CHAPTER 68: CHAPTER 68 JOB CHANGE QUEST (6)

’What is this nonsensical bullsh*t....?!’

Currently, my physical damage reduction Stat has exceeded 30%.

However, each of Paimon’s attacks hurt like crazy, as if I were being pounded on by a hammer. On the other hand, my attacks almost didn’t inflict any damage to the enemy.

Our exchange didn’t last for long afterwards.

POW!

I teetered about unsteadily before falling to my knees.

Plop!

I tried to stand back up, but my legs didn’t want to listen.

Plop!

"Euh-euk..."

Paimon stood before me, but stopped attacking me. It wordlessly stared down at me for a while.

’.....?’

Then, while ignoring my question-filled gaze directed at it, Paimon extended its hand out towards the sword discarded to the ground some distance away.

Then, the sword was automatically reeled in.

Paimon grasped the sword in both of its hands and walked to the side of me.

Soon, the tip of the blade was pointing to the sky.

’You want to execute me, is that it?’

This b*stard certainly lived up to its title as the King of Hell. There was no emotion in its eye— no malice, no joy. Just cold judgment, as if it were carrying out divine punishment on a sinner beneath notice.

When it looked like I wasn’t going to resist my final moments, Paimon went ahead with the execution.

Of course, I wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

The sword fell down in a straight line.

Swish-!

However, I reached up with my left hand and blocked the descending blade.

CLANG!

The noise of metal hitting metal!

The gauntlet I found just before entering here protected my hand.

Flinch~

I sensed Paimon being taken back just now. I didn’t miss this chance and threw a punch with my right hand.

As expected, Paimon didn’t try to dodge.

’You’re thinking of countering me again, right?’

It had probably calculated that getting hit once while countering that was far more productive. Too bad, it failed to take something important into its calculation.

’Muramasa Blade!’

Shururu....

The Muramasa Blade was summoned instantly into my hand.

And I stabbed the blade in the creature’s eye.

Stab!

Kuwooooaaar!!

A scream that couldn’t have come from a human being exploded out.

At the same time, a fierce light poured out from the eye with the Blade sticking out.

I hurriedly stood back up.

’Now what?’

The scream reverberated through the chamber like the wail of a dying star, and the sound warped the very air around us. Paimon staggered back slightly, its armour creaking under the unseen weight of the Muramasa’s strike, but it didn’t fall.

The King of Hell—banished though it was—was far from defeated. Its silver-glowing eyes now burned with an intensity that seemed almost tangible, like molten metal pressing against my chest.

It dropped to one knee, the jagged crown of its helm dipping toward the ground, but not in submission. The armour around its eye seemed to pulse, as if feeding on the wound I had inflicted. Slowly, deliberately, Paimon stood upright again, tilting its head as though evaluating me.

This time, I decided to go out. Both Armament Core and Conqueror’s Will surged out from my body like a living storm. Black energy spiralled across my limbs, wrapping around my spine, my shoulders, my fists. Every nerve, every sinew, thrummed with the raw resonance of Sovereign Haki. The air itself seemed to bend away from me, trembling under the pressure of my will.

Paimon’s eyes widened—not in fear, but recognition. Recognition of a force long thought lost, a presence that carried the weight of the Lucifer bloodline itself.

I stepped forward, each footfall igniting the stone beneath me in dark fissures. The throne room—or whatever this accursed cathedral had become—was bathed in shadows dancing from my aura.

The King of Hell did not move. It only watched, tilting its head, as if testing the depth of my resolve.

"Enough waiting," I said, voice low and lethal. "Let’s see who truly dominates here."

In an instant, Paimon’s form blurred. Six jagged shadow-wings unfurled, whipping the air into a violent gale. The ground cracked under the sheer weight of its presence, floating shards of obsidian and stone spinning around it.

They were so beautifully horrifying that it took me a moment to even realise the danger.

Then, with a sudden roar that shook the very foundation of the dungeon, Paimon lunged.

Every muscle in my body screamed as I met the assault head-on. I didn’t dodge; I didn’t retreat. Each step I took was synchronised with the pulsing rhythm of Sovereign Haki, every fibre of my being burning with the intent to crush, to survive, to ascend.

The first clash was deafening. My fists collided with Paimon’s armoured forearms. The sound was less metal striking metal and more like the shattering of mountains. Energy radiated outward in jagged waves, and the floating debris exploded in showers of sparks and dust. I staggered, but only slightly; each impact fed into my Conqueror’s Will, turning pain into power, fear into focus.

Paimon’s eyes glinted with something like amusement. It adjusted its stance with lightning speed, wings folding and re-extending in a violent, calculated rhythm. The air around us seemed to split, a kaleidoscope of shadows and flickering crimson light. With each beat of its wings, the pressure multiplied, bending the surrounding stones, distorting reality.

I charged, fists out, moving at the edge of my perception. Observation Grid flared, mapping every micro-motion, every invisible ripple in the air. I feinted left, then swung right; Paimon blocked effortlessly, but the strike still grazed its armour, leaving a glowing fissure in its dark plating. Sparks of corrupted energy danced across the gap.

But then, as if having had enough playing around, it took a step back with its hand gripping the hilt of the long sword in its reach once more. The air distorted, vibrating with an almost musical tone, low and resonant, like a string plucked in a cathedral of death. Paimon’s sword shimmered faintly, imbued with a malevolent energy that seemed to devour the light around it.

Without warning, it swung.

And let me tell you, Paimon was the name of the angel who fell alongside Lucifer. And as its title suggests, he was the most obedient of them all, who became the executioner of lost souls. Every strike was precise, unavoidable in theory, yet I had one advantage no ordinary being could predict: the System.

Sovereign Haki pulsed through my veins, a black tide coiling into my fists. I didn’t wield Muramasa this time; this was a test of raw force, of will and body alone.

The sword cut through the air like a phantom, a streak of darkness aimed at my chest. I leaned into it, letting the Observation Grid calculate the exact vector of its descent. My forearm met the blade at an angle, deflecting it just enough to reduce the impact.

CLANG!

The shockwave rippled outward, and my body was ripped out of the ground I was standing on.

BOOOOM!

Colliding with the far wall, I embedded across the shattered stone, black dust and shards cutting across my arms. Pain screamed through my body, but I gritted my teeth, pushing the agony into the background. Every fibre of my being screamed to rise, to strike, to survive.

Paimon landed before me, wings folding with terrifying grace. Its shadow stretched impossibly long across the ruined hall, black tendrils of energy crawling along the floor toward me like living things. It didn’t speak. Its silence was louder than any roar, filled with the weight of millennia of command and conquest.

I rose to my knees, then feet, letting my Observation Grid flicker across every microdetail—the subtle bend in its joints, the pulse of its aura, the faint flicker in its eyes that hinted at intent. This was no ordinary duel. This was a reckoning.

I advanced. Step by step, closing the distance.

The first punch I threw connected, black energy lashing outward. Paimon’s forearm met it midair, sparks of corrupted mana showering between us. The impact threw me back a pace, but not far enough. I rolled forward, landing in a crouch, then surged upward again.

My next strike hit its shoulder, compressing a sliver of its armour. For a moment, I glimpsed something I hadn’t expected: a flash of recognition in its eyes. Not fear. Not anger. Recognition.

Paimon tilted its head, then lunged with a sudden speed that would have shattered any mortal being. I met it head-on, fists colliding with armoured limbs again and again. Each blow sent shockwaves through the chamber, twisting the floating shards of stone and obsidian in violent arcs.

The fight escalated further.

Every punch, every block, every motion was amplified by Sovereign Haki, turning the chamber into a storm of black and crimson energy. Paimon’s wings beat in a rhythm that made the air itself vibrate, each gust carrying enough force to tear stone from the walls.

I ducked under a sweeping strike, rolling across the shattered floor, feeling shards of obsidian bite into my arms. My body moved on instinct, each step and pivot calculated by the Observation Grid. Every micro-movement of Paimon’s armour, every subtle shift in the wings or the stance, was logged in my mind like a map of his fighting style.

I lunged again, aiming for the gaps in the plating near his elbows. My fists struck, but Paimon rotated just enough to absorb the impact, the sound of metal against reinforced metal ringing like thunder. Yet, with each strike, the Conqueror’s Will within me fed, turning the pain into pure, sharpened focus.

Paimon countered immediately, swinging a forearm horizontally. The force alone would have obliterated a lesser being, but I met it head-on. My reinforced arm shivered under the pressure, sparks of dark energy cascading outward, but I refused to yield.

I felt the air around me thicken as Paimon’s aura surged. The temperature plummeted; the very space we occupied warped. Every movement of his limbs was perfectly synchronised with the pulsing, invisible waves of energy that radiated from him.

Still, I pressed forward. Step by step, punch by punch, the space between us closed again and again. My fists struck his chest, his shoulders, each blow tearing small fissures into the obsidian-like armour. Paimon didn’t falter. Instead, he mirrored my aggression, a storm incarnate, countering strike for strike, block for block.

And then something impossible happened!

"You... persist," came the low rumble from within the helm. His voice was like grinding stone, layered with ages of authority.

What the fu*k!

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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