Chapter 1512 - 961: The New Demon Lords

Chapter 1512: Chapter 961: The New Demon Lords

Overlooking the scorched land shrouded in the Abyss’s murky breath, the demon’s core camp is less a military camp and more a living ruin of a city twisted by chaos and brutality.

The camp is boundless, like a boiling, festering sore made of sulfur, foul blood, and bones, branded upon the scorched earth.

The outermost layer is a sea of low-tier demons—Inferior Demons, Horned Demons, and Lesser Demons squirm, jostle, and bite each other like maggots.

They have no tents, just crude nests piled with shattered bones, scorched earth, and rotten flesh, exuding a nauseating stench.

The ground here is forever covered in a viscous layer of purple-black blood mud, making it hard to discern its original scorched earth color.

The closer to the camp’s core, the more hideous the demon forms become, with increasingly gigantic physiques.

Frenzy Demons, Succubi, Quasits, and Frols, among other mid-tier demons, dominate the view.

They have residences that exhibit a semblance of "order"—twisted structures built from giant bones, black obsidian formed from cooled lava, and metal twisted by desecrated Divine Power.

These buildings are crooked, structurally bizarre, with windows like bleeding wounds and doorways resembling a Giant Beast’s throat, emanating chaotic energy fluctuations.

Though barely called "buildings," compared to the Order Faction’s fortresses—magnificent, solid, and precise—they resemble more of a giant monster’s lair or grotesque formations of accumulated waste.

In this chaotic camp, "thriving" scenes are the ubiquitous and varied "arenas" and "blood pits".

These places have no rules, no referees, only perpetual slaughter.

Demons continuously kill each other to vent excessive destructive desires, fight for territory, food, or simply seek twisted "fun".

Roaring, growling, the sound of bone cracking, flesh tearing, and dying wails echo endlessly, composing the camp’s permanent background sound.

When mighty demons pass by, they often casually grab a few weak peers—to rip apart, crush, or toss into the boiling Blood Pool, merely to hear a sound or clear away unsightly "trash."

This pointless internal consumption vividly manifests the Abyss’s chaotic nature, severely weakening their overall battle power—yet this is the cost of chaos and their "daily life".

After all, gathering so many demons—so many with chaotic nature here—is a cost that must be paid.

Facing the menacingly approaching Order Side on the Blood Battle Battlefield, even demons must unite.

Otherwise, relying only on a simple layer of demons cannot compare to those warriors from across the Star Realm, using Order to counteract chaos.

At the camp’s center, a massive, twisted Dark Fortress stands like a heart.

It is constructed from countless giant creatures, including demons’ own bones, flowing black stones with lava, and solidified resentment energy.

Sharp turrets pierce the dirty sky like fangs, with the fortress’s surface covered in writhing shadow tentacles and pus-dripping holes.

This is the hub of the demon power on the entire 1121st layer and the dwelling of powerful Demon Lords.

Currently, in the core of this Dark Fortress, within a grand hall filled with sulfur smoke and the scent of blood, five distinct figures, each emitting a terrifying Suppression, stand surrounding a boiling, sulfur-lava pool roiling with souls in pain.

Their conversation sounds like hushed growls from within souls, full of impatience, ambition, and a hunger for destruction.

High-Level Mad War Demon Lord – Groller.

This demon, colossal as a hill, is entirely covered in obsidian-like heavy armor, with scars deep enough to reveal bone, each a badge of glory.

His rough giant hand grips a massive Dual Blades axe burning with indestructible Hellfire.

Excitedly, he uses the axe handle to pound the ground, causing a deep rumbling that shakes the earth.

"Hahaha! Finally! Finally, it’s time!"

Groller’s voice is like rolling thunder, his lava-like saliva drips with his raucous laughter, searing smoke onto the stone slabs.

"I’ve been reassigned from the ’Furnace’ to this damned ’Dead Water Pool’ for less than half a year, and my bones are rusting! Watching these little whelps brawl in their own nests is more nauseating than eating rotten mud.

"I’ve long wanted to launch a large-scale attack and smash those Order whelps’ fortress to smithereens!

"To think they attacked first! Good! Very good! Let them come! I want to take their bones one by one and mount them on the axe as decoration!"

His muscles bulge, battle intentions boiling, yearning to rush out and begin a massacre immediately.

Abyssal Lich Lord – Nekrom, in contrast to Groller’s fervor, Nekrom is wrapped in a tattered Magic Robe emitting decay chill; his emaciated skull face sports two points of ghostly green Soul Fire coldly flickering in the eye sockets of his skull.

His skeletal fingers rub a Magic Staff made of some giant vertebra, with a purple-black Soul Gemstone embedded on the staff head flashing an ominous light.

His voice is hoarse and cold, like scraping against bone.

"Hmph, Groller, is there anything left in your head besides butchery? I chose to come to the 1121 layer exactly because intelligence said it is a rare ’peaceful’ place.

"It’s one of the few in the Abyss, where I can be undisturbed by endless stupid battles and peacefully research the mysteries of death and soul transformation—a ’safe haven’. What was the result?"