A striking scene unfolded across the Blood River battlefield.
Brandishing her flaming longsword, Zariel clashed with an avatar of Demogorgon.
Blade collided with tentacles, unleashing shockwaves potent enough to obliterate every living creature within a radius of more than a dozen kilometers.
Cursing the madwoman under his breath, Bel hurried back to the Blood River Fortress to issue new orders, redeploying his forces across the Blood River battlefield to accommodate Zariel.
The first priority was to steer clear of that terrible zone so his devils would not get caught in the collateral damage wrought by those two lunatics.
The demons harbored no such reservations. Drawn by Demogorgon, they surged forward once more like a tidal wave, offering power to Demogorgon while serving as cannon fodder to drain Zariel's magic.
With every sweep of Zariel's blade, hundreds and thousands of demons were reduced to ash, yet Demogorgon lashed out with tentacles and claws, carving deep gouges into her armor.
Even when Zariel severed Demogorgon's limbs, they fully regenerated in less than half a second at the mere cost of consuming flesh and carcasses. And on this battlefield, the corpses of demons and devils were inexhaustible.
Zariel's expression remained utterly blank. She swung her longsword with precision, cleaving Demogorgon's avatar apart again and again, indifferent to the wounds accumulating across her own body.
The two-headed baboon not only unleashed ear-splitting roars, but also spat lethal venom and hurled vicious curses.
The slightest touch would dissolve a mortal into pus in an instant. Zariel's armor grew corroded and pitted, while her already ruined, fragmented face became mottled with dark spots.
Demons ceaselessly offered their flesh and souls, fueling Demogorgon's avatar.
The battle had devolved into a pure war of attrition: whether Zariel's magic would run dry first, or the horde of demons would perish completely.
Yet demons, clearly, were endless.
The Blood War had raged for countless ages, perhaps since Hell and the Abyss first came into being, and to this day, no one truly knew how many demons existed.
The speed of Zariel's sword strokes began to slow. Demogorgon seized the opening, his tentacles whipping out to bind Zariel's wrists. One of the baboon heads clamped onto Zariel's neck, pumping in venom with frenzy, heedless of her blood scalding hotter than magma.
The other baboon head chanted in the Abyssal tongue, battering Zariel's soul with wave after wave of shock, preventing her from gathering her strength.
Yet just as Demogorgon appeared to hold the upper hand, Zariel gave a cold sneer and yelled, "Bel! What are you waiting for?! Do you really want a taste of my tortures?!"
Along the ramparts of the Blood River Fortress, countless spouts of flame erupted, streaking across the dark sky like lines of fire.
The infernal armaments finally came to bear. Devastating shells crashed with pinpoint accuracy onto the battlefield around Zariel, cutting through the demon tide as cleanly as if measured by a surveyor.
Wherever these shells struck, demons were turned to ash, tearing a temporary rift across the endless demonic legions.
Immediately after, devil hosts plummeted from the skies, weaving terrain-isolating spells across the field.
Legion after legion worked in seamless coordination, raising massive walls across the battlefield to cut off the demons' advance for the moment.
With the demonic hordes partitioned outside, the number of demons surrounding Demogorgon plummeted.
Seizing the opening, Zariel unfurled a pair of fiery wings that blotted out the sky.
Countless soul coins burned to cinders in that instant, their essence converting entirely into raw power for Zariel.
Wherever the fiery wings swept, even space warped and fractured. The fallen angel snapped the wings closed, wrapping Demogorgon's avatar inside.
It looked almost like a holy angel embracing and soothing a sinful soul, but in truth it was the most savage, merciless torture in existence.
The purest, most blistering hellfire incinerated Demogorgon's body, wringing roars of agony and venomous hatred from the two-headed baboon. But this time, there were few demons left to feed him power.
Zariel gave Demogorgon no reprieve, unleashing her full, unbridled might. Flames burned the two-headed baboon to ash, utterly purging the area.
When the flames dispersed, Zariel held aloft two pale skulls and let out a roar:
"Demogorgon! Next time, I will take your true heads!"
She crushed the baboon skulls in her grip. They shattered into myriad beams of light that shot toward the devils fighting fiercely on the front lines.
Whether mighty amnizus or lowly lemures, their bodies swelled as the light washed over them. Zariel's blessing doubled their strength outright, thoroughly suppressing the demons. Zariel gave an amused clap of her hands, and with a flash of light, she vanished back into the Blood River Fortress.
When Bel saw the Archduke of Hell again, her wounds were already healing rapidly under the empowerment of Hell's planar energy. The entire First Layer of Hell thrummed with excitement over Zariel's triumph.
Zariel said calmly to Bel, "We won't have to worry about Demogorgon coming back for at least ten years."
Bel knew she wasn't lying. Even though it had only been an avatar, it held a tremendous concentration of power. Creating an avatar cost Demogorgon an immense effort; they were hardly disposable pawns.
Still, Bel could not comprehend what Zariel was trying to accomplish.
Measured by pure expenditure of power, Zariel had spent nearly as much energy as Demogorgon. Picking a fight without gaining any real advantage—what was the point?
Devils were not brainless, berserk demons. Bel could not fathom such pointless risk-taking.
Only Zariel knew that after she slew Demogorgon's hidden avatar, the restless infernal core had finally settled down.
The laws of Hell once more affirmed Zariel's conduct, solely because she had eliminated a powerful invading enemy.
Zariel could never reveal this reason to Bel. How could she let this traitor learn that the core of the First Layer had been stirred by a mortal, to the point of showing signs of changing masters?
It was a warning. The core was reminding Zariel:
Her recent work had been far too perfunctory. If she kept slacking off like this, the seat of the First Layer's master would soon belong to someone else.
Zariel understood this all too well. That was why she had been forced to step onto the battlefield again. Compared to scheming and amassing wealth, combat was her true forte.
Yet even with the infernal core brought back under control, Zariel still faced a pressing dilemma. If she let that fellow keep stirring up trouble, whether she made money was one thing, but her very position as Archduke of Hell would be in jeopardy.
After a moment's thought, Zariel asked Bel, "Are you scheming against that lich's daughter?"
Bel froze, baffled. "What are you talking about? What lich's daughter?"
Seeing that Bel did not seem to be lying, Zariel pressed, "Haven't you heard about what happened recently?"
"Every second on the Blood River battlefield consumes every ounce of my energy. I have no time to snoop around for gossip! Zariel, what on earth are you getting at? If you've suddenly decided to take revenge on me, just get it over with! You've completely wrecked my battle lines today, and now I'll have to waste even more time reorganizing the entire front!"
Bel was thoroughly displeased. What nonsense was this? Zariel threw a tantrum and forced him to scramble to back her up, when far more efficient methods existed to slaughter those demons. Now all his logistics and resources had to be recalculated from scratch.
Zariel merely chuckled. "You truly are tired. I can see it. You're finding it harder and harder to keep up."
Bel retorted in fury, "I have repelled every single demonic assault! Don't try pinning bogus charges on me—I haven't made a single misstep all these years!"
"Indeed you haven't, but you will soon. As master of the First Layer of Hell, I cannot simply sit by and watch the River of Blood fall!"
Bel looked at Zariel in bewilderment. He wouldn't mind if Zariel stripped him of his command—it might even grant him his freedom. But what did Zariel mean by that? Did she honestly think she could run the Blood River Fortress herself?
In raw martial prowess, Zariel was superior to Bel, but when it came to strategic command, Bel was indisputably the finest in Hell. Otherwise, the Lord of Hell would never have personally appointed him Chief General of the Blood War.
If Zariel were left to defend the fortress, demons would overrun it within years, and Zariel would face the wrath of the Lord of Hell—a fate far more terrifying than any torture.
That was why Bel could not fathom what had gotten into Zariel today.
Zariel smiled mysteriously and said, "Don't worry. I'm not here to settle old scores, nor am I here to punish you. On the contrary, seeing as you've held the Blood River Fortress for so many years, you must be getting tired. So I plan to find you an assistant. Does the name 'Deceiver' ring a bell?"
"The Deceiver? You mean the one who tricked... er, that famous lich?"
Bel had nearly blurted out Zariel's shameful past. No matter how intense the war was, it wasn't as if Bel had no free time whatsoever; he had certainly heard of this infamous lich. But it was only hearsay. He had never had the time to actively investigate the lich, catching only stray remarks from others.
Zariel seemed completely unfazed. She said to Bel, "Indeed. That very cunning lich. What would you say if I had him come help you hold the Blood River Fortress?"
Bel stared at Zariel, realizing she wasn't joking.
What was this lunatic planning? Planting an informant? Or hatching some scheme?
Bel couldn't figure it out, but he didn't refuse.
Whatever Zariel was thinking, the Blood War was the single most vital front in all of Hell. Bel didn't believe she would dare treat it lightly.
He had heard of the Deceiver's reputation; having someone that shrewd to help would undeniably be a boon, easing at least some of the pressure on his shoulders.
"Then let him report to me. I'll arrange a post befitting his standing."
Chapter 550