Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 254: Things not to do at home

Satan calmly stared back at the sharp gaze exuded by a pair of dark purple eyes. He couldn't begin to fathom the sheer depth of emotion behind them; they represented pure malice, yet beneath that venom, Satan spotted a truly unexpected emotion: a single, faint speck of fear.

He had no time nor need to admire his skill for reading emotions; he did what he could immediately pull off.

The room grew heavy. Not metaphorically — actually heavy. The kind of pressure that made your bones feel like old wood in a storm. Inanimate objects, bless their innocent little souls, began to crumple as if trying to politely excuse themselves from existence. The chandelier overhead gave a sympathetic creak, decided it wasn't paid enough for this, and shattered under the invisible weight.

The priest was the first to yield. He was strong, no doubt, but strength doesn't mean much when gravity itself starts developing a personal grudge against you. His knees hit the floor with a dull thud, his breath leaving him in short, pitiful bursts.

Alexis followed, not that anyone was keeping score. Despite his ironclad muscles and that annoyingly durable body of his, he went down all the same. It wasn't lack of courage—it was simple biology protesting the idea of being flattened like an omelet.

Then came Aldric. His eyes widened for half a heartbeat before his pride kicked in and ordered him to look unimpressed. His body, however, didn't get the memo. He gritted his teeth and tried to rise, a noble but doomed effort, like a cat pretending to be brave in front of a lion.

And in the middle of it all, Percival moved. His lips curved into a strange, knowing smile as he stood tall—well, almost tall—after momentarily dipping under the weight. He released Satan's neck as though it were an afterthought, his gaze burning with a thousand emotions no sane person would try to catalog.

"You…" The word slithered out like an accusation wrapped in static.

Satan stayed calm. Mostly. His borrowed power thrummed like a wild animal in his veins, clawing at the limits of his body. He hadn't expected the imitation — this pale reflection of his master's will — to be this effective. It was humbling in the same way that standing at the edge of a cliff is humbling; it makes you think how insignificant you are. You respect the power. You just wish it would never be used against you.

He almost shuddered at the thought.

"Yes," Percival said, his tone too quiet for comfort. "This is how it should be." The words crawled through the room like a curse.

This is getting dangerous!

A thought crossed everyone present except Percival. Satan had the ability to borrow the strength of other recorders and slightly from the observer, but he didn't have the experience or any personal strength to speak of. He had been a country bumbkin who got his life turned around after his friend was killed; he now rarely saw his family, too. But this was not the time to think about it.

The priest's eyes darted toward the door, calculating an escape route that didn't involve immediate death. Alexis, already half-squished, seemed to be questioning the choice he made to come here. The priest was in the worst condition; he couldn't even breathe as he lay flat on the ground.

Aldric showed frustration, but he was neither frustrated nor angry; all he could think of was when this little fight would end. But he was not going to join in, not because he didn't want to, but because joining a fight with the apostle himself was bound to be detrimental.

Satan, meanwhile, took a grim inventory of his options. Four enemies. One very unstable power source. And a body currently trying to fold itself from the inside out. Excellent odds, really.

He straightened, raising his hand. The pressure around them deepened, a silent roar pressing against every surface. His vision blurred at the edges, his bones creaked like overworked machinery, but he didn't stop. If he wanted a chance to move forward, he had to immobilize them first.

The air trembled. Lucifer's words flickered through his mind like an echo from another lifetime: Nature is just stubborn ether in disguise. Force it to listen, and it'll scream for you.

Well, time to make it scream.

Satan's eyes narrowed. He flipped through the fragments of Lucifer's power, searching for something suitably theatrical. Nature. Air. Compression. It would have to do. He didn't have time for a chant or a flourish — just focus and an unhealthy amount of desperation.

'Ahh, this is very stupid.'

He gathered the air behind Percival, focusing the crushing power he'd already generated and forcing it to compress at an unnatural speed until the space itself seemed to wrinkle. It was hard, but the air obeyed. He closed his palm, feeling the raw density claw at his skin.

"Explode," he whispered.

His words hung in the air as everything else went silent; even Percival seemed to freeze as he spotted the anomaly, raising his arm to shield himself as he finally sensed the danger.

The air folded in on itself, like a sheet of hot steel under a blacksmith's hammer. Books on the shelf sighed as their pages were glued together. Candles shuddered, their flames squatting towards the floor as if embarrassed.

The pressure point, focused intensely behind Percival, warped the immediate space. Unfortunately, the priest was directly in the path of the residual, uncontrolled force wave. His ribs gave a final, desperate creak like a collapsing chair a moment before the room detonated with a white-hot burst.

A wave of heat and pulverized matter spread as Percival was rocketed forward, smashing into the wall behind Satan, who politely sidestepped for him to pass.

The priest didn't even get a chance to scream; he was instantly obliterated, having been too close to the explosion's immediate force. A half-destroyed brain fell out of his skull, and one of his eyes smashed onto a wall.

Alexis had passed out, his ears bled. The crimson liquid flowed like a rill through his nose and mouth.

Even Aldric, who was pretty resistant to explosions, was affected due to being already weakened by Satan's will. His eyes bled.