1 Noblesse Oblige

Do the candles look forward to being used?

They really had no reason to desire the opposite.

But they revolted anyway.

"For many centuries, the tyranny of the Overlords has cultivated the wicked nature in all of us!"

Some of them coalesced, and fought against the one who lit the wick.

"Many have considered that the lake was already black to begin with, yet there is much evidence saying otherwise."

And some ended up making their own god.

"Our blood was muddied, viled, and scorned from the truth of our origin. Just what is this ink latching deep inside our veins and soul? This damned ink made us egoistical, violent, and stripped us out of our empathy."

444 elite soldiers were equipped not with armor but sleeveless priest gowns embroidered with a red 'X' in place of a cross motif on the chest.

"This is a sign of a disease, every demon is diseased! A disease that turns us into nothing but greedy and savage kin!"

All of them possess beastly to otherworldly striking features. From long pointed ears, pale skins, to razor sharp fangs…

Some of them bore horns and wings, jagged tails, animal ears, and eyes more than any hand could count. There was one who was taller than a tree, and another who was shorter than a bush.

"Whilst it has been said many times, we must not falter to remind ourselves every day of this truth. Deeper and bolder than those mindless pariahs!

"That there shall be hope and light amidst this cruel and compassionless world!"

Voicing her preach, and standing in front of them all, was a female priest with a tall mitre hat, symbolizing the presence of gentle light.

Yet, the red X-symbol on its front surface along with the same one on every elite soldiers' gown sent out a clear message that they are not the beings of peace.

An unhinged smile dances across the High Priest's face, "And it has brought to our Intelligence's attention that one of the Nether Countries is currently holding an unholy pursuit to eradicate the X-Church's progenitor. Armies thicker than the blanket of the north mountains, they suspiciously march towards the 'sacred seclusion' instead of bombarding our base with a tint of meteor showers.

"Just who they think they are…?"

All of the elite soldiers tried to keep their wrath from showing on their faces. Veins tightened in the verge of exploding, fangs were unconsciously bared as the progenitor of their organization was being the subject of harm.

"Yes, I can feel each of your anger." The High Priest furrowed her eyebrows.

Despite the holiness of the interiors of the church, the air was filled with malevolent energy.

If it wasn't obvious enough, through the illustrious stained-glass windows of this holy building, all of those elite soldiers who bathed under such blinding prism rays were none other than Demons.

The scariest kind of them all.

"Of course, while it stays true that cowardice is still within the range of a demonic act, it wasn't really the most fitting action of their status and size, isn't it?" The High Priest raised her jagged axe to the sky, revealing a row of shark-like teeth in the form of a wide grin. "Just this once, we must remind them once again of what it means to bear a noblesse!"

Despite the unity of donning the same uniform, each elite soldier didn't carry an issued weapon in hand. Instead, they were equipped with personalized weapons of their own choices.

Maces, swords, chains and weight, scepters, scythes, roses and fates.

Some of them even strapped with heavy cannons as if it was a light leather bag.

"It is why all of you are called here! For I stand and preach, and implore each of you apostles who carry the light to heal this world out of its ruthless haute couture!

"Let it all spread and contort at the eye of the denying minds! Cast out our warmth as fire upon their souls and shade the darkness of this continent with our will!"

"We shall carry our 'Noblesse Oblige'!"

A chant echoed throughout the whole building.

444 elite soldiers raised their respective weapons in the air.

"'To pray is to kneel! To live is to heal the kiln of the people in tears!""

"Noblesse Oblige!!"

""To suffocate the world with kindness and light!""

Using the energy stored within their vile souls, each of them began to 'over-heal' the fabric of space, enough for it to stretch and become malleable.

The High Priest then delicately tore the blood veins on her wrist with her axe.

The spraying blood didn't splatter across the sullied church. Instead, it accumulated to form a 'memory catalyst' that served as 'reference' for all of the soldiers.

By connecting to the memory catalyst with a long strain of their soul, they were able to grasp the decrypted information inside it.

Then, simultaneously, the overhealed space was thrust with great force, just like a flexible sheet of molten steel that was punctured by a nail and a hammer. The stretched space was then linked to the space that existed in a different point of location where the catalyst told them.

And thus, 445 wormholes were created beneath the roof of the church.

""For the sake of the forsaken chime!""

In an instant, a glaring flash engulfed the inside of the church, leaving an empty and serene space with a silent choir.

Those 445 demons were on their way to help the progenitor of the X-Church.

But the question is, who was this esteemed, aforementioned progenitor? Such a figure who relayed a valiant and virtuous mindset must've been an upright and righteous person, right?

Well.

It was none other than a 'magus' demon whose name was feared throughout the continent. In contrast to the title of a progenitor to a zealously righteous church, he was not someone one would call as righteous…

Insurmountable deeds of taboo and unspeakable atrocities were performed by this progenitor. With great infamy, hundreds of titles sprung around his head like a wreath of thorns.

The Holy Witch, The Apostle of Redemption, The Great Menace to the Netherworld, The Indomitable Hellspawn, The Undying Plague Doctor…

His name was Lothair.

And he didn't even know that the X-Church existed.

"HMMMMPH! HMMPHH!!!"

Though, it was mostly because he was too focused on his research for the past hundreds of years, especially since while the X-Church was formed, he was still in a great seclusion inside a terrifying biome known as the Poison-King Forest. Of course, the mediocre apt name was pretty self-explanatory.

"Alright~! Now." With a devilish smile, the unseemingly slender demon pointed his open palm to the veteran soldier he strapped onto a pole. "Let me see that desperate face of yours~!"

That slender demon wore a peculiar white priest gown with a giant red X-motif on it. A vast differentiation from the uniform of the X-church.

From the outside, it could be seen that the gown's fabric was a little thicker than a normal dress. That small difference was meant to prevent the hidden content beneath the layer from showing. Despite the thickness however, numerous hints of parched blood could be seen from stomach to the waist. Both old and fresh. Until at the lower part of the gown where it met with the ground that it was perpetually drenched in bloody red.

Even with such a get up, his gesture suggested a calm and composed individual, albeit none of those could be traced on his red eyes filled with degenerately unhinged thoughts - covered by the overgrown front fringe of his waist-lenght silverish hair that was composed of many stripes of shades from many grays.

"HMMMMPH! HMMMMMMMMPH!!!"

"Let's start with one percent, shall we?" Just like charging a battery, Lothair directed his deposited energy into a ball on his open palm.

Before letting hell loose onto the poor demon.

"HMMMMMMMMPH!!!"

A sonic boom scattered throughout the forest, spreading the everlasting production of poisonous mist made by the native vegetation.

And the result was-

The poor demon got utterly healed.

His scars, his defective organs, his degrading muscle and power, the disease rotting his soul, and even the receding hairline he possessed had all been reverted to normal. Not only that, all of those factors were then boosted to their most peak performance.

He became strong enough to break free from the chain and fabric that binded him onto the pole, but after he was broken free, what occupied his face was that of despair as his legs couldn't support him to stand firm.

"No… Noo…" The realization of all of the proof of feats in war and aging of life were all taken away from him. "NOOOO!!!!"

"MUAHAHAHA! Yes! Screams!" Lothair clapped and pranced. His demonic aura expanded in response to his malicious joy, which pushed his twintails to flare in contrast to the supposed flaming horns that a scary demon should possess. Laughter began to erupt erratically. As he placed his left hand on his chest, the maddening gaze grew. "Show me more of that anguish! The humiliation! The amount of history that has been stripped away from your very soul!"

"This must be a nightmare! No…! It can't be real! Please tell me that I'm still dreaming!!"

"Mhmm, can't you tell the heat that is starting to form in your throat?" said Lothair as he created an 'O' with his index and thumb. "Inhaling the poison mist in this forest should be fatal enough to instantly kill any demon without a trained immunity or great regeneration, yet an unremarkable demon like you can only feel nothing but a mere spice in your throat. Hey, don't you know what this means?"

"STOP! I BEG YOU TO STOP!" the demon pleaded while shutting both of his ears.

"Your immunity has evolved, darling! To the point of adapting to the terrifying plague of this place! And it won't weaken ever again, no matter how long you've been standing in this damned world!" Spreading his arms with twisted joy, Lothair's grimace began to morbidly twist into a blank of darkness, before a perfectly-circular giant red eye appeared to fill up his entire face, distorting his voice, "You will be bound to achieve nothing, any effort you do will be the work of the healing I casted upon you and nothing more. No matter how many demons you tear apart with those powerful hands, that power will root not from your action, but the stigma that will forever stay within your worthless life.

"And as soon as I experiment on your body even further, there will be no death waiting for you either. I'll make you immortal, durable, and resistant enough to withstand the aging of time and its pain until the death of this universe!

"Of course, you can try weakening yourself again to your former state afterwards, but does it change the fact that your body was blessed by undemonic divinity?

"That's right, my precious! There will be no escape, nor will there be any salvation for your unending scarred soul.

"AAARRRGH!" The veteran demon soldier morphed his hand into a giant spike before charging forward like a mad man. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

The giant red eye that covered Lothair's whole face began to amusedly squint as he brandished open his welcoming arms. "HAHAHAHA! Come at me then! COME IF YOU DARE!!"

Lothair let the demon puncture a giant hole through his torso.

His blood bloomed in the air, scattering and spiraling about. Metal-like parts were jutted out from Lothair's body along with the splattering red. The bits and chips of the metal were barbed, pointy, with hints of rust. Yet, despite the sensation, the soldier's wrathful eyes were so fixated on the devil of his life that the irregularity remained unknown.

Seeing the limp slender corpse on his spike, the veteran soldier swung the dead demon on his spike to the ground. His weary heart slowed in pace, yet not calm in any ways.

Because even with the realization that he had killed the person who brought an irreversible stigma to him, his defiled body won't ever go back, together with the pride and dignity that he had cultivated as a demon.

"My odyssey, all of those years spent on the battlefield…" The former soldier frowned as tears slipped on the corners of his eyes. "It's all gone…"

Because within this Baha Continent, the act of healing and being healed is a great taboo, a great sin, and a great shame.

The demons were born with the instinctual trait that was the total opposite for many living beings outside of this demonic continent. To them, the act of pillaging and conquering others was the norm and accepted as the right and just thing to do. Meanwhile, the act of protecting and lending help to those in need were deemed as disgraceful. At some point, utterly shameful and degenerative.

If a demon ruled a kingdom full of demons using tyranny and fear, they would be highly regarded by the eyes of its people.

If the total opposite happens where a demon ruled using compassion and justice, they would be regarded as an unjust menace to their people.

"I can't live anymore…" the demon soldier began to brandish his giant spike against his neck. "I'm sorry ol' pops, I can't ever fulfill my promise at this very rate…"

Likewise, there was a rooted tradition amongst demons who have lower regeneration ability to accumulate as many scars from great battles before they die in honor.

Some demons even dedicate their entire life for this tradition and would seek as many feats and achievements that were fought so greatly it was embedded as scars into the surface of their body.

Even though the act of forging evidence and falsifying truth was one of the great demonic acts, most demons possess too much pride to create a fake scar just for fame.

Not to mention, most demons possess a great innate intuition, they could tell easily by looking if the scars were legitimately fought for or not.

Afterall, to these demons, their boastful scars were similar to how trophies and prizes were used as a physical form of milestones of life. Albeit more leaning to an extremity in many cases.

Now with those scars gone from the surface of his skin, the lifeline was also gone altogether.

"What are you waiting for?"

The wretched healer appeared behind him, smiling as he caressed the bloody tip of the spike.

"AAAA???"

"It would be insulting to assume that I don't heal myself, you know?"

To a demon who has been doctrined to perceive the utter sin and shame for the act of healing, seeing another demon who didn't even catch a second thought to heal themselves had made the demon soldier terrified beyond belief.

There was only a single thing that could be comprehended in the soldier's mind.

It was absolute dread.

Freezing sweat drenched down, racing with one another to flee from the scene. His eyes pulsated in a chaotic rhythm. Veins were tightened, trying to block the memory of the view from being embedded into his utter subconsciousness.

"Aaaaaaa…. Aaaaa…"

The sheer amount of overwhelming stimulation gave him a heart attack, unsurprisingly, killing him almost instantly.

In a non-climatic silence, the giant body of the soldier fell to the ground, giving a dampened thud as the body wobbled before limping still on the sea of grass and poisonous mushrooms.

Unimpressed yet confused, Lothair plunged his hand into the chest of the demon. Without giving much effort, he restarted the seemingly faulty heart by performing cardiac massage directly onto the body's engine. Beat by beat, in a consistent rhythm. Life shall be recycled.

"AAAAARRGHH!"

"Who told you to die yet!?"

Blood pushed itself out from the formerly dead demon's throat. His consciousness returned, but the moment he saw the sadistic smile appeared in his sight, his heart stopped once again. The body instantly turned into a ragdoll.

"... The new regeneration factor didn't prevent a heart attack? Is the amount of Ayin insufficient? Maybe I'll try using two percent of my reservoir.

"Although this is just a mere experiment trying to put a theory into practice, I guess I really shouldn't be such a frugal person…

"No, the amount is not exactly the issue." With no care given to the dead soldier, Lothair immediately jotted down the result of the experiment onto his palm using a needle.

Every few sentences, he healed his palm, which then saved the content of the note through physical trauma into his memory, just like a strong imaginary data that he can access to whenever he desired.

"Despite the branch-surge of the healing factor already made in such a way that the surplus will be allocated appropriately to all connected body parts, it still doesn't prevent a heart attack from occurring…

"Maybe a 'Conserved Healing Factor' that activates whenever the heart stops working can fix that!

"Then again, a heart attack occurs when the flow of blood to the heart is severely reduced or blocked. In his case, it occurred because of sudden stress and pressure…

"No, that is not enough to cause a heart attack.

"Is it because there is an error on the healing factor? A healthy body doesn't necessarily prevent a heart attack, a healthy artery does!

"Yes! Which means that there is a conflicting factor on the branch-surge when the healing happens that causes the artery system to be weakened!

"Kukuku, it seems like I need another live-test specimen to prove this, preferably another seasoned veteran with an unremarkable regeneration capability." He then gazed at the corpse of the veteran soldier. "Of course, someone that hasn't been broken yet. I can still revive him, but it won't be as fun as the first time he died.

"Well, regardless. 'Kill and recycle'~! I can just turn him into a puppet later and reinforce him before unleashing it on the nearby country. Yesh, that sounds wonderfully fun, huehehe."

The drool flowed from the edge of his smile as he kept jotting down words on his palm. Until he sensed a disturbance in the air.

"Huh, I smell a festive grill in preparation."

He looked up, peeking through the gap between the rustling leaves.

The sky turned crimson red. Along with it, numerous meteors were sighted lining up in diagonal formation near the limitless horizon.

Lothair's eyebrows crinkled as he put on an annoyed smile. "Sounds like someone wants to start a barbeque party without my consent."

One projectile of such unrelenting natural artillery could wipe out a non-reinforced fortress in an instant.

It greatly showcased the malice behind the perpetrator - screaming in explosive language, that Lothair must be dead at all costs.

The first meteor collided with its course, rippling the land like a magnified droplet upon a cup of water.

The vicious bombardment kept on going for more than five minutes. The forests that were known for its harder-than-steel wood had been bent and pummeled by the attack. The poison mist that enshrouded the biome had been cleansed and replaced by artificially imbued radiation released by the meteor that was done by the caster.

As if the impact itself wasn't enough.

The once dreaded Poison-King Forest was reduced to nothing but a wrecked wasteland in less than an hour.