Chapter 913: Facing a Demon Lord alone
The wound was horrifying, a jagged gash that would have killed most beings instantly. But Hazon’s body was the body of a Devil Lord that focused on flesh and power, a fortress of living flame. His hand blazed, fire so immense that the very air ignited. He refused to yield, instead driving his burning fist straight into the monstrous furnace-maw that gaped in the Demon Lord’s chest.
A scream tore from the Demon Lord, raw and guttural. Yet the might of the Demon Race was not so easily broken. He clenched his fanged jaws, fury burning in his molten eyes, and slammed his horned skull into Hazon’s face. Bone cracked, sparks flew, and both titans staggered before roaring again and colliding once more.
It was a melee of primal brutality—no technique, no strategy, just wrath against wrath, strength against strength.
And it was not the only battle.
The moment their masters clashed, both armies surged. Devils and Demons lunged at each other in a frenzy, filling the broken pyramid with a storm of claws, blades, and blood. The walls trembled beneath the carnage, murals of long-forgotten sacrifice shattering as the two hordes ripped into one another.
Vlad’s foe emerged from the chaos, a towering grotesque of flesh and bone. His pallid, corpse-like skin was torn with pulsating wounds that bled a fiery glow. Jagged black horns jutted from his skull, while twisted plates of organic armor melded into his flesh like a crown of spikes. Chains of barbed metal hung from his limbs, rattling as he moved. An aura of torment and decay radiated from him, suffocating and cruel.
The Demon lashed out with his chains, striking with murderous intent.
Vlad’s eyes narrowed, his dark sword moving in precise arcs. He deflected the blows, each clash sending sparks of space-warping energy through the air. Slowly, methodically, he closed the distance.
This opponent was a Half-Step Lord, his power formidable. Against another Devil, he might have been unstoppable. But Vlad knew he could end this fight in moments—if he unleashed Samsara Typhon, if he poured his true strength into the strike. Yet he did not.
Instead, he fought with restraint. He conserved his energy, revealing only enough strength to keep himself just above his enemy. There was no telling what other abominations lurked in this realm, and wasting his trump cards here would be foolish. More importantly, it would not be wise to reveal his true limits before the other Devils.
Chains and sword clashed more than a hundred times. Sparks of space and flame tore through the battlefield. Finally, Vlad slipped inside the Demon’s guard. His blade carved into flesh and muscle, the Laws of Space and Death entwining in a strike that pierced to the bone. The wound seared with black fire, each flicker devouring vitality.
All around them, the larger battle raged. Yet slowly the tide began to turn.
The True Depravitas and the Nightmare Eye Devils cut their way through the battlefield like living calamities. Each one fought with the strength that neared that Half-Step Lord, slaying Superior Legendary Demons with terrifying ease. Corpses fell, one after another, and with each kill the momentum shifted further toward the Devils.
The Demons did not retreat. Unlike Devils, they had no instinct for strategy or long-term gain. They were creatures of fury and madness, willing to throw their lives away for a single chance at a lethal blow. That suicidal drive turned the battlefield into a grinder of blood. Victory was in sight, yet none of the Devils dared rush for glory. A single reckless wound here could spell death later—not from the Demons, but from the hungry gazes of their own allies.
Vlad was different.
He accepted the chains.
They struck his face, his shoulders, his ribs. Flesh cracked, bones split, but he endured it all. With a roar, he drove his blade into the Demon’s heart, flooding its insides with fire from the Law of Death.
The Demon shrieked, a scream that rattled the pyramid’s foundations. Then his body convulsed and fell limp, his eyes fading to lifeless ash.
Vlad ripped his blade free, stored the corpse, and turned without pause. His gaze locked onto another Demon locked in combat with a Devil. In the blink of an eye, he teleported behind it. One slash, one strike, and another corpse fell, vanishing into his space ring before the others could react.
The Devils noticed.
Instead of gratitude, anger and greed burned in their eyes, making it seem as if they were ready to lunge into the True Depravita and bite his neck off. Every corpse Vlad claimed was one less treasure for them, one less source of strength. Their lips curled in silent resentment.
Vlad only smiled, a rueful curve of the mouth. What else could one expect from Devils?
He ignored their glares and continued the slaughter.
"Retreat!"
The roar shook the pyramid. The Demon Lord, locked in savage combat with Hazon, bellowed the order. His voice carried absolute authority, overriding the frenzy of bloodlust. The Demons snarled, teeth grinding, but none dared disobey. One by one, they disengaged, pulling back with reluctant fury.
The Demon Lord gave them cover. With a snarl, he kicked Hazon with all his might, sending the Devil Lord crashing into the cracked floor of the pyramid. The ground split apart, swallowing him in fire and rubble.
Then, rather than simply flee, the Demon Lord turned. His path of retreat aligned perfectly with Vlad’s position. His molten eyes locked onto the True Depravita of Wrath, and hunger burned in their depths. He had no intention of leaving without first claiming a life.
The other Devils fell back instantly, none daring to stand in his way. They would not risk their necks for Vlad.
Hazon did not rise. He remained buried in the pit, unmoving.
The battlefield grew silent except for the rumble of the Demon Lord’s steps. Each one shook the ground, each one radiated killing intent.
And so it was clear.
Vlad would have to face this Demon Lord alone.