Chapter 911: Trading
"You seven will come with me," Hazon ordered, his massive clawed hand pointing toward Vlad, Freya, Ouroboros, and four of the Nightmare Eyes.
"The rest will follow me," Barkial added curtly, gesturing to Jormungandr, Fafnir, and Overlord.
The eyes of the True Depravitas and Overlord narrowed as those words sank in. All the other teams had remained intact—yet theirs was being deliberately split apart. It wasn’t difficult to understand why.
Vlad had already attracted too much attention. He hadn’t conquered one or two Sectors, but three, and the feat was spreading like wildfire among the forces gathered here. More dangerous still, it was no secret that he could fuse with the small yellow cat. That union had elevated him to terrifying heights.
In his last battle, Vlad had defeated a Sector Master alone, proving he wielded the might of a Half-Step Lord. If he fused with Jormungandr, the True Depravita of Wrath might reach a level of strength capable of challenging even Hazon or Barkial themselves—and that was something no Devil Lord would allow to go unchecked.
Vlad’s eyes sharpened for a moment, his wrathful aura flickering around him. But then, unexpectedly, a small smile curved his lips. He nodded to his companions, silently signaling them to comply. He could still fuse with Freya and Ouroboros if necessary, and with those two alone, his strength would surpass Hazon’s.
That would ensure their survival. As for the others, Jormungandr had already become a True Sun Depravita, and with his newfound might he could at least hold his ground against Barkial if things went wrong. And with Overlord among them, even a Devil Lord could be deceived or manipulated if the timing was right.
The two Devil Lords, satisfied with his compliance, showed faint smiles of superiority. Yet they wasted no time basking in it. Nebolex had granted them only four months to locate the Primordial God’s corpse, and failure meant death. Even they could not withstand the hunger of the Lord who commanded them.
They exchanged a brief nod before surging into the air, their colossal forms blazing as they split the army and led each half in opposite directions across the fractured dimension.
Vlad’s eyes were sharp as he turned toward the hellish horizon. His true goal here was not to please Nebolex, but to uncover information about the portal leading to the Zanis Homeworld. Still, this place reeked of danger. He could not afford distraction.
And his instincts proved right.
Not even ten minutes into their march, shapes emerged from the burning skies above—a murder of monstrous, nightmarish birds, each one larger than a warship. Their forms were tangled masses of feathers and writhing shadows. Their wings beat with the sound of cracking bones, and their gaping beaks revealed skeletal jaws dripping with sickly, unnatural light. Dozens of glowing eyes burned within the black of their bodies, each gleaming with insatiable hunger.
They looked like some twisted mutation of crows, birthed from the womb of nightmare itself. And the instant they spotted the Devils, they shrieked and dove.
Hazon’s gaze narrowed. He studied the creatures for a single instant and saw only feral madness in their eyes. There was no reason, no wisdom—only hunger. That made the decision simple.
"Kill them all," he roared.
His body swelled with fire and wrath, burning brighter and hotter until his full form burst forth. He transformed into a towering devil of fire, a living volcano of hatred. His colossal frame was veined with molten magma, his volcanic-red skin armored in jagged black scales.
Enormous wings unfurled behind him, cloaked in ash and flame, while two twisted horns jutted upward like infernal crowns. His eyes blazed like suns, and his very presence set the earth ablaze. Stone cracked beneath his weight, the skies scorched under his aura.
It was clear he had walked a path similar to Nebolex himself—nurturing his flesh and blood until his body became a fortress of unstoppable power. He was more than eager to lead the charge against such beasts, not for the good of the group, but because he could feel the vital energy pulsing within their bodies.
The rest of the Devils wasted no time.
They launched forward with bloodlust, each seeking to claim prey for themselves. Vlad, Freya, Ouroboros, and the Nightmare Eyes were no exception. They fought with terrible efficiency, but even as they struck, their A.I. Chips were analyzing the movements of the other Devils—recording battle styles, techniques, weaknesses. Every clash was not only a fight, but an opportunity to learn.
The battle was fierce, but brief. The mutated crows, though terrifying, were feral. Their strength was considerable, but without strategy, they were picked apart. One by one they were cut down, their corpses raining onto the scorched earth below.
When the last shriek faded into silence, the Devils descended upon the bodies.
Wide smiles broke across their faces as they inspected the corpses. The vitality running through the creatures was thick, potent, and strangely compatible with their own infernal energies. Some even muttered that it felt purer than the Origin Force itself. Greed quickly flickered in their eyes.
And then that greed shifted, converging on Vlad.
After Hazon, Vlad had claimed the most prey. Unlike the Devil Lord, however, he was a target they believed they might actually overpower if they struck together.
The True Depravita of Wrath felt their stares like knives on his back. But instead of bristling, his smile widened.
"Is anyone," Vlad said lightly, his voice cutting through the tension, "interested in trading?"
The words struck like thunder into the eyes of the Devils.
The Devils’ eyes narrowed. Fighting now would be dangerous and reckless. They had no idea what else lurked in this dimension, and to start tearing each other apart so early would weaken them all. Yet the thought of seizing Vlad’s trophies tempted them.
Trading was actually very common in Hell, so if there was a chance to acquire them without bloodshed, it might be worth considering.