Chapter 3

Draft

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You start to doubt your decision on the way back. The shopkeeper quickly completed the transaction and provided you with a cart to take the demon back easily. He seemed too diligent. When the seller celebrates a sale, the buyer is likely to be unhappy about the purchase. This is always the case.

But after you think about it, you don't think you have anything to fear.

The cart provided by the shopkeeper helped a lot, the legs of the half-blood demon were strangled by the silver chain, the speed of its movements is really worrying. You pushed the cart ahead and met many familiar believers on the road. Not only did they help you push the cart, they also gave you a lot of food. You speak the kind words a priest should say and pay for their help with a few words of thanks.

"No, I should thank you!" They said sincerely, "Mr Priest, if it weren't for you blahblahblah, blahblahblah..."

You maintain a smile, half-emptying your head to listen to their similar words of gratitude and nodding from time to time. In the thirteenth minute of your silent counting, the last believer finally left. Today they left very fast, probably because these pious men didn't like to talk to you over a cart full of a bloody and dirty demon. For this, you decide to buy a can for the devil tomorrow.

If it can live till tomorrow.

You call it "177" in your heart because it cost you 177 silver coins. 177 silver coins can buy a sturdy cow, it can renew a batch of silver candlesticks for the church, and can save a lot of preparations for the mass, but you used it to buy an unplanned demon. May God forgive you. Hope it's worth the price. (T/N: Legit me every online purchase)

You push the cart into your house, all the way into the bathroom. Wheels leave long marks on your clean floor, which makes you unhappy, but it's better than letting the devil come down and walk on its own. The devil's foot is a long and pointed claw compared to ordinary people, 177's forefoot is claws, but the back half is very similar to that of humans. Its heel has no hind toes, making it difficult to balance its feet. You want to know if this thing could mimic the sound of a woman's high heels when it walks on floor tiles. Maybe you'll really let it walk around once it's been clean.

177 kept his eyes open, you do not know what it's thinking. You dump it in the bathroom, put the cart outside, and untie the shackles that connect its neck, handcuffs, and thighs- that part's also very dirty, you can't wash it well unless you take it off. The devil's body stretched out a little bit, you just glanced under it and knew that a quick shower can't wash it all off. You sighed and took off your robe to avoid being splashed with water.

When you turn around to put your clothes on, the silver chain rattled.

The bastard demon that's been immobile all the way rushed forward and attacked you, strangling your neck with the silver chain on his arm. It's stronger than it looks. Those strong muscles are close to your body and the heat penetrates your back. You want to sigh again. You were wearing a white shirt under the robe, it's not easy to wash.

You're a priest, you've been on the battlefield, you'll never turn your back to the enemy.

But it doesn't deserve to be your enemy at all.

177 endured for a while, a respectable while, before it finally let go with a scream, falling to the ground. You've already passed the level when you still need to say the prayers aloud. Silent prayers worked the same. It released you but you grabbed its backhand. You held it for about a few minutes because it needed a long memory. Your skin glows slightly with the spell, it would be smouldering iron for the evil being.

Its wrist had been scorched by your palm, it gritted its teeth and stopped screaming. You wonder why it even tried¹.

"You can't escape and I won't kill you." You said, "Don't bother."

It panted and ignored you.

You let go of its hand and untied most of the messy chains, leaving only the two on its neck and feet. Your clothes have been stained, so you just continue to wear them. You close the bathroom door, hoping your effort had borne fruit and it doesn't waste your time again.

The result was good, it didn't continue to bother you.

You take the showerhead, yank it to the strongest gear, and aim at 177. A strong jet of water sprayed at it and the devil bounced up, the feeling of its wound being hit was probably as strong as a whip. It hid for a while and quickly realizes that avoidance is inevitable. You saw it bury its head, its forehead against the floor tiles, like a wild cat in a rainstorm, lying on the ground.

The stains dissolve under the water and the sewage flows to the drainage pipe. The blood scabs are washed away, it reveals some of the skin underneath hadn't grown strong yet, and wounds began to ooze blood again. 177's demon blood isn't strong enough. And this is expected, you think, otherwise, it wouldn't have so many old scars on its body.

You roughly washed away the bloodstains on its body, turned off the shower, and let it lie on the edge of the bathtub. 177 obeyed, and you shampooed it and rubbed its short hair. Only after three or four rinsings did its hair finally untangle. After the fifth rinsing, you realized that it hadn't dyed its hair, its hair was originally dark red, like dried blood.

You let 177 climb to the bathtub and start washing its body with shower gel. You spread the foam on its chest, rubbed its lower abdomen and waistline, half-heartedly wondering if it'll take the initiative to do this himself. 177 didn't say anything, just lowered its head and occasionally wiped the water that flowed to its eyes.

This reminded you for no reason of the stray dog rescued by the church, the big dog had lost his eyes last winter. It was also very big and dirty. The parasites had bloodied it and it took you a long time to wash it off. That dog was a little afraid of you, but it would lick your hands carefully. After all, you were the one who gave him plenty of food, treatment, and clean shelter. You took care of everything, and your behaviour was impeccable regardless of your feelings.

It still died this spring, probably because of some infection, it was rescued too late.

You retract your wandering thoughts and realize that your hands are stuck on 177's back. The muscles there are well-proportioned and built up on both sides of the spine. Your fingers can slide down the middle of the shoulder blades all the way to the tail vertebra, where there are small protrusions, probably the notches of the tail. It feels warm and strong to the touch, like some stripped beast, with blood rushing under the palm of your hand through a layer of skin. Your hands appear slender and pale against the broad back. The contrast is wonderful, like a slender rein tied to a behemoth.

Contrary to what it seems, this strong creature is completely at your disposal, and you can do anything to it as long as you want.

Your hand returned to 177's back, this time it wasn't lightly stroking, but pressing down. 177, who was kneeling in the bathtub, was pushed and staggered, it understood what you meant and laid down on the bathtub.

You move the shower to between its legs. There are a lot of bruises and scratches near the roots of its thighs, there are even tooth marks. These traces have faded and must've looked even more tragic earlier. You guess this demon most probably must've been sent back from the battlefield. Only soldiers fighting demons would be so hungry and full of anger.

177's back is tight when you wash the inside of its body, and the movements of its muscles are quite charming, like a living thing. It's not surprising that there are lacerations on its lower body that are just about to heal. That sphincter was overused, soft and obedient, and it didn't take much effort to insert two fingers. You insert your middle finger and index finger into it and separate them like scissors so that the water could bring out the turbid liquid inside. Weak resistance falls on your finger, the body cavity of 177 resists weakly. This kind of subconscious contraction can't prevent anything, except to bring pain to itself, it won't have any other effect.

You guessed that there was more than one penis inserted there at the same time. It's also possible that it hadn't only been fucked by human penises. For more than ten years, the mixed fornication of orcs and humans has been quite common in the army. 177 was fucked so hard, the muscles of his lower body were more exhausted than itself, like a prostitute who had been played badly.

"Almost as good as new!" You thought of the boss's words somewhat sarcastically. Maybe by tomorrow morning, it'll really return to its original state. That's the devil's advantage.

Then you touched something.

Your fingers went deeper and deeper until 177 couldn't help but hide forward. You grabbed it by the waist as a warning and steadied it as much as possible. When your fingers were deep enough, you finally grabbed the thing. Bop! The thing fell out and fell to the bottom of the bathtub, bringing out viscous blood and semen with it. You picked it up and looked at it for a long time before you confirming that it was a bottle cap.

The two sides are smooth, with a circle of metal teeth on the edge, the shape of the sun. This is one of the cheaper beer bottle caps, you remember that the soldiers serving their early years liked to buy this, the design was still roughly the same.

They are always like this, you think, feeling a little dissatisfied, like when you see footprints on a public bench. You're the one who cleans up the knocked up trashcans, the public benches, and sews free dolls— people from good backgrounds give their children's old toys to the orphanage, thinking they will be cherished, glad they don't really need to come. The soldiers fight bloody battles in the world, they kick open doors forcefully, smash the rooms lived in by the refugees, and laugh as if they were drunk. Those bereavements or abandoned children will have visible or invisible injuries, they'll grab the doll's head and smash it to the ground, tearing them apart, just like how the adults or demons had done upon them.

Most of them aren't bad guys, it's just that public and free things won't be treated well. You replace the broken window with new glass, you stuff cotton back into the doll's body, and it took you nearly an hour to take out five bottle caps from 177's body. They were smashed into the depths of the tunnel, stuck there, and it was difficult to take them out.

Now you know why 177 could barely walk, it wasn't just because of a leg injury.

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Notes:

1- Not sure, but about the same meaning

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PastTimer: For anyone still confused, the Priest previously bought the demon (minus the arms and legs) for 100 silvers, and a new bed for 77 silvers. This time, he bought the demon for 177 (with the arms and legs still attached).