Chapter 732: Conflict Rekindled

"Endless Blood War... Another war quest. Perfect for racking up some faction contribution and upgrading my bloodline."

Mantou circled above the concession zone on his fully-armored wyvern. Below, the bustling players looked like trails of ants. Smoke billowed, engines roared, and the area was filled with trucks and tractors sent by the Machine God Cult.

But as a self-proclaimed "Professional," Mantou disdained doing these laborious brick-moving quests.

In his words, that little bit of faction contribution wasn’t worth his time.

Just then, something caught his eye—a familiar bald head gleaming in the crowd.

"Noodles, let’s go check it out. Finally ran into someone we know."

Mantou patted the wyvern’s neck. The creature spiraled down and landed with a thunderous crash, kicking up clouds of dust.

As the dust settled, Mantou dismounted, grinned at the familiar face, and said, "Battle Maniac Bro, no wonder you’ve been MIA lately. Turns out you’ve been hanging around Avernus this whole time."

Born Battle Maniac rubbed his weathered bald head and smiled honestly. "This was a covert infiltration mission. I couldn’t reveal any intel to anyone—not even on the player forums.

I’ve been here in Avernus for nearly a month now. Was just about to message you guys when you showed up."

Suddenly, the wind howled above, followed by a dazzling flash of light. Mantou instinctively shielded his eyes.

"What the..."

From within the radiance, a figure in resplendent armor, wielding a longsword and mounted on a wyvern, descended before them—it was Singo.

"Screee!"

The wyvern let out a fierce cry, faint light glowing from the gaps in its scales. Even its slit pupils bore sun-like markings.

Mantou couldn’t help asking, "What’s this? An entrance animation? Where’d you get it?"

"A new item from the Imperial Contribution Store. A bloodline potion from the [Radiant Dragon] branch. It grants wyverns powers similar to Solar Magic."

"How much—"

"Don’t bother. It’s already sold out. Apparently it was an experimental batch—only three were stocked, and I grabbed the last one."

"Fuck," Mantou cursed under his breath, feeling like he missed out on a fortune.

With effects that flashy, he would’ve bought it even if it did nothing else!

Singo patted his wyvern’s head and leapt down, landing before the two of them. "Been a while, Battle Maniac.

Wait a second—is that a high-level hell contract?" Singo pointed at the inverted hexagram on Born Battle Maniac’s chest, visibly surprised.

Born Battle Maniac didn’t hide it. "Yeah, it was the reward from the covert mission. It lets me temporarily access Deep Hell Infernal-tier power."

"That insane of a reward? What the hell did you do—assassinate a Hell Lord or something?" Mantou marveled.

But faced with the joking tone, Born Battle Maniac froze... then slowly nodded.

"..."

Mantou fell silent, then stared wide-eyed. "Wait, are you serious? You actually went and assassinated a Hell Lord?"

"Not exactly," Battle Maniac chuckled, rubbing his head again. "We were more like participants. The real mastermind was Duke Bael."

Now that the mission was over, there were no secrecy restrictions.

In just a few sentences, Born Battle Maniac laid out their infiltration of Zariel’s palace and their assistance in Bael’s coup.

After completing the mission, he was even granted an honorary title by Bael himself, earning the status of a Hell Baron. Even high-ranking devils wouldn’t dare mess with him lightly.

After hearing the tale, Mantou was quiet for a long time, then finally muttered, "Badass."

Even Singo admitted, "I heard there was a coup in Baator that shook several layers of Hell, but I didn’t expect you to be in the thick of it."

He then asked, "Battle Maniac, since you’ve been here longer and hold a high status, you must have more intel. What’s the situation with the Blood War?"

Born Battle Maniac shook his head, face turning grim. "Not good. This time, three Abyssal Lords have joined forces. Tens of millions of demons are flooding into Avernus. Duke Bael’s forces are losing ground fast—even he’s gone into hiding."

"Tens of millions?"

Mantou swallowed hard. He wasn’t just stunned by the number—he was also calculating just how much EXP that meant.

An astronomical figure.

Battle Maniac nodded again. "Yeah, and with the Abyssal Rifts expanding, that number keeps growing."

According to an old devil, the largest invasion in recent millennia happened over a century ago, when the ’Demon Prince’ Demogorgon led over a hundred million demons into Hell.

At the time, Emperor Aragon I of the Holy Fadlan Empire personally led an army, with even the Celestials and gods joining the grand war."

"No wonder they call the Abyss the embodiment of cosmic chaos. That scale is ridiculous," Mantou mused.

Battle Maniac nodded in agreement. "Yeah, twenty million demons is a lot, but in the grand scope of the Blood War’s history, it’s just business as usual."

Singo asked, "If Bael’s forces are retreating, why haven’t the demons attacked the Bronze Fortress directly? Why give us time to prepare?"

Battle Maniac replied, "Just days ago, Cassius descended into Hell, repelled the demon assault, and defeated Kostchtchie’s avatar, holding the Abyssal Army at bay."

"So that’s what happened..." Singo lowered his head, lost in thought.

Just then, Mantou pointed toward the distant sky, his voice trembling. "Look!"

"It’s the Abyssal Army—they’re coming!"

"Move faster! We must finish the defenses before they arrive! No slacking off!"

In the far sky, dense flocks of demons with chaotic wingbeats spread for dozens of miles, heading toward the Bronze Fortress, like a storm ready to engulf the world.

Screeching wails, infant-like cries, and guttural roars filled the sky. The overlapping sounds created unbearable noise, stabbing at everyone’s eardrums.

On the ground, demons surged like a black tide, sweeping southward, covering the wasteland in filth and transforming it into Abyss-tainted blight.

Among them were bloated, pus-dripping Soulrenders, flame-wreathed Balor Fiends, and deep crimson-scaled Abyssal Dragonkin.

But most striking were the Tanarukk Frost Giants.

Unlike normal frost giants, these had mottled gray skin, bodies covered in vicious spikes, and corrosive venom dripping from their mouths. Their eyes glowed with icy malice.

They were the remnants of a once-great giant civilization. Unlike their extinct kin, these chose to serve Kostchtchie, embrace the Abyss, and accept the corruption of chaotic blood.

Giants revered the Lord of Rage for his brutality and warmongering, even turning on other frost giants who didn’t serve him.

Wielding staves and chanting ancient runes, these Frost Shamans summoned blizzards that froze everything in their path.

They were Frost Shamans, carefully bred by Kostchtchie, wielding ancient rune magic inherited from the giant clans of old.

Far on the horizon, three colossal figures loomed, their outlines emerging from thick chaotic fog, shaking all who saw them.

The left figure held a longbow, a centaur-like body covered in fine gray scales. His blood-red eyes radiated murderous intent.

The right figure was obese and dripping with black ooze. Hundreds of thick tentacles writhed in the air.

The central figure dwarfed the other two—a giant with gray skin, clad in light armor stitched from white dragonhide. His pitch-black eyes radiated piercing cold.

At this moment, the Huntmaster Mastiphal, the Lord of Blackwater Ixinix, and the Lord of Rage simultaneously cast their wills upon Avernus!

Atop the Bronze Fortress, Bael flapped his wide bat wings, raised his infernal longsword high, and shouted with thunderous vigor.

"Comrades, devils are the finest warriors! We possess superior tactics, unyielding morale, and better equipment!

We will win this war! Drive those beasts back into the Abyss! Avernus belongs to the devils and always will!"

"Do you crave power and status? Want to rise through the ranks?" Bael pointed his sword at the demons. "Then slay them all! I swear by my name as Lord of Avernus—you will gain everything you desire!"

"Kill them all!"

"For the Nine Hells! For Avernus!"

The devils roared with fury, shaking the heavens.

As embodiments of evil order, hatred for demons was their nature and instinct. They would never allow these chaotic abominations to claim Hell.

Faced with a common enemy, the devils temporarily cast aside their internal scheming and rivalries, uniting in resistance against the demonic invasion.

"For the Abyss!"

"Die, Hell scum!"

The demons charged the defenses, and the devils were ready. Arrows rained, fireballs exploded, and tridents skewered demon flesh.

Devil forces coordinated flawlessly, blocking enemies that outnumbered them tenfold or even a hundredfold.

Meanwhile, in the Ember Empire’s "concession zone," players watched the demonic tide with chatter.

"There are so many demons!"

"Yeah, they’re everywhere! Endless!"

"This pressure is insane... Wait, who the hell is playing the BGM? Boosting the enemy’s morale much?"

Normal mortals would faint or go mad facing this apocalyptic tide. Even devils with Blood War in their bones would feel dread.

But the players had zero fear. Their eyes gleamed with greed, seeing not enemies but walking moneybags and EXP packs. Some even drooled at the sight of the ugly creatures.

"If we kill them all, how much EXP could we get..."

While solo players were still in awe, top-tier guilds were already mobilizing. The dominant Machine God Cult even deployed their guardian army.

The guardians wore robes, their skin replaced by alloy, with exposed circuits and translucent muscle fibers.

Their massive bodies wielded titanium limbs with mounted guns, unleashing storms of bullets into the demon horde.

The frontlines were instantly torn apart by steel and gunpowder, reducing demons to piles of foul meat.

Airships hovered high above, deploying cannons that unleashed searing rays and explosions, incinerating demons en masse.

"Listen up! The time of the Machine Cult has arrived!"

"The Machine Spirit rejoices!"

"Praise Omnissiah! Praise the God of All Machines!"

"Dooong!"

As bells tolled and engines roared, Machine Cult players stormed into the demon tide aboard mechs and tanks, crushing foes with steel bodies.

Dragon Scale cultivators leapt from above, slamming into the ground and carving bloody paths through the enemy.

Massacre. This was a massacre.

Artillery, bullets, and machinery fused into a terrifying meat grinder, shredding every demon that neared.

Under the Cult’s firestorm, low-tier demons stood no chance. In mere minutes, tens of thousands lay dead.

At the rear lines, Mantou belatedly realized and slapped his thigh. "Fuck! Greedy bastards! Machine Cult’s trying to hog all the resources!"

He vaulted onto his wyvern and shot into the air. The beast screeched and soared toward the frontlines.

Other players noticed too. They used whatever means they had to rush forward—flight, teleportation, even launching themselves from human cannons.

The players charged recklessly. Even facing a demon force ten or a hundred times their size, they showed no fear, no regard for their lives.

Compared to the Abyssal demons, they looked more like the invaders.