Chapter 2832: Connections

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Card World, Southern Region, Blossom District, Three Mischief Encampment

Did you know a cactus can literally bulk up overnight... without hitting the gym?

After a rare desert rain, a cactus drinks so deeply that its body swells like a living reservoir. Those iconic ridges along its sides aren’t just for show, they act as natural expansion joints, allowing the cactus to stretch and store vast amounts of water without tearing itself apart.

But here’s the twist:

That extra "size" isn’t permanent. As the desert dries out, the cactus slowly shrinks again, living off its reserves like a patient survivalist rationing every drop.

And the Cactus Devil, Peyote Pals, was no different... only far more terrifying.

He can swell not just with water, but with entire seas. By swallowing oceans whole, he can bulk up until his body towers over mountains. When he arrived above the Divine Dominion, he drank deeply from the raging Blood Rule Storm itself, expanding until he stood taller than the domain.

Then his massive cactus fingers descended. They dug into the Divine Dominion and tore it open as if it were nothing more than brittle glass. Leaning in, Peyote peered through the rupture, searching for the woman who had once killed him.

He found her.

This time, she wore a majestic suit of white scale armor draping a familiar void silk, its surface gleaming even under the storm’s crimson haze as it filled the broken divine dominion. Yet despite its brilliance, she was restrained, held in place by the Devil of the Dark Cult.

"I told you I’ve got this."

With his Divine Dominion ruptured by an uninvited guest, Konjur’s focus slipped for a crucial instant. Corey seized it. Straining against the invisible pressure, she unleashed her vapour venom, letting it seep into and corrupt the telekinetic hold binding her. The grip faltered, then broke.

She didn’t hesitate. With a smug grin, she rushed straight to her best friend—her boss.

"The Commandment of False Witness, the deceitful devil, Peyote Pals."

I blurted it out the moment I saw the massive devil’s head peering in through the torn dominion.

After Slay became my bloodkin, I had dug deep into the Ten Commandments faction’s leadership, preparing a case over the rights to the Card World—one that Gideon had helped Belphegor and his faction acquire from the Devil Merchant Code. That was when I first learned of Peyote Pals.

It was widely believed that, despite being only semi–ruler class, he could contend with beings at the ruler class itself. The gap between those tiers was less a difference and more a chasm. For someone to earn such rumors meant one thing: even if exaggerated, the truth behind them was still terrifying. They were not to be underestimated.

"You know him?"

"Yes... but the real question is, how do you know him—and what is he doing here?"

"My fifth reincarnation—Princess Corey Stuart—fought him and died in the aftermath of killing him in her realm. Since then, we’ve been bound by ill fate. I called him here to help, promising him a way to sever that connection."

Corey explained it to her boss, her gaze fixed on the towering figure of Peyote Pals, a deep frown settled on her face, and for the first time, her eyes carried a trace of worry.

I nodded, piecing it together, while the Field Marshal outright lost his composure, demanding, "What made you think that was a good idea?"

"Good idea or not, he’s here," Corey replied flatly. "And he’s a lot bigger than I remember. That’s a problem. His second main ability scales with his body mass. We need to figure out a way to kill him before he kills that Konjur."

"The Deceitful Devil is strong but not strong enough to exhaust Konjur’s reserves of faith. His faith horn has already formed a complete halo. He’s far too rich in faith to lose."

Using my soul pathways, I immediately gauged Peyote’s strength. In raw power, he far surpassed Konjur. But once faith entered the equation, power alone meant little. As long as the opponent was willing to spend enough faith, sheer strength could be neutralized.

Corey understood that just as well. So much so that, despite how much she hated the idea, she proposed a new strategy.

"Then for now... we help Peyote Pals kill Konjur."

"Why are they just staring at each other?" the Field Marshal asked, her voice tightening. "Why aren’t they fighting?"

While Corey and I worked through our options, the Field Marshal kept her attention on the battlefield. What she saw unsettled her. Neither Peyote nor Konjur made a move to attack, the two titans simply facing one another in tense stillness.

She didn’t understand the depth of hatred between members of the Devil Merchant Code and the Dark Cult. To her, the silence meant something far worse. She was beginning to fear that Peyote and Konjur might join forces against us.

"Do I know you?"

Konjur finally broke the silence. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but nothing he could quite grasp. Peyote seemed to recognize him far more clearly.

"Yes," he replied. "You and your master once came to recruit me. He said my illusionary abilities were well suited for your cult’s teachings, and that he wished to take me as his disciple. But I chose the path of a devil merchant instead."

His voice carried a strange calm, almost reflective. "I had always meant to thank your master—for not killing me and my tribe that day when I refused him. I only realized the value of that mercy... generosity when my tribe was slaughtered months later by a band of vagabonds."

Konjur let out a short, amused breath.

"Ah... now I remember," he said. "You’re that ignorant little cactus from the Cacteye tribe. The one who couldn’t appreciate my master’s generosity and rejected him."

"There’s no need to thank him. He was the one who hired those vagabonds to kill you and your tribe. Though..." he added with a faint chuckle, "those idiots claimed they killed you too and even collected the bounty on your head."

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