Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1264: Gift Them Hate

Enel waved his hand, his fingers glowing faintly as earth runes formed around him. The runes spiraled upward, weaving into a formation that raised the imprisoned monster from the ground onto a makeshift altar. The tendrils of the creature twitched helplessly, restrained by glowing Holy runes etched into its grotesque form.

Turning to the gathered villagers, Enel raised his voice, a mocking lilt in his tone. "Is this the god you fear so much? This pitiful creature that crawls in the shadows and hides in your homes?" His words echoed across the silent crowd, each one sharper than the last. "You worship THIS? You give your lives, your children, your very souls to a monster that can’t even defend itself from strangers?"

He stepped closer to the bound monster, tapping its head as it squirmed weakly. He observed it with narrowed eyes. This wasn’t the core consciousness; he knew that much. But he didn’t let on. Instead, he let his mocking smile grow wider.

Enel knew that fear commanded respect. The villagers revered this god because of their terror. But if fear was the chain, then hope was the blade to sever it. And if hope was to be born, it needed a spark. After all, to get the points from the system, he needed them to Hate.

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Turning back to the crowd, Enel’s voice dropped, carrying a dangerous edge. "Today," he announced, "one of you will kill a god."

A collective gasp rippled through the villagers. Some of them shuffled nervously, their wide eyes fixed on Enel. Fear clung to them like a suffocating fog, but in their fear, Enel saw opportunity.

With a dramatic wave of his hand, a dagger appeared, its blade gleaming with intricate Holy runes. The symbols pulsed faintly, each one carved with purpose and power. The weapon was no ordinary blade; it radiated light, as if it had been forged by divinity itself.

Enel walked over to Talkling, his steps deliberate and heavy. He leaned in close, his voice a low, commanding whisper. "If you want me to help you, if you want salvation for your people, then you must do this." He pressed the dagger into Talkling’s trembling hands and nudged him forward.

The crowd murmured anxiously. All eyes turned to Talkling, their gazes a mixture of fear, hope, and disbelief. Talkling’s fingers shook violently around the hilt of the dagger. His breathing was ragged, his body tense as if it would crumble under the weight of the weapon.

"I—I can’t," he stammered, his voice barely audible.

Enel stepped closer, his tone now a whisper filled with a quiet, irresistible power. "You *can*," he said, his words infused with the authority he had stolen from the Morningstar. They weren’t just words—they were will, wrapping around Talkling’s mind and bending it gently.

Before Talkling realized it, his trembling hand moved. With a sudden thrust, the blade sank into the monster’s chest.

The creature convulsed violently, its tendrils writhing in all directions before they fell lifeless to the ground. The glow of the Holy runes on its body flickered, then faded as silence fell over the altar.

Talkling stumbled back, staring at his hands as though they no longer belonged to him. His face was a mask of disbelief and confusion, his breath hitching as he tried to comprehend what he had just done.

Enel wasted no time. He stepped forward, spreading his arms wide as he addressed the villagers once more. "Behold your god," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "See how easily it falls. This is the creature you bow to? This is the being you sacrifice your sons and daughters to? It is no god. It is filth. And you—" he pointed an accusing finger at the crowd, "you are fools for ever believing otherwise!"

His words struck hard. Anger simmered in the villagers, bubbling just beneath the surface. Enel leaned in, feeding the fire. "How pitiful you must be to think salvation lies in serving this abomination. But now—now, you have a choice. Stand up. Take back what is yours. Show this creature that you are not its slaves. Show it that you are stronger!"

The crowd roared, their fear melting into fury. They surged forward, their eyes alight with rage and purpose. No one knew that in his words was his power, and that was why their emotions rose so easily.

Enel grabbed the dagger from the altar and handed it to a nearby woman. Her hands trembled as she accepted it, her lips moving in her native tongue.

"What does she say?" Enel asked Talkling.

"She says..." Talkling paused, his voice shaking, "she says this is for killing her daughter."

The woman approached the monster’s corpse, her steps slow but firm. Her face twisted with grief as tears streamed down her cheeks, but her sobs turned to a guttural growl as she raised the blade high and plunged it into the creature’s flesh.

She laughed bitterly through her tears, the sound echoing in the stunned silence.

Another villager stepped forward, then another, each one taking the knife and stabbing the lifeless form. Their movements grew more confident, their cries louder, until the air was filled with shouts of triumph and catharsis.

Enel watched from the side, his smirk unwavering. The people had found their spark, and now the fire of rebellion burned fiercely..

Lana at such a time could not help but whisper in his ears, "how did you know they sacrificed their loved ones to it?"

Enel smirked, "All religions in that manner. One must display love by the offering of sacrifices. and this god is definitely not interested in money."

And then amongst the villagers, the one that had betrayed Enel, leading the monster in the first place stepped forward, attempting to want to also take the knife. But Enel grabbed the knife from him.... "Tsk Tsk Tsk... Not you. You brought it here, you get the privilege of leaving with it." He took the dagger, lounging it in the burly man’s head...