Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1260: A Conversation With Talkling

As Enel’s words hung in the air, the crowd of armed villagers remained tense, their hands gripping weapons as though ready to fight or flee. Then, one of them broke through the throng, shoving others aside with a series of light pats on their chests as if urging them to stand down.

The figure’s gait was uneven, like a chimpanzee’s, the result of an injured leg that caused him to drag it slightly as he moved. His attire set him apart from the rest—a long, flowing gown of stitched hides and woven plant fibers that covered him from head to toe.

He raised a hand, his voice calm yet firm as he addressed his people in their guttural tongue. The effect was immediate; the tension in the air seemed to ease, and the other villagers lowered their weapons.

The man turned toward Enel and his companions, a strained but evident smile forming on his face. "You… people from the stars?" His voice was rough but clear, each word deliberately formed as though speech in their language did not come naturally to him.

Enel stepped forward, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he observed the man’s demeanor. This one wasn’t looking for a fight. If anything, he seemed eager to avoid conflict. Enel’s lips curved into a sly smile as he replied, "We’re guests. Treat us well, and who knows? You might just get a gift."

Reaching into the armored truck, Enel pulled out a fruit—a simple yet vibrant piece that had once been common back in Imperilment. Its smooth surface glinted under the sun as he tossed it lightly to the villager.

"Here," Enel said with a nod. "Try it."

The man caught the fruit with a measure of hesitation, his hands trembling slightly as he inspected it. His gaze darted between the fruit and Enel, uncertain. But the unspoken expectation in Enel’s steady eyes left little room for refusal.

Summoning his courage, the villager brought the fruit to his mouth and took a tentative bite. The moment the sweet, tangy flavor flooded his senses, his eyes widened in sheer delight. He let out an excited grunt, a sound that quickly caught the attention of those around him.

Talkling—his name, as the villagers murmured—began gesturing enthusiastically, offering pieces of the fruit to others. A few villagers cautiously stepped forward, taking bites. Their initial hesitation dissolved into exuberant chatter and laughter as the fruit’s taste won them over.

The previously tense welcome party transformed into a scene of excitement. Some villagers even began clapping their hands in joy, their initial suspicion of the strangers fading away.

Talkling returned to Enel, this time with a genuine smile lighting up his face. He gestured for them to follow, his words now carrying a note of warmth and trust. "Come. You follow. We talk."

Enel nodded, stepping forward with an air of satisfaction. The villagers parted to let them pass, their once-hostile eyes now filled with curiosity and cautious optimism.

The small hut they were led into was far from inviting. The walls exuded a pungent smell that clung to the air—a mixture of mud, dried dung, and something faintly sour. For Allison, whose heightened senses as a werewolf amplified every odor, the smell was almost unbearable. She clenched her jaw, trying to maintain composure, but her nose wrinkled involuntarily every now and then.

Enel, however, strode in without the slightest hesitation. He moved to one of the molded stools and sat down, his expression neutral, almost as if the foul smell was a part of his natural surroundings. Lana remained behind him, her arms crossed as she stood like an ever-watchful sentinel. Allison mimicked her posture, though her twitching nose betrayed her discomfort.

Talkling shuffled in after them, his injured leg dragging slightly, and motioned for them to settle in. His wide smile now carried a hint of nervousness as he finally broke the silence. "You… people from stars. You… want… why here?" His words were slow, as if searching for the correct phrases, and then, with a glimmer of eagerness, he added, "More fruit? You have more? Can… can grow here?"

Enel smiled faintly at the man’s bluntness, a glint of amusement in his eyes. This was the kind of simplicity he preferred—no hidden motives, just straightforward intent. "I’ve got plenty more," Enel said smoothly. "Enough to feed your village. Maybe even enough to grow your own. But…" His voice took on a sharper edge. "That depends on the kind of information you can give me."

Talkling’s excitement was momentarily tempered, but he nodded eagerly. "Ask. Anything. I tell."

Before Talkling could say more, Enel suddenly shot forward, his hand clamping firmly around the man’s face. The unexpected motion startled everyone in the room—Lana tensed, and Allison let out a low growl—but Enel’s focus was singular.

He turned Talkling’s head sharply to the side, his eyes scanning the man’s spine. He searched for the telltale tendril marks he had seen earlier on the corpse back at the city. His fingers ran along the back of Talkling’s neck with a methodical precision, feeling for anything unusual.

Finding nothing, Enel released him. "You’re clean," he said simply, leaning back into his seat.

Talkling stumbled backward, his hands raised defensively, fear now evident in his widened eyes. "What… what you do?" he stammered.

Enel regarded him with a calm, almost disarming smile. "Just making sure you’re alive," he replied, his tone casual. "It’s better to know who I’m dealing with before we go any further."

Talkling’s breathing slowed as understanding dawned. He nodded, though the fear didn’t entirely leave his face. "We alive. Not like… brainless ones."

"Brainless ones?" Enel leaned forward, his interest piqued.

Talkling hesitated but eventually explained, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "They… come. Many tribes gone now. We run. Always run. But cannot run far. Other monsters… worse. We… trapped."

Enel’s expression darkened as he listened. The villagers were caught between two threats, unable to push too far in any direction. It was a bleak situation but not uncommon in chaotic, unclaimed lands like this. "Better the devil you know than the angel you don’t," Enel muttered to himself.

Talkling nodded, though he clearly didn’t understand the phrase. "Brainless ones… they take… everything. All gone. Mind. Heart. Nothing left. Just husk."

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Enel understood the gravity of the situation. The tendrils attacking his city and the corpse with the missing brain painted a clear picture. These so-called "brainless ones" were no mere primitive tribe. They were something far worse.

Talkling continued, his voice trembling as he recounted an old tale. "Long time ago… not my time. My father’s father’s time. The great light… it came. Sky burned for seven days. Then… everything changed."

Enel’s eyes narrowed. "Seven days?"

Talkling nodded. "Seven days. The light… then the brainless ones."

As Enel leaned back, a grim realization settled over him. Seven days of light across the sky. He knew what that event was. It was when Lucifer had fallen, defeated by the primordial demons, his descent leaving ripples throughout the cosmos.

"This plane," Enel muttered under his breath, his voice laced with both frustration and intrigue, "is connected to more than just the greed of one royal family."

Talkling tilted his head, confused by Enel’s words, but didn’t interrupt. He simply waited for the next question, his fear mingled with a growing hope that these strangers might be the ones to end his people’s suffering...