Translator: CinderTL
Roland grimaced, enduring the searing pain and icy chill emanating from the curse on his left chest, which seemed to resonate with the terrifying spectacle unfolding before them. His voice, hoarse with discomfort, turned to Galvis.
"Abyssal claws... hounds of the nine hells... Galvis, what exactly are they?"
Galvis's gaze remained fixed on the chaotic yet orderly torrent of horror before them. He explained in a rapid, hushed voice, his words precise despite the urgency.
"The abyssal claws originate from the Endless Abyss, a realm symbolizing boundless chaos. They are the embodiment of the demon faction—twisted beings driven solely by destruction and madness."
He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the grotesque creatures resembling flayed humanoids or walking hyenas.
"As for the hounds of the nine hells..."
His voice deepened as he pointed to the crimson figures maintaining human form, wielding obsidian greatswords, and radiating icy malice.
"They hail from the Nine Hells of Baator, a realm of rigid hierarchy. Representing the devil faction, they are the epitome of orderly evil, wielding contracts and deceit as weapons in their pursuit of eternal torment under absolute dominion."
He took a deep breath, his tone heavy.
"These two factions are mortal enemies, locked in the Eternal Blood War. Their encounters invariably end in mutual annihilation. For them to appear simultaneously without immediately clashing... I fear..."
Roland's heart sank heavily as he listened to these words.
He had read fragments about the Abyss in those tattered ancient texts, knowing it was a breeding ground for chaos and destruction.
But records of the Nine Hells of Baator, its equal in infamy, were scarce.
He had always assumed that all terrifying entities from other planes were simply called "demons."
Now he realized they belonged to two diametrically opposed yet equally lethal factions.
The chilling realization temporarily overwhelmed the burning pain of the curse on his left chest.
However, the battlefield situation left him no time for further contemplation.
The slaughter had begun.
The chaotic abyssal demons surged forward like a breached dam, instantly engulfing everything in their path.
They made no distinction between friend and foe, savagely attacking the nearest living beings.
Several Golden Grain City guards who had just lowered their weapons were the first to fall. Before they could even scream, they were swarmed by hyena-like monsters and devoured in a sickening cacophony of tearing flesh.
A knight from the allied forces roared, channeling his Battle Qi. His sword flashed with the light of a combat technique as he struck a flayed man demon, leaving a deep, bone-deep wound on its shoulder.
But the monster seemed impervious to pain. With a swift counterattack, it swung its jagged, hellfire-wreathed blade, cleaving the knight in two, armor and all. Green hellfire instantly consumed the remains.
The devils from the Nine Hells displayed a different kind of terror.
Unlike the demons' blind charges, they hunted with chilling efficiency.
Moving in coordinated groups of three to five, their obsidian greatswords and negative energy-wreathed chains struck from the most treacherous angles.
Even more terrifying was their apparent preference for targeting organized resistance. Whether it was an allied forces squad leader or a garrison officer attempting to regroup his troops, they became the primary targets of the devils' cold, calculating gaze.
The strength of the transcendents paled before these terrifying beings.
The battlefield had devolved into a one-sided slaughter.
Screams, roars, the shattering of weapons, and the tearing of flesh and bone wove together into a desperate dirge.
The acrid stench of gunpowder and blood mingled with the sulfurous reek of hell, nearly suffocating the survivors.
All of this unfolded in an instant.
Before the remaining combatants could fully react to the sudden horror, half of the human ranks had visibly vanished.
Despair, like a frigid tide, threatened to drown every last shred of hope.
In that moment, when all seemed lost,
Monen moved.
He transformed into a silver meteor, tearing through the heavens as he crashed into the filthy tide of devils.
Wherever he moved, the air shrieked with a piercing whine.
There were no flashy techniques, and it was almost impossible to see if he had even drawn his seemingly ordinary longsword.
A flash of silver light.
A flayed man demon, poised to rip its claws from a soldier's chest, had its twisted head instantly severed. Its body, wreathed in hellfire, melted away like snow under the scorching sun, consumed by the silver battle qi.
Another flash of silver light.
A deep hell demon, calmly swinging its obsidian greatsword to cleave through an allied forces officer and his shield, froze mid-motion.
A slender silver line traced vertically down from its brow. In the next instant, the towering, grotesque figure split cleanly in two, disintegrating into ash amidst a burst of silver radiance.
Monen's figure flickered across the battlefield.
With each flash of silver light, another abyssal claw or hound of the nine hells was utterly annihilated.
Neither the demons' hide, tough enough to withstand blades, nor the devils' protective auras of malevolent energy could withstand the refined silver battle qi. They crumbled like paper before its overwhelming force.
His attacks were simple, direct, and devastatingly efficient, carrying a crushing power that transcended conventional combat.
This was not battle, but cleansing—a purification, a merciless sweep executed with absolute strength.
In an instant, the most ferocious wave of monsters charging the allied forces' lines was single-handedly halted and annihilated.
He stood amidst the corpses and ashes, his silver domain expanding with unprecedented intensity, briefly repelling the suffocating aura of evil.
Just as King Monen had cleared a precinct with thunderous force, two malevolent presences, far more substantial and dangerous than ordinary monsters, suddenly surged from the chaotic tide.
To the left, a colossal creature brutally shoved aside lower-ranked demons blocking its path, its earth-shaking strides shaking the ground.
It resembled an unimaginably massive toad, its dark, warty skin covered in coarse, pustule-like growths, yet it walked upright on two legs.
Its thick forelimbs ended in enormous, webbed hands tipped with hooked claws.
A cavernous maw lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth opened and closed incessantly, dripping corrosive saliva that reeked of nauseating stench.
To the right, a figure appeared far more "elegant."
It maintained a roughly humanoid form, tall and slender, with smooth, crimson skin and defensive bone spurs at its joints.
A handsome yet utterly cold face, its fiery eyes scrutinized Monen.
Two backward-curving horns on its forehead marked its status, while a long, barbed tail flicked nimbly behind it.
Instead of a massive weapon, it wielded only a slender, Hellfire Thorn Chain that coiled slowly in its hand.
"Astonishing strength, mortal king," the humanoid devil spoke first, its voice as rich and mellow as aged wine.
"Witnessing you purge these... rule-breaking scum has been truly gratifying. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Malcolm, humbly serving the great Lord of the Ninth Hell. And this companion beside me—"
Malcolm cast a disdainful glance at the toad-like creature.
"—my less sociable colleague, Balot, the 'Bringer of Destruction' from some nameless layer of the Endless Abyss that I can never remember."
The toad-like demon Balot responded with a deafening roar, brimming with pure hatred and a ravenous desire for annihilation. Foul-smelling saliva sprayed from its maw with each bellow.
"Damn it, Balot! Quiet down!"
Malcolm frowned slightly and cursed under his breath before bowing gracefully.
"We have no intention of engaging in pointless attrition, mortal king," he said. "You have proven your worth. Perhaps... we could decide the final fate of these fragile souls through other means?"
King Monen's response was a silver sword flash that tore through the air, carrying an overwhelming surge of Battle Qi as it slashed toward Malcolm's loathsome face.
His voice was as cold as ice, leaving no room for negotiation.
"I have nothing to say to you filth!"
Faced with this earth-shattering strike, Malcolm showed no fear. Instead, he sighed with the exasperation of someone dealing with a stubborn child.
"Ah... how crude..."
Before the words had even left his lips, his elegant figure had already glided backward like a phantom.
Simultaneously, the toad-like demon Balot beside him unleashed a deafening roar, charging fearlessly toward Monen's blade with pure, unbridled destructive intent.
The Hellfire Thorn Chain clashed violently with the silver battle qi, unleashing a deafening roar.
While Monen was locked in fierce combat with two powerful otherworldly beings, Roland and his companions were systematically clearing their respective battle lines of the relentless swarm of low-tier demonic beasts.
Roland's Mithril Longsword arced through the air with icy precision, cleaving three snarling lesser imps in half mid-leap. Before their foul blood could even splatter the ground, his blade had already shifted, pinning a shy demon lurking in the shadows to the earth.
Nearby, Galvis plucked his lute strings, unleashing a piercing sonic wave that staggered several gathering monsters. "These guys on the right have such a terrible sense of rhythm!" the bard quipped, still managing to crack jokes even in the heat of battle.
Avril moved along the battlefield's edge, her arrows unerringly striking down any otherworldly beings attempting to cast spells.
Theresa, a silver blur, darted through the monster ranks, leaving a trail of severed limbs and mangled corpses in her wake.
They efficiently cleared their assigned areas of enemies, requiring no mutual support yet maintaining perfect tactical spacing.
Just as Roland cleared another precinct, his sword tip touching the ground, the air ahead suddenly shimmered. A cloyingly sweet and dangerous aura silently permeated the battlefield, instantly overpowering the stench of blood and sulfur.
A slender, alluring figure materialized as if woven from the shadows, silently blocking his path.
Recognizing the newcomer, Roland's entire body tensed, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"This is... a succubus?"
Curved, jet-black ram horns, flawless pale skin, and a barbed tail lazily swaying behind her.
Her amber-colored vertical pupils, like molten honey, swirled with undisguised greed and possessiveness.
Ignoring Roland's scrutinizing gaze, the succubus flicked her crimson tongue across her full lower lip, uttering magnetic syllables.
"We meet again, dear little one. I am Celeste."
The strange voice seemed to burrow directly into his mind, gently plucking at every nerve in his heart.
"Look at you, struggling on this filthy battlefield, so wretched, yet so... captivating."
She took a graceful step forward, and the surrounding cries of battle seemed to fade into the distance.
"Why sink with them? Come to me... I can soothe your pain and grant you strength beyond mortal limits."
"This body, brimming with potential, shouldn't be wasted on pointless sacrifice."
Celeste extended her hand in an inviting gesture, her eyes shimmering with an alluring light.
"Come, Roland, embrace your true destiny. Let us drown together in eternal bliss..."
(End of the Chapter)
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