Magic was such a wonderful thing that most people, upon mastering it, came to look down on wielding swords and spears.
The loftiness of a spellcaster was evident in the very reverence paid to mages.
Perhaps this cambion had never imagined in all his life that his magic could be nullified so easily. Even an antimagic field scroll could never cover such a vast expanse, could it?
Yet the sussur tree was no mere antimagic field. On the contrary, it was by imitating the properties of sussur trees that mages had created the spell known as an antimagic field in the first place.
Wherever the roots of a sussur tree spread, no one beneath the level of a deity could channel an ounce of magical power—and that included Anbaixiu.
That was why Anbaixiu had ducked aside to hide before the battle even began.
The devil cavalry led by Melina was fully armored in heavy plate. Hellish nightmares were exceptionally fast and boasted tremendous carrying capacity, but they were expensive and few in number.
Yet who told her to have a wealthy father?
Anbaixiu was never stingy with Melina, outfitting her and her forces with nothing but top-tier gear.
In Hell, money made the devils dance. Nothing was beyond buying, since their currency was souls themselves.
Charged without warning by heavy cavalry, the cambion's ranks were utterly incapable of holding the line.
Melina tore open a breach and drove her cavalry straight through. And after that, there was no "after."
War was just that brutal. A single oversight meant total ruin. Being hit by a massive, sudden antimagic suppression was a fatal mistake.
The cambion was still shouting something, but Anbaixiu could no longer hear him, because Melina had already ridden her steed right over him, trampling him into the dirt before lopping off his head with a single stroke of her sword.
The flaming broadsword was a gift from Zariel, peerlessly sharp, and with Melina neutralizing all of the cambion's magic, this was no longer a battle—it was a one-sided slaughter.
Anbaixiu wasn't worried about Melina's safety in the slightest. Unless an enemy of divine caliber appeared, no one in Hell could truly defeat her.
However, Anbaixiu had far more than just one enemy.
No sooner had they finished off this mob of devils than another aggressive group came charging in.
This time, it wasn't an army of devils, but rather an elite strike team of a dozen or so. Every single one was a high-ranking devil—amnizus, scythe devils, you name it. Arriving from the direction of the River of Blood, they were clearly battle-hardened veterans.
Seeing Melina reaping lives across the battlefield, these devils cleverly hung back, looking as though they intended to swoop in and take advantage of the chaos.
Yet they gave themselves away regardless, because they were carrying magic mirrors.
The off-switch on a magic mirror didn't actually shut it down. Even if they sealed the mirror away in an enchanted pouch, they still couldn't escape Anbaixiu's perception.
Alerted by Anbaixiu, Melina wheeled her forces around and charged straight toward them.
Although this group was prepared, and two exceptionally mighty high devils swung greatswords taller than Melina as they surged forward, her antimagic field was primarily effective against mages; its impact on such thoroughly tempered warriors was mediocre at best.
Even so, Melina wasn't fighting alone.
The erinyes Monica arrived with over a hundred spellcasters in tow. Half of them raised magic mirrors in their hands, aiming straight at the elite squad before unleashing their spells.
Pay-to-cast: no incantations, no wind-up, and zero expenditure of personal mana—all they had to do was aim.
A sky full of fireball barrages rained down, saturating the entire area in flames.
The saturation bombardment left the devils completely shell-shocked. Although high-ranking devils possessed formidable fire resistance, they were not entirely immune, and that single volley cost them two casualties.
Anbaixiu seized the opening to ask for their leader's name. But though the devil captain was just as enraged and hated Anbaixiu to the bone, the name he shouted meant nothing to Anbaixiu. His patience exhausted, Anbaixiu simply had Melina crush them with numbers.
This elite squad truly was formidable. Despite Melina holding every advantage, they still managed to fight their way to a forty-to-one casualty ratio. In the end, Melina sustained a few light wounds, while Monica had her right arm and tail lopped off.
Their combat prowess was fierce enough, but they were still far too foolish.
No matter how elite a squad might be, they couldn't overcome the forces of an entire fiefdom.
Either they had influence without brains, or strength without brains. Anbaixiu felt profoundly disappointed.
"Why are they all this caliber of trash? Could it be that all my formidable rivals from back then are dead?"
Could the enemies who once gave him sleepless nights truly have perished? Those people were genuine talents; surely not all of them had failed to survive here in Hell.
With a sigh, he left Melina to clear the battlefield and handed her a special list.
On it were over thirty names, all of them "enemies" etched deeply into Anbaixiu's memory. Three of them were specially highlighted. If any intelligence regarding them surfaced, it had to be reported immediately; should any devil suspected of being one of those three appear, she was under strict orders never to engage them, but to notify him at once.
Melina examined the three names marked in red.
Salvador, Brunus, and Paluriel.
Curious, Melina asked, "Father, you even have women among your enemies?"
Of those dozens of names, only one was feminine, and it was one of the three highlighted in red. That piqued Melina's attention.
"That woman..." Anbaixiu hesitated, as if searching for the right words.
In the end, he could only offer a grave warning. "That woman is an absolute lunatic. She is more dangerous than any devil. Do not be careless, Melina. If you are certain you've seen her, run immediately. Do not hesitate for even a second."
Melina stared at Anbaixiu in disbelief. This was the first time she had ever heard her father give such a solemn warning. Was she truly that dangerous?
Though Melina wasn't particularly clever, she was an obedient child. She quickly nodded and said, "Understood, Father. I'll notify you right away and never cross paths with that woman."
Anbaixiu nodded, then vanished into the surface of the mirror.
Meanwhile, within the Iron Fortress on the second layer of Hell, a gaunt cambion was buried in a sea of documents.
This cambion appeared ordinary enough, but every document he reviewed contained crucial intelligence from across the second layer. He was the most trusted scribe of Archduke Dispater, ruler of the second layer of Hell. He looked no different from an ordinary devil, yet when the fiends of the second layer spoke of this scribe, they addressed him reverently as "His Grace," for he had long reached the realm of divinity and was entitled to be called an archduke in his own right.
However, this scribe shared a personality very similar to that of his master, Dispater: both were recluses who preferred staying cooped up at home. He almost never showed his face in public, so very few devils knew his true name. Most simply referred to him as "Lord Scribe."
At this moment, the scribe was diligently organizing the files on his desk. Most were tallies compiled by his subordinate devils, estimating the circulation of soul coins across the second layer and assessing the Hell Bank's impact on its economy.
These matters were tangled and labyrinthine. Compiling the statistics alone was an immense undertaking, and discerning the critical truths hidden within the complex figures was even harder. In all the Iron Fortress, only this scribe possessed the skill and patience to see the work through.
Yet as he focused on the papers before him, the lamps beside him suddenly flickered.
The scribe snapped his head up toward the dark corner. A crimson glow radiated from his eyes, illuminating the figure lurking within the shadows.
A voluptuous female erinyes stepped out of the darkness, her face wearing an alluring smile. Had it not been for a deep, bone-exposing wound on her right arm, one might have thought she was the scribe's concubine indulging in some scandalous game.
The scribe gasped in shock. "Paluriel! Have you lost your mind? Do you know what place you've broken into?!"
Paying no heed to the wound on her arm, Paluriel walked straight up to the desk. With a flick of her tail, she swept all the neatly organized files onto the floor, then leaned in close to the scribe's ear.
"Salvador, is now the time to talk about that? I really don't understand how you can still sit here. That man has already sent us an invitation. Aren't you going to keep the appointment?"
Chapter 556