Chapter 415

Chapter 415
## Chapter 415

The Great Demon World War (2)

“…What did you say?”

Hella’s brow furrowed, a deep look of anxiety settling across her features as the startling intelligence reached her ears.

Lately, her time had been entirely consumed by overseeing the sprawling battlefronts, stabilizing the borders of their freshly conquered lands, and managing the inevitable friction within her own ranks…

And now, this bombshell drops?

“How could such a thing happen?”

Her immediate response was sheer incredulity.

Even granting that the Dragon Marquis possessed superior might, the Dark Duke was certainly no amateur.

He commanded a formidable army and was a seasoned veteran who had spent centuries scheming to claim the vacant throne of the Demon King.

Yet, he had been toppled with such alarming speed?

“He has lost his mind. Or he is cornered beyond measure.”

This sudden outcome implied that the Dragon Marquis had gambled on an incredibly dangerous and extreme course of action.

“We have completely lost contact with every single operative embedded within the Dragon Marquis’s ranks. It appears that—”

[“Broadcast a universal directive to all operational sectors. Prioritize containment above all else and brace for any unprecedented anomalies.”]

“An immediate report has just arrived from a fleeing Demoniac soldier!”

At its core, the very nature of dark magic was rooted in rebellion.

While conventional sorcery harmonized with natural laws to channel mana efficiently, dark magic violently warped, fractured, and outright defied those fundamental principles to forcibly manifest its intended effects.

Naturally, such defiance demanded a steep toll.

The mental degeneration that plagued practitioners was the primary tax exacted by the dark arts.

Yet, in exchange for bearing that psychological corruption, dark magic bestowed upon its wielder an overwhelming, devastating raw power that defied the comprehension of standard spellcasters.

And the most prevalent tactic employed by dark sorcerers to mitigate this horrific backlash was well known…

‘…The grander the scale and value of the offerings, the more potent the dark magic becomes.’

It mirrored an event from a millennium ago, when an transcendent dark sorcerer offered up entire populations, and ultimately his own existence, just to tear open a passageway into the abyss.

“…He didn’t confine the slaughter to his adversaries.”

“Pardon? What are you implying…?”

Siana, who was standing at her flank, inquired with a bewildered expression, but Hella was too deeply immersed in her own analysis to offer a reply.

As a preeminent master of dark magic—arguably the most proficient alive—the truth was glaringly obvious to her.

‘…That explains how he managed to annihilate the Dark Duke’s forces in the blink of an eye.’

Hans, the Immortal King, likewise wielded the dark arts, but the brunt of his magical backlash was absorbed by his 「Immortal Heart」.

Even then, that process was far from safe. The artifact itself was a volatile and hazardous object; without his 「Mind Hub」 to anchor him, he would have succumbed to its madness eons ago.

The Dragon Marquis likely operated under a parallel principle.

An Ancient Dragon of his immense caliber could easily withstand the rebound of standard dark rituals.

But what if he had willfully discarded his own safeguards?

If he had offered up not just his loyal legions, but had also laid his very self upon the altar—a majestic Ancient Dragon, the sole remaining dragon in the entire Demon World, and a entity once lauded as the apex predator…

“…This is turning into quite a headache. I assumed matters would conclude swiftly when the Dark Duke reached out to me.”

Hella let out a quiet breath, her features tightening in irritation.

The fallout of that desperate, reckless wager was the madness currently unfolding.

The true curtain-raiser for the Great Demon World War.

—

The fundamental nature of the conflict had undergone a radical shift.

What began as a political civil war between rival factions contending for the title of Demon King…

[“Squeeeak!”]

[“So hungry, ravenous, freezing, need to feed…”]

[“Kyaha! Agh? What?”]

…had deteriorated into a brutal war of attrition for survival against an infinite tide of pale monstrosities pouring from spatial tears.

“Maintain the defensive perimeter!”

[“There is no end to them…”]

“Damn it—their resistance to sorcery is absurdly high!”

The solitary silver lining was that Helheim had successfully absorbed a massive wave of demon defectors who had been horrified by the recent atrocities.

Though they originated from opposing factions, these soldiers were far from stupid.

Pledging allegiance to Hella was infinitely preferable to being processed as ritual fuel by the Dragon Marquis.

Bolstered by this massive wave of defectors, the ranks of Helheim’s military had swelled enormously.

They stood unrivaled as the most massive faction in the Demon World, their sheer manpower eclipsing all competition.

‘…The current board isn’t entirely unfavorable. The real enigma is… finding a way to neutralize those pale aberrations…’

The lands formerly governed by the Dragon Marquis were now completely overrun by these pale horrors, their sheer volume defying calculation.

Meanwhile, Krushaior himself, the orchestrator of this apocalyptic ritual, had vanished without a trace.

Investigating teams had thoroughly ransacked the inner sanctum of the Dark Nest’s central command, but the gateway within the subterranean ritual chamber had dissolved.

It was as if the doorway had dissolved the moment its task was completed.

Or perhaps it had been relocated to a hidden sector.

They had initially operated under the assumption that the invaders were finite in number, believing that systematic extermination would eventually dry up the source…

…but that assumption proved completely false.

“…So that was his grand design from the start.”

This crisis was entirely distinct from the anomalies of the ‘Immortal Heart’ or the ‘Seed of Madness’, both of which had manifested briefly before burning out.

These misshapen abominations, seemingly limitless in supply, were spewing from dimensional fractures across every corner of the Demon World.

Furthermore, by consuming the native inhabitants, they catalyzed their own evolution and multiplied at an exponential rate, threatening to choke the life out of the entire realm.

They had already successfully overrun nearly ten percent of the Demon World’s total landmass.

‘…Krushaior, is this truly your goal? Absolute annihilation?’

If the Demon God, if the realm itself, refused to grant him the recognition he believed he deserved…

If the path to becoming the Demon King was barred to him…

…he would rather reduce the entire world to ash, remaking the ruins into a kingdom of his own design.

Hella’s brow twitched as she reevaluated the Dragon Marquis, who had escalated from a mere political adversary into a cataclysm capable of ending the world.

‘…So, he chooses to flip the board entirely?’

The crown of the Demon King was practically already hers to claim.

What Krushaior was executing now was nothing more than a grandiose tantrum, a volatile display of spite.

Which meant…

“…He is ruining the feast I so carefully prepared!”

A coarse, unrefined complaint slipped past her teeth.

Yet it accurately reflected her fury.

His erratic behavior was desecrating her hard-earned rewards, the fruits of conquest she had so systematically gathered.

‘…I refuse to permit this!’

A chilling, uncompromising light sparked within her deep crimson eyes.

If he intended to abandon all decorum, she would respond in kind.

‘…I genuinely endeavored to respect the traditional customs of the Demon World, treating this as a legitimate trial for the throne…’

But since he had chosen to discard the rulebook entirely…

She spared a brief thought for Davidson and Hesperon, but her resolve did not waver.

After all, the ritual site itself was a blatant act of deception. The entire contest had been compromised from the start.

‘…Indeed, the blame does not rest on me. He brought this upon himself.’

If she unleashed the full scope of her capabilities without restriction…

…not a single soul in this realm possessed the strength to stand against her.

—

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing—?”

“Hold on, you blundering idiot! Look at that insignia… that’s Hella-nim’s emblem!”

“Ah! Forgive me, I didn’t realize!”

“I will ensure he learns his place immediately! Please, do not let us delay your vital work!”

Across a chaotic warzone within the Demon World, choked with the stench of carnage and crawling with aberrant fiends, a solitary figure walked.

Clad in a dark, sweeping cloak with Hella’s distinct emblem stitched onto the sleeve and a hood obscuring their face, the individual casually inspected a decaying pale monster as its flesh slowly melted into a foul, liquefied residue.

[“I see, the pattern is clear. Shall we initiate the process then?”]

With a single forward stride,

…the figure vanished on the spot, materializing within an isolated, barren clearing.

The location had been predetermined, its spatial coordinates meticulously calculated beforehand.

An intricately woven concealment barrier isolated the clearing from any outside observation.

Suddenly, a torrent of dark energy resembling black flames erupted from the figure’s form,

…a volatile fusion of raw dark magic and the unadulterated concept of mortality, rapidly blanketing the immediate terrain.

[“Heh, let us see if you can truly remain hidden from my sight.”]

Moments later,

…a grating, ominous voice resembling a frozen whisper from the abyss reverberated through the air,

…as the expanding energy surged outward, actively tracking an identical resonance.

—

In a completely different sector.

A man concealing his face behind an ornate opera mask held a small vial, tilting its contents into the palm of his hand.

“…Hmph, the quality is remarkably poor given its pedigree. Is this truly the essence of a dragon?”

His brow knit in mild distaste, yet…

…he touched his tongue to the liquid, closing his eyes to analyze its composition.

This was the sanguine sample Hella had extracted from the Dragon Marquis during their previous engagement.

It was severely compromised, its composition highly erratic, but he had no interest in its potential as sustenance.

He was a master of vitals, a premier blood mage.

His consciousness, having traced the energetic lineage back through the sample, suddenly locked onto a precise trajectory.

—

Identical search initiatives were unfolding simultaneously across the vast expanses of the Demon World,

…resembling a highly synchronized, multi-pronged tracking network.

A massive, three-headed hound named Davidson tore through the lines of pale monstrosities, his overwhelming power cutting a stark contrast against the surrounding pandemonium.

“Sniff, sniff, sniff!”

“Chomp— Crunch—!”

“Grrr!”

His three distinct heads worked in tandem, snapping at foes and scenting the air while his colossal frame moved like a blur, his coat radiating an eerie, unnatural luminescence.

One eye, burning with a crimson, chaotic fervor, and the remaining pair, glowing with an intense emerald light, thoroughly scanned the battlefield.

“Sniff, sniff!”

The 「Seed of Madness」 embedded within his core vibrated in alignment with the abyssal invaders, steering him directly toward their origin point.

—The obliterated remains of Demoniac’s headquarters.

A region now completely claimed by the pale legions, utterly devoid of any native denizens.

*Whoosh—*

Standing amidst a sea of dissolving carcasses,

…a man stood motionless with his eyes closed, hands brought together in solemn prayer. He held a radiant blade, his wings of pure light extended, maintaining a sacred perimeter that repelled the oppressive malice of the Demon World.

His eyelids snapped open, unleashing a brilliant golden radiance that rivaled the sun itself.

—High above the canopy, where the landscape shrunk to a miniature scale,

*Goooo—*

…an individual encased in high-tech mechanized armor hovered, propulsion units firing to maintain altitude.

He raised his right arm—the sole limb left uncovered by the metallic chassis—and the dark, stained linens bound tightly around it unraveled, drifting away into the wind.

Revealed beneath were complex geometric seals and the image of a coiling black dragon etched into the flesh…

…a sight that practically radiated impending doom.

The armored figure exhaled a quiet breath, his tone remaining perfectly level.

“…Locate him.”

[“Grrrr—!”]

Following the brief directive, the Dark Soul sealed within—the lingering fragment of a former Demon King—was set loose, its terrifying roar echoing across the violet skies of the Demon World.

—And finally, the last coordinate.

“Sniff!”

A young, fair-haired youth who appeared no older than seven wiped at his nose.

The atmospheric quality here was wretched, thoroughly toxic, but lacking the fragile constitution of a High Elf, he could tolerate the discomfort for the time being.

*Flash—!*

A brilliant burst of light heralded the arrival of a dragon roughly the proportions of a vehicle.

The sphere cradled in its jaws radiated an intense light, and its physical form began to rapidly expand, its dimensions multiplying.

‘…I cannot fathom what lineage that dragon belongs to…’

However, dragons possessed an innate methodology for tracking one another, transcending tribal divisions.

It was an evolutionary necessity designed to preserve global equilibrium.

Granted, the efficacy would be dampened considering the target was no longer a conventional dragon, but it provided more than enough clarity to isolate an approximate sector.

He was far from the only hunter on the trail.

—

Hella, who had been deep in concentration, abruptly opened her eyes.

Rising to her feet, she loosened her muscles with a quick stretch and began walking with purpose.

“Hella-nim? Where are you heading?”

Siana, who had been buried under administrative work, scrambled to keep pace with her leader.

Her panic was understandable; Hella had been sitting like a statue for an extended period, only to suddenly spring into motion without warning.

Casting a brief look back, Hella instructed evenly,

“Inform the commanders to secure their positions. My absence will be brief.”

“…What?”

A confident smile graced Hella’s lips as Siana stared back, completely bewildered.

“I have pinpointed his location.”

Tracking down Krushaior had proven immensely difficult due to his active efforts to mask his signature.

She had deployed numerous scrying techniques to no avail, failing to secure a definitive lock.

Yet absolute concealment was an impossibility when hunted by an array of specialists, each employing entirely distinct methodologies.

A mental map of the Demon World crystallized within her consciousness.

Suddenly, seven distinct tracking vectors converged flawlessly onto a singular destination.

Though they had originated from vastly different sectors and utilized entirely different tracking disciplines, their combined data cross-referenced perfectly to reveal the truth.

A single set of coordinates.

‘…Let us discover what he is plotting.’

Scarcely an hour had elapsed since she had triggered 「Avatar Assembly」 and entered her meditative state.