City of Arcane Engineering (1)
"Welcome! Paromedon Restaurant… hm?"
Paromedon, the owner, looked up at the two humans who had come in.
They looked human in every way.
Above all, when he faced Shirone a deep, visceral revulsion rose up inside him.
"Yahweh?…"
Demons know. Even in a purely demonic state, they know where their essence lies and what they must reject.
The noisy eatery fell quiet; the gazes of the demons at the tables turned toward them.
"I'm going to get sick before I even eat."
There was nowhere in Hell that would welcome Shirone, so brazenness was their best survival tactic.
"Two here, please."
They took the central table. Rian thumped down opposite him.
The demons watching Shirone turned their heads at that daredevil pose.
"What rotten luck. You killed my appetite." The demons in the corner rose and walked to the counter to hand over a card.
"Owner, take the bill."
Laviette was a city with established banking and credit systems.
A human face was mounted at the counter; its skull was opened, the brain exposed. When the card was slid into a slot, the eyes rolled up and down.
Rian surveyed the shop.
Hose-like intestines led to the kitchen, and a heartbeat sounded from within.
"Why would you need stuff like this? If it's just manufacture, Hell's got stone and iron too."
"Because in unpurified demons, biological functions remain intact. And they don't simply decay."
Shirone explained.
"A living body has useful parts. A brain can be used for computation; an eye can serve as a lens or a terminal to transmit information."
When he pointed to an eyeball buried on the table, a voice called from the ceiling.
"Owner! Order up!"
"Some cities stick to traditional uses, but Laviette's the cutting edge of Hell. The functions developed here spread across Hell."
"And at the center is the Grand Duke, right?"
"That's right. What he's developing is on a whole different scale from what they use here…"
At that moment Paromedon finished a check and came over.
"You ruined my business today. Order, then. Eat quick and get out."
Shirone spoke in the Otherworld tongue.
"Could we have a menu, please?" Paromedon's eyes reddened, but Shirone merely waited.
"Yahweh, I'm in a terrible mood right now, got it? Warning—you'd better eat quick."
"The menu, please."
Whether in Hell or Heaven, you don't choose a meal half‑heartedly.
"Tch!"
Paromedon stomped to the counter and dropped two menus onto the table with a clack.
"Satisfied?"
Shirone paid no mind and scanned the menu.
"Hmm, so… considering Rian's digestion (stomach strength), I picked a few things that should be okay."
"Pumong, three orders of Garbancho, and a large Kirinza steak. Can you make it quick?"
The menus were taken without reply.
"Don't worry—aside from those angler‑type demons, they don't eat human flesh. These ingredients don't exist in the real world, so I can't promise you'll like them."
Garbancho was a tripe salad, Kirinza a steak as big as a horse's thigh.
Paromedon set the food down and brought a bone cup to the shriveled, mummy‑like person's face.
He pressed the left eye and a pale green juice poured from the man's mouth.
"Here's your Pumong."
Despite the owner's chill, their stomachs were ready for anything.
Slicing a generous chunk of Kirinza, Rian asked, "By the way, Shirone, you got money? Yahweh doesn't get freebies, right?"
"Of course."
Shirone produced Hell's currency, the Des.
"Where'd you get that?"
"I already had it. Real‑world gold coins turn into chips with skulls in Hell—those are called Des."
"Money and death, huh."
"There was a tradition of putting coins in the hands of the dead. People thought they had to pay the ferryman to cross the uncrossable river. To die, you needed money. That's where 'Des' comes from. These days it's probably printed by the Central Cooperative Bank, though."
The meat smelled strong but was edible; the Pumong was oddly sweet.
Just as they were finishing their plates, the door slammed open and demons filed in.
"Is Yahweh here?"
Word of Shirone had clearly spread through the streets.
Rian was sipping Pumong when a rhinoceros‑like demon approached. He slid the chair between Shirone and Rian out, sat, and rested his chin on the table.
"Heh, so it's real. He looks disgustingly unlucky in person. What're you doing standing here?"
"Eating. Can't you see?"
"I can. See perfectly. I'm asking you something. Depending on your answer…"
The demon's fist on the table blackened and a mace‑like spike snapped out.
"I could teach you a lesson, you know?" Shirone calmly wiped his lips with a handkerchief he'd made from material, then turned his head.
"If you use force, you know you'll be the one who has to deal with the consequences, right?"
"Krk!"
The demon raised both arms.
"Khahaha! Joking, joking. Do you think I'd really fight Yahweh mano a mano?"
The laughter stopped abruptly.
"But I hate you. You get what I mean? Even if I tore you apart, it wouldn't be enough."
Using his elbow as a lever, the demon raised his hand.
"How about an arm‑wrestle? If you beat me, you can stay in the city. If I win, you leave right now."
By hand size it was adult versus child, but ability mattered more.
Hidden Code.
The black energy that had produced spikes a moment before was a product of arcane engineering.
"Shirone, I'll do it."
He couldn't understand the language, but he wasn't so dense as to miss what was happening.
Before Shirone could stop him, Rian moved and grabbed the demon's thumb.
"Looks like he's got some strength. Come on, then. I just ate—might as well help digest."
"Heh, you'll regret it."
As the match began, patrons and even Paromedon stopped and gathered round.
"All right, one round! The match ends when the back of a hand touches the table or the ground. No complaints?"
The demon nodded; Rian, although he didn't understand the words, grinned.
"Start!"
At the word, Rian and the demon's bodies compressed like stone and force was transmitted.
From the first, the table splintered, yet both held position without flinching.
The demon's face flushed red.
"Grrr! Not bad!"
As an endless tide of Divine Transcendence washed through, the demon's arm blackened.
"Aaaah!"
Black spikes burst out again, mercilessly piercing Rian's hand.
"Nice! That's it!"
The demons cheered, but Rian's expression didn't change.
'Unusually strong.'
Not even a division commander in Hell's army could match Rian in sheer arm strength.
Shirone finally realized the truth.
'As I thought… it's not just strength. That demon has a special code applied.'
In raw strength the demon was only about brigade‑commander level by Hell's military standards.
Heh—demonic material. Desire.
It was an ambitious development of the Grand Duke: a material that physically embodied the power of desire.
'Originally he said to experiment on Yahweh, but that doesn't matter. After this guy's taken down…'
As the demon's fist blackened further, Rian's arm began to bend back little by little.
"Yahweh! Your turn!"
At the same moment, Rian's eyes hardened.
A tremendous, incomparable wave of Divine Transcendence surged through him, and the demon's face went pale.
"W‑what is—!"
The blackened arm cracked and then exploded with a bang.
With a sickening crunch, the demon's elbow grotesquely snapped backward.
"Argh! My arm! My arm!"
He clutched his elbow and rolled on the floor as the other demons clicked their tongues.
"Tch! What a letdown."
Those stung by an unsatisfying defeat returned to their seats. Shirone asked Rian,
"How was it?"
"…Incredibly strong. But something's off."
Bending down, Shirone picked up a piece of black shell and inspected it.
It was so hardened it would shatter with little force and showed no special function.
'Single‑use, or function‑destroying.'
Shirone asked the demon with the broken arm, "Who sent you? Tell me honestly. This isn't something an ordinary demon carries."
"I don't know. I swear I don't!"
"All right. I won't press you."
Any attempt to squeeze an answer out of him would paralyze the whole city.
"Instead, tell whoever sent you this: Message received. If we don't get word by tomorrow evening, the city you built may be destroyed."
The demon nodded repeatedly, confirming the Grand Duke as the mastermind.
"Let's go, Rian."
After Shirone paid, Paromedon counted the Des with a sour face.
"What about the broken property?"
"We don't know whose fault it is yet. We'll know by tomorrow evening. I'll come back then."
"No, forget it."
Paromedon bared his teeth.
"Go drown in filth and die."
Cursed, they walked back into town; with the rumor already spread, the residents' faces were unfriendly.
"We can't wander much longer. Let's find a place to rest. The Grand Duke will contact us tomorrow," Shirone said.
"You sure? He didn't strike me as a friend of yours, given what happened."
"That's why I want to meet him. That material from earlier is probably experimental. If it's supplied to Hell's army…"
"Hmm. I see."
Shirone and Rian rented a nearby lodging.
"You won't get a comfortable sleep here."
The room was plastered with all manner of attached reproductive organs from various creatures; it was hard to even breathe.
"Let's get some rest. We should wait here until the Grand Duke arrives."
They slept with the lights on. Laviette's temperature plunged sharply through the night.
Fhooooooo!
Amid a keening, howling wind, Shirone slowly opened his eyes.
Rian was already awake.
"Shirone, someone's here."
The presence was felt from outside the lodging, but the visitor's voice came from inside the room.
"Sorry to arrive at this late hour." The wall warped and a demon wearing a monocle entered and bowed.
"My name is Bielman. I came to apologize for earlier and to invite you both."
"Sent by the Grand Duke?"
Bielman smiled calmly and answered.
"You'll see when you go. I wish I could say more… Yes, Grand Duke Magritte requests your presence."
Faster than expected.
Shirone wanted to read more into it, but this alone revealed little of the Duke's character.
"All right. Lead the way."
In the freezing air, a luxurious carriage waited for them.