NOVEL NEXT Chapter 130: immortal X Devouts
Similar to the Celestial race, after the Law of Shadow and Obscurity descended into the infernal depths of Hell, a new kind of existence clawed its way into being. The Devouts, born not from flesh, but from the festering rebellion and bitter resentment of Hell itself, emerged as its living defiance, molded by darkness, cloaked in shadows. Their skin, strange to behold, carries the eerie texture and appearance of living shadow, ever-shifting and veiled, as though they were ghosts tethered to flesh. Horns, twisted and jagged like remorse itself, crown their heads, symbols of their cursed origin.
Though not titans of brute strength, being only equal to the Immortal race, their spirit of defiance burns hotter than any flame, and their rebellion simmers just beneath the surface like lava waiting to burst. Their very presence challenges order, making even those of higher standing wary of their unpredictable nature. They are not bound by loyalty, they are ruled by grudge and instinct.
But before the Devouts ever took form, there existed a more ancient race, The Apex. These were not born, they were willed into existence by the Law of Shadow and Obscurity itself, the purest embodiment of Hell's wrath. The Apex stand like obsidian pillars at the pinnacle of Hell's hierarchy. With strength so monstrous it defies comprehension, they are the hunters, and everything else, prey. They are the Demon Monarchies, ruthless sovereigns of the abyss.
Where the Celestial Gods bestow blessings to their faithful, the Demon Monarchies impose their rule through binding contracts, branding the Devouts with cursed pacts and shackles of servitude. These contracts are not blessings, they are chains masquerading as gifts, tools of control forged in ancient darkness. Through these deals, the Apex race bends the will of the Devouts, not by devotion, but by domination.
"What are you Devouts doing here, and how have you been manipulating the flaststamps?" Lumina's voice, laced with impatient steel, sliced through the tense air like a blade drawn too early in a duel. Her feet shifted ever so slightly, a whisper of motion betraying the storm simmering beneath her poised and radiant exterior.
The two fossilized foe races stood across from each other, the atmosphere dense with brewing chaos, as if the very air held its breath. The Immortals wore expressions carved from stone, eyes hard as star-forged steel. Across from them, the Devouts smirked, their wicked grins stitched from mockery, eyes blazing with pressure sharp enough to flay a mortal who dared pass between the two opposing forces.
"Why do you think we would reply just because you asked?" the first demon scoffed, folding his arms as if shielding a secret too vile to speak. The others gave snorts in unison, like wolves catching scent of weakness.
"These celestial bastards act tough," growled the demon with a fractured right horn, the jagged remnant of power twitching with contempt.
"They've forgotten they're no longer protected by that pampered cradle they call Heaven." His voice dripped with venom, each word meant to tear pride from flesh.
"Idiots. Open your eyes, see where you stand. This is a primordial world. Your deaths here won't even echo in your superiors' minds." He jabbed a clawed finger toward the Celestials with disdain that bled from every motion.
They were still locked in this blistering tension when a metallic clang fractured the moment, a sharp sound like a war drum struck from within. The third demon, marked by his twin horns and cloaked in shadows, had slammed the back of his right fingers against the cold cheek of the mutated celestial statue, the echo ringing with eerie finality. Slowly, his gaze shifted, first to his demonic brethren, then to the Celestials, like a predator savoring the silence before the pounce.
"There's no harm in letting you know our mission," he said, voice cold, sinister, yet oddly solemn.
"Not because you deserve it, but because you won't live long enough to see it through." His right index finger pointed toward Lumina and the rest, a gesture as deliberate as a guillotine's fall.
"Because none of you will live to see the daylight again."
"But is that necessary?" the demon with the broken horn barked, his tone sharp, incredulous, as if his companion's behavior soured even his cruelty.
"Hey, think about it." The first twin-horned demon responded with a devilish grin tugging at his lips.
"Hmm?" the broken-horned one turned to him, curiosity piqued.
"What he said." His tone dropped lower, coated in malice.
"Tell me, how does it feel when you know the nature of the plan unraveling before you... yet you're already standing at death's gate?"
The demon with the broken horn blinked. His eyes widened, as if awakening to a truth too cruel to bear.
Then, "Ha... ha... Ha!" He laughed, first softly, then wildly, like madness blooming in midwinter. The demon with a single horn and the other twin-horned Devout joined in, their laughter rising like a funeral dirge woven with mockery.
Then suddenly, the cracking sounds of mockery vanished, swallowed by a silence so dense it could crush breath. The only sound that dared break it was the whispering wind, threading between them, tousling the hair of both races like a ghost brushing past.
"We are here to weaken, even eradicate all celestial presence in the Primordial World," the first twin-horned demon declared, his voice like a war drum rolling through a hollow cave.
Lumina, Dunstan, and the other immortals felt their hearts stumble. Eyes widened, and a chill slithered down their spines like icy fingers. Beads of sweat bloomed across their brows as the weight of those words sank in.
"What do you mean by that?" Dunstan asked, his stance lowering into a coiled readiness, like a blade waiting to strike.
"Yes, as you've heard. To destroy you and seize all resources," the third twin-horned demon said, his voice smooth but laced with venom. He stepped away from the metallic statue, the ground underfoot crackling slightly beneath him.
"Don't you think you Devouts are the naive and credulous ones here?" Lumina shot back, her divine bow trembling slightly as her index and thumb locked tighter around the pulled string. "Believing you could outsmart us with your demonic schemes?"
"Whether we are the deluded and irrational, or you are the fanciful dreamers. Haven't you wondered why the primordial beasts pursued you so relentlessly?. Why they were drawn to you like moths to a funeral flame? " the demon countered, his tone dripping with cruel delight, his smile a twisted echo of amusement. "If not for our influence, how could such chaos have unfolded? And with this, we've twisted the tide of ancient forces against you."
"Don't dare twist reality with your poisoned tongue, and for that," Beorn cut in, voice slow, deliberate, and striking with the weight of iron, "there will be a price. Don't mistake us for blind fools. You're nothing but a slave from hell, chained to hatred and fed on lies."
The demons' gazes darkened, brows furrowing with unmasked fury.
"Good... very good," growled the demon with the broken right horn, stepping forward like a storm breaking its leash. "You've poured water onto my flame... and in return, you've raised the steam of rage in me."
From within his cloak, he produced a spherical object the size of a fist, its surface a sickly blend of greyish-black and grotesquely textured, like something molded from ash and blood.
"What's that?" Dunstan asked, his eyes narrowing as both he and Lumina locked their gaze on the orb.
"Why does it look... familiar?" Lumina added, her voice barely above a whisper.
A voice from behind, grave and lined with recognition, answered what their thoughts dared not say aloud.
"It looks like... a Thanacrite," Beorn said, each word dropping like a stone in still water.
"Exactly… but what is he planning to do with it?" Dunstan asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as the group watched the demon with the broken horn raise the orb to his mouth.
Without hesitation, he began shoving the foul object past his lips, but before it could disappear down his throat, a sharp twang sliced the air. Reflex guided Lumina's hand, and her arrow flew with divine precision.
It pierced the demon's throat clean through, the tip of the arrow emerging from the other side of his throat.
The demon's eyes widened, not just from pain, but the sting of divine energy radiating through the wound. The arrow's shaft stuck through his neck, the Thanacrite now lodged halfway, suspended between damnation and deliverance, unable to be swallowed.
The air around the demon with the broken right horn shattered like a fallen relic, grew eerily still, as though the world itself had paused to observe what came next. A dark, ominous aura began to gather and rise from his body, curling like ink in water, staining the very air with its presence. It pulsed with quiet malice, thickening the atmosphere until even breathing felt like inhaling dread. The other demons stood at a distance, their eyes vacant of empathy or concern, mere shadows of apathy as they watched one of their own suffer a devastating blow. Not a flicker of remorse crossed their twisted faces, for in their world, pain was currency, and weakness, a death sentence.