Chapter 737 – Lord of Black Waters
The slaughter had raged for three days and three nights.
In Baator’s Hell, there was no sun. Only fire and darkness stretched endlessly across the void. Yet, as a realm embodying the Symbol of Lawful Evil, the blood-red sky still followed the rhythm of day and night, a macabre cycle of light and shadow.
With each thunderous boom of artillery fire, the wasteland before the Bronze Fortress was carved down by several feet. The ground was now a desolate expanse of ash, littered with the remnants of explosions, thick with the stench of demons’ death.
Despite wave after wave of demonic assault, the Hell Legion held their bivouac before the fortress’s unyielding city wall, maintaining their ancient, ironclad discipline.
Meanwhile, the Players darted across the battlefield like vengeful spirits—swarming forward at the sight of an enemy, fearless, reckless, driven by a ferocity even more extreme than that of the demons themselves.
After all, when low-tier demons died, they returned to the Bottomless Abyss—only to be reborn as the lowest form of demon worm, mere food for other abyssal creatures. But for Players, death meant only a loss of experience points. A trivial cost.
Elite regiments of the Empire of Ashen—the Dragon Oath Holy Knights and Dragon Oath Mages—fought fiercely against high-grade demons. Scorching gales clashed with the freezing winds from the Abyss. Blinding columns of white fire pierced through ice walls, reducing frost shamans riding Abyssal dragons to ash in a single, explosive burst.
Misha Piety cried out, her voice trembling with devotion:
“The Lord is staring at us! His golden vertical pupil sees all things beneath the sky! These demons are His trial—our test of faith!”
“For the Dragon Lord!”
The Dragon Oath Mages’ golden eyes blazed with radiant power. From their staves surged a torrent of energy, and dragonfire roared across the earth, reducing countless demons to blackened dust.
Armored in heavy plate and wielding great shields, the Oath of the Dragon Holy Knights stood firm before the Balor Fire Demon.
“The Dragon Lord Above All!”
“Long Live!”
Their unwavering faith coalesced into a colossal phantom dragon—its red scales gleaming, wings outstretched, jaws bared. It clashed midair with the monstrous Balor Fire Demon, a battle of fire against fire, spirit against abyss.
Across the vast wasteland of Avernus, nearly ten million souls were locked in endless slaughter. The earth trembled ceaselessly. The battlefield roared with battle cries, wails of the dying, the thunder of artillery, and the howl of icy winds—each sound layered upon the next, drowning out all reason.
Even the devils—beings far stronger than mortal flesh—felt their eardrums vibrate, their hearing blurred by the sheer cacophony.
Ten million.
What was this number?
It surpassed the total population of every nation on the Feiansuo Continent—except the Empire of Ashen, the Kingdom of Cassander, and the Kingdom of Seleucus—combined. It was as if an entire nation, every man, woman, and child, had poured forth in a single, endless wave.
Every minute, hundreds of soldiers fell. Even the colossal, hundreds-of-meters-long aerospace warships of the Mechanical Divinity seemed insignificant against the scale of this war.
The front line stretched for dozens of kilometers, encircling the Bronze Fortress and its surrounding wasteland like a belt of death. From above, the sea of demons looked like an endless black ocean—endless, relentless, their offensive a tide that never ceased. The boundary between the two forces was the shore.
Now, it was clear: the Avernus Coalition’s defensive line was firm, while the Abyssal Legion was faltering. The dark sea was marred by countless specks of color—Players, moving like insects among the tide.
Millions of demons had already fallen. Hundreds of thousands of Players had died—but still, their numbers showed no sign of dwindling.
Thanks to the Empire of Ashen’s support, the Hell Legion held their ground, repelling the relentless demonic onslaught.
Finally, someone could no longer bear the deteriorating situation.
“Grrrrrr—!”
A low, guttural roar split the sky, layered with countless other sounds—screams of agony, cries of pain, the mournful groans of oppression.
It was a chorus of despair, as if drawn from the souls of a thousand mortals trapped in eternal darkness, embodying every negative emotion imaginable.
All eyes turned toward the source.
A massive, obsidian mountain began to rise from within the demon tide.
“Is that… a mountain?”
“No—demons! That mountain is made of demons!”
“Lord of the Nine Hells… this must be that cursed Abyssal Lord! How can such a demon exist?!”
“Holy hell—this boss’s size is insane!”
“Eww… it looks so disgusting.”
At that moment, both devil soldiers and Players alike were struck with awe, their voices rising in involuntary shock.
It was a demon.
Not just any demon—this one was colossal. Even on the vast battlefield, it was impossible to ignore.
The creature stood nearly two hundred meters tall, a thick, hill-like mass, its entire body coated in thick, viscous black liquid, emitting a stench that poisoned the air.
Only when it drew near did the true horror become clear.
Its massive form was not flesh, but a mass of writhing, whip-like tendrils of influence, covered in bubbling pustules. Thousands of crimson eyes were embedded across its skin—each one blinking, glowing faintly, like distant stars in a pitch-black sky.
Countless whip-like tendrils twisted and lashed around it, each glistening with mucus. Black water dripped from them, splashing with a sickening, squelching sound—like the crushing of internal organs.
This was Ishinix, the Lord of Black Waters—a being born from the Bottomless Abyss, one of the countless unnameable, distorted monsters that dwelled in the depths of the abyss.
Perhaps a corrupted divine body, or a manifestation of chaotic energy, or an experimental creation of some ancient spellcaster.
No one knew.
Its origin had been buried beneath centuries of dust and forgotten time.
From the pustules on its back, winged demons—Rotting Harbingers—emerged, flapping their wings soaked in the same black mucus. They buzzed through the air like insects, darkening half the sky with their unnatural shadow.
Then, countless creatures—formless, slimy, made of thick black mucus—began to sprout from its body, crawling forward. Their semi-transparent forms consumed the filth beneath them, growing larger with every step.
With a deep, guttural roar, the earth trembling beneath it, and the constant oozing of mucus, the “black mountain” began to advance toward the Avernus Coalition’s defensive line—unstoppable, inevitable.
A wave of chaotic aura swept across the battlefield, seeping into the souls of every soldier. Millions of beings trembled, gripped by a primal fear so deep it resonated at the soul level.
This was the strength of an Abyssal Lord.
This was the terror born from the Bottomless Abyss.
It was instinct. A fundamental terror of the unknown—so absolute that even the most powerful life forms could not resist it.
Even the Players—beings without spiritual souls—felt the effects: fear, shock, dizziness, even unconsciousness.
Far away, atop the Bronze Fortress, Kai Xiusu narrowed his eyes, gazing at the approaching black hill. He sensed the overwhelming presence of chaotic energy within it, and muttered softly:
“A difficult enemy… and honestly, this thing is just too ugly.”
Bair stood beside him, his expression grim. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his Infernal Sword.
“This is the Lord of Black Waters—the Abyss’s spawn. I know nothing about it beyond its name. The Abyss births countless distorted existences. Even the Lord of the Nine Hells cannot comprehend them all. This one is clearly one of them.”
Kai Xiusu smirked.
“Maybe it’s just some deity’s intestines—thrown into the Abyss ten thousand years ago and left to rot.”
He wasn’t joking. After all, Ghūsh’s blood and eye had already given birth to abominations.
And this creature—so like a bloated, oozing intestine, dripping foul liquid—might just fit that suspicion.
“Boom!”
As if on cue, the Lord of Black Waters slithered into the battlefield. Its mountainous body exuded an oppressive pressure that made the air itself feel heavy.
“It must die! It’s clearly a demon from the Abyss—utterly revolting! Hold it!”
A devil officer roared, slashing his sword through the air, ordering his troops to attack.
Hellfire balls, burning arrows, blood-red thunderbolts—all launched toward the beast.
But the black mucus seemed to consume everything. Arrows, bullets, shells—vanished like sand into a storm.
Spells dissipated within a hundred meters, torn apart by the chaotic energy, breaking down into formless, chaotic elemental particles.
“Sssssss…”
Black mucus rained down like acid, corroding the ground into craters. A whole half of a devil soldier’s body was melted away. Even Hell-forged iron armor offered no protection.
The creature swung one of its mucus-covered tendrils, and instantly, thousands of Players and devils were swept into its gaping maw.
“No!”
“Help me!”
“Damn it—stop that tentacle! Don’t let it reach us!”
“Aaahhh! It’s so disgusting—!”
At the touch of the black water, skin melted. Then flesh, then organs—until even the bones dissolved, merging into the mucus, becoming food.
The Rotting Harbingers swarmed down from above, spitting putrid mucus. Soldiers’ skin peeled away, revealing raw muscle and bone. The sight was unbearable.
“Damn it—this boss is so gross! Can’t even land a hit, and it keeps spawning repulsive minions!”
“Are we gonna lose this war?”
“A pure fecal monster… I can’t believe the dog designer’s brain even made this thing. Looks like a thesis defense analogy.”
“What’s your sense threshold set to? I can smell it—I’m gonna puke!”
With the Lord of Black Waters now on the field, the battle turned in an instant.
Within minutes, casualties mounted—tens of thousands of Players and devils fell. Their defensive line buckled, on the verge of collapse.
“Hurry! Stop it!”
“This thing can’t be blocked!”
The beast had already crossed the moat. The Hell Legion’s defenses were breached. Devils screamed in pain. Wailing echoed everywhere. Panic spread.
Rout.
Because this creature—no, this abomination—was too powerful. Too terrifying. It drove them into despair.
Devils cared nothing for duty, sacrifice, or courage. Cost-benefit analysis was their only law.
They reached a swift conclusion: flee, and there might still be a chance. Stay and fight? That meant only one end—consumption by the Lord of Black Waters.
Even a high-ranking devil officer turned and fled, wings flapping furiously toward the Bronze Fortress. He slashed through a few tiny devils in his path, roaring:
“Who ordered retreat?! Hold the line!”
But a thick, mucus-drenched tendril lashed out from the air—crack—like a whip.
The officer’s face twisted in panic. He flapped his wings desperately, even attempting a spatial teleportation spell.
But under the Abyssal pressure, magic failed. His movements were weak, futile.
“No! You can’t kill me!”
With a final, desperate scream, the high-ranking devil was snatched up like a fly by a frog—lifted effortlessly by the tendril, then swallowed whole by the black mucus. Silence.
After the Lord of Black Waters arrived, the Hell Legion’s defenses collapsed. Loopholes appeared everywhere—like a dam breached by flood.
Kai Xiusu turned to the grim-faced Great Demon beside him, raising an eyebrow.
“These Abyssal abominations are truly fascinating, Bair. Can you handle it?”
“If you need help, I can intervene right now—though, of course, that comes at an additional price.”
Bair frowned.
“If you take on that abomination, what would you want in return?”
Kai Xiusu smiled.
“I’ll give you a friendship discount. Half of your Hell Authority, and a colony the size of a kingdom.”
“Are you dreaming?” Bair sneered. “No wonder you’re the offspring of Tiamat. Still as greedy as ever.”
Kai Xiusu remained calm.
“When there’s a chance to profit, who would refuse? If you went to my beloved Mother God for help, she’d demand you reveal the location of the Hell Lord. In this life-or-death moment, I’m not even asking to become Supreme Emperor of Avernus—consider that a favor, Bair.”
He emphasized the last words.
Bair’s voice was icy.
“King Kai Xiusu, you’re too greedy. I will never accept such an unreasonable demand.”
Kai Xiusu tilted his head, curious.
“So… you’re planning to deal with it yourself?”
“Of course.”
Before the words even left his lips, the Hell Lord unfurled his massive bat wings, hefted the infernal sword that symbolized power and strength, and soared into the sky.
Watching the Deep Hell Forgemaster vanish into the clouds, Kai Xiusu shook his head, sighing in quiet regret.
Another chance to “semi-colonize” Avernus had slipped away.
But he wasn’t worried.
With more and more Players pouring into Avernus, with deeper collaboration, and with his own strength growing steadily, Bair would one day become a puppet under the Empire of Ashen’s control.
Still, witnessing the combat style of this Lord of Avernus? That was worth the wait.
(End of Chapter)
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