Chapter 516: Dragon's Claw
The suburbs of Isdalia trembled beneath the thunderous clatter of a steam locomotive racing along the tracks, belching thick clouds of white steam.
“WooOOOooOOO—”
The whistle shrieked, piercing and urgent.
Suddenly, a voice trembled from the carriage, pointing forward:
“Wait— what… what is that?”
Through the swirling mist of steam, a massive shadow loomed ahead—suddenly, abruptly, blocking the train’s path.
Instantly, soldiers aboard the train reacted. Rifles snapped up, firing in rapid succession as they shouted:
“Damned! Demons!”
“Stop the train! Now!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gunfire erupted in a furious barrage—but the shadow remained unmoved. Instead, a low, guttural laugh echoed from within, chilling and unnatural.
“Hehehe… hehehe…”
The train driver fumbled frantically, slamming the lever down to its lowest setting.
“It won’t stop! Braking distance is too short!”
“Whirrrrr—”
Metal screeched as brake shoes bit hard into the wheels, sparks of ember flying from the rails beneath the carriage. The entire train shuddered violently, throwing every passenger into chaos. Screams erupted from all sides.
“What’s happening?!”
“Did we crash?!”
“BOOM!”
A deafening explosion split the air—metal groaned, glass shattered, and human cries merged into a cacophony of terror. The locomotive’s front end was ripped upward, flipping into the sky, dragging the rest of the carriages into violent, uncontrollable swaying. Passengers tumbled, slammed into walls, and piled together in a writhing mass, their shouts drowned in panic.
“Stop! Stop it!”
“Help me!”
“What is this?!”
At last, the shadow revealed its true form.
Before them stood a monstrous creature—vast, spider-like, with three clawed, tentacle-like tails that writhed with unnatural distortion. Eight legs, each connected by thick, pulsing membranes of flesh, ended in sharp, cold-spined tips that gleamed like blades. Its maw was a gaping, fanged maw, dripping with thick, viscous, foul-smelling saliva that sizzled as it ate through the train’s steel hull.
Its many compound eyes locked onto the terrified passengers, glowing with an insatiable, ravenous hunger.
This was the Batwing Spider Demon—a creature that devoured anything it defeated. Unlike most demons that preferred fresh flesh, the Batwing Spider Demon relished rotting, decayed meat—especially the corpses of other demons. The curse embedded in its bite was its favorite seasoning. But its true delight? Cannibalism among kin.
“W-what… what is that?!”
“By Kai Xiusu!”
“My eyes… what have I seen? It’s… it’s impossible!”
The sight was too horrific for many. Those with weak wills collapsed into madness, their eyes flashing with chaotic light. Others, overwhelmed by revulsion, vomited uncontrollably in the carriage.
As Lower Abyss denizens, Batwing Spider Demons bore appearances so grotesquely unnatural that even the soul recoiled. In their presence, grass withered, trees decayed into rot, and the earth itself became a swamp of crawling maggots and stagnant, foul water.
“Sssssss—”
One of its spined legs pierced the train’s side like a spear, impaling the driver in his seat. Blood sprayed across the window, splattering the glass. The man screamed—a raw, guttural wail of agony.
The demon withdrew its leg, dragging the still-living, writhing man through the air. Thick, sticky saliva poured from its maw, drenching the man’s body. Within mere breaths, the flesh began to rot, liquefying into a formless, putrid mass.
The demon devoured it with ease, its mouthparts grinding the decayed flesh into pulp. Then, it thrust its spines back into the carriage, eager to drag out more prey.
“Crack!”
The glass shattered. The leg shot through the opening, seizing a Tiefling passenger mid-air.
“Help! Please!”
“I don’t want to die!”
The passenger flailed wildly, screaming for mercy—but his struggles were useless.
“Sproooosh!”
The demon’s saliva enveloped him, sealing him in a sticky, suffocating cocoon. With a single, effortless motion, it pulled him into its maw.
The feeding was effortless—like a child scooping candy from a jar.
“Let us out!”
“I don’t want to die!”
Inside the wrecked carriage, survivors screamed in terror, pressing against the entrance, pounding on the bent, crushed metal. They clawed at the door, desperate to escape.
“Bang! Bang-bang!”
Soldiers fired again and again—but their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the demon’s thick, armored carapace.
“Nina… don’t be afraid.”
“Don’t speak. King Kai Xiusu will bless us.”
A Tiefling mother clutched her child close, hiding in the corner. Her body trembled, but she forced herself to stay calm—out of duty, not fear. Yet that very effort drew the demon’s attention.
For Deep Abyss demons, the suffering of humanoids was their finest feast. And nothing pleased a Batwing Spider Demon more than watching a mother lose her child.
“Creeeaaak…”
A terrible sound—metal tearing.
The roof of the carriage was ripped open like a tin can. The demon had peeled it back with its claws, exposing everyone beneath its ravenous gaze.
Panic surged. The crowd pressed together, trapped, their eyes wide with despair.
The mother held her child tighter, feeling the demon’s gaze settle on her. She closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer.
“Kai Xiusu above…”
She had lived through the massacre decades ago. She had wandered with Meizhuolashi, witnessed the Empire rise from ashes. She believed. No matter the enemy—no matter how powerful—her King would lead them to victory. Even this monstrous beast, this creature of ruin, was no match for His Majesty.
The demon let out a rasping laugh, slowly extending one of its fleshy, clawed legs. The poison spines glistened with cold, deadly light.
Inside the carriage, hope was gone. The rifles, the bullets—they were useless against such a horror.
All that remained was a desperate prayer for a miracle.
Then—space itself twisted.
A searing blast of fire tore through the air, and a rift in reality split open mid-sky.
“Huh?”
The Batwing Spider Demon recoiled, its three distortion-tailed limbs trembling. It sensed danger—something wrong, something ancient. Instinct screamed: Flee!
It flapped its bat-like wings, trying to rise into the sky—what lay beyond the portal?
But it would never know.
From the rift, a colossal red claw erupted—massive, terrifying, impossibly strong. It slammed down with unstoppable force, crushing the demon’s head like a stone on a bug.
“BOOM!”
The earth cracked. The ground collapsed in a massive crater, stretching dozens of meters wide. The demon’s body was pulverized. Its viscous fluids, rotting flesh, and ichor were scattered across the battlefield—then instantly incinerated by the inferno that followed.
“Kai Xiusu above…”
The Tiefling mother opened her eyes, her gaze filled with awe and reverence.
She looked up—into the sky.
There, the red claw, immense and powerful, covered the earth. The arm that bore it was thick, veined with muscle, like a living pillar of stone.
She was alive.
And she had been saved—by His Majesty himself.
Only the Emperor of the Ashen Flame could stand so tall that even mortals could only gaze upward in awe.
“Long live Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
“Loyal to the Great Red Dragon!”
“Is that… really King Kai Xiusu?!”
The survivors, shaken but alive, finally realized who had saved them. The terror of moments before vanished—replaced by ecstatic worship.
The red claw gave a casual flick, shaking off the remains like dust. Then, with a silent snap, it vanished back into the rift.
Only the crater remained—filled with the charred remains of the demon.
The people fell to their knees, praying, bowing before the pit.
“Disgusting things…”
Kai Xiusu exhaled through his nostrils, a plume of sulfur-scented white smoke curling into the air. He sneered.
“Even the Bottomless Abyss can produce things that ruin my aesthetic. I thought the Judgment Soul Demon was bad enough—but this? Even a dragon feels sickened by it.”
The Red Dragon shook his claw again, flames roaring around his limb, incinerating every last trace of flesh and filth.
It was like a man swatting a cockroach—complete dominance, yet still a wave of disgust.
Another spatial rift opened.
An Ogre, breathless and battered, stumbled through, collapsing to one knee before the dragon.
Kai Xiusu asked: “Status?”
Lanpu saluted. “Master, the Empire’s internal demons caused casualties, but we’ve mostly cleared them out.”
He waved a hand, and a series of magical images appeared in the air—each showing a different demon: twisted, monstrous, powerful.
They had ravaged cities, villages, wildlands. But each was swiftly destroyed by elite forces.
There, in the images, were Misha, Anthony, Alje, Meizhuolashi, even Lanpu himself, fighting with ferocity.
Lanpu’s expression hardened. “For nearly ten thousand years, that Revenant Demon has hidden seeds across the Anzeta Great Wasteland. These attacks were not random—they targeted railways, armories, key infrastructure. They’re not just destroying. They’re disrupting. I suspect the Revenant Demon has unleashed all his forces to draw our attention—to cover his next move.”
Kai Xiusu’s pale golden eyes flared.
“You think the Deep Abyss invasion is beginning?”
Lanpu nodded gravely.
“In my judgment, the vanished Leo Bosk may have returned—among the demon army. And the Revenant Demon himself… may be descending into the Prime Material Plane.”
Kai Xiusu nodded slowly. He had suspected as much.
Last month, he had spent three wishes from the Fire Giant Empire to glimpse the future. But every time, beyond a certain point, the visions dissolved into a chaotic, meaningless swirl of color.
The Wish Spell was the most powerful of the Nine-Ring Spells—unyielding, absolute. If it could be disrupted, only one thing could block it: Semi-Divine Power, or higher.
And Kai Xiusu knew exactly what was behind the distortion.
Jelrazaks.
The demon sealed within Karex’s Divine Body. The Abyssal Lord from millennia past—whose goals might shape the fate of the multiverse itself.
“Finally…”
Kai Xiusu’s voice was calm—but in his eyes, a spark of undeniable excitement burned.
The moment had come.
For this day, he had waited too long. And so, he knew, had the demon.
The Red Dragon lifted his head, gazing into the distance.
His pupils—deep, ancient—flared with a blinding light.
His gaze pierced nearly a thousand miles across the Savidra Plain, through the towering Anstica Mountains, until it reached the tallest peak of all.
Mount Tiel.
The sky was blue. The wind was cold.
The highest mountain in the Anzeta Great Wasteland, forever crowned in snow, yet revealing vast stretches of black rock beneath.
To the people of the Northern Regions, it was known as the “King of the Snowy Mountains.” For centuries, every ruler of the Northern Union Kingdom had called themselves by its name—claiming supremacy through its majesty.
But not him.
The Red Dragon Emperor needed no such symbol. His existence was the divine.
“Whooosh—”
The wind grew fiercer. A high-pitched, metallic shriek split the air. The azure sky darkened.
A massive black claw tore open the heavens—ripping through the sky and earth, creating deep, spiraling vortexes. From within, a tide of demons surged forth.
They came like waves—so many, so vile, they darkened the sun. Their twisted forms blocked the light, casting the world into shadow.
They screamed—raw, hateful cries that echoed through the mountains, shaking every mortal soul.
A deep, guttural voice rose from the abyss:
“Kai Xiusu—”
“I know you’re watching. But soon, you’ll learn… every struggle is useless. Your Empire? A toy. I’ll let you witness with your own eyes as it is destroyed. Prepare for—your final fate.”
From the vortex: Frothmaw, Bagulam, Giant Ox Demon, Shi Hun Demon, Frenzied Warrior Demon, Judgment Soul Demon, Batwing Spider Demon—dozens of powerful, familiar horrors, each one having struck the Empire before.
But this time, they came not alone. They came in hordes.
The tide of demons covered the sky. The earth.
There were millions. More than the entire population of the Empire of Ashen.
Then—silence.
And from the center of the chaos, a figure stepped forward.
A humanoid. Skin like burning embers. Tall, powerful, with bat-like wings spread behind him.
He gripped a Flame Sword, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
“I’m back.”
He spoke the name—long forgotten, long buried.
“Northern Regions.”
In the Empire of Ashen, that name was now a curse. A joke. A slur.
When drunkards quarreled in taverns, they’d insult each other: “Northern Regions coward!” “You’re just a worm from the old nobility!”
The demon’s eyes burned with fury.
“You, traitorous scum. You, barbaric monsters. You, crawlers who destroyed everything I had…”
His voice cracked with venom.
“I will destroy you. Your armies. Your cities. Your homes. I’ll make you feel every pain I felt. Every loss. Every moment of despair.”
The demon—Leo Bosk—spoke.
(End of Chapter)
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