Chapter 881 - 880: Heavenfall Arsenal

The God of War stepped through the rift before Varen answered.

The wound across Darius’s side had closed beneath the broken armour. His right arm still ended at the elbow. Black markings crossed the restored flesh, and the iron-grey eyes lifted toward the eight demons above the encampment.

Something pressed against his presence as he entered.

The Aether around his remaining hand tightened, its faint radiance shrinking closer to his skin. The god paused, then completed the step.

Varen noticed.

So did Simon.

The prince lowered himself slightly, although he remained well above the camp.

"God of War," he said evenly. "I believe we can discuss this without further losses."

The god looked around. Rows of demons stood motionless beneath his attention. Those who had struggled against Simon’s killing intent now found something worse occupying the space behind them.

"Can we?"

"Blackmoon has not accepted my offer. No oath has been sworn."

"Yet you promised to keep him from me."

"I offered him protection," Varen replied. "I did not declare war upon you."

The god’s mouth curved.

"What did you imagine protecting him would require?"

Varen’s smile thinned, but his voice remained controlled.

"You are in the Demon Realm now. Whatever your true power, this world is resisting the body you occupy. I am certain you can feel it."

"Yes."

The admission caused a faint movement among the Seven Seats.

The god glanced at them.

"Did you need me to deny it before continuing?"

"No," Varen replied. "I hoped you would consider it."

Simon watched the prince’s hands. They remained relaxed, but the demonic energy beneath his clothing had begun gathering.

’You aren’t as comfortable as you sound.’

Varen continued.

"Your chosen could fight and kill a Minor Demon Lord. An extraordinary achievement for his rank. But there are nine talented Demon Lords here."

He gestured toward the seven behind him, then briefly toward Marek.

The commander’s jaw tightened and his expression became solemn."

"I am a Prime Demon Lord. Commander Marek is a Minor Demon Lord. My Seven Seats have each earned their place. Here, our power is no longer suppressed. Your chosen’s is."

The Seven Seats spread slightly. Their movements were small, but the space around Varen changed as overlapping currents of demonic energy connected them.

They were preparing to fight together.

"Nobody here is foolish enough to compare us to your true body," Varen said. "But this is not your true body. You descended to preserve your chosen. Why risk damaging him further?"

The god listened without interrupting.

"I have already seen what one Archfiend did to that vessel," the prince added cautiously. "I would prefer not to discover what nine Demon Lords might force you to spend repairing it."

Silence followed.

Marek looked toward the rift. The prince had just included him in a battle he had wanted nothing to do with.

The God of War lowered his gaze toward Simon.

"So is this how you planned on protecting him from me?"

Simon said nothing.

"Nine demons and an explanation of why I should be frightened."

"That is not what I said," Varen replied.

"No. You have been careful not to say it."

The god looked back up.

"You counted the strength my chosen possessed. Then you counted your own. You even remembered the realm’s suppression."

His tone was almost approving.

"And somewhere between those calculations, you decided I would fight as he did."

Varen’s eyes narrowed.

"The body’s limitations remain."

"Of course they do. I know every one of them."

The god lifted his remaining hand.

"Do you?"

Varen’s gaze followed it. Around him, the Seven Seats released more power. Shields appeared, weapons were drawn, and a dark barrier began closing beneath their feet.

"Whatever protection you intended to give my prey," the God of War said, "use it on yourself."

The prince’s expression hardened.

"We have not attacked you."

"And who said you had to attack me before I attacked you?"

The crossed spears on Darius’s chest blazed crimson.

"Stand."

A shadow covered Varen’s face.

He looked up and his pupils constricted into needles.

An enormous sword hung above him.

Its point faced his chest. The iron-grey blade alone was nearly a hundred metres long, with a deep crimson groove running down its centre. Its guard was broad enough to cast both Varen and the demons beside him into shade.

Seven more massive weapons surrounded it.

Two spears. Two axes. Two swords. A warhammer.

Each hung above one of the Seven Seats.

Their surfaces were not vague outlines. Edges gleamed along heavy metal heads, and crimson markings ran from point to haft. Between the enormous weapons, rows of smaller blades formed with their tips angled toward the troops below.

They had not fallen out of a distant cloud. They had formed directly above the army.

Simon felt the power within them and stopped trying to push energy through his injured arm.

’I can definitely not block that. I have to get out of its path.’

He shifted away from the nearest cluster of soldiers.

Varen’s eyes widened as he felt the weight bearing down upon his shields.

"Together!" he ordered sharply.

Seven Abyssal Hearts answered.

The barrier beneath them rose, joining individual protections into a dark shell. Weapons shone with demonic energy as their owners prepared to strike upward.

The god lowered one finger.

"Divine War Art. Heavenfall Arsenal."

Every weapon descended.

The sound reached them as a single, piercing scream of metal.

The first spear struck the joined barrier and went through it.

There was no exchange of attacks. No opportunity to test the god’s strength and adjust. The protection the Lords had raised simply opened beneath the descending iron-grey point.

The Seat who had threatened Simon thrust his own weapon upward.

Both weapons met.

CLANG!

His shattered.

BANG!

The enormous spear passed through his chest, destroying the Abyssal Heart behind his armour before his expression finished changing.

The second spear took another Seat beside him. The demon twisted far enough to spare his head, but the point still caught his torso. His Heart vanished beneath the descending iron-grey shaft.

Varen moved.

The sword above him moved too.

Its point remained aimed at his body as he threw himself sideways. The prince raised both hands, pouring power into a layered shield.

The blade tore through the first layer, then the second, and Varen’s composure broke with them.

Crack!

Something white shattered beneath his collar.

A brilliant outline of a crown enclosed him, folded inward, and hurled him out of the sword’s path. Even so, the edge caught his side. Blood sprayed from beneath his clothing as he spun away, alive but no longer smiling.

His Seven Seats had no such escape.

One axe split a raised shield and the Demon Lord behind it. Another caught the demon trying to retreat beneath the first, cutting through the armoured chest where his Heart burned.

Two swords crossed through the remaining formation. One Seat tried to parry. The blade sheared through his weapon, entered beside his neck, and split his Abyssal Heart beneath his breastplate.

The other forced a desperate burst of demonic energy into the descending edge. It passed through him anyway, leaving his body divided through the chest.

None of the fallen Lords had reached the ground when the smaller weapons struck the waiting soldiers.

A demon raised his arms as a sword entered between them. A second was pinned through his open mouth. Others disappeared behind the falling weapons, their cries ending before those beside them could turn.

The last Seat remained beneath the warhammer.

He had raised a shield over his head with both hands. Demonic energy poured from his body so fiercely that his armour shook.

"God of War!!!!"

The hammer fell.

BOOOM!!!

Shield, arms, armour, and the Demon Heart beneath them were crushed in the same impact.

Seven powerful auras vanished from above the camp.

Varen was still alive.

But every one of the Seven Seats was dead.