: birth.

That was Lust.

A desire that could make a devil a god, and vice versa.

Because of that, Lust had been the most adept at disguise, moving through both the Pantheon and the Abyss as if they were his own homes.

Eventually, his tail grew too long, and he became the only Demon Lord of Pandemonium to be annihilated during the Celestial War.

[Asmodeus. I wouldn’t say we were exactly friends, but I recall things weren’t all that bad between us. You didn’t expect to pour sewage over someone else’s scheme and get away unscathed, did you?]

Mammon, clutching the Saint’s neck, spoke with mocking amusement.

[Looks like we have an unexpected stroke of good luck here.]

The evil god’s words had been right.

He hadn’t believed that Asmodeus of Lust would really be playing the role of a Saint, but now that it was confirmed to be true.

Mammon saw no reason not to devour the Saint before him.

With time frozen, the b*stards in the Pantheon couldn’t stop him.

Of course, the Saint’s death would mean that the Imperial Family and the Pantheon would send their forces, and the carefully laid plans of many years would be ruined, but it didn’t matter.

If he could successfully absorb another Demon Lord’s power, even losing decades of groundwork would hardly be a loss.

No.

It would be an extraordinary gain, in fact.

The hand not clutching the Saint slowly…

morphed into a sharp, needle-like point.

Mammon carefully brought that point toward the Saint’s heart.

[You’ve made a foolish error. Think it through. With all time in the world frozen, but only some of my followers able to move, where else would all the attention be focused? Asmodeus of old would never have done something so dim.]

Mammon roared with laughter.

[After I absorb your power, I’ll use it to torment the human world for eons. Every soul and every grudge that falls along the way, I’ll devour them all! I will allow you to watch from within me as I become the most powerful of all the demon lords of Pandemonium.]

“No… please…”

Tears streamed down the Saint’s face as he struggled.

But it was already too late.

[The Pantheon. The evil gods. The other demon lords. With time frozen, none can stop me from consuming you. I must express my gratitude for crafting such perfectly convenient conditions for your demise.]

Mammon’s point pierced the Saint’s body.

His heart ruptured, and a torrent of blood spewed from the Saint’s mouth.

The Saint’s body shuddered for a moment, then stilled.

Dead.

Now his soul would separate from its vessel.

Then all that remained was to swallow the power of lust contained within that soul, to devour it whole.

[Heh heh heh!! Hah hah hah!! Who would have foreseen this outcome! What a windfall!!]

Mammon drooled greedily as he began to extract the Saint’s soul, drawing it into himself.

Just a little more.

Just a little more draining, and the power of lust would be his.

He would become the absolute ruler of Pandemonium, stronger even than Lucifer of Pride.

In that moment, as Mammon laughed at his rosy future…

[…Huh?]

Mammon abruptly realized that the scenery around him had changed.

He stood not in the basement of the frozen scrapyard, but in a cold, hard, white world.

[A mental realm? Wait. Why am I here?]

Even as Mammon panicked,

[So, it was you. The one who dared to harm my Saintpipi.]

A heavy voice spoke from behind, and Mammon turned his head.

A face of sharp angles.

Muscles on a scale of the impossible.

A man sporting an oddly shaped beard held the limp soul of the Saint in his arms, silently watching Mammon.

Mammon recognized him instantly.

[Lust? Is that you? What in the seven hells is with that ridiculous getup?]

[Why did you hurt my Saint-Bbi?]

What in damnation was that ridiculous moniker?

Mammon couldn’t help but chuckle at Lust’s outlandish appearance, shrugging his shoulders.

[What do I care about some human body and soul? Lust. Don’t resist, just join me. If you and I combine our power, we could become the new rulers of Pandemonium. Lucifer of Pride has been at the top for too long. It’s our turn to reign.]

[And if I refuse?]

[Refuse, you say.]

Mammon chuckled, and began to swell in size.

In the blink of an eye, Lust and the Saint were as tiny as mites clinging to Mammon’s feet.

[You, who haven’t been able to devour a single resentment or soul for three centuries, think you can defeat me?]

At Mammon’s taunt, Lust quietly set the Saint’s soul down behind him.

[Good thing Saint-Bbi is unconscious. Wouldn’t want him seeing this side of me.]

And the next instant,

Lust’s body began to grow as well.

It grew until Mammon, utterly the opposite of before, was like a bug at Lust’s feet.

Mammon was aghast.

[W-where did this…….]

[How much faith do you think I sucked dry from the capital in half a year? You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t devour me.]

A Gigachad.

No.

Asmodeus, Lust incarnate, slowly opened his mouth with a mocking grin.

[I went *inside* you. It’s easier to devour you when I’m at your core, you see. I’m going to make you pay dearly for hurting my Saint-Bbi.]