I hope the Hellhounds are vaccinated...

The silence that followed Dakim's sermons lasted only a few seconds.

Then, a triple roar tore through the night, as deep as an erupting volcano.

The tavern windows rattled, and the torches in the square suddenly went out.

The Cerberus emerged from the mist: three heads with glowing jaws, rusted chains dug into their skin, eyes like red-hot coals.

Its mere presence gave off a stench of sulfur and burnt flesh.

Although they share a body, the three heads behave very differently, as if they were three beings sharing a single body.

The central head appears to be the most intelligent, calculating, and self-confident, capable of breathing blue fire, acting like a trained dog.

The right head is more aggressive and short-tempered, always ready to fight and the one that most wants to eat, capable of breathing red fire, acting like a fighting dog.

And the left head is the most mentally unstable and indifferent, whose roars chillingly emulate a deranged laugh, with its tongue exposed and breathing green fire, as if it were a constantly rabid stray dog.

The villagers panicked. Some ran aimlessly, others were caught in flames that reduced them to ash.

One who stumbled was caught in a bite, disappearing in a snap of bones as he was devoured alive.

The paladin was the first to move.

Stumbling, but with his gaze crazed with faith, he brandished the Ashen Lash.

The whip wrapped around one of the monster's legs and staggered it.

The blow barely left a mark on the demonic flesh, but his determination was so fierce that the beast instinctively recoiled.

"The Lord guides me! His light is my whip!" he shouted, though the whip had long since lost all divinity.

Ayato watched him endure a swipe that slammed him against a wall and thought, gasping,

"Great... a tank. It takes anything, but it kills nothing."

Isolde, cold and calculating, launched projectiles of dark energy at the chains, watching them sizzle with the remains of corroded holy relics.

"These aren't just any restraints... someone brought him here on purpose."

Vera, paralyzed with terror, could barely mutter incomplete incantations.

But when he saw the Cerberus raise its right head to devour Ayato, showing complete aggression, a desperate scream burst from his throat and a column of ice crossed the air, freezing and shattering part of his snout.

"Bad dog, stay away from him!"

Vera seemed determined to fight despite her initial fear, remembering the time Ayato and Isolde fought the Wyvern. This time, the witch of the clergy wanted to be more useful in combat.

And while the right head was the most hostile and conflictive, it was also the most cowardly of the three, since Vera managed to temporarily intimidate it.

Sylphidia, who until then had been lighthearted and mocking, turned into a tempest.

She began a spell that induced hysterical laughter in the area of ​​the three-headed infernal canine, driving the left head mad, making it mentally ridiculous, imbecile, and insane.

While the left head began to bite the rest of the Cerberus's body, to the misfortune of the other two heads.

"Who would have thought animals could have fun too~"

Sylphidia boasts that she can be useful from time to time with her party miracles.

The Cerberus lunged at Dakim, its central head sinking its fangs into his side and throwing him to the ground like a rag doll.

Even so, the fanatic wrapped his whip around one of its throats, holding it with impossible strength.

"The Lord is my shield... and my chain!"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Isolde channeled pure darkness into a compact sphere, while Sylphidia summoned a cyclone that lifted Vera's icy dust.

The combination struck the monster's belly, splitting it open.

Vera, with tears and fury on her face, shouted one last incantation.

A blizzard entered the wound, and the Cerberus exploded from within.

"We must put him to sleep like a puppy!"

Ayato said, giving the canine creature a final stab.

The three heads howled in a chorus that chilled the blood of everyone present before collapsing, turning to ash.

And Cerberus's soul made its way to Ayato's body, with him assimilating it through Soul Steal.

Ayato is still amazed at how arbitrarily random this ability the Lone Demons possess is.

***

The plaza was left in ruins: smoke, ash, and charred corpses.

Dakim, covered in blood, knelt, still murmuring his incoherent prayers.

Ayato, lying on the ground, coughed up ash and muttered bitterly:

"Fantastic. I survived again. As if they had a twisted sense of humor up there."

Then they saw it. 

Among the ash, marked on the ground by the remains of chains, gleamed a circle crossed by the silhouette of a hat with a drawing of a fly.

Isolde recognized it instantly. Her face hardened.

"...Baal'thazar."

Ayato frowned.

"Great, even the hounds of hell have a trademark."

The paladin, trembling but raising his hands to the heavens, exclaimed fervently:

"A divine sign! The Lord has shown me his will! This mark confirms that my crusade is just!"

Vera begins to speak, already tired.

"So that Cerberus wasn't a random attack? It was placed here on purpose?"

Vera begins to use her divine healing magic to heal Dakim's wounds while Isolde begins to put things together, muttering to herself.

"Then it must have been like a test from Azrael, if aside from Dracula, only his closest associate is capable of ordering that crazy clown around..."

Ayato listened and raised an eyebrow.

"Proof of what?"

"That the Dark Lord Candidates, regardless of whether they are Lone Demons or Infernal Tyrants..." Isolde opened her eyes, dark as an eclipse, "are nothing more than toys on a much larger board. Rydia, Zeltha, Azrael, and now Baal'thazar... they decide the rules. We only bleed when we play them..."

While Ayato was going to object, given that this was really his doing, Tatsuya, Maxwellious, and the other Candidates yet to be known, it's not unreasonable to say that his companions, plucked from a far-fetched RPG party, were dragged into this mess.

The wind blew the ashes away, leaving the fly-patterned hat as a scar on the ground.

An unmistakable sign: several had begun to move their pieces.