Chapter 802: Not the Black Sun, But the Madly-in-Love Lord (Part 2)

Chapter 802: Not the Black Sun, But the Madly-in-Love Lord (Part 2)

"Mishio, just take care of yourself; you don't need to shield me," the Skeleton Lord, Damon Gate, replied, his handsome face cold and stern as he communicated with Mishio through demon telepathy. His eyes darted around the dim surroundings, keeping watch for the blood progenitor skilled in stealth attacks.

Even though Mishio's abilities could grant her liquid form, making her impervious to most physical attacks and endowing her with enhanced vitality, they were both, after all, demon scholars with frail bodies. Mishio could just as easily lose her combat abilities.

As the wind howled, Damon Gate raised his palm, summoning hordes of undead from the swirling black fog beneath their feet. Countless undead soldiers rose to form battle lines, their bodies enhanced by Mishio's magic, creating an army of silver-clad undead to counter Somerset's fierce punches.

"You have the strength of a general, yet you resort to sneak attacks," Damon Gate remarked disdainfully, regarding Somerset as no more than trash.

Before them stood one of the blood race's most formidable warriors—Marquess Somerset. He was a towering figure, nearly two meters tall, his muscles as hard as wrought iron.

"Hehe, only the victor has the right to speak," Somerset replied, his fists bulging with protruding veins.

Each of his punches carried the force of a thousand pounds, and the red aura that accompanied them shattered the silver undead army summoned by the two demon scholars.

"Ugh!"

Facing such a formidable opponent, both Mishio and Damon Gate felt the pressure mounting.

They relied on the pre-battle intelligence provided by Black Sun Lord to anticipate Somerset's attack patterns.

Even so, it was challenging for the two scholar demons, who excelled in support roles, to confront Somerset directly.

If Somerset managed to land a sneak attack, the outcome would be disastrous.

After falling into Blood Moon City, their scholar abilities were meant to be most effective when paired with a general.

The blood progenitors would not let that happen.

The spatial barrier had separated them, pitting the two demon scholars against the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, in the Extinction Hall—a challenging opponent for magic-oriented opponents.

Mishio channeled her magic, shooting a blue beam from her fingertips to envelop Damon Gate's summoned skeletons, providing continuous healing and protection.

Damon Gate, however, struggled to withstand Somerset's relentless attacks for long.

With a grave expression, Damon Gate scattered undead magic on the ground, summoning a Corpse Qi that permeated the air, threatening to connect to the depths of hell and devour everything in its path, even light itself, like a black hole.

To any being below the seventh tier, stepping into this aura would likely result in nothing but a pile of bones within seconds.

Although it continuously corroded Somerset, it couldn't inflict substantial damage on the immortal vampire. Somerset endured the corrosive effects with his regenerative abilities and pressed forward, aiming to drag Damon Gate, this bag of bones, into an abyss of blood from which there was no escape!

"Weak, too weak!"

Marquess Somerset roared with laughter, his voice reverberating through the Extinction Hall like rolling thunder.

He lunged forward, moving so swiftly that he was nearly invisible to the naked eye.

In the next moment, he appeared in front of Mishio, his fist aiming for her face.

Instinctively, Mishio summoned her magic to defend herself, and Damon Gate's skeletal shield rose to protect her.

However, Somerset's fist packed the force of a thousand pounds, easily shattering the shield and slamming into Mishio's body.

Mishio felt an immense force hit her, causing her body to explode into scattered droplets of silver.

Without hesitation, Damon Gate summoned abyssal chains to restrict Somerset's movements, buying Mishio time to reconstitute herself.

In the blink of an eye, Mishio, now scattered, began to reform into several miniature versions of herself, counterattacking Somerset with silver needles that pierced his body.

"This is getting interesting. Looks like I'll be able to play with you for a while," Somerset remarked, his eyes narrowing as he watched Mishio reassemble herself.

In a battle he was certain to win, Somerset relished the thrill of the fight.

He had no intention of ending it quickly; instead, he savored every moment.

As he finished speaking, Somerset's figure vanished again, only to reappear behind Damon Gate.

His fist struck Damon Gate's back with such force that the demon was sent flying into the deep chasm at the edge of the Extinction Hall.

"Damon Gate!" Mishio screamed, immediately casting a support spell.

But Somerset was too fast. Damon Gate, gritting his teeth against the pain, struggled to his feet, only to find Somerset already standing before him.

...

Meanwhile, on the eastern side of Blood Moon City...

In the Frozen Hall, guarded by the Seventh Progenitor, Marquess Heritier, another intense battle unfolded.

The hall stood atop a frozen lake, surrounded by icy winds and dancing ice crystals.

The ice on the lake's surface was several meters thick, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the silhouette of the hall.

However, beneath the ice lurked countless hidden currents, ready to drag any intruder into the abyssal depths at any moment.

The hall itself was a sculpture of blood-red ice, with sparkling ice pillars adorning the spacious interior. The outer circle resembled sharp spears, while the inner circle took on an elegant butterfly-like form.

"Get out of my way, Heritier!"

The Blasphemy Lord, Merogasis, brandished her metallic claws, leaving afterimages in the air as she attempted to stab her scorpion tail into Heritier's body and drain her dry.

"..."

The Seventh Progenitor, Heritier, merely maintained her ethereal state, raising her pitch-black staff to sketch constellations in the air.

She paid no heed to the Blasphemy Lord's anger and chose not to engage in a head-on collision, focusing solely on stalling her.

And the more impatient Merogasis became, the more openings she revealed.

The constellation began to rotate slowly, and stars flew out one by one, orbiting around Merogasis.

Whenever Merogasis' scorpion tail lashed out, the stars would automatically adjust their positions to guide Heritier to the best evasion route while disrupting Merogasis' balance.

And when the venomous stinger at the tip of Merogasis' scorpion tail struck, the stars would release dazzling light to neutralize the poison.

"I should be the one by his side, showing him my strength!"

Blasphemy Lord Merogasis roared as she saw her attacks missing time and again.

Her eyes blazed with insane killing intent, and her speed increased until she became a purple shadow of poison.

"Shouldn't you want to kill the Pope? Why are you so eager to protect him?"

Heritier's countenance was cold and aloof.

Although her divination power was formidable, it also consumed a significant amount of magic.

Stalling Merogasis proved more challenging than anticipated.

Moreover, Merogasis shouldn't have entered a frenzied state unless her emotions reached an extreme level, which would make her even stronger.

"He's my prey, and I'm his prey as well. Before we kill each other, none of you blood races should dare to interfere!"

Blasphemy Lord Merogasis shrieked, her scorpion tail slashing through the air as if tearing space itself, moving with lightning speed to pierce Heritier's heart.

Heritier swung her staff, and a flash of silver light deflected the scorpion tail.

But at that moment, Merogasis' claws struck from another direction, fast as a meteor.

Heritier felt a chill on her shoulder and looked down to see a chunk of flesh missing, her sleeve instantly stained with blood. She quickly retreated.

"The taste of the blood race is quite exquisite; perhaps it's especially sweet in your case."

Merogasis licked her lips, swallowing Heritier's flesh, as if this would assuage her rage.

"Since I've savored your flesh, I should return the favor and give you some of my fluids to maintain nutritional balance. That's only fair."

Blasphemy Lord Merogasis swayed her scorpion tail, the tip dripping with deep purple venom.

"If I could, I really wouldn't want to fight something like you."

Heritier endured the pain from her wound and the nausea she felt, raising her pitch-black staff once more.

Fighting the Demon Regent, Merogasis, meant facing not only the strongest individual in the demon race today but also enduring the endless desires and decadence that emanated from this opponent, causing physiological discomfort.

The Seventh Progenitor also knew that she had no chance of defeating the Blasphemy Lord in direct combat.

Her task was to stall Merogasis in the Frozen Hall, giving the advantage to the Extinction Hall and the Hall of Souls, as well as the crucial Blood King's Palace.

The Seventh Progenitor, Heritier, waved her staff, and the walls of the hall began to move. Countless ice pillars rose from the ground and walls, the ice cone array constantly changing positions to envelop Merogasis.

"I'm not in the mood to fight you right now! Scram if you know what's good for you!"

Merogasis sneered and flicked her scorpion tail, releasing a purple demonic energy cannon surrounded by an electric cocoon from the tip, instantly shattering the ice cone array.

But at that moment, the ground suddenly cracked open, and cold air gushed out, instantly enveloping Merogasis.

Merogasis felt as if countless sharp ice knives were slicing her, the cold penetrating to her bones and making them tremble.

Her movements gradually slowed, as if she were frozen in place.

Heritier saw Merogasis' frozen state and knew that Blood Moon City's defense mechanism had kicked in.

She stood firm, gritting her teeth against the pain from her wounds, and the Blood Moon above the Frozen Hall shed a soft crimson light upon her, aiding her recovery.

As the Blood Moon illuminated her, Heritier's magic began to replenish, and her complexion gradually regained its rosy hue.

...

On the north side of Blood Moon City, the Hall of Souls had become a battlefield of Asuras.

Within the pitch-black hall, countless wandering souls wailed and groaned, and rusty chains and shackles hung from the walls while scattered bones littered the ground.

Outside the hall was a desolate land, the ground scarred with charred cracks as if the earth itself could not bear the weight of the resentment within.

In the sky, darkness blocked out all light, except for a blood-red moon that hung like an evil eye, watching over this world.

The hall itself was a mausoleum, its walls and floor constructed from pitch-black stones carved with twisted faces, surrounded by blood-red ghost fires that flickered eerily in the darkness.

At the center of the hall, the altar emanated an eerie violet light, and a black iron bell hung from the center of several black stone pillars that surrounded it. The bell was covered in rust and cracks, and each toll weakened invaders.

Within this Hall of Souls, the Ninth Progenitor, Marquess Bernhard, and the Demon Lord, Ogreen, engaged in a life-or-death battle.

Demon Lord Ogreen, clad in chainmail light armor, was a demon sword saint who carried over a dozen weapons. He specialized in slash attacks and imbued his weapons with additional traits.

"General Ogreen, let's see which of us has more tricks up our sleeves. I've long wanted to test the might of the Demon Realm's current First Army Group Commander!"

As the Ninth Progenitor, Marquess Bernhard, transformed into a monster composed entirely of eyes, the entire Hall of Souls began to shake, the ground cracking, and stones falling from the walls.

Countless ghosts emerged from underground and the walls, wailing miserably as they swirled above the hall.

The runes on the altar glowed brighter, with purple lightning crackling through them and snapping in the air. The stone pillars surrounding the altar began to shake, the chains wrapped around them rattling and clanking, emitting an ear-piercing sound.

"Power gained by devouring others will never truly be yours."

The Demon Sword Saint, Ogreen, drew a translucent short sword from his waist.

Each time he brandished his blade, he seemed to tear through space itself, the sword leaving behind traces of reality that appeared like shattered mirrors.

No matter how many of the Ninth Progenitor Bernhard's souls rushed towards the Great Demon General, Ogreen, they were all blown away by his mighty sword aura, unable to inflict any harm.

"Ogreen, don't you feel yourself growing weaker?"

Bernhard roared, his mouth opening wide to reveal countless eyes.

"Don't forget, this is my home turf, the Hall of Souls."

Countless black tentacles sprouted from Bernhard's mouth, like octopus arms wildly wrapping around Ogreen. Each tentacle was covered in suction cups and barbs, emitting a putrid, rotting stench.

Ogreen swung his silver moon scimitar, slicing through several tentacles, but more rushed forward, scraping across his chainmail and frenziedly absorbing his blood and life force.

"So what? Does that mean you can't be killed here?"

Ogreen finally took a hit from Bernhard, his body instantly rotting and oozing blood from the wounds.

However, he showed no signs of pain, merely furrowing his brows as he realized that Bernhard's unique trait could be problematic if the fight dragged on for too long.

He had to end the battle quickly.

"Hehe, regardless, this place is not the decisive battlefield for the final victory."

Bernhard smirked cruelly upon seeing Ogreen's condition.

He knew that if he could stall for just a little longer, Ogreen would become his eternal slave, a trophy of his triumph.

As long as the feeble Pope Lanchi lost to the Third Progenitor, Lacharel, everything would fall into place.

...

At the central plaza of Blood Moon City.

The Blood King's Divine Fire raged from the Blood King's Palace, yet it couldn't touch the White-Robed Pope, who was protected by a howling wind that dispersed the flames before they could harm him.

Perhaps the Wolf Witch had a more specialized method of protection against the Blood King's Divine Fire, but Wolf Warriors were almost incapable of using magic. The only way to counter the flames was to directly consume the wolf's blood, akin to invoking the protection of the Moon Goddess herself.

Lacharel had intended to torture and execute the Pope from the start, wanting to flay him alive.

Countless tendrils of black mist surged from the Blood King's Palace, swirling in the air like sentient beings. At the eye of the vortex, dark red lightning crackled and snapped, illuminating Lacharel's cold, ruthless face.

"...?"

Facing Lacharel's onslaught, Lanchi remained unmoved, his body enveloped by the raging wind that rendered him absolutely immune to Lacharel's ninth-tier magic attacks.

He wore the Pope's holy robe, the silver-white mask reflecting a dazzling light.

With Talia's possession, he could exhibit strength slightly stronger than a seventh-tier cultivator.

However, it was far from enough against the Third Progenitor, Lacharel.

Lacharel's eyes were like two bottomless pits, exuding endless evil and madness.

"Pope, is this all the power you have left?"

A slight curve lifted the corners of his lips as he mocked Lanchi's weakness.

Indeed, the Pope still had some tricks up his sleeve to briefly shine before his inevitable downfall.

But such defensive measures wouldn't last long.

And there were many more ninth-tier magic attacks to come! He couldn't fathom how the solitary Pope could possibly turn the tables.

"Lacharel, have you heard the story of the legendary sealer Askesang?"

Lanchi, who had barely entered the Blood King's Palace, was on the verge of defeat, yet he showed no sign of unleashing the Pope's might, merely muttering to himself.

"What nonsense!"

Lacharel couldn't understand the riddle-like words of the Saint Phanlante Pope.

And within that black mist and lightning storm, the true forms of the four Great Demons appeared.

Their silhouettes, both substantial and illusory, loomed large and terrifying in the shadows, their gazes fixed on the Third Progenitor, Lacharel, with contempt.

As embodiments of pure evil, they emanated a more primal wickedness.

The four Great Demons materialized behind Lanchi, standing tall like sentinels guarding the Pope.

The blood mist was blocked by a wall of ice, and the complex enchantments that enveloped it caused the mist to shrink. The counter-spellcaster's inverse computation acted like an invisible net, unraveling and neutralizing Lacharel's magic, reducing it to nothingness, with the remnants devoured by abyssal magic.

Despite Lacharel's fierce offense, the combined efforts of the four Great Demons successfully deflected it.

Every move they made was the right one.

The commander among the four Great Demons instantly analyzed the situation and relayed instructions to the other three.

They stood in diverse postures before the Saint Phanlante Pope, ready to engage in battle against the Third Progenitor, Lacharel.

"Sinora, do you still need to keep your eyes closed? Our Pope is already wearing a mask," said Verity Lord Pranay, dressed in a well-tailored demonic ceremonial outfit, his silver-gray pocket watch emitting a soft glow as he glanced at his sister.

"Little boys are the worst."

Breakspell Lord Sinora kept her eyes closed, perhaps deep in thought, making no attempt to hide her disdain for the blood progenitor.

"What if that black-haired, green-eyed brat turned into a little kid? Would you feel like committing a crime?"

Guardian Lord Antanas, with her striking wine-red short hair, playfully teased Sinora.

As always, Antanas wore a tight-fitting leather hunting outfit paired with knee-high boots.

Being sealed into a magic card had been quite a bore for her.

"Er..."

Sinora hesitated.

While she believed that her noble demonic upbringing would allow her to admire from a distance without tarnishing herself, she feared that Talia might commit a crime under the guise of being a governess.

Sinora had already noticed that Talia's self-control was even worse than they imagined.

"... "

Ice Snow Lord Almes' eyes were as cold as ice blue, fixed on their enemy, Lacharel, with no interest in joining the conversation of the other three Great Demons.

She was the only one who maintained a serious demeanor.

She couldn't understand why the other three, her old friends, seemed so relaxed.

After all, the enemy before them was a hidden final boss in the Shadow World, with strength far beyond what they could normally handle.

Four days ago, after Lanchi had arrived in the Demon King's City, Nekalis, he had found these four Great Demons.

Except for those Great Demons who were left behind in the Demon King's City, either because they were necessary to maintain a presence or because Merogasis didn't fully trust them, the rest of the reliable Great Demons had all come out in full force to participate in this campaign against the blood race.

The Skeleton Lord, the Mercury Lord, and the Vanquish Lord were all part of the Merogasis faction's core.

And these four Great Demons, whom Lanchi knew best, had used traditional ancient methods to transform into summoned beings, sealing themselves within Lanchi to be unleashed at the critical moment to prevent him from facing Lacharel alone.

Although they could easily defeat a general together, and could hold their ground against two, dealing with a ninth-tier opponent presented an unprecedented challenge.

"Whoa."

The Third Progenitor, Lacharel, was taken aback as he recognized the four Great Demons. He tilted his head and smiled.

Indeed, he hadn't expected that the Pope would still have four Great Demons hidden up his sleeve.

However, Lacharel showed no signs of panic; instead, he seemed more relaxed, as if everything was under his control.

"Lanculos, do you have to rely on outside help?"

Lacharel mocked,

"So what if you have a few Great Demons with you? They are among the weakest, and you yourself have fallen to the sixth or seventh tier. You will probably die soon."

He could almost instantly discern the strength of these four Great Demons.

They were pathetically weak.

Only the Ice Demon, whose power resembled that of the Skeleton Lord and the Mercury Lord, possessed combat prowess comparable to that of a general. The rest were barely passable.

As the absolute superior, a ninth-tier Duke, Lacharel's eighth-tier magic was completely transparent to him.

"Have you noticed that there's something different about me and Lanculos?"

Lanchi casually asked, as if making small talk.

"He doesn't seem to realize the seriousness of the situation."

Talia's mental voice whispered in Lanchi's ear.

She felt too embarrassed to meet her friends while wearing Caliella's new clothes, fearing that they would see through her disguise or that this state of being connected to Lanchi's soul was too humiliating.

She was afraid that she wouldn't be able to explain herself clearly and that her friends would misunderstand.

Fortunately, at this moment, Lanchi only needed her to possess him, and there was no need for her to reveal herself.

Having used the Thaberius Mirror three times, Talia was well aware that only Lanclos' attacks could inflict damage akin to the power of the sun.

In Lacharel's eyes, an eighth-tier Lanculos might be able to hold his ground against a ninth-tier opponent for a while, relying on his specialty.

The only threatening one was Lanculos, and now he was too weak to fight.

So, it was only natural that Lacharel was confident of victory.

To pose a real threat to Lacharel, they would need at least three or more Great Demon Generals working together.

"Can you still turn things around before you die, Black Sun?"

Lacharel stared at the absent-minded Pope.

A sense of doubt, a feeling of something going awry, and a sense of being toyed with filled Lacharel with rising blood pressure.

"Have you not realized the gravity of your situation?"

Lacharel couldn't fathom what Lanchi was muttering about.

"I said, I am not Lanculos. If you truly believe that the methods used to deal with the Black Sun Lord will work on me, then you are making an irreparable mistake."

Lanchi spoke calmly to Lacharel.

With a few casual words, Lanchi had incited Lacharel's anger.

Soon, Talia's demonic whispers would take effect on Lacharel, despite his high mental resistance.

"Well then, I might as well wipe all of you demons out and save myself a trip to the Demon King's City to settle the score."

As Lacharel spoke, his figure suddenly left a long afterimage in the air, and his outstretched palm summoned a myriad of shadows that enveloped the demons before him. His speed was as swift as the summons of death in the black of night!

Bringing four scholars to deal with him, what a desperate move!

Lacharel's eyes turned a deeper shade of red, so deep that they seemed to devour all the light.

Amidst the raging storm, the immunity field not only protected the four Great Demons but also caused light to emerge from the dark singularity.

Lanchi's palm was enveloped in a swirling void, like the birth of the universe, and in an instant, the dazzling light of the noonday sun filled the entire Blood King's Palace square, dispelling the darkness and transforming it into a world of pure white light!

The light was so intense that it seemed to shatter the glass, causing the rose windows of the Blood King's Palace to burst, and even coating the castle with a layer of iridescent haze.

When the sun released its dazzling light above the Blood King's Palace square, the entire Blood Moon City was bathed in its radiance.

Even from several kilometers away, in the east, south, and north of Blood Moon City, where the Extinction Hall, Frozen Hall, and Hall of Souls were located, the faint light could be clearly seen.

In the Extinction Hall of Blood Moon City, the eighth progenitor, Marquess Somerset, was locked in a fierce battle with Mercury Lord Mishio and Skeleton Lord Damon Gate.

The sound of shattering rocks and exploding magic filled the air, and the entire hall seemed on the verge of collapse.

However, at that moment, a faint light shone through the arena.

Although the light was faint, it stood out starkly in the perpetually dim hall.

Marquess Somerset keenly sensed this unexpected natural light.

He turned abruptly, his face filled with disbelief.

"What...is that?"

Marquess Somerset muttered to himself.

The light of Lanclos—

How could it shine so far? Despite the distance, Somerset instinctively felt a sense of dread.

It was like the horizon at daybreak, where an unstoppable sun would rise.

The severely injured Great Demons, Mercury Lord Mishio and Skeleton Lord Damon Gate, also looked surprised, but their faces showed a hint of understanding.

"Looks like things are coming to a close over there."

Mercury Lord Mishio breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hehe, Marquess Somerset, do you think we've been holding each other back?"

Skeleton Lord Damon Gate nodded, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.

Upon hearing their words, Marquess Somerset's face darkened with disbelief and anger, and he roared as he lunged towards Mercury Lord Mishio and Skeleton Lord Damon Gate.

Far to the north, in the Hall of Souls, the ninth progenitor, Marquess Bernhard, saw the light and his usually hideous face was suddenly etched with a trace of fear.

He took a step back involuntarily, as if the light would burn him.

Just a moment of hesitation was all it took for Vanquish Lord Ogreen to strike off his head.

In the east of Blood Moon City, in the Frozen Hall, the seventh progenitor, Marquess Heritier, and Blasphemy Lord Merogasis had also paused their battle due to the sudden light.

Heritier gazed at the light, her expression filled with astonishment and despair.

She could sense it.

This light held a power she had never encountered before!

For an astrologer, anything that couldn't be understood was considered out of control.

Lanclos was supposed to be on the brink of death.

How could he suddenly unleash the radiance of a new sunrise?

"Alright, you've managed to stall me, and I've come to my senses."

Blasphemy Lord Merogasis clenched her palm, her knuckles cracking,

"Might as well stay here and have some fun with you. I've always heard that female marquesses are quite sturdy, and no matter how you mess with them, they never break..."

Her expression was demonic, and she advanced towards Marquess Heritier.

...

A brilliant light sphere rose above the Blood King's Palace square, bathing everything in its warmth.

"Lacharel, I am not Lanculos. I will be the one who will face you again tens of thousands of years from now, and I hope that by then, you will be able to give me a good fight."

Lanchi's face was illuminated by the white light, and his voice echoed.

Duke Lacharel felt as if his brain was about to shatter from the deafeningly calm voice, as if he were experiencing a day turning into night at noon!

He couldn't believe that Lanclos could summon such a wide range of solar power at midnight!

"You are not the Black Sun Lord, then who are you!"

At that moment, Lacharel, unable to accept this absurdity, felt his blood pressure rising.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end