Chapter 2831: The Cactus Devil

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Dark Realms, Shrouded Hills, The Ten Commandments’ Secret Base.

Hi, I am the cactus devil, Peyote Pals.

Yes, I used to go by other titles and names.

...I’d rather not talk about them.

Why?

Because, somehow, through no fault of my own, I owe a great deal of money to far too many dangerous people. I’d rather not have their diviners latch onto my name.

Ah, right—this secret base is protected by an anti-divination barrier as well.

Forgive my memory; I’ve been dead for roughly a millennium.

Now then, where was I?

Ah, yes. I am the Commandment of False Witness—the deceitful devil, Peyote Pals—the last surviving member of the Ten Commandant Faction.

What do I mean when I say I’ve been dead for the past millennium?

You see, the Dark Realm has its own version of heaven for souls that perish outside it. Those who enter can be reborn with their memories and prowess intact, after a period of rest—typically a few decades at minimum, or a century at most.

In my case, however, that "rest" stretched well beyond a millennium.

The reason lies in my innate skill, False Witness. Its peculiar conditions trapped me in a paradox, suspending my rebirth until just now.

Who killed me? What’s the paradox?

Wait, what is it to you? Are you planning to write a book about me?

...Fine. One answer, and no more.

I was killed by a human woman—one of the weakest races in the myriad realms. It is, without question, the greatest shame of my existence. I would rather not dwell on it.

Now, if I’ve been dead for a millennium, how do I still owe anyone money?

Did I not say it was through no fault of my own? The debt was incurred by my colleagues under the faction’s name for the other realm invasion. After they died, our faction’s estate was seized and liquidated to repay most of it... but not all.

And now that I’ve returned, those vultures have decided I am liable—not just for the remaining principal, but for a millennium’s worth of compounded interest.

Yes, that’s just extortion, dressed in the robes of legality.

So, I am in hiding. I’ve taken refuge in my faction’s old stronghold, buried at the foot of the Shrouded Hills—one of the thirteen deadliest places in the Dark Realm.

Relax. No one will find us here.

What about this secret base? Why wasn’t it seized? Is there some hidden treasure here?

There’s no record of this place in any document. Only the ten Commandments knew it existed. And no, there’s no treasure left. The vaults were already emptied—drained to fund that grand "other world" invasion plan of theirs.

Aren’t I strong? Why am I hiding instead of stripping those greedy parasites bare?

I am strong. But my innate skill, False Witness, is currently locked onto a single target. I can’t use it on anyone else unless that target dies.

Which leaves me... inconvenienced.

Without my ace, and without my old faction to lean on, I have no intention of stirring unnecessary trouble. So I wait. I hide. I bide my time and plan my next move.

Naturally, the first step is to eliminate the one my skill is bound to.

According to my skill false witness, she now resides in the very realm my colleagues failed to conquer—the same disastrous campaign that got them killed and left me buried under a mountain of debt.

I want to go after her immediately—hunt her down and end this—but the rights to that realm now belong to another faction. And they are not permitting me passage. So, for the moment, my hands are tied.

Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to change their minds. One way or another.

Do other realms have their own versions of heaven, like the Dark Realm?

Yes, they do—though each follows its own rules and serves a different purpose. Take the Card World, the one my colleagues tried to conquer. It has a heaven of its own, where the souls of fallen devil-level beings can rest instead of entering the River of Reincarnation.

As for why those souls choose to linger there rather than move on... I don’t know. But no one delays rebirth without reason. Whatever awaits them in that heaven must be worth the wait.

"Wait—can we put this interview on hold? I’m receiving an urgent message."

As Peyote spoke, the illusionary set around him and everyone within it froze mid-motion, like a painting abandoned halfway through a stroke. He turned inward, scanning the text unfolding across his devil codex.

A moment later, his expression twisted as he exclaimed.

"That bitch... What does she take me for? Her bodyguard?"

"But what does she mean by, if she dies the paradox will reappear? By the way, when did she become a demon merchant?"

"Doesn’t that mean I’ll never be able to use my innate skill? Without it... there’s no hope of a comeback."

"What do I do...? She did promise to tell me how to kill her without triggering the paradox tied to my skill."

"Fine. I’ll let this play out—for now. I need that answer. For my sake... and for the revival of my faction."

A faint, dangerous smile crept onto his lips.

"If she thinks she can make the two of us fight and come out on top...she’s mistaken."

"I’ll join hands with that devil—no price, no conditions—just to capture her, learn how to kill her properly...And then I’ll destroy her world."

Peyote immediately followed Park’s instructions. He filed an appeal through the Devil Merchant Code, citing a conflict, and invoked its inter-realm transportation function to reach the Card World at the coordinates she had provided.

However, he did not arrive exactly where he intended. Instead, he materialized above a domain—several hundred yards off target—beneath the raging Blood Rule storm.

The moment he sensed it, his expression darkened. The domain below was unmistakable: the Divine Dominion, a signature rule domain forged through the Faith Rule.

At that instant, Peyote finally understood why Park had been so confident in her plan. He had been maneuvered into a corner.

There was no turning back now. If he wanted answers—if he wanted any hope of reclaiming his power—he would have to face the devil of the Dark Cult—and save Park—if he wanted to keep his innate skill, False Witness, from malfunctioning from a paradox once more.

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