Chapter 38: My Domain (Part 2)
994 Words
To avoid once again meeting that mad gaze from the sky, Sherlock didn't look up at the sun. He simply stepped quickly, but with utmost caution, down the long street… and with each breath, he processed all his senses, transforming them into information that appeared in his mind.
Temperature, sandstorms, sounds, and the viscous air…
If this truly was hell, then perhaps Sherlock was the only one who had ever set foot in hell.
Oh, no, there was someone else who had entered hell before—Lord Dante, who had once slain the evil god of hell. Speaking of which, why hadn't Lord Dante revealed what hell looked like to the Empire after returning to the mortal realm?
Perhaps he had described it publicly, but as a commoner, he simply didn't know…
Sherlock thought this, observing, analyzing, walking along the edge of the buildings. His fingertips touched the weathered walls of the street, watching the mottled surface crumble into fine sand, carried away by the hellish winds.
Everything around him held a fatal attraction for him…
He wanted to rummage through the ruins beside him, to see what lurked in the dark shadows, to cross this path and see the wider streetscape around the corner, to go far, very far.
However, this was no tourist area! So, the danger he had foreseen… finally arrived…
In this scorching, b****y world, Sherlock, as a human, smelled almost like someone opening a can of fermented herring in a sealed space permeated with the finest perfume.
That smell… was impossible to hide.
Oh, that might be a bit of a reversal, but… demons hate the finest perfumes; they absolutely love fermented herring!
So, at that very moment, a languishing corpse dog suddenly raised its head, its nostrils, rotting into its skull, twitched, and then it turned its gaze incredulously in Sherlock's direction.
A human, a demon, stared at each other across the long street of hell.
"..."
"..."
"Awoooawoooawooo!!!!" A sudden, yet expected roar erupted, and the corpse dog sprang to its feet, then charged madly towards Sherlock.
"Sigh—" Sherlock sighed helplessly, but wasn't afraid. These corpse dogs were common in the real world; once their heads were smashed and their brains wrecked, they wouldn't get up again.
In fact, most demons would die obediently once their brains were wrecked, so Sherlock was quite enthusiastic about smashing heads; it gave him a sense of security.
However... in the next second.
"Awoooawooo—"
"Awoooawoooawoo—" Several more roars rang out.
In the real world, due to the protection of the Holy Light, it was almost impossible for demons of the same race to gather in groups, so Sherlock didn't know that corpse dogs were actually a type of social demon, often roaming in groups of three to five.
In short, following that howl, similar sounds came from at least three directions, followed by a chaotic rush of footsteps.
"Excuse me." The urge to explore was irresistible, but to engage in a deadly battle with a group of hellish demons now wouldn't be sacrificing oneself for exploration, but rather a foolish death.
Fortunately, he was prepared for this situation. From his journey there and his observation from the apartment window, he was certain there was nowhere for a gigantic demon to lurk nearby. At least for the next 15 seconds while he ran back to the apartment, no demon should suddenly jump out and block his way back.
So, he'd go back to the apartment, close the door, and see if that room could still keep the demons out as before. Even if it couldn't, he could quickly calm himself down and spend three to five seconds waking up in the real world.
Without further ado, Sherlock turned around, pushed his speed to the limit, and sprinted back the way he came.
And the hellhound chased after him relentlessly! Fifteen seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Sherlock dashed into the apartment… Unexpectedly, the dog behind him wasn't slow either, managing to catch up!
“Alright, looks like I'll have to take you down first…” he said apologetically.
Before he could finish his thought,
the rotting dog had already charged forward, its blood-red mouth wide open, ready to take a bite of the rare food in front of it. In the process, its paws inevitably crossed the doorway…
Or rather, stepped into the area where Sherlock's contracted demon, the caterpillar, had crawled.
In an instant!!!
“Huh??” Sherlock frowned. He was prepared to c***k open the dog's head, but suddenly realized that the rotting dog had stopped moving.
Uh… although it was a bit strange, this demon, which had been blinded by hunger just a second ago, had stopped the instant it stepped into the room!
It wasn't exactly a complete stop, because Sherlock could see the creature's body trembling violently, as if it had stepped into a place it should never have touched, triggering a fear beyond reason and instinct.
It wanted to escape, but couldn't.
The emaciated body, scorched by the hellish heat, emitted wisps of smoke that drifted slightly in the small room. The hellhound's mouth, filled with sharp teeth, was gaping open. One eye, rotting and from the previous frantic run, had popped out of its socket, held together by a thin nerve, dangling precariously from its mouth.
It struggled to maintain this fixed posture.
Sherlock had a strange feeling that if demons had sweat glands, this poor little creature would surely be drenched in sweat by now.
It was this strange intuition that made Sherlock's brow furrow even deeper, because he didn't know what had frightened the demon to this extent.
He moved closer... and even waved his hand near his mouth. However, the carrion dog had completely lost its desire for fresh human flesh and blood. It just trembled and whimpered, like a fly stuck on flypaper, forced to accept its death with fear and misery.
- Writer
