Devouring Angels with Demon’s Sword - Chapter 17
Avoiding any signs of human presence with my enhanced senses, I dashed through the dark streets.
Leaping onto rooftops and utility poles, I continued moving forward in a three-dimensional straight line for several minutes.
Eventually, I arrived at a corner of a residential neighborhood. I stopped in front of an ordinary-looking house.
“…”
Something felt off, and I noticed it instinctively.
Though the lights were on, I couldn’t sense anyone inside. Instead, a growing, spine-chilling unease crept up on me.
“Damn it, seriously…?”
Hoping I was wrong, I pressed the doorbell.
No answer.
I rang it about five more times, but the result didn’t change.
With no other choice, I tried opening the front door. It wasn’t locked.
“Excuse me…”
I raised my voice lightly, just in case.
But, as expected, there was no response.
Going in with my shoes on would be a bit much, so I took them off and carried them in my hand as I stepped inside.
In the kitchen, I heard a sound. A pot was left on the stove with the burner still on.
I switched off the induction heater and looked around.
“There it is…”
I saw a half-open refrigerator.
Right in front of it, I noticed a large crack in space, radiating an ominous red-black glow.
So, I wasn’t mistaken after all.
It looked exactly like the images the Demon Swordsman Association had posted in their warnings.
A one-way passage leading to a Detached Cell.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”
—
It seems my demon sword has a unique ability to detect the presence of Detached Cell.
I can only assume that this trait is unique because, if other demon swords had the same ability, the fatality rate for these prisons wouldn’t be so high.
…Anyway, that’s not important right now.
“What should I do…”
I lightly organized my thoughts, considering what action to take next.
The first thing that came to mind was to report this to the Demon Swordsman Association.
Honestly, that was my plan up until I arrived here—confirm the situation and then make the call.
But I hadn’t anticipated that the source of the crack would be inside someone’s house. Reporting this would definitely raise suspicions about how I even noticed it in the first place.
I’m not particularly good with words, and I’d rather avoid doing anything that might make me slip up.
Besides, even if I did report it, there’s no guarantee that help would arrive in time.
Considering all of this, the option of reporting it quickly began to fade.
That left me with two choices: either go in myself or act like I never saw it.
To be honest, the first option wasn’t appealing at all.
There’s a risk the people trapped inside might see me, not to mention the danger.
Needless to say, Detached Cell are filled with angels. The fact I made it out alive last time was mostly luck.
And above all, I’m no saint willing to risk my life to save complete strangers.
“…Tch.”
In conclusion, the best course of action was to walk away and leave it alone.
I value my life, and if I died, at least my sister would cry.
Why take such a risk for people I have no obligation to help?
—
“…-san.”
—
Just as I made up my mind, turned around slowly, and was about to leave, I heard a faint voice from behind.
“…Mom! Mom!”
A desperate cry, calling for their mother, echoed from the other side of the red-black crack. It was the voice of a young child.
The moment I froze, my gaze naturally locked onto the slightly open door in the distance.
The living room, it seemed.
A children’s program was playing on the TV. Toys were scattered across the carpet.
On the wall, a crayon drawing of what looked like a family of three was proudly displayed.
“…Screw it! Whatever happens, happens!”
Half out of frustration, I slipped my shoes back on.
Then, without looking back, I leapt into the crack.