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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Living as a Demonica
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[Saint Anthony's Chalice] is the core holy relic of the Religiosa Demonica baptism rite. The holy water contained in this brass chalice transforms the body of whoever drinks it.
Some people achieve dramatically striking effects, but in general, they all end up with bodies optimized for prolonged combat.
Like Zephys, they gain a slightly inhuman, sturdy, and massive build.
Fernandez downed the chalice in one go and sat in the lotus position with his eyes closed. Cold sweat mixed with bodily waste seeped from his entire body, emitting a foul odor.
-Grooo...
"This is..."
"The stigmata..."
The two stigmata embedded in Fernandez's chest and back began to emit a brilliant light. A majestic aura rippled as if accepting the transformation imposed on his flesh.
-Thud.
Fernandez braced himself against the floor with a pained expression before collapsing outright. The aura that had enveloped the sanctuary slowly faded.
Zephys and Marco looked down at Fernandez with bewildered expressions.
"Success... right?"
"It seems like a success, at least..."
Marco quickly placed his hand under Fernandez's nose. There was faint breathing.
"Breathing and heartbeat are both normal, Brother Zephys."
"Ugh..."
If there were no symptoms like limbs melting away after drinking the chalice, grotesque organs sprouting, death, or madness, the Demonica baptism was considered a success. Assuming the person returned to normal senses, that is.
The expulsion of bodily waste from head to toe and the shining halo were signs of a successful Demonica baptism. But why...
"Why hasn't his body changed?"
"Hmm... Since the Lord's presence already dwelt within him, he's probably immune to weaker blessings like this."
"With such a slender frame..."
Objectively speaking, Fernandez's body wasn't what anyone would call "slender." If he'd been mistreated in the fields as an illegitimate son and frail to boot, he never would have survived.
Compared to his peers, he'd had decent nutrition and bloodline-granted sturdy bones, plus years of abuse and efforts to survive had toughened him up considerably. His build was fairly robust.
But that was from a normal person's perspective. Zephys appraised Fernandez through the eyes of a veteran Demonica judging a newbie.
"Anyway, no one's ever been cast out after a successful baptism."
"Especially since he's an apostle chosen by the Lord Himself. That can't happen."
Zephys carefully lifted Fernandez and carried him out of the baptism sanctuary. Marco drew a quick sign of the cross and followed.
Bells announcing the birth of a new Demonica rang out across St. Bartholomew Monastery.
*
The warm sunlight falls equally even on the dank, secretive Dragonsting Fortress. Fernandez slowly opened his eyes to the tolling bells signaling morning prayer.
He had been meditating in the lotus position on his bed. Not only black magic, but not even the most basic modern spells could manifest in this body anymore.
Ever since the Demonica baptism, the overwhelming divinity coursing through his veins had been rejecting magic. Every attempt to form circuits ended in failure.
-Starting to regret it now?
'You know what they say? [What a mage declares possible always comes true. But what a mage declares impossible often becomes possible instead.]'
-So, how do you plan to pierce the surrogate's protection and form magic circuits?
'Artifacts that produce magical effects are overflowing throughout the world.'
Divine spells and blessings run on a completely different track from magic. They even had powerful resistance to natural mana, not just infernal power.
Thus, Fernandez, now a divine apostle, could be considered to have completely lost his magic.
'Look at what I've gained instead, Feizashi.'
Fernandez gazed at his body, brimming with power. Outwardly, it hadn't changed much. But the output produced by the divinity flowing through it was tremendous.
-Crack.
Fernandez crushed the wooden bedpost in his grip as he stared at Feizashi.
-You planning to go toe-to-toe with real demons through brute strength?
'Foolish.'
"Ugh."
Fernandez stretched lightly and dressed. His limbs were stiff from holding the same position all night. He smiled at Feizashi.
'Strength is just a tool. And the stronger the tool, the better.'
-Fine. Losing your magic for mere physicality? You, the sovereign of magitech, submitting to brute force and willingly abandoning the arcane?
'Feizashi. Here's where our difference shows.'
Fernandez found Feizashi's reaction amusing. Despite sharing the same memories and experiences, a single difference in physique had turned them into completely different people.
'In our past life, we weren't followers of magic. Magic followed us. It was just a tool, and I was pretty good at using it. That's the only difference.'
However. Fernandez grimaced as he opened the door and stepped out.
However. He just didn't like his new Demonica comrades.
*
-Whooosh!
-Boom!!
"Not bad, Brother Fabiano!"
"Brother Sergio!! Be careful!"
"Keh heh!!"
Two giants, over 2 meters tall with their upper bodies bare under the brilliant sunlight, were swinging wooden swords at each other. Fernandez watched them while jogging lightly around the courtyard, loosening up.
-Sizzle!!
"Damn it! Training wooden swords! Useless durability!"
"Let's spar with training iron swords instead, brother!"
"Makto!"
Whoooosh, fine. Boom? How could wooden swords clashing in midair produce an explosion? And why did they turn to powder instead of breaking?
Fernandez shuddered at the horrific sight.
Goddamn Demonicas. They'd honed their divinely enhanced bodies to the limit, reaching the realm where they could butcher demons with their bare hands.
-This brings back memories. Trauma incoming.
'No kidding. I can practically see them ripping demons apart barehanded again.'
Demons created by God Himself, literally. The lucky part for Fernandez was that he hadn't ended up with one of their bodies. And that he wasn't as dumb as them.
"Nothing beats morning worship with a good sweat!"
"Praise be."
The monks, their marble-sculpted muscles rippling, guffawed. The vast training ground was filled with monks here and there working their muscles.
In the distance, a group of robed monks passed by. Long robes embroidered with torches. Enmagicka. Fernandez's sharpened hearing even picked up the swish of their robes.
"Ugh, those hulks..."
"Human or beast?"
They grumbled in quiet, intellectual tones as they walked the stone path. One Demonica monk overheard and shouted.
"Ah, brothers! Good morning!"
"Ah... Yes, brother. Glory to Beitasser."
"Glory!!! Hahaha!!"
The Demonica monks cheerfully laughed and resumed sparring.
"Ah, Brother Fernandez!"
"Ah, yes, brothers."
A monk called out cheerily to Fernandez as he prepared for exercise. As they swarmed over, it felt like a wall rising before his eyes.
"Hmm! He's really small!"
"Small and thin... You need more prayer!"
"?? Prayer... prayer?"
"Indeed! Our bodies are blessings! And blessings grow on prayers of thanks and self-discipline!"
Brother Fabiano—the muscle monster #1 in Fernandez's mind—clenched his fists. His rock-like massive hands compressed the air with a sound.
"Surely building muscle requires meat and such, right?"
"Ooh, young brother. Careful. Speaking such heresies is irreverent!"
Fabiano drew the sign of the cross and spoke solemnly.
"Makto Superlaudo."
"Makto."
The monks chorused in unison, crossing themselves. Fernandez nearly laughed at their pose of magnanimously forgiving him.
'We got wrecked by idiots like these in our past life?'
-Even so, their strength is real... No, but it's still humiliating?
In their past life, Demonicas were a death sentence to devil worshippers.
They always burst in at the critical moment, smashing every follower present and tearing apart the painstakingly summoned demons.
Without sufficient preparation, no strategy, tactic, or trap worked against Demonica inquisitors.
They bulldozed straight through every scheme, shattering the heart of devil worshippers!
But amazingly, their simplistic faith had logical backing.
Did bodies enhanced by [Saint Anthony's Chalice] grow from a few chunks of meat? It wasn't mere biology—it was a blessing.
"By chance, brothers... has any brother grown bigger after baptism?"
"Of course!"
"...? Really?"
"Indeed!"
Fabiano gazed at Fernandez with majestic eyes.
"Brother Sergio here, who prayed rigorously every day and slew demons—his great pectorals grew an inch larger. A miracle!"
"Makto!!"
Brother Sergio proudly flexed just his right pec in thanks. Horrific.
The "rigorous prayer" these idiots meant was muscle training. In other words, daily workouts and demon-slaying built muscle...
Unclear if it was growth from exercise without nutrition or from the blessing during demon hunts.
'I don't even want to know.'
Being around these idiots made him feel his brain migrating to his muscles. But Fabiano gripped his shoulder firmly.
"You're lacking in prayer, brother! Come, let's praise together!"
He shoved a massive dumbbell into Fernandez's hands.
"Urk!"
Fernandez staggered but barely held it. Horrific weight. As a Demonica, he barely scraped by with a passing grade. He couldn't match these muscle monsters' output yet!
"D-Damn it. Hold on, brothers. Calm down. I have something to say..."
"Shh."
Fabiano shook his head.
"You can't praise through talk."
"Damn it."
*
Before Fernandez could head to afternoon worship after finishing his "exercise"—dragged to the training ground by the monks—Zephys came looking for him.
"Brother Fernandez. Got a moment?"
"Ah, glory be."
Fernandez replied cynically. Zephys grinned and approached. The monks hurriedly greeted Zephys and scattered.
"Why do those fools fear you, brother?"
"I was their instructor."
"..."
Fernandez decided not to dwell on how much story those words held. What the hell did he teach them...
"Anyway, Brother Fernandez. Go to the armory and grab some weapons."
"Weapon training?"
"No, your first mission."
Zephys flashed a sinister smile.
"It's been almost a month since your baptism, brother. Perfect timing for deployment."