Sometimes, when someone has fallen to darkness for too long, they even forget who they were before.
Zariel was no exception.
She had been a devil for so long that she had forgotten she was once an angel.
At first, the abnormal shifts in the laws of Hell had filled her with panic, so terrified that she had rushed to the River of Blood to fight a massive battle, even slaying an avatar of Demogorgon, barely stabilizing her authority.
Yet as this power continued to be stripped away, Zariel felt an unusual sense of relief.
Perhaps casting aside the power of Hell was a good thing for her?
When Zariel had charged into Hell back then, she hadn't been a deserter of Mount Celestia. She had been a renowned war commander of Mount Celestia; it was only because she was betrayed and had her retreat cut off that she fell into Hell, transformed into what she was today after enduring endless torment.
Hatred grew within her heart day by day, which, coupled with the power of Hell's laws, gradually warped her into a vicious and brutal fallen angel.
Yet at her core, Zariel was still an angel—a holy being hailing from Mount Celestia.
As the infernal power steadily drained away, her memories of being an angel began welling up in her heart. But this time, what surfaced was not hatred or malice, but nostalgia.
How wonderful those days on Mount Celestia had been back then.
There, all was flowers and splendor, whereas her present domain held only magma and wailing.
Zariel used to love hearing the screams of sinners—punishment and torment were the eternal, unchanging themes of Hell—yet looking back on it now, it only made her feel nauseated.
Just how long had she been fallen?
Zariel could no longer calculate those years. The flow of time in Hell was by no means constant, and the presence of the River Styx constantly disrupted the stability of the First Layer of Hell.
Space and time were twisted across fierce battle after fierce battle, so most of the time, time was meaningless.
What truly mattered were her own feelings and memories.
Zariel recalled everything about Mount Celestia, and she desperately wanted to return to that place.
Unfortunately, it was not that simple.
At the beginning, Zariel had been a captive, an angel bound in Hell; as long as the bonds were undone, she could have returned directly to Mount Celestia. But now, she was already a devil.
Even if she surrendered all her power as the master of the First Layer to Anbaixiu, she would remain a fallen angel—a devil forbidden from entering Mount Celestia. When that happened, she would merely become an ordinary quasi-deity, and would in turn become Anbaixiu's servant, or even his prisoner.
Therefore, Zariel did not simply let her power drain away without care; she needed to make further preparations.
Returning to Mount Celestia required solving three problems. The first was her identity: a fallen angel could not enter Mount Celestia, so she needed to completely revert to angelic form.
The second problem was that Mount Celestia had to agree to her return. If the gates were not opened, even an angel could not go back.
The third problem—and the one that worried Zariel the most—was the slumbering Lord of Hell, Asmodeus. Once the authority over the First Layer of Hell changed hands, a matter of such magnitude would inevitably alarm the Lord of Hell. Once he awoke from his slumber, she wouldn't even be able to flee.
No one could challenge Asmodeus within Hell; if Zariel tried to run, she would only be suppressed in an instant.
Thus, Zariel needed to establish communication with Mount Celestia in advance, restore her angelic form at the very moment her authority transferred, and then open a pathway to Mount Celestia to return.
Restoring her angelic form was immensely difficult for Zariel, but she already had a way. She was currently repairing her broken, battered body bit by bit, reshaping the heart of an angel.
However, contacting Mount Celestia was exceptionally difficult.
Over all these years, Zariel had severed all ties with Mount Celestia. She was no undercover agent; she had truly fallen after capture and become one of the devils. How could she obtain the forgiveness of the deities of Mount Celestia, prompting them to tear open the barriers of Hell to take her back?
To this question, Zariel had no answer.
Yet no matter what, she had to strive toward that goal.
"That fellow seems to have gained the recognition of the Lord of the Dawn. Perhaps... I'll have to make another deal with that greedy bastard down to his bones."
Zariel gnashed her teeth in hatred whenever she thought of Anbaixiu, but she also knew very well that this mortal's connections now reached the heavens—quite literally.
Mount Celestia was a colossal plane, and the divine realms of many lawful good deities were closely linked to it. Lathander, the Lord of the Dawn, and Tyr, the God of Justice, were two prominent examples.
Precisely because so many just and good deities constantly influenced this plane, it earned the renown of Mount Celestia, making it virtually indistinguishable from paradise.
For Anbaixiu to form a connection with the Lord of the Dawn literally gave him a direct line to heaven. There had never been such a lich who could communicate with Heaven and Hell at the same time.
Much as Zariel hated Anbaixiu, she had zero doubt about the bastard's capabilities.
Every mortal and god who had looked down on Anbaixiu had tripped and fallen hard before him, while everyone who sincerely cooperated with him had made a fortune. Even though Mammon had stormed in earlier looking ready to turn against Anbaixiu, the Hell Bank was still churning out a staggering amount of wealth for him. Mammon had only come to vent; actually getting him to pull out of the partnership was impossible.
Reflecting on it now, Zariel realized she had never been particularly courteous to Anbaixiu. Needing a favor from him now, she had no idea what outrageous terms that fellow might demand. And she discovered that aside from her power over the First Layer of Hell, she didn't seem to have much else of value to offer.
After turning it over in her mind, her only angle was to start with Melina.
Compared to her father, Melina was far more naive. In their few meetings, Zariel had been very lenient with Melina and had given her plenty of perks; presumably, Melina had a fairly favorable impression of her.
It just so happened that Melina had achieved merits in the Blood War. Giving her the corresponding rewards as a matter of course, and handling everything according to the highest standard, would do the trick.
Whether she wanted military merits, power, or any other reward, the vault of the Blood River Fortress would be thrown wide open for her to take whatever she pleased.
As long as she could do a few favors for that lich through Melina, negotiating their future cooperation would be much easier.
Zariel comforted herself with optimistic visions of the future, entirely unaware that Melina had not entered the River of Blood this time just to farm merits.
After clearing away a swarm of weak demons on the battlefield, Melina casually ordered her subordinates to clean up, cutting off only the most valuable demon parts before dumping the rest of the carcasses and ignoring them.
Doing so squandered more than half of their potential merits, but Melina did not care in the slightest. She urged her lingering, reluctant subordinates to keep moving forward. In the sector assigned to her by Archduke Bel, there was still one point that had not been cleared.
Melina's mission today was to eliminate every demon in this area so they wouldn't cause any disruptions.
This was actually Paluriel's plan. This divine-ranked erinyes far surpassed Anbaixiu in spellcasting capability, and she intended to investigate the subterranean tributary of the River Styx from this sector to see if she could find a way to sever it.
At the thought of digging up the very roots of the First Layer of Hell, Paluriel was practically beaming with excitement, bustling about with her lemure minion in tow.
Crazy as this madwoman was, she genuinely delivered on her words. Having promised to make this lemure a big shot in Melina's territory, she had truly pushed him into one of the top three deputy positions under Melina. Now, the little fellow, basking in borrowed glory, was brandishing a whip and barking orders at the laborers to haul and butcher the corpses, constructing a magic circle out of flesh and blood.
Paluriel glanced at Melina heading back into the distant battlefield, thinking, "Arthas's daughter really is nothing like that bastard. What an innocent little girl. She does whatever she's told, without the slightest urge to slack off or play tricks. What a pity. If not for that bastard, I'd love to devour this little girl down to the bone."
Shaking her head, Paluriel tossed those wicked schemes aside and stepped into the center of the nearly completed magic circle. Channeling her magical energy, she softly chanted: "Cage of sinners, cradle of sins, I, Paluriel, offer the flesh and blood of demons unto you. May the fires of Hell burn for eternity..."
As a quasi-deity recognized by the laws of Hell, Paluriel was fundamentally comparable to a deity. The magical energy radiating from her quickly resonated with Hell, and the flesh, blood, and bones upon the magic circle began to dissolve.
The best sacrifice to a devil was a soul, but the best sacrifice to Hell itself was the carcass of a demon—though the corpse of a devil was fine too, and the more gruesome the death, the better.
For this signified that the will of Hell was carried out: punishing sinners through pain and torment, thereby maintaining equilibrium across the realms.
Hell and Heaven were inextricably intertwined; neither could exist without the other.
Through the sacrifice of this mangled flesh, the magic circle began to glow, though the spectacle was not grandiose in the least.
Paluriel had deliberately suppressed the magic circle's effects to avoid drawing unnecessary attention; ideally, neither Zariel nor Bel would spare it a single glance.
As the flesh and blood dissolved, Paluriel's eyes grew brighter and brighter. Her originally black pupils turned a crimson hue, gaining golden vertical slits that looked somewhat similar to Melina's eyes.
The effect was the same, just an intensely upgraded version.
For the duration of the effect, Paluriel's eyes could see through all illusions, discern the flow of all magical energy, and perceive shifts in space.
The Blood River battlefield was not merely a wide river littered with corpses; it possessed all sorts of terrain—swamps, volcanoes, dense forests, and even deserts.
These bizarre regions shifted constantly over time, baffling intruders like a maze; otherwise, they would never have been able to hold back the endless hordes of demons.
To locate the tributary of the River Styx across this labyrinthine battlefield, she needed these eyes.
Regrettably, even after sacrificing so many demons, Paluriel only had ten minutes.
"Ten minutes should be enough."
Paluriel grinned, and her form vanished into thin air.
In the next second, bizarre breezes began fluttering continuously around the magic circle. These breezes had no fixed direction; they appeared abruptly and vanished just as quickly. Many devils only noticed them when the wind brushed against their faces.
Yet devils with sharper senses understood that the erinyes was moving at terrifyingly extreme speed.
She surpassed the kinetic vision and perception of every devil present. She barely disturbed the air, kicking up only a faint breeze in the moments when she paused briefly.
Yet this was merely the prelude.
Smarter devils had already begun moving away from the magic circle on their own initiative, cautiously retreating further and further.
Some foolish idiots lingered to watch the show, wondering how such an elaborate magic circle could produce no sensational effects whatsoever.
Soon, however, they paid the price for their foolishness.
With a deafening boom, a massive crater blew open in the ground, and the devils nearby were blown to shreds along with it.
It wasn't magic, nor was it some mighty combat technique—it was simply slicing sheerly from extreme velocity.
An invisible blade carved the very space of that area into ribbons, gouging out deep craters while mincing the devils in the vicinity into fine pieces.
There were no screams of agony, for the moment they were cut, they were shredded beyond recognition.
As craters of varying sizes cratered the earth and sonic booms ripped through the air, the spectating devils finally realized how stupid they were. This was no spectacle to watch—it was an execution ground!
A large crowd of devils scattered in a panicked rush, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the area.
Paluriel couldn't care less about the lives of these devils. She was tracking a flickering spatial rift—tiny, and shifting positions with every passing second.
In Paluriel's eyes, this spatial rift was the exact key leading underground.
Demons needed an entrance to reach the Blood River battlefield. The River Styx was not merely a physical river, but a colossal spatial conduit linking countless realms. This rift appeared to be one of the "entrances" carved out by the rushing waters of the River Styx.
The labyrinthine laws of the Blood River battlefield cordoned off these entrances into discrete zones. Sectors large and small were nested together, ensuring demons would not amass in a single concentrated force, and guaranteeing they could not break free from the River of Blood to spill into other parts of Hell.
Therefore, no matter how frantically the rift flickered, it remained confined within this sector and could not drift too far.
What Paluriel needed to do now was seize this rift, stabilize it, and then enter in reverse to locate the River Styx.
This was no simple feat; a mortal certainly could not accomplish it.
Fortunately, Paluriel was a deity.
This madwoman flashed continuously through the air at terrifying speed in pursuit of the spatial rift, until the entire area was riddled with gaping wounds and several thousand deep craters were gouged into the earth.
Suddenly, a bizarre sound rang out—resembling the ear-grating screech of sharp metal scratching across glass.
Paluriel reappeared, hovering midair.
Blood dripped from both of her hands, yet the corners of her mouth curled into a manic grin, for the writhing, transparent anomaly in her grasp was none other than the spatial rift.
Though exhausting, she had finally caught it.
Now, as long as she stabilized this spatial rift and expanded it slightly, she could enter the demons' territory in reverse and search for the River Styx.
Yet before Paluriel could celebrate, a stream of silver-white substance began flowing out from within the spatial rift.
Looking at the silvery-white liquid before her, Paluriel furrowed her brows deeply. Bringing some to her nose to sniff, then rubbing it between her fingers, she murmured in bewilderment, "Is this... mercury? No, it seems like something else is mixed in."
Chapter 601