Heavenly Damned Player

He was alone.

He could handle ordinary loneliness, he'd been alone most of his life. But this felt fundamentally wrong. He was surrounded by a dozen creatures made of vines, all bearing his likeness.

Delilah needed saving, but when a mere dislocated arm was enough to send him running, he couldn't win this fight. He'd have to face Holly eventually if he wanted to save Delilah.

More than that, he had to survive this forest and find his way back to his crew. If he wanted any chance at that, he needed to master one thing.

Beelzebub.

His extra ability was powerful, he'd seen that the first time he used it. He just needed to master it, and he'd be a real threat.

If anyone was capable, it was he. He was a pro, after all.

He stood firm, daggers drawn, Beelzebub blazing on their edges. Even on his worst day, these shallow copies weren't threatening enough—but the tree that spawned them? That still demanded vengeance.

He lunged at the vine-copies with irritation etched on his face. Each hit on them would reflect on his own body, so he'd use the same tactic again…

He focused on inflicting micro-cuts. Beelzebub's corruption could spread from there, slowly reducing the creatures to nothing. It minimized the danger to himself while guaranteeing his win.

However, things were not as easy as he anticipated.

His movements were precise but betrayed a weakness he couldn't fully hide: his previously twisted arm. That was exactly what the creatures targeted.

Every assault went straight for his vulnerability, fierce and savage, allowing him no space to breathe.

His legs buckled whenever an attack was launched.

But he remembered his reasons for fighting: survival, yes, but more importantly, being there for Delilah.

Their coordinated strikes called for desperate measures. He immediately pulled back, switching to ranged attacks despite how uncomfortable it made him.

A single touch from Beelzebub was enough, but unchecked, it could incinerate the forest. He summoned it repeatedly, each strike against the creature precise and measured.

Yet his approach could only accomplish so much, Halo's ability to conjure Beelzebub was still quite limited. Even so, it was sufficient to break the creatures' coordinated rhythm.

As soon as he spotted an opening, he attacked. Faster than he'd been before, pushing past the discomfort in his limbs, he gave them no breathing space.

He didn't look capable, but he was quick for someone barely clinging to life.

In moments, the Shadow of Death rose triumphant, ash from the fallen vines carried away by the wind.

"So much for the effort. Not even a Sin Fragment."

He muttered in disappointment.

However, he wasn't done.

He was going to eliminate the tree that began this nightmare, and this time, he wouldn't fall for any tricks.

He immediately set out toward the tree, but this time he took an alternate path and advanced cautiously rather than rushing in.

He walked with calculated grace as though he were already victorious.

Success.

He'd finally reached ground zero, where every nightmare plaguing him in this forest had originated. The tree that gave birth to his duplicate.

By now, revenge on his duplicate was secondary. He just wanted the tree destroyed so he could find some peace and leave.

He transformed Magnus into a sword with Beelzebub burning at the blade's edge. Without flinching, he sliced the tree in two. Beelzebub began corrupting it immediately, and Halo retreated a few steps.

The tree made strange, exaggerated movements, like a predator posturing after a decisive victory.

Halo gulped bile.

He'd killed it. That triumph should be his. Wasn't that how it worked?

Nothing seemed right. He didn't receive a Sin Fragment either. What was going on?

The instant the tree fell, Halo scowled.

The nearby trees began displaying the same phenomenon he'd first witnessed. Something trapped inside each one fought to escape, pushing against the bark.

Copies! Copies of himself!

He wasn't waiting to see what emerged this time. He ran, bounding from root to root, careful to dodge the vines snaking out from every crack.

Soon, he reached his familiar resting place. He remained cautious of the tree whose roots sheltered him, but the ancient thing seemed friendly. Maybe he was hallucinating, but the tree appeared to wink.

Nevertheless, his predicament loomed.

He flinched.

"I need to think of something. Fast."

***

Hours passed without any clear solution emerging. But with the creature leaving him alone, he could at least handle his basic needs. He hadn't eaten in ages.

At least the carcass had stayed fresh. Whether Sinner flesh was safe to eat was anyone's guess, it could be poisonous or could be indigestible. But with his stomach demanding food violently, he couldn't afford to refuse.

It was a challenge, but he scanned nearby areas for dry wood, built a fire, and grilled the meat, saving some for later.

It lacked the basic ingredients: salt, pepper, and what suited most meats best: vinegar. But when trapped in the middle of nowhere, taste was hardly a factor. Besides, Halo had already lost his sense of taste to a woman who'd wanted him dead long ago.

He wondered what Seraphim and Liam were doing. It was a brief thought, barely anything heavy, but he hoped Liam hadn't wound up in a situation like his own.

The Child of Deceit, though? He couldn't care less. He wouldn't shed a tear if she died, not that he hated her.

For the first time, he was grateful he couldn't taste. The meat looked terrible and smelled worse. He couldn't even tell if it was fish or meat, possibly both. If he could taste it, he knew it would be revolting.

But, he was satisfied, alright.

But something felt off. His body felt weird, wrong, though he seemed completely fine. Was the Sinner meat poisonous? He doubted he'd notice if death crept up on him. But dying from something he couldn't even taste? That would be cruelly ironic.

Even so, something was definitely wrong with him.