The sudden flames engulfed Ankh and the assassin.
The assassin screamed in the fire, while Ankh calmly walked out of the blaze, patted his slightly singed bangs, and remarked with interest, "Flame Magic. It seems a Mage is involved in this."
No sooner had Ankh finished speaking than rustling sounds echoed throughout the large church, and a group of people emerged from various hidden corners.
"A bunch of rats who can't stand the light. What exactly is your purpose in moving the Devil?"
Ankh sneered, surveying the people who were subtly surrounding him. He stood steadily with his hands in his pockets, showing no sign of fear.
This group of people all wore identical uniforms—pale white robes—and each of their faces bore a fierce expression.
In addition, the cuffs of their clothes were embroidered with a strange pattern, seemingly the symbol of their organization.
From the crowd surrounding Ankh, a tall man in white slowly emerged, seemingly the leader of the group.
Flames were burning in his hands, indicating that he was the one who started the fire earlier.
"Kid, if you end your own life, I can at least guarantee you'll have a complete corpse."
The white-robed man's eyes were like those of a hungry wolf, fiercely scrutinizing Ankh from head to toe, a trace of jealousy flashing in his murky pupils.
This ignorant kid, relying on his good looks and a bit of magic talent, dares to act so arrogant!
When the master's grand plan succeeds, such useless pretty boys will all become bait for the Devil!
Ankh saw the mad expression on the white-robed man's face, lowered his head, and sneered, "Heh... You can guarantee me a complete corpse, but I can't guarantee you one!"
Before the killing intent in the white-robed man's eyes could fade, Ankh had already rushed forward with astonishing speed, and his fist, imbued with evil and death energy, slammed heavily into his face!
"Reaper's—Devouring Fist!"
As the death-infused fist, surrounded by divine energy, struck, the white-robed man's originally sturdy body horrifyingly disintegrated like crushed tofu dregs, blood, muscle, and bone churning together with a sickening, teeth-grinding sound!
The white-robed man, utterly crushed by the death vortex formed by the fist, had his bodily remains instantly flung skyward, raining down a nauseating shower of human flesh... Seeing this hellish scene, the white-robed man's subordinates fell backward in fear. Several with weaker psychological fortitude even knelt on the ground, dry-heaving with tears in their eyes.
Ankh's demonic appearance became even more sinister, inevitably stained with a good deal of crimson blood, but he nonchalantly waved his blood-stained right hand and mused, "A strong exterior but weak interior, a useless pretty boy. His physical constitution is really poor."
"Oh, and you guys."
Ankh turned his head to look at the pale-faced subordinates, who were in a state of chaos, and muttered to himself, "I'll leave a few for questioning. As for the rest..."
Under the desperate gazes of the crowd, Ankh slowly extended his unbloodied, fair hand and snapped his fingers crisply.
"Terror, selective activation."
Ding, ding, ding!
A series of low incantations signaling completed magic circles rang out, and dark golden judgment magic circles had already appeared beneath the feet of these White Devil Cult subordinates!
"Please! Don't kill me!"
"No! Don't!"
"You bastard, you'll go to hell!"
Desperate pleas and curses continuously erupted. Ankh looked at these collapsing people with a somewhat detached gaze and said, "When you used the Devil to kill people, did you ever listen to their pleas?"
"Don't blame me; you yourselves abandoned the light with your own hands."
Ankh's eyes gradually grew cold, and his magic power surged forth. As the dark golden light grew brighter, the loud screams gradually faded... Ankh loathed these evil organizations like Dark Guilds the most, due to his own experiences.
However, this did not mean that Ankh was a good person.
He preferred to act as he pleased, content as long as he lived comfortably.
Ankh looked at the two survivors he had deliberately left, sat down casually, and concisely stated, "I ask, you answer. No nonsense, understand?"
The two, having survived a close call, nodded frantically. They had barely managed to pull their souls back from the brink of death and stammered, "S-sir, please ask..."
Ankh pointed at the chilling graveyard underfoot and asked, "Your identities."
One of the taller men swallowed hard, bending down with difficulty. "We are... the White Devil Cult, a subordinate organization of the Dark Guild Tartaros..." Ankh frowned. Such actions were indeed characteristic of a Dark Guild.
But the name Tartaros... why did he have no impression of it from the original novel in his past life? The other short, stout man quickly took over, explaining, "Our cult's doctrine is to worship the Devil, so coming to this village this time was mainly for experiments..."
"That terrifying thing, it's said to be the legendary Satan Soul. The captain said that if it consumes enough human flesh, it can materialize and become a complete Devil body."
Ankh crossed his legs, propping his chin as he pondered, "So, you incited the village chief to help you keep the Satan Soul in the church?"
The tall man nodded repeatedly, then said with a bitter face, "But for some reason, the Satan Soul disappeared one night without a trace!"
"After that, we decided to retreat, but the village chief secretly hired a Mage... which is you, to investigate the authenticity of Satan... So..."
Ankh nodded thoughtfully. From the sound of it, that Satan Soul was the Devil that Mirajane had accidentally acquired.
This was an unexpected blessing; the little girl had gained such powerful strength for nothing.
It's a pity that she's a face-con and doesn't like that form... Anyway, the matter is temporarily concluded. Ankh's mission reward was completely lost, but at least he had an unexpected gain.
Ankh stood up, stretched comfortably, and said to the two men with satisfaction, "I won't send you to the afterlife. I'll find you a jail to squat in."
Although the two didn't quite understand what Ankh was saying, knowing they wouldn't die, they immediately knelt and kowtowed in gratitude, then obediently found ropes to tie themselves up.
As if suddenly remembering something, Ankh took a deep breath. The unique energy of the recently deceased in the air immediately surged into his stomach, becoming part of his internal magic power.
Ankh completed his absorption of death energy and exhaled, feeling refreshed. He grumbled, "The death energy from these people tastes terrible."
"[As you grow stronger, such weak, ant-like death power can, of course, only be used to satisfy hunger and replenish yourself.]"
Ankh nodded, then led the two men, bound by ropes, out of the battle-scarred church.
Next, he had to deal with Mirajane's situation.