Chapter 370 - 355: Demons and Devils

Chapter 370: Chapter 355: Demons and Devils

Roland fought to endure the searing, icy pain emanating from the Curse on his left chest—a pain that seemed to resonate with the horrifying scene ahead. He frowned at Galvis, his voice slightly hoarse from the discomfort.

"’Abyssal Fangs,’ ’Nine Prisons’ Hounds’... Galvis, what in the world are they?"

Galvis’s gaze remained fixed on the terrifying torrent ahead, a churning flood where Chaos and Order intertwined. He explained in a low voice, speaking rapidly but clearly.

"Abyssal Fangs originate from the Endless Abyss, the symbol of infinite Chaos. They are the very embodiment of the Demon camp—twisted beings who know only Destruction and madness."

He tilted his head slightly, looking toward the monsters that resembled flayed humanoids or walking Hyenas.

"And the Nine Prisons’ Hounds..."

His voice grew deeper as he pointed to the red figures that maintained a humanoid form, wielding Obsidian Giant Swords and exuding a cold malevolence.

"They come from the strictly hierarchical Nine Prisons of Bator, representing the Devil camp. They are lawful evil, wielding contracts and trickery as their weapons, and they pursue eternal suffering under absolute dominion."

He took a deep breath, his voice heavy.

"They are mortal enemies in an eternal blood war. Whenever they meet, they fight until one side is completely annihilated. For them to appear at the same time and not attack each other... I fear..."

Roland’s heart sank as he heard this.

He had read bits and pieces about the Endless Abyss in fragmented ancient texts and knew it was a breeding ground for Chaos and Destruction.

But there were very few records of the equally infamous Nine Prisons of Bator.

He had always thought that all horrifying beings from other planes were collectively called "Demons."

Only now did he understand that they belonged to two completely opposing, yet equally deadly, camps.

The chill that came with this realization even temporarily suppressed the searing pain of the Curse on his left chest.

However, the situation on the battlefield left him no more time to think.

The slaughter began.

Like a flash flood, the chaotic Abyssal Demons instantly submerged everything before them.

They didn’t distinguish between friend or foe, furiously pouncing on the nearest living creature.

A few guards from Golden Ears City who had just laid down their weapons were the first to fall. Before they could even scream, they were tackled to the ground by several Hyena-like monsters and devoured amidst the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

A Knight from the allied forces roared, mustering his Fighting Spirit. His blade, shining with the light of Combat Skills, slashed at a Skinning Demon, successfully leaving a wound on its shoulder so deep the bone was visible.

But the monster, as if feeling no pain, swung back with a serrated blade burning with vile flame. It cleaved the Knight, armor and all, in two. Green, vile fire instantly consumed the remains.

The Devils from the Nine Prisons, however, displayed a different kind of terror.

Unlike the Demons, they didn’t Charge blindly. Instead, they began their hunt with chilling efficiency.

In groups of three to five, they coordinated perfectly. Their Obsidian Giant Swords and Chains wreathed in Negative Energy always struck from the most treacherous angles.

What was even more terrifying was their apparent preference for hunting organized resistance. Whether it was a squad leader from the allied forces or a city guard officer trying to reform their ranks, they were prioritized and locked on by the Devils’ cold gazes.

The power of the Transcendents seemed so pale and weak before these terrifying beings.

The battlefield had devolved into a one-sided slaughterhouse.

Screams, roars, the shattering of weapons, and the tearing of flesh wove together into a desperate dirge.

The smoke of battle and the thick stench of blood, mixed with the foul odor of sulfur, was almost suffocating.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

Before the survivors on the battlefield could even fully react to the sudden horror, nearly half of the human ranks had visibly vanished.

Despair, like a cold tide, threatened to completely drown everyone’s spirit.

Just as the situation was about to become irreversible...

Morne moved.

He became a silver meteor that tore across the sky, fearlessly slamming into the filthy torrent.

Everywhere he passed, the air let out a piercing shriek.

There were no flashy techniques. It was impossible to even see if he had drawn his seemingly ordinary Longsword.

A flash of silver light.

A Skinning Demon, about to pull its claws from a soldier’s chest, was instantly decapitated. Its twisted head flew off as its torso, still burning with vile flame, melted away under the corrosion of the silver Fighting Spirit like ice under a scorching sun.

Another flash of silver light.

A Deep Prison Demon, calmly swinging its Obsidian Giant Sword to cleave an allied officer in two—shield and all—suddenly froze.

A thin silver line traced its way down from between its brows. The next second, its tall, hideous body split neatly in two, turning to ash in an explosion of silver light.

Morne’s figure flickered several times across the battlefield.

With every flash of silver brilliance, an Abyssal Fang or one of the Nine Prisons’ Hounds was utterly annihilated.

Whether it was the Demons’ tough hides, capable of resisting blades, or the defensive aura of evil light surrounding the Devils, both were as fragile as paper before his perfectly condensed silver Fighting Spirit.

His attacks were simple, direct, and efficient, carrying a crushing force that seemed to operate on the level of fundamental Rules.

It wasn’t a battle. It was a cleansing, a purification—a merciless purge carried out with absolute Power.

In an instant, the most ferocious wave of monsters assaulting the allied front line was single-handedly stopped and cleared by him alone.

He stood with his sword amidst the corpses and ash, his silver Domain expanding with unprecedented intensity, briefly forcing back the suffocating, evil presence.

The moment after King Morne cleared an area with the force of a Thunderbolt...

Two evil presences, clearly more substantial and dangerous than the common monsters, suddenly rose from the chaotic torrent.

On the left, a behemoth roughly shoved aside the Low Tier Demons blocking its path, advancing with steps that made the ground tremble.

It resembled an unimaginably large toad, covered in dark, rough, warty skin, yet it walked upright like a man.

Its thick forelimbs ended in huge, webbed hands with hook-like claws.

A massive mouth, filled with rows of sharp teeth, constantly opened and closed, drooling highly corrosive saliva and emitting a nauseating stench.

On the right, a figure appeared much more "elegant."

It maintained a generally humanoid shape, tall and slender, covered in smooth, dark red skin, with defensive bone spurs at its joints.

On a face that could be called handsome but was utterly devoid of warmth, eyes of burning Flame watched Morne.

Two backward-curving horns on its forehead indicated its status, and a long, barbed tail swayed flexibly behind it.

It held no giant weapon, only a long, slender Thorn Chain burning with Hellfire that slowly coiled in its hand.

"Astonishing Power, king of mortals."

The humanoid Devil spoke first, its voice as rich and smooth as aged wine.

"Watching you clean up this... unruly rabble was a true pleasure. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Malcolm, a humble servant of the great Lord of the Ninth Hell. And this one beside me..."

The Devil named Malcolm glanced at the toad-like creature with some disgust.

"...is my less-than-talkative companion, Balot, a ’Destruction Messenger’ from some layer of the Endless Abyss whose name I can never be bothered to remember."

The toad-like Demon named Balot responded with a deafening roar filled with pure hatred and the desire for Destruction. Foul-smelling saliva sprayed everywhere with the sound.

"Dammit, be quiet, Balot!" Malcolm muttered with a slight frown, before giving an elegant bow.

"We have no intention of engaging in a pointless war of attrition, king of mortals."

"You have proven your worth. Perhaps... we can find another way to decide the... final destination of these fragile souls?"

King Morne’s answer was a flash of silver light that tore through the air, carrying an unstoppable torrent of Fighting Spirit straight for Malcolm’s unpleasant face.

His voice was like Ice, leaving no room for negotiation.

"I have nothing to say to filth like you!"

Facing a blow powerful enough to shatter mountains, Malcolm showed no fear. Instead, he sighed lightly in resignation, as if looking at an unruly child.

"Sigh... So crude..."

Before his words had faded, his elegant figure had already slid backward like a phantom.

At the same time, the massive, toad-like Demon Balot beside him let out a sky-shaking roar. Brimming with a pure desire for Destruction, it fearlessly met Morne’s blade head-on.

The Hellfire Thorn Chain and the silver Fighting Spirit collided instantly, erupting with a deafening ROAR.

While Morne was locked in a fierce battle with the two powerful Otherworldly beings, Roland and his companions were also on their own fronts, clearing out the endless stream of Low Tier Demons.

The Secret Silver Longsword in his hand drew a cold arc of light, precisely slicing three snarling, pouncing Little Inferior Demons in half while they were still in mid-air.

Before the filthy blood could even hit the ground, his blade had already turned to the other side, pinning a Timid Demon hiding in the Shadows firmly to the ground.

Not far away, Galvis plucked his strings, and a piercing sound wave sent several monsters trying to regroup stumbling.

"These guys on the right are really out of tune!"

The Minstrel even had the composure to crack a joke.

Avril’s figure moved along the edge of the battlefield, her arrows never missing their mark, specifically sniping the Otherworldly beings who were attempting to use Casting.

Teresa, meanwhile, was like a silver lightning bolt, darting through the monster horde several times. She left only severed limbs in her wake.

They each efficiently cleared the enemies in their assigned areas, needing no support from one another, yet they always maintained a perfect tactical distance.

Just as Roland cleared another area and let the tip of his sword fall to the ground...

The air in front of him suddenly distorted slightly. A sweet, cloying, and dangerous scent quietly spread, instantly overpowering the smell of blood and sulfur on the battlefield.

A slender, bewitching figure, as if woven from the Shadows, appeared silently before him, blocking his path.

Upon seeing who it was, Roland’s entire body tensed, and his eyes narrowed.

’Is this... a Succubus?’

Curved, jet-black ram’s horns, flawless pale skin, and a barbed tail that swayed lazily behind her.

Her amber, vertical pupils were like molten honey, swirling with undisguised greed and possessiveness.

Ignoring Roland’s scrutinizing gaze, the Succubus extended the scarlet tip of her tongue, slowly licking her full lower lip as she uttered a series of magnetic syllables.

"We meet again, my dear little one. My name is Celeste..."

The strange voice seemed to drill directly into his mind, gently plucking at every heartstring.

"Look at you, struggling on this filthy battlefield. So wretched, and yet so... captivating."

She took a light step forward, and the surrounding battle cries seemed to suddenly recede into the distance.

"Why sink along with them? Come to my side... I can soothe your pain and, more importantly, grant you Power that transcends the mortal realm."

"A body so full of potential shouldn’t be wasted on a meaningless sacrifice."

Celeste extended a hand in a gesture of invitation, a bewitching light swirling in her eyes.

"Come, Roland. Embrace your true destiny, and let us drown together in eternal pleasure..."