With a sudden gasp, Belphegor shot up from the musty mat that had served as his bed, his mind racing. His hands reflexively patted down his body, checking for any signs of damage. He was intact, but the unease building within him refused to dissipate.
"Where am I?" he growled, casting his gaze around the squalid inn room. The dingy walls, the creaky bedframe, and the faint scent of stale ale were a far cry from the battle-scarred landscapes he was accustomed to.
As memories flooded back, Belphegor's hand instinctively went to his chest, where the lingering remnants of Michael's divine light still seared his skin. The archangel's sacred weapon had felled him, leaving an indelible mark.
"Michael..." he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. The archangel's face swam before his mind's eye, taunting him with his defeat. Belphegor ground his teeth together, his anger and humiliation burning hot in his chest.
But as Belphegor's anger simmered, a startling realization dawned on him.
He should be dead.
That blow from Michael's divine light had been decisive — a killing strike.
Yet, here he was, breathing. His heart pounding in his chest.
The incongruity sparked a reckless thought:
"Or am I really unkillable?"
A manic laughter burst forth from Belphegor's lips, echoing off the dingy walls.
Just as he savored the absurdity, a sudden, piercing blue light illuminated the room.
A disembodied voice, laced with sarcasm, declared:
> [System Activation.]
Notification: You were killed, moron.
Reason: Divine Light-based attack by Archangel Michael.
Revival Mechanism: Activated.
Belphegor's laughter died abruptly. He jolted upright, stunned.
What sorcery was this? A floating light with words on it? Revival Mechanism?
The words swirled in his mind, defying comprehension.
"Explain," Belphegor commanded, his voice low and menacing. "Michael's attack should have ended me. Why am I still alive?"
The floating light responded sarcastically,
"First of all, I'm not a floating light. You can call me a System."
The voice continued,
"You have been granted a second chance by the Most High. Your resurrection from death was orchestrated to serve a greater purpose. Michael's attack should have ended your existence, but the Most High intervened, reviving you to maintain balance in the celestial realm."
"The Lucifer's growing power threatens the stability of the universe," the System went on.
"Your exceptional strength makes you an ideal counterbalance against Lucifer and his agents of darkness. The Most High seeks to protect humanity from the impending danger, and your role is crucial in this endeavor."
Belphegor's lips curled into a wicked grin.
He burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the inn's room.
"Ha! You really think I care about your Most High?" he scoffed.
"The moment I step out of this room, I will wage war against the heavens. The Most High's mercy will be my ticket to unleashing chaos."
The System's tone remained unchanged.
"That's why I was integrated into you. I serve as a measure to keep your deranged brain from acting out foolishly.
Your powers, magic, and abilities have been suppressed.
You will regain them by the amount of people you save and good deeds you perform."
Belphegor's face contorted.
"What do you mean my powers have been suppressed?!" he thundered.
The System went silent.
Enraged, Belphegor attempted to cast his signature spell — Infernal Annihilation — despite knowing its catastrophic consequences. But it was as if the spell had vanished from his memory, leaving only a hollow, frustrating silence.
He screamed, his voice echoing through the inn's walls.
"Restore my powers, you bastards!
May the Most High rot in eternal darkness!
May the System be consumed by an endless abyss of nothingness!"
Just then, a man walked into the room, drawn by the noise.
"Sir, what seems to be the issue?" the man asked, halting by the door.
Before he could blink, Belphegor bridged the distance — his speed astonishing.
The man's eyes widened as Belphegor's hand closed around his neck.
"You want to know what's wrong?" he growled.
With a swift motion, he snapped the man's neck.
The man died with his mouth still agape, eyes wide in disbelief.
His lifeless body crumpled to the floor, limbs splayed awkwardly.
Belphegor's chest heaved with rage.
> "It's not even up to 30 mins since you woke up and you already went astray,"
the System lamented.
"As expected. You'll be a pain in the ass."
> "I hope you can last through the punishment for your actions," it added coldly.
Belphegor sneered, but before he could respond, a searing pain erupted in his body.
It felt like molten lava in his veins, his organs scorched, his skin ablaze with thousands of invisible needles.
His heart pounded violently.
> "Agony Protocol Engaged."
Duration: 2 minutes. Subjective experience: 2 hours.
Belphegor's vision blurred. His muscles stretched. Bones cracked. Joints dislocated.
His mind drowned in memories of past defeats.
Time distorted. Seconds stretched into eternity.
The room dissolved into a realm of unrelenting torment.
Belphegor's screams became the only sound in his personal hell.