Chapter 7.4. The War (5)

  Suddenly, a powerful energy signature spiked. Then a second, a third, and a fourth. Lucifer braced himself, prepared to join the fight if necessary.

  As the demonic army rampaged through the town, The Sins went ahead to confront whatever had caused the energy spikes. Lucifer used his detection magic to observe their fight with the otherworlders and was impressed by what he sensed.

  The battle was three versus three, and surprisingly, The Sins were actually pushing the otherworlders back. The remaining four Sins stood aside, watching, which was bold but slightly annoying to Lucifer—they were wasting time on small fry. Still, he let them have their fun.

  The demonic army tore through the town, leaving no survivors—only bodies, torn apart and strewn across the streets. The stench of death filled the air, mixed with the corrupting miasma that consumed everything in its path.

  Meanwhile, the Demon Lords reached another town protected by a barrier. The fear they had felt before briefly returned, but they stood strong and advanced toward the town. Each of them destroyed the barrier easily, firing beams of the purple energy Lucifer had granted them, and let their armies flood in.

  On Mephistopheles’s side, everything was going smoothly. His demonic army tore through the town with ease, but soon he sensed three powerful energy signatures. He quickly realized that they were otherworlders.

  Out of nowhere, a wave of pure holy energy surged toward the demonic army.

  Mephistopheles rushed to the frontline. As he landed, he covered himself in a purple aura and blocked the attack head-on. The wave persisted for several seconds before finally dissipating, leaving Mephistopheles unharmed—aside from an irritated expression.

  When the light vanished, three humans emerged, walking toward him. Each wielded a magical sword and wore enchanted armor.

  The moment Mephistopheles recognized one of them—the very human who had defeated him before—a flicker of fear took root in his chest. It lasted only a second.

  A surge of power followed, flooding his body. This time, he felt certain he could crush all three of them.

  The otherworlder who had beaten him before also recognized Mephistopheles. Confidence twisted into arrogance as he began shouting insults, openly provoking him.

  Mephistopheles remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ground.

  Taking this as fear, the otherworlder grinned and charged ahead of his comrades. He leapt into the air and brought his blade down in a powerful slash aimed straight at Mephistopheles’s head.

  Mephistopheles did not look up.

  When the otherworlder entered his range, a massive greatsword materialized in Mephistopheles’s hand. In a single motion, he drove it forward.

  Muscle tore. Bones cracked.

  The greatsword pierced straight through the otherworlder’s chest. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by pure shock as blood spilled from his mouth.

  Even with a blade driven through his chest, the otherworlder was not dead yet.

  He slowly lifted his head and met Mephistopheles’s gaze.

  “Burn to cinders,” Mephistopheles said calmly.

  Purple flames erupted from the hilt of the greatsword and raced along the blade, engulfing the otherworlder completely. His screams tore through the battlefield, so agonizing that they sent a chill through the souls of the two remaining otherworlders who could only watch.

  Mephistopheles swung his greatsword to the side, flinging the burning corpse away. As the body crumbled, he finally understood the magnitude of the gift the Demon King had given him.

  He bowed in gratitude.

  Still bowed, he lifted his head and looked toward the remaining otherworlders. They were speaking hurriedly, clearly planning an escape. The sight annoyed him.

  Before they could finish a single sentence, Mephistopheles vanished.

  He reappeared behind them.

  When he raised his hand, a severed head was clutched within it.

  The last otherworlder turned just in time to see his comrade’s body collapse, blood erupting from the neck like a crimson fountain.

  He turned back in horror. Mephistopheles was calmly drinking the blood pouring from the severed head.

  Despair crushed what remained of the otherworlder’s spirit. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.

  Mephistopheles finished drinking the blood from the severed head and tossed it aside without a second glance.

  His eyes fell on the last remaining otherworlder, who was still kneeling, frozen in terror.

  The greatsword vanished from Mephistopheles’s hand. He grabbed the otherworlder by the collar, dragged him across the ground, and hurled him toward the nearby demons who were still searching for humans to devour.

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  He then tossed the remaining corpses of the fallen otherworlders after him.

  The demons did not hesitate.

  Once the town had been completely consumed—every scream silenced, everybody devoured—it was time to move on.

  Demon Lord Apollyn shattered the barrier protecting his target town with ease. The magical shell collapsed into fragments of light, dispersing into the air.

  Before he could give the order to attack, three humans stepped through the town’s gate.

  Apollyn recognized them instantly.

  Two had short hair, chiseled faces, and bodies honed for combat. The third had long hair and wore a black face mask, her nearly perfect figure unmistakable.

  They were the same otherworlders who had defeated him before.

  Without hesitation, Apollyn ordered his army forward. At the same time, he turned his full attention to the three otherworlders.

  As they prepared to fight, Apollyn vanished.

  In the blink of an eye, all four of them disappeared from the battlefield.

  Moments later, they reappeared five miles away from the town they had been protecting.

  The otherworlders shouted at Apollyn, demanding that he take them back. Their threats escalated quickly, even going so far as to promise his death.

  Apollyn looked at them coldly.

  “Be glad that you are facing me,” he said. “If you were facing death itself, you would have died a hundred times by now.”

  He raised his hand.

  Five massive spheres of flame formed around him before launching forward in unison. The otherworlders reacted instantly, coating their weapons in holy magic and blocking the attack.

  The flames dispersed—but not without cost. Burn marks appeared across their armor and skin.

  Apollyn did not pause.

  Ice shards materialized in the air and shot toward them like spears. The otherworlders sliced through the shards cleanly, this time avoiding damage altogether.

  Apollyn’s eyes narrowed.

  Without warning, he combined the two elements. Ice shards and fire spheres surged forward together, colliding from different angles.

  The otherworlders managed to block the assault, but their bodies finally showed the strain. Fresh burns scorched their skin, while patches of frost spread across their limbs, slowing their movements.

  Apollyn smiled faintly.

  They were still standing—but they were no longer untouched.

  Apollyn told them that their focus should be on him, not on the humans who were already dead. The otherworlders quickly realized that as long as Apollyn remained unchecked, returning to their town would be impossible. With no other option, they chose to fight him.

  That decision pleased Apollyn.

  A sword formed in his hand.

  He charged straight at the long-haired otherworlder and swung. The attack was blocked, steel clashing against steel.

  At the same time, the other two appeared behind him, their swords already descending.

  Without turning, Apollyn raised his free hand and fired a flame sphere. The two otherworlders were forced to abort their attack and leap back several meters to avoid being engulfed.

  Apollyn pressed forward. His sword continued to clash with the long-haired otherworlder’s until he suddenly thrust his free hand forward again and detonated a flame sphere at point-blank range. The blast sent the otherworlder skidding across the ground.

  The long-haired otherworlder recovered quickly, rolling to his feet and leveling his sword at Apollyn.

  The three regrouped.

  They spread out, forming a triangular formation with Apollyn at its center, each blade pointed directly at him. A brief glance passed between them—then they nodded.

  They charged simultaneously.

  Just as they closed in, a surge of purple flame erupted around Apollyn. The explosion thundered outward, its force overwhelming.

  All three otherworlders were blown back nearly twenty meters, crashing into the ground in different directions.

  They forced themselves back to their feet, but what they saw made them freeze for a moment.

  Apollyn stood engulfed in purple flame, his eyes glowing the same violent hue.

  Without hesitation, the otherworlders reinforced their bodies with magic and imbued their swords with it. Then they charged.

  The long-haired otherworlder reached Apollyn first and brought his blade down in a heavy swing. Apollyn caught the sword with his bare hand, purple flames wrapping tightly around his grip.

  The other two arrived a heartbeat later, swinging their blades horizontally from opposite sides.

  For an instant, Apollyn was boxed in.

  Then he moved.

  Still gripping the long-haired otherworlder’s sword, Apollyn swung him sideways like a weapon, slamming him directly into the short-haired otherworlder on his left. At the same time, Apollyn raised his free hand and blocked the blade coming at him from the right.

  The long-haired and short-haired otherworlders collided, their impact stopping the blade that had been coming from Apollyn’s left.

  Apollyn used the opening to leap backward, putting distance between himself and them. For the first time since the fight began, he acknowledged how close that moment had been. Had he hesitated even slightly, his life could have ended there.

  As he steadied himself, he felt something stir within him.

  A spark.

  It ignited into a small flame, and with it, his mind cleared. A strange calm washed over him, as if he had finally aligned with himself.

  Then the purple flames surrounding his body erupted violently.

  The air around Apollyn distorted as the temperature spiked, heat crashing outward in waves. For a brief moment, the flames were wild and uncontrollable—but slowly, they settled, bending to his will once more.

  From within the inferno, a sword of crimson fire formed in his hand, its presence heavy and oppressive.

  The otherworlders reacted immediately.

  They reinforced their bodies further and poured more magic into their swords, pushing themselves to their limits. They understood now—every second this battle dragged on only made Apollyn stronger. The purple flames were accelerating his growth.

  They locked eyes with him.

  Before any of them could move, Apollyn vanished.

  He reappeared directly in front of one of the short-haired otherworlders. Instinct took over, and the otherworlder barely managed to raise his sword in time, blocking Apollyn’s incoming strike.

  The sudden increase in speed stunned the remaining two otherworlders, but they recovered quickly and attacked Apollyn at the same time.

  Apollyn dropped low, their blades slicing through the air where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. In one smooth motion, he spun, slashing in a wide arc with his flaming sword.

  The blade struck both otherworlders.

  Flames tore across their bodies, but the dense magic reinforcing them prevented fatal burns. Still, the force sent them skidding backward. Apollyn leapt away as well, creating distance between them once more.

  This time, the otherworlders pressed the attack.

  They moved in perfect coordination. The long-haired otherworlder drove Apollyn back with relentless strikes, forcing him to evade again and again, while the other two attacked from different angles. Their blades clashed repeatedly with his defenses, sparks and embers scattering with every impact.

  The battle intensified, neither side willing to yield.

  They continued to clash and evade, their weapons colliding again and again. Yet even as the fight dragged on, Apollyn could tell—the otherworlders were reaching their limit.

  Holy magic was powerful, but drawing on it at full capacity for too long always came at a cost. The strain was beginning to show.

  Apollyn, however, felt none of those drawbacks. The purple flames did not consume magic, and even his flaming sword drained his power only slowly, sustained by those same flames.

  Sensing their fatigue, Apollyn released his aura.

  Purple fire erupted outward, forcing the otherworlders to leap back to avoid being scorched.