https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-692-Brave-Assault-on-the-Bronze-Fortress/13677570/
Chapter 693: Plague Hell
“This is the treasure you claimed—something worth as much as twenty Mortal Spiritual Souls?”
In the dim alleyway, DevilStare stood before an ancient, weathered clay jar, his brow furrowed, his expression grim as he stared at the small Devil.
Dick chuckled nervously, sweat beading on his brow. “Master Yulier, how could I ever deceive you? You’re the Master of Mordin Casino—within the Twelve Rings of the Bronze Bastion, who dares disrespect you?”
Yulier shot him a cold glance, then gave a subtle signal. Instantly, the air above Dick crackled with dread—bone-chilling, spine-tingling cracks echoed from overhead as two towering, monstrous Shadows descended, enveloping the tiny Devil.
The creatures were grotesque: humanoid forms stripped of flesh, their skeletons wrapped tightly in desiccated, leathery skin. Their heads were bone-like skulls, their tails long and barbed like scorpion stingers. A foul, rotting aura clung to them, swirling in the air like poisoned breath.
Each segment of their long, segmented tails was made of bone, ending in a massive, jagged hook—gleaming coldly in the dim light.
Dick collapsed to the ground, scrambling on all fours, trembling uncontrollably. “T-That’s… the legendary Bone Demon Scythe Soldiers! I-I heard Mordin Casino keeps eighteen of them! They pierce the hearts of Devils who default on their debts, dragging out their Spiritual Souls!”
Bone Demons, also known as Ose Demons, were among the most powerful Lower-Level Demons—driven by hatred, greed, and envy to serve as brutal overseers in the Nine Hells. And the Scythe Soldiers were the elite among them.
Even here, at the outermost layer of the Twelve Rings of the Bronze Bastion, their mere presence was enough to make any reckless gambler tremble in fear.
Crack… crack…
The monstrous tail swayed before Dick, poised to strike at any moment.
Yulier stepped forward, bowing slightly, offering a smile that was anything but friendly. “Dick… those who deceive me always die horribly. Like your friend Claude—the pathetic Thorn Devil, now nothing more than a bone artifact.”
Dick trembled violently on the ground, his voice cracking with terror. “M-Master… I swear, I’m not lying! That jar… it really is priceless!”
As if to confirm his words, the face of the jar suddenly flared to life, glowing with intricate, unnatural patterns.
From its mouth, thick black smoke billowed into the air, coalescing into dozens of blurred, terrified faces. They screamed silently, mouths agape, eyes wide with panic.
“Help me! Help me—!”
The waves of anguish and despair surged outward, threatening to drown everything in their wake.
“Such intense Soul Power!” Yulier’s face lit up with greed, his eyes narrowing as he turned to the jar. In his dark pupils, hunger burned—raw, unbridled desire.
In his mind’s eye, he saw thousands of Mortal Spiritual Souls trapped within that jar—far more than the twenty Dick had claimed.
“Just a petty little Devil… how utterly blind,” Yulier thought, ecstasy flooding his veins.
If he offered these souls to the Ruler of the Twelve Rings of the Bronze Bastion, could he ascend? Could he become an Upper-Level Demon—free from ever dealing with these filthy gamblers again?
Dick, too, was consumed by greed—but he whispered, “Master Yulier… you know why I didn’t bring this jar straight to the Inner Ring, right? A weak Devil like me? If I walked around with this, I’d draw every predator in the Hells to my doorstep.”
“Excellent,” Yulier laughed, already lost in thought. He no longer cared about Dick. His eyes were locked on the jar, his steps quick, urgent, drawn forward by the intoxicating aura of souls.
Even the two Bone Demon Scythe Soldiers were transfixed. Their jaws drooled thick, stinking saliva. Their massive tails swayed slowly, like serpents in anticipation.
Crack… crack…
The alley fell silent. The air grew thick, heavy—almost solid.
Though Hell’s hierarchy was rigid, every Devil dreamed of ascension. Every one sought to devour their superior, to seize power at any cost. And before them lay thousands of Mortal Spiritual Souls—proof of a path to Upper-Level Demonhood.
Worse still, Yulier was no higher than they were. No rank difference. Only a Pact and a duty bound them. No loyalty. No hesitation. Betrayal was effortless.
Sensing their thoughts, Yulier’s eyes flashed with malice. His voice dropped to a whisper, sharp as a blade.
“Hmph. Foolish hounds of evil. You truly think I have no power to crush you? I am your Master. I am the Controller of Mordin Casino.”
Swish—
Yulier’s long robe swept aside, and from within it, two yellowed Skull Heads emerged.
He began to chant—rasping, vile, filled with venomous hatred.
“Aaaah—!”
The skeletons’ faces twisted in agony. They screamed, mouths stretched wide, their bones cracking. The Bone Demons howled in pain, clutching their heads, their forms writhing.
Yulier slowly crushed the skulls in his palm, cracks spiderwebbing across their surfaces.
A cruel smile curled his lips, dripping with sulfuric stench.
“I wanted you to be my eternal hounds, bound to me forever… to enter the Inner Ring with me. But you… you’re just stupid.”
With a brutal kick, he shattered the skulls beneath his boot.
The Bone Demons shrieked—then collapsed, their massive bodies dissolving into a cloud of white ash.
Yulier stepped forward, his expression ecstatic. He carefully lifted the jar, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of fear and despair.
“Perfect… perfect! So rich, so pure… such a magnificent Spiritual Soul!” He caressed the jar’s surface like a lover, fingertips tracing the engraved markings.
Then—his gaze froze.
There, in the corner, was a strange emblem.
“Wait… that’s… Bair’s mark?”
His face paled. Panic surged through him.
No… what’s wrong with me?
Why had he so easily killed his most loyal subordinates? Why had he touched this cursed object without even a ward?
It’s a spell…
He’d been enchanted—his mind clouded by greed, blinded by lust for power.
He tried to drop the jar—but his body was frozen. An invisible force bound him in place, unable to move.
Yulier’s composure shattered. He spun around, eyes blazing with fury.
“Damned little Devil! You lied to me!”
“No… it wasn’t just you,” he whispered, realization dawning.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
A towering figure loomed over him—massive, muscular, his body armored in jagged Dragon Scales. He stared down with a grin, rows of white teeth bared.
A fist, as large as a cauldron, shot forward—shattering every Evil Protective Spell on Yulier’s body.
Boom!
“Let go of me, you vermin! I am the Controller of Mordin Casino! When my subordinates come for you, you’ll wish you’d never been born!”
“Still talking big while tied up? Hit him again!”
Boom!
“Don’t you fear the Patrol Unit of Zaril’s men? When they arrive, you’ll be finished!”
“Hah! We’ve got Bair’s own Hellish Magic Barrier. You can scream until your throat bursts—no one will hear.”
Boom! Boom!
“Gentlemen, we could be allies. Friends. Partners. Don’t you want endless wealth? Unimaginable power? Just let me go—let’s talk!”
“What? You’re a prisoner, and you dare speak to us like an equal? Keep hitting him!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
“Master… I was wrong! I shouldn’t have coveted your treasure! Please… spare me! I—I—and the entire Mordin Casino—will cooperate fully!”
“Just moments ago, you were so defiant. Now you beg? Something’s wrong. He’s hiding something. Really hurt him. Let him feel pleasure.”
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
“Ah, and this too…”
“No—wait! What are you—? I’ll cooperate! Please, don’t—Aaaah!”
The sound of flesh sizzling filled the air, mingling with Yulier’s screams.
Langli BaiTiao grinned fiercely, pressing a red-hot iron into Yulier’s chest. The mark of Bair burned crimson, pulsing with fire.
“Damn… that’s disgusting,” Lucky Emperor muttered, shuddering at the sight. He resolved then and there to stay far away from this man.
Even Darknight Wolf, Langli BaiTiao’s loyal disciple, took a few steps back, putting distance between himself and the torturer.
“These people… they’re the most twisted, ruthless Devils I’ve ever seen. Never, ever cross them.”
Dick, locked in a cage, watched Yulier’s punishment with grim satisfaction—but the sight still made him tremble with fear.
Yet the bloodlust in his soul made him peek again… and again… fascinated, horrified.
“M-Master… I surrender. I’ll serve you. I’ll help Bair return…”
Yulier, now battered and bleeding, looked utterly broken—no trace of the proud Casino Master he once was.
And beneath Langli BaiTiao’s cruel amusement, something unnatural had been forced inside him. His eyes flickered with unnatural lust.
Langli BaiTiao held up a thick, blood-stained root, grinning as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Heh… my Torture Water just got stronger. Nothing beats practice.”
He glanced at his comrades’ stunned expressions. “What? What’s wrong with you all? I’m the former Chief of Empire Nocturne’s forces. Isn’t this normal?”
He swung the massive rod toward the bound Devil.
Yulier flinched, collapsing to his knees. “Please… I yield!”
“See? I’ve tamed him. Perfect obedience.”
Langli BaiTiao puffed out his chest, triumphant.
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang stepped forward, silent for a moment, then placed a hand on Langli BaiTiao’s shoulder.
“Langli BaiTiao… don’t let this become an obsession. I know you’ve had trauma in the past, but you can’t take it out on others. Gaming is about fun—keep a healthy mindset.”
“Trauma? What the hell are you talking about?” Langli BaiTiao snapped, face flushing red.
He spun around, glaring at the quivering Devil, raising the rod.
“Now—what’s your method? How can we smuggle us into the Inner Ring?”
“Y-Yes! Yes, Master!” Yulier gasped, desperate. “There’s a hidden passage in my casino—used only by an important figure in the Inner Ring. It leads straight to the Fourth Ring.”
“Who’s this figure?”
“Valerius Edwards. He’s a loyalist of Zaril. The Commander of the Thirteenth Army. A deeply powerful Forgemaster of the Lower Hells.”
“Wait—look! The quest log just updated!”
“B-class Side Quest: Assassinate Valerius Edwards! Reward: 32,000 gold coins… 300,000 Faction Contribution!”
The four Players’ eyes lit up. Excitement, euphoria—pure ecstasy.
Yulier had expected awe at the name “Valerius Edwards.” Instead, he saw only hunger—like predators spotting prey.
His vision blurred. Darkness crept in.
“Where’s the hidden passage?” Langli BaiTiao crouched down, his gaze icy, piercing. “Tell me—how does it work? We need you as our guide. You’ll lead us in person.”
Yulier hesitated. “Once we’re inside… can I leave?”
Langli BaiTiao smiled—friendly, warm. “Of course. We Nocturne people—we value honesty. We value trust.”
“…Yes.”
“Of course, you’ll need to sign a Pact. Without it, who’d trust a Devil?”
Langli BaiTiao pulled out an old, yellowed parchment.
“This is a Pact personally crafted by Bair. Should be enough.”
He handed it over. “Sign here. Once it’s signed, we’re all in the same boat. Then I can trust you.”
Yulier exhaled in relief. “Good. I’ll draft it right away—no mistakes.”
“Not needed,” Langli BaiTiao said, smirking. “We already have it.”
Yulier stared at the parchment—covered in tiny, dense text. He knew too well what such contracts meant. Traps. Hidden clauses. Blood oaths.
He, who had spent centuries luring Mortals into ruin, now stood frozen—silent.
This man, a mere mortal from the Material Plane… was better at being a Devil than he was.
And all across the Bronze Fortress, traces of Players appeared—souls without bodies, barging into the Hells, bringing chaos wherever they went.
(End of Chapter)
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