Chapter 891: Become Devils
"March into Hell."
Excitement and dread alike rippled through the assembly. For the first time since the monstrous claw appeared, there was a way forward. The mission sounded deceptively simple: find the portal in Hell that linked to the Zanis Homeworld, enter the heart of the enemy world through it, and destroy the origin of the scarlet force field.
Once it fell, the Graecian Empire’s full might could flood the heart of the Zanis Homeworld, the White Death could crush Pompeyo’s soul, and the empire could prevent the arrival of the alien horror waiting beyond the veil.
But though the goal was clear, every step toward it was riddled with peril.
First: Hell itself.
The infernal realm was vast beyond comprehension. Each of its layers was larger than Graecia or even Valhalla and had many subdimensions. To find a single portal within that endless expanse was like searching for a grain of sand in a desert of fire.
Second: Hell’s nature.
The energy and Laws of that realm were toxic to beings of the Light. Even seasoned Legends could endure its corruption only for a limited time before their bodies and souls began to fracture. This was why Hell had never been conquered, why even Graecia’s strongest had only dared short expeditions into it.
Third: the Devils.
To them, anything not of Hell was prey. Even the White Death himself would be torn apart if he faced an entire layer alone. No army, no champion could stand against the full hunger of Hell.
The list of obstacles continued, and with each realization, the room grew heavier. The warriors of Graecia understood that their path, though simple in outline, was obscured by impossible dangers, and while there were answers to those problems, all of them were far from perfect.
The White Death studied the grim expressions and gave a soft nod. It was good they understood. The truth was that even he had no clear solution to all those problems—he had called them here hoping that among them, a solution might be born.
He broke the silence.
"There is one advantage," he said. "I have learned the identity of the Devil Lord the Xaos King slew. His name was Acrox, and he hailed from the Third Layer of Hell. Devil Lords are territorial by nature. It stands to reason the portal must be there."
Relief flickered in the chamber. One layer. It was still unimaginably vast, but it narrowed the search by a lot. A step forward in the darkness.
Yet the problems remained. How to enter? How to survive? How to reach the portal without drawing Hell’s wrath?
As minds burned for answers, Overlord stepped forward. His aura rose like a storm, drawing every gaze. Even the White Death turned to him with expectation.
Overlord was no ordinary strategist. The A.I. Chip Clone had already proven himself a genius beyond measure, blending logic with imagination in ways none could match. When he spoke, every ear strained to catch his words.
"A full invasion into Hell would be a disaster," he began. "The Empire’s armies must remain here, consolidating their grip on the Zanis Homeworld. They must be ready to strike the moment the scarlet field falls. Sending a single shock squad of Legends might seem better, but it would fail. Devils would swarm from every direction. Worse, once they learned what we sought, they would hide the portal or force us into bargains no one could accept."
The assembly nodded grimly. His logic was flawless. Anticipation grew—what solution could he possibly have?
"The best path forward is infiltration," Overlord continued. "We must march into the Third Layer of Hell not as alien invaders, not as spies, not even as scouts. We must march as Devils, as part of the infernal realm."
The words struck like thunder. Frowns deepened. Marshal Maximo voiced what all were thinking.
"Disguising ourselves as Devils is nearly impossible. Our souls are fundamentally different. Even if we masked our forms enough to deceive their eyes, the energies of Hell would still corrode us. We could not endure for long."
Overlord turned to him calmly and shook his head.
"I do not mean disguise. I mean transformation. We will not appear as Devils—we will become Devils. Or close enough that even the Lords of Hell and Hell’s Laws themselves will not tell the difference."
Shock spread across the hall. Legends who had faced gods and monsters felt their hearts falter. To transform into another race entirely? Madness. And yet, Overlord was not a man to speak empty madness. If anyone could make the impossible real, it was him.
The White Death’s eyes narrowed, gleaming with interest. "Explain."
Overlord inclined his head respectfully.
"With my abilities as a Genetic Coder, and with the corpses of the Legendary Devils I have collected, I can alter more than flesh. I can change the structure of the body, the genome itself, and even reshape the soul-dimension. The result will be a true metamorphosis—humans reborn as Devils, indistinguishable from the natives of Hell."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Even the True Depravitas stared in awe. Vlad and the rest felt a chill—they had known Overlord’s skill with genetics was prodigious, but to think it extended this far... this was beyond genius. His skill had surpassed the realm of legends and reached into the divine.
Still, awe soon gave way to unease. Altharion voiced what all were thinking. "Such drastic transformations must carry a price."
The White Death nodded at his son’s words. "Corruption."
Overlord nodded. "Yes. A normal human’s soul would be stained. Their mind twisted, their ego warped until they no longer remembered what they once were. But..." He turned, and his eyes locked on the True Depravitas.
"...a True Depravita is different. Their bodies and souls are extensions of their essence. No matter how much corruption surrounds them, their core cannot be altered. Even twisted into the shape of a Devil, their minds will remain their own. And when the task is done, the transformation can be undone easily."