Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1262: Their god?

The atmosphere in the small, earthy home shifted sharply. Enel stiffened, his sharp senses alerting him to a presence slithering at the edge of the room. It was faint at first, a whispering vibration in the air, but then it became unmistakable. Something had entered the space with them, snaking along the corner of the room.

His dark eyes flicked to the wall just as the entity split into three tendrils, each one twisting and writhing with unnerving fluidity. In a heartbeat, the tendrils lunged, one darting for him, another toward Lana, and the last straight at Allison.

Enel didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he rose from the stool, his hand whipping forward as a dagger materialized in his grip. The weapon whistled through the air, gleaming like a silver streak, before embedding itself into the closest tendril.

Lana was equally swift. Her hands danced through the air, summoning darkline magic that coiled and sparked like living shadows. The energy lashed out, severing the tendril with a sharp, hissing crack. Allison, with her beast-like reflexes, leaped to the side, her obsidian claws flashing in the dim light as she slashed her target cleanly, cutting it into twitching pieces.

But the assault wasn’t over. More tendrils slithered along the walls, creeping like serpents as they swarmed toward the group. Their glistening surfaces gleamed wetly, as though coated in something alive and malevolent.

Enel’s expression darkened. His hands moved in rapid gestures, summoning a barrage of gleaming blades that hovered in the air like a deadly constellation. With a single flick of his fingers, they launched forward, each one finding its mark and impaling the tendrils attempting to strike at Talking.

The room became a blur of motion and energy. Lana vaulted into the air, her magic swirling around her like a storm as she unleashed precise strikes that split tendrils apart. Allison somersaulted backward, her claws a blur as she defended against the relentless assault.

Enel’s movements were calculated and deliberate, his agility as sharp as the blades he commanded. Each leap and twist seemed almost effortless as he dodged and countered, his daggers piercing tendrils with deadly precision. The sounds of battle filled the air, the sharp crackle of Lana’s magic and the wet thuds of severed tendrils hitting the ground creating a chaotic symphony.

"Out! Now!" Enel barked, his voice cutting through the noise.

They didn’t hesitate. The group rushed out of the hut, the dry dirt crunching under their boots as they regrouped in the open. Enel’s eyes darted around, taking in the scene. Something was wrong. The tendrils weren’t attacking indiscriminately—they were focused solely on the house they had just vacated.

Enel’s gaze narrowed as he turned to Talking. Suspicion flickered across his face. "What is this?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Talking’s hands shot up defensively, his face pale with fear. "I swear, I didn’t—"

But before he could finish, Enel caught movement behind him. A group of villagers had gathered, their expressions a mixture of fear and hostility. One among them stood out—a large, imposing figure with a bulky frame. His eyes were sharp and accusing as he glared at Talking.

The bulky villager stepped forward, his voice booming in their native language. He pointed an accusatory finger at Talking, his tone filled with venom.

Enel’s brow furrowed as he looked to Talking for a translation.

"He says…" Talking began hesitantly, swallowing hard. "He says I’m conniving with demons. That I’ve brought their punishment down on us."

Enel’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. He stared at the bulky villager, his gaze piercing, before speaking slowly. "And what does he suggest?"

Talking hesitated again, but he continued. "He claims they’ve reported to their god. That the tendrils are their punishment… and their salvation."

At this, Enel’s lips curled into a smirk—a cruel, sadistic smile that made even Lana glance at him with faint unease. "So, they worship these tendrils?" he asked, his voice almost mocking.

Talking nodded. "Some of them do. They believe it’s the only way to avoid becoming brainless like the others. They think the tendrils protect them."

The bulky villager spoke again, his voice rising in challenge.

"What’s he saying now?" Enel asked, his tone still calm but with an undercurrent of menace.

Talking hesitated, his voice shaking slightly as he translated. "He says they don’t need your help. They’re comfortable. As long as they worship the tendrils, they won’t become like the mindless tribes."

Enel chuckled softly, the sound cold and devoid of humor. "Comfortable, are they?" He stepped forward, his presence commanding as he addressed the group. His words were sharp and deliberate. "Then let’s see how comfortable you are as lab rats."

The villagers recoiled slightly, the bulky one narrowing his eyes in defiance. But Enel’s tone, his stance, his very being radiated an authority that was impossible to ignore.

This was no negotiation. This was a statement of intent.

Enel turned away from the group of villagers, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on a shadowed corner of the house. His smirk grew darker, his tone dripping with sadistic amusement as he spoke. "Come out," he drawled, his voice echoing with cold authority. "Or are you too much of a coward to show yourself? I didn’t think gods needed to hide."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Even the tendrils that had been writhing moments before seemed to pause as if waiting for a command.

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From the shadows, a figure staggered forward. At first glance, it resembled one of the villagers—its frame thin and hunched, its skin the same earthy tone. But as it emerged into the faint light, its unnaturalness became clear....

Lana’s eyes widened slightly, her hands instinctively moving to prepare a spell, while Allison growled low, her claws flexing in readiness.

Enel, however, didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, studying the creature with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. His smirk deepened, his crimson eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "This is your ’god’?" he asked, his tone mocking as he gestured toward the shambling figure. "I’ve seen trash heaps with more divinity."