This Isn't an E*otic Game?-Chapter 72: Joining

The Mammon cultists who had fled into the underground mine were on the verge of madness.

Due to the pillar of light illuminating the entire city, their corrupted souls and Mammon’s magic were laid bare on their skin, making it impossible to hide their identities.

Moreover, the suddenness of the situation left them no time to prepare.

As a result, most of the lower-ranked cultists, who had not even properly received Mammon’s blessings, were armed with nothing but utterly inadequate equipment.

Handguns.

At best, a few submachine guns, which might have been able to fire a few rounds at the Ketraatus warriors’ armor before they were completely obliterated by what was essentially a cannon disguised as a pistol.

"Burn them. Cleanly, all of them."

Or they were reduced to ash in the flames of the Igniter Squad.

Of course, the Mammon cultists weren’t complete fools.

"Machine guns!! Bring the heavy machine guns!!"

The mine tunnels had long been their stronghold, and they had stockpiled various weapons and equipment for emergencies.

They set up heavy machine guns at the narrow passages.

They fired flamethrowers indiscriminately.

They threw bombs to collapse tunnels, blocking off entry points.

They fought back with sheer desperation.

The problem, however, was—

"It’s a fucking machine gun!! A fucking machine gun!! So why are they completely fine?!"

The Ketraatus warriors’ armor was forged from magically reinforced metal, making it nearly impervious even to machine-gun fire.

And as if that weren’t enough, their entire bodies were wrapped in layers upon layers of defensive miracles, allowing them to take bullets head-on and still advance.

"Cook them! Cook them!! Burn them to a crisp!!"

"Do you think we fear fire when we wield the miracle of flames ourselves?"

The fire from the cultists’ flamethrowers, which they had aimed at the approaching Ketraatus ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) warriors in the narrow corridors, was instead absorbed into their hands and hurled right back at them.

"......High Priest, they’re just moving the boulders with their bare hands."

Even when they blew up tunnels to block the enemy’s advance, the warriors simply used their overwhelming strength to clear the rubble and carve out new pathways, rendering every defensive measure utterly meaningless.

No matter how much they attacked, nothing worked.

Meanwhile, every single one of the Ketraatus warriors’ strikes was devastating beyond comprehension.

The greatswords and warhammers they wielded weren’t just enormous—they were so heavy that an ordinary person would struggle to even lift them, let alone swing them. But when these weapons so much as grazed someone, they were reduced to nothing more than mangled flesh.

The bullets they fired didn’t just pierce through body armor and flesh.

They effortlessly tore through steel and rock, shredding the enemies who had taken cover behind them.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Even the abominations—those who had received significant blessings from Mammon, shedding their human flesh and obtaining far more powerful bodies—

Even they exploded into pieces from a single gunshot.

One of the abominations, which had torn a thick steel door from its hinges and charged forward using it as a shield, was immediately blasted apart when a bullet pierced straight through the steel and into its body.

Seeing this, the Mammon cultists lost all will to fight.

"How... How the hell are we supposed to stop that...?"

Driven back again and again, the cultists were finally forced into what could be considered their last refuge. Now cornered, two conflicting opinions emerged among them.

"We have to escape now! We need to take the grudges we’ve gathered here and flee!"

"They haven’t discovered the secret passage yet! If we escape, we can regroup and plan for the future!"

Some wanted to run. But just as many refused to do so.

"Have you forgotten that Mammon’s chosen one—who has been in preparation for decades—is still sleeping here?!"

"If we abandon the chosen one and flee, there won’t be a future for us! We’ll incur Mammon’s wrath and be dragged to Hell, burning forever!"

The two sides clashed fiercely.

"Then what the hell do we do?! Just sit here and wait to die against those fucking monsters?!"

"There’s no way to fight back against Dulaneor’s dogs! Mammon’s power is weakened, and thanks to that goddamn pillar of light, black magic and curses have lost most of their potency!"

As the argument escalated, one of the black magicians suddenly slammed his hands on the table, silencing the room.

"Then let’s awaken the chosen one."

Everyone froze in shock.

"Are you insane?"

"The chosen one isn’t complete yet!!"

"If they wake up in an unfinished state and realize what we’ve done, we’ll all be slaughtered by their hands!"

"Either way, we’re going to die!"

With that single declaration, all opposition was crushed.

"If we bring them to a state where they can at least move and escape together, it won’t be abandonment. Mammon won’t blame us. And incomplete or not, they were personally chosen by Mammon! They’ll tear Dulaneor’s bastards apart with ease, and we can use that chaos to flee!"

No one spoke, but the silence carried a tacit agreement.

As absurd as the plan was, in their current situation, it was the only possible solution.

"Pour every single grudge we’ve gathered into awakening the chosen one. Hurry. We don’t have much time."

The black magician clutched his trembling hands, his voice unsteady.

"Pray that this plan works. We need at least ten minutes to wake them up. I’ll handle the ritual, so the other priests and mages need to hold off the enemy. Ten minutes. We only need to hold for ten minutes. Do whatever it takes—just give me ten minutes!"

The odds of being ripped apart by the chosen one upon awakening in an incomplete state...

And the odds of dying while trying to hold back the advancing Ketraatus warriors...

Unfortunately for the cultists, the probabilities were about the same.

"Fuck... How the hell did it come to this...?"

At the sound of someone choking back tears, every Mammon cultist clenched their fists.

That sentiment...

That was exactly what they all wanted to know.

How the hell had things come to this?

****

As the Ketraatus warriors drew closer to the Mammon cultists' underground stronghold, their advance began to slow.

It wasn’t just the exhaustion from their prolonged battle and the depletion of their divine energy. Now that the scattered cultists had gathered in a single location, their resistance had grown exponentially more intense.

"Hold the line!!"

[For Mammon!!]

The sheer number of black magicians and abominations was now becoming a real burden.

On top of that, the cultists showed no hesitation in resorting to suicide attacks, strapping bombs to themselves and charging forward, causing casualties to pile up at an alarming rate.

And their underhanded tactics were endless.

"Sir! Please, save me!"

A four-year-old child limped forward, tears streaming down his face from an apparent leg injury.

Strapped to his back was a bomb.

"Please! I am not a cultist! I—I was brainwashed! I woke up and found myself here! My child is waiting for me! I want to see my child! Please, let me live!!"

A beautiful woman, claiming to be an unwilling victim of mind control, sobbed desperately, pleading for mercy.

Hidden beneath her flowing garments, she clutched a cursed dagger, ready to plunge it into the first fool who hesitated in sympathy.

"Brother! My leg is injured! Help me stand!"

Some even went as far as impersonating fellow Ketraatus warriors, luring them into a false sense of trust.

"Fight amongst yourselves!"

Black magicians cast illusion spells and hallucinations, tormenting the warriors with deception.

Booby traps were set in every corridor, and the relentless waves of suicide attackers were rapidly depleting their ammunition.

But nothing could stop the Ketraatus warriors.

"Show no mercy!"

It didn’t matter if a wounded child sobbed in front of them.

It didn’t matter if a beautiful woman wept, claiming to have been brainwashed and unjustly dragged into this.

It didn’t matter if their own doppelgängers cried out for help.

Without hesitation, the warriors invoked miracles to confirm the cultists' true identities, then put bullets and blades through their bodies to neutralize them.

"Doubt everything!"

They identified and dismantled traps before stepping forward.

"If you’re out of bullets, pick up stones from the ground and throw them! Use miracles and fire to kill them! Show no mercy!"

Even a simple rock, when thrown by a Ketraatus warrior, became a brutal projectile weapon.

An abomination took a direct hit and had a massive hole blown through its torso. Low-ranking cultists were struck in the head, their skulls crushed instantly.

A mixture of gasoline and elixirs, ignited by divine energy, created white flames that continued to burn the wicked without issue.

However, they could not ignore the creeping limits of their endurance.

"I'm out of bullets."

The ammunition used by the Ketraatus warriors was 20mm caliber.

Each bullet contained a tungsten penetrator and divine-consecrated special explosives, capable of blowing apart any monster with a single shot. But because of their size and power, each warrior could only carry a limited amount.

"We have wounded. Commander, Brother Romaro can no longer advance."

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"Call the medics!"

One by one, they began leaving behind their wounded, which led to a vicious cycle—their firepower weakened, their advance slowed further.

Yet their resolve never wavered.

"Recite the Codex Prolilium! Invoke the divine power! Brothers, if we fall, these wretches will bring ruin to humanity! If we must die, let it be in battle!"

They threw stones, swung their swords and hammers, and fought with every ounce of their strength.

At the forefront of their charge, none fought harder than Grand Master Al Maday, cutting a path through the enemy with relentless fury.

"Look! The density of malice is increasing! Their stronghold must be near! Advance! Burn everything to the ground!!"

With his greatsword and shield in hand, Al Maday surged forward, unrelenting—until the next moment, when he was forced to stop.

"Dulaneor..."

They had been waiting.

Dozens of abominations and black magicians stood ready, fully prepared for this confrontation.

These abominations were nothing like the ones they had fought before.

Standing over three meters tall, their massive bodies were covered in gleaming, grotesque eyes that locked onto the paladins. The black magicians, oozing malice, glared at them with sinister smiles.

"Come forth, dogs of Dulaneor! We'll tear you apart!!"

[We'll devour you whole!!]

Hexes and dark magic erupted wildly, surging through the air. The abominations let out horrific, soul-wrenching shrieks.

This battle would not be easy.

Even the Ketraatus warriors might suffer losses here.

Yet neither Al Maday nor his warriors hesitated.

"Forward, brothers! Charge toward the most glorious death!!"

Instead of fear, they roared with rage, their charge growing even more fervent.

For a moment, the black magicians and abominations felt a glimmer of hope.

"They’re charging right into our trap! Get everything ready! Let’s show Dulaneor’s mutts what—gah!!"

Suddenly.

All of the black magicians screamed, their bodies convulsing violently.

"M-my magic is backfiring...! Guh!!"

Coughing up blood, the black magicians collapsed.

Their spells crumbled into nothing, some grabbing their heads in agony as they convulsed on the ground.

The abominations, preparing to lunge, turned in shock—

And their bodies began to split apart.

[Something's attacking us!!]

[Where?! Where is it?! I can’t see!!]

[I—I can’t summon my strength! Mammon, what is—?!]

They flailed desperately, unable to locate their unseen assailant, their voices dissolving into agonized screams.

In the blink of an eye, the abominations and black magicians were slaughtered—without even a chance to retaliate.

The Ketraatus warriors halted their charge, staring in stunned silence at the massacre unfolding before them.

Then, a mechanical voice rang out from the empty air.

[Paladins of the White Order, we are not your enemies.]

Instinctively wary, Al Maday turned toward the source of the voice, narrowing his eyes.

A faint presence—so subtle it barely registered—seemed to linger in the air beyond.

Slowly, he extended his divine flame-imbued sword toward the direction of the voice.

The moment it neared, the divine fire flickered and vanished.

Al Maday chuckled.

"An anti-magic field. No wonder the black magicians and abominations fell so easily."

[Do not approach any closer. If you enter our field, your divine energy will also be nullified.]

"I had no intention of doing so. Assassins of the Black Fortress."

[Your Saintess is descending via the fourth tunnel, escorted by battle mages of the Magic Tower. You are near the enemy's stronghold. Given your deteriorating condition, we recommend joining forces.]

"The Saintess is coming down personally? I must see her, then. And what of you?"

[We will infiltrate the stronghold and eliminate the enemy’s black magicians and priests. We will avoid interference in your operation—do not concern yourselves.]

Al Maday smirked.

"Assassins... I owe you a debt. I will not forget this. For Dulaneor!"

From the empty air, the faintest of presences responded.

[For His Majesty.]

And with that, the presence vanished completely.