The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 144. Shadow Demon: Killing the Chicken to Warn the Monkey, Huh?

To prevent Yulia’s maid from waking her, Aiwass let her sleep in his room after healing her, ensuring she rested fully.He spent fourteen points of light mana to restore her health. Previously, her persistent fever took only two points to treat, showing how dire her condition had been.

Though Yulia was now at a normal human’s health, her body, accustomed to years of low-grade “roasting,” struggled to adjust to the absence of the heat source.

By the time she woke, she’d feel better. Her body would gradually adapt, aided by Aiwass’s lingering mana, providing sustained healing and pain relief for about a week. Another session next week—two at most—and she’d be as lively as anyone.

“How’s that, my demon?” Aiwass grinned down at the shadow demon. “Didn’t I say I’d show you my strength?”

“You are wise, great, and erudite…” the shadow demon replied, unstinting in its flattery. “I tremble at your transcendent soul.”

It meant it.

As a demon, it cared little where Aiwass gained his forbidden knowledge. It only felt excitement for his future—and a subtle unease about its own.

A true demon of the Transcendence Path, it quivered with awe at Aiwass’s clear transcendent qualities. His shadow writhed and trembled beneath him.

Though his goal was to save Yulia, this wasn’t the repetitive “redemption” labor demons scorned. It was a defiance of inevitable fate.

A Demon Egg’s hatching was irreversible and unsolvable. Since newborn demons inherited their host’s personality and memories, forgetting past lives, it could be seen as the host ascending to the Dream Realm as a demon, shedding their mortal shell.

Interrupting this process altered destiny, breaking the world’s law of demonic rebirth—and Aiwass did it with a profane ritual invoking the Fallen Celestial.

“You know the Fallen Celestial, don’t you?” Aiwass asked lightly.

“Of course,” the shadow demon replied. “In my past life, I was turned by the Fallen Celestial itself.”

All demons knew the Fallen Celestial, the highest demon and origin of their kind.

The Great Sin Brand was its power, marking demons to evolve or turning humans into demons post-death—often those who fell from greatness or were betrayed, consumed by vengeful wrath. Branded with “Wrath,” they gained shadow powers but became formless shadow demons, forever barred from light.

“Get it?” Aiwass casually drew the crimson card, smiling. “First the Butterfly, next you.”

“…I understand,” the shadow demon said in Chloe’s stolen voice, fawning. “My respected master, even without sealing me in that tiny card, I’ll obey your every fate.”

As a ritualist, it grasped Aiwass’s method after one observation.

He first sought the Nine Pillar Gods’ protection to avoid the Fallen Celestial’s notice.

After tricking the Great Sin Brand, he used the gods’ blessing to misdirect it, branding the demon instead of himself via a fate-linked ritual.

If the demon didn’t resist and accepted the brand, its power overrode the demon’s original Path, deeming it a “Transcendence Path-compatible demon.” As a demon candidate, it was sealed into a fitting card.

Even the card choice—*Sun* and —was advised by a Candlekeeper apostle.

Audacious!

While demons couldn’t be killed, they could be sealed. Sealing demons into crystal balls, mirrors, or tarot cards as cursed items was a common murder tactic among demon scholars or a way to “divorce” uncontrollable demons.

Since demons didn’t die, the Great Sin Brand didn’t turn them into demons but marked them as “demon candidates,” stably sealed as Great Sin Beasts.

The shadow demon saw no way to break this seal internally.

The ritual’s concept and core power came from the Fallen Celestial—Aiwass used its symbols and ritual to steal its own power.

A groundbreaking ceremony, created by Aiwass, unseen in this world.

Any misstep—misunderstanding the Fallen Celestial, choosing wrong cards, or mismatching the brand—could’ve provoked its wrath, weakened the seal, or branded Aiwass instead.

One wrong move meant ruin, yet he succeeded.

A person could bear up to six Great Sin Brands, meaning Aiwass could gain five more Great Sin Beasts.

He did this to save a mortal, short-lived foster sister.

He’d even told the shadow demon his goal: to kill the Fallen Celestial.

This ritual’s strength? Even if the Fallen Celestial died, the seal would hold, just as its fall wouldn’t end demons. If it fell, the ritual would simplify, drawing unclaimed Dream Realm power directly, no longer needing its brand.

Aiwass had planned for that too.

A mortal with no transcendent blood or divine power, at first-tier, devised a ritual to steal from the Nine Pillar Gods and Fallen Celestial, aiming to defeat it with its own power.

He even safeguarded against the ritual’s failure post-Fallen Celestial’s death.

Such foresight from a mortal.

Such arrogance—such !

The shadow demon felt no resistance to linking fates with Aiwass. It yearned to see how far he’d go.

A legend in history? A world-renowned hero? An immortal apostle? A Celestial candidate? Or… a Ninth Pillar God?

The last era’s hero was Arthur. Would Aiwass be next?

But as Aiwass’s primary contract, their bond was unique. Sealed as a Great Sin Beast, it’d be one of six, their contract voided. A stronger demon might replace it.

And it feared the card’s confinement—a dark, dull prison, cut off from the vibrant world. It’d go mad.

“Don’t worry,” Aiwass soothed. “If I seal you, it’ll be far off. If you stay obedient, maybe you’ll be last.”

His smile was gentle, priest-like, his voice sweet.

He drew a new silver ritual dagger, twirling it deftly—a “plate” prepared for the shadow demon.

“Shall we feed you?”

Aiwass lit a candle, coated the dagger with essential oil, and the shadow demon melted with excitement.

Its transcendent desire to “grow stronger” erased its fears, fixated on tasting Aiwass’s sacred offering.

It coiled around his legs, stretching to his elbows.

Aiwass thought of his past-life pet dog, pawing excitedly at the table during mealtime.

“Been a while, but don’t rush…”

His lips curled into a genuine smile.

“[I offer my blood, my bone, my flesh],” he chanted softly, gripping the candle-warmed dagger, enduring pain as it carved into bone, blood dripping into the shadow pool. “Feed in silence…

“[—I am the holy meal, this is my grace.]”

(Chapter End)