A vast and mighty army stood arrayed before the Blood River Fortress.
Bel looked at the "army" before him with a deep frown, unable to keep from doubting his own military acumen.
He realized he simply could not make sense of these bizarre forces, finding it nearly impossible to determine their specific purposes from their appearances alone.
Scouts were supposed to be agile, stealthy, and swift. Shock troops meant for storming fortifications were supposed to be numerous and heavily built. Specialized utility units could look strange, but one glance was usually enough to deduce what they were built for.
Yet these undead... Bel felt utterly baffled.
At a glance, aside from the flying bone warships, which he could reasonably guess served both reconnaissance and air-to-ground offensive roles, he truly could not understand the other grotesque creations.
There were colossal zombies sprouting multiple legs, moving sluggishly and bearing no visible weapons, each carrying nothing more than an enormous crate upon its back.
Such hulking sizes made them walking targets. Even if those crates were packed full of explosive alchemical concoctions, who could possibly be blown up by something so slow? Instead, demons would easily concentrate their fire and detonate them prematurely, wiping out their own side.
There were many more such unwieldy units, each oddly shaped, with nowhere indicating where their weapons might be.
The only force Bel could comprehend was a company of Death Knights clad in full heavy plate.
Bel then shifted his gaze toward the young commander. This kid had only fallen to Hell a short while ago, seemingly an assistant that Archduke Deceiver had brought from the mortal realm.
Truth be told, Bel looked down upon so-called mortal military geniuses.
The reason was simple: neither the intensity nor the duration of the battles on the Blood River battlefield could compare to wars on other planes.
The Githyanki of the Astral Plane were practically a militarized nation where every citizen was a soldier, invading other planes day in and day out.
Yet ten years of Githyanki casualties would not even equal a single day's losses on the Blood River battlefield.
Commanding a war was immensely draining. Every second brought an overwhelming flood of reports, requiring immediate calculation and precise judgment.
Bel knew that many mortal commanders relied on drugs to artificially stay alert during intense conflicts, holding on without sleep for days at a time.
Yet going several days without sleep was merely the most ordinary circumstance in the Blood War.
This was precisely why only deities could serve as supreme commanders in the Blood War. Anyone with a slightly frailer constitution would be ready for a corpse collector within half a month.
And even with the full backing of the Nine Hells, Bel had only ever focused on defense. Launching a counterattack was something he had never considered, nor was it necessary.
The Abyss was so vast, and the demons so endless—where would one even advance?
Thus, Bel truly wanted to tell Anbaixiu to simply station this million-strong army on the Blood River battlefield as expendable cannon fodder. Once they weathered this period and the demons returned to their normal patterns, this trial would be considered passed; the Deceiver could settle comfortably into his role as a devil archduke, and support from the other archdukes would return to normal.
However, Bel had no standing to say such things, as none of these undead belonged to him.
Unlike the personal guard Bel had trained himself, these undead had all been manufactured by the archduke, no matter the methods used, spared no expense.
Since this was funded entirely from the archduke's own pocket, Bel could only choose to stand by and watch.
He would offer no opinions. In the end, these undead would all perish upon demonic soil anyway. Whether they provoked those demon lords or managed to achieve some tactical result made no difference in Bel's eyes.
Bel wished to escape this ceaseless torment as well, but the Abyss was eternal and demons were inexhaustible. A fleeting victory was meaningless, for demons would always return.
With a sigh, Bel made his way to the Grand Archives, intending to present his subsequent defensive plans to Anbaixiu, only to be greeted by an unexpected guest.
Inside the Grand Archives, Anbaixiu was warmly pouring tea for a lady of noble bearing yet brazen makeup.
The woman radiated an unsettling aura—the innate dragon fear belonging to the dragon race. The one causing Bel such pressure was none other than Tiamat, the Dragon Goddess.
Bel was thoroughly puzzled. Tiamat had departed Hell long ago, and there had been no news of her during this time. Why would she suddenly appear here, and at such a crucial moment?
Noticing Bel's arrival, Anbaixiu asked casually, "Are all arrangements for the expedition in order?"
Not daring to pry, Bel could only reply, "The vanguard has assembled. However, the commander you appointed does not plan to march in person."
Anbaixiu nodded. "That was my arrangement. Ange Watson is just a weakling; what use would he be on the front? Staying in the Blood River Fortress allows him to command remotely via the magic mirror all the same, and it saves us the trouble of guarding against assassins."
Back when he was still a paladin, Ange Watson had not even attained legendary rank, and descending to Hell had changed little in that regard; his individual combat power was negligible. Furthermore, Ange Watson had already practiced commanding battles remotely through the magic mirror. As long as there was no latency, it was no different from him being on the front lines in person.
The one who truly needed to go to the front was Paluriel. That madwoman was a high-tier combatant on par with a deity, capable of switching in a heartbeat from a tactical advisor to a general leading the charge.
Hearing Anbaixiu say this, Bel raised no objections. He merely briefed Anbaixiu on the plans to reconstruct the Blood River defensive lines, and upon receiving Anbaixiu's approval, took his leave.
Bel felt as though Tiamat's gaze drifted over him intermittently, and facing this Dragon Goddess made him completely uneasy.
He had no idea what the two of them were sitting there discussing. Hadn't rumors said their relationship was terrible?
Once Bel was gone, Tiamat spoke up.
"Look," she said, "even your subordinate sensed something was off. Yet you still had me sit here and drink tea with you. Aren't you afraid Cyric will find out?"
Anbaixiu chuckled. "Why? Did you lie to Cyric?"
Tiamat was silent for a moment before replying, "Actually, no."
Anbaixiu took a sip of his tea and said placidly, "Exactly. We didn't lie at all. I am going to counterattack the Abyss—that was the intelligence you brought to Cyric. The army is already being assembled, ready to march at any moment."
It was no wonder Tiamat had been bewildered, for Anbaixiu had approached her of his own accord, asking her to deliver a message.
Tiamat had originally grown tired of meddling in Hell's chaotic affairs. As long as her dividends of soul coins kept coming, she was nowhere near as invested as Zariel had been.
As for her hatred of Anbaixiu... letting it go was out of the question; an evil goddess had no reason to speak of forgiveness. Yet she did not hate him enough to demand his immediate death, nor did she spend every waking moment plotting revenge. That faint grudge had diluted once more after Anbaixiu voluntarily presented a massive sum of soul coins.
To contact this reclusive Dragon Goddess, Anbaixiu had projected his consciousness to Dragon Island and found Gareth, asking him to track down the chromatic dragons. Through the resonance of their bloodlines, he had obtained the method to summon Tiamat.
Hell's affairs had kept Anbaixiu plenty busy as it was. Had the magic mirror not allowed him to reach anywhere in an instant, he would have been utterly overwhelmed.
Seeing that Anbaixiu had genuinely carved out time from his hectic schedule, used such a roundabout approach, and offered such lavish gifts, Tiamat had temporarily set aside her displeasure and agreed to speak with him.
Anbaixiu's request had been even stranger: he wanted Tiamat to find a way to leak the news of his counteroffensive into the Abyss.
His second request was that no matter who approached Tiamat to join forces against him, Anbaixiu wanted her to agree.
These two requests were so simple that they were hardly worth that mountain of soul coins, so much so that Tiamat had initially hesitated to accept. The Dragon Goddess was wary, genuinely fearing that succumbing to greed would land her in one of Anbaixiu's traps.
In the end, they relied on the old method: Anbaixiu swore upon his devil's honor and signed a contract with Tiamat, confirming that he harbored not the slightest malice toward her.
Only then had Tiamat cautiously accepted the payment and fulfilled his request.
Tiamat certainly had not understood why Anbaixiu wanted her to spread the news. Hell's troop movements could never be concealed from the demons anyway; even if she said nothing, the secret could never be kept.
Soon enough, however, Tiamat understood Anbaixiu's intent, and she realized what the second request had been aiming for.
Cyric had sought her out, hoping to cooperate, and the Prince of Lies' rationale was straightforward. If Tiamat was spreading intelligence disadvantageous to Anbaixiu, it had to be because she still harbored a grudge. After all, she had been swindled by him repeatedly, to the point of becoming a well-known disgrace.
Tiamat had almost wanted to ask: *You're the Prince of Lies—can't you even sense when someone is lying? Can't you detect the scent of a conspiracy?*
Listening to Anbaixiu now, Tiamat finally realized.
Did she still hold a grudge against the Deceiver before her? Of course she did. If Anbaixiu met with misfortune, she would not hesitate to kick him while he was down.
Did she have any plot against Cyric?
None at all. Anbaixiu's only requirement had been for Tiamat to welcome all comers, agreeing to anyone who sought her help to work against him, with no further demands. Anbaixiu had not even asked Tiamat to pass him intelligence, nor had he ever inquired about Cyric's plans from the beginning.
So in the end, Tiamat had merely spread information disadvantageous to Anbaixiu and agreed to cooperate with Cyric. Even the hatred in her heart was genuine.
It was entirely true, without a shred of falsehood. That the Prince of Lies had detected nothing seemed perfectly reasonable.
"Still, I feel something is amiss," Tiamat said. "It is impossible for Cyric not to sense your malice toward him. The moment you began plotting, he should have felt it. He had no need to find clues through me."
Anbaixiu smiled faintly. "Of course Cyric knows I want to deal with him. Back when I was still a mortal, I was already contemplating how to get rid of him. That plot began long ago, and I doubt Cyric ever overlooked it. But in the end, I am a mortal qualified to share the divine portfolio of Lies. Cyric can only sense an inkling; he can never know what I am specifically doing.
"Therefore, in Cyric's eyes, I have simply been scheming against him continuously from the mortal realm to Hell, completely unchanged. And you, the Dragon Goddess, are also my enemy, and you didn't lie to him. How could Cyric possibly know where the problem lies? Or rather, even you don't know what I'm planning, do you?"
Tiamat had to concede the point. Even now, she had no idea what Anbaixiu's specific plan was, yet she already felt that familiar chill running down her spine.
In the Dragon Goddess's heart, the title of "Deceiver" carried far more weight than that of the "Prince of Lies."
She had unwittingly boarded his ship once again, all while remaining entirely in the dark.
Tiamat could not help but warn him, "Cyric is already contacting your enemies. The power of Hell's laws is different from a true divine realm; it is borrowed power, not truly your own. Do not assume that just because you wield the strength of a deity, your fundamental nature has changed. You are still merely a mortal. Between gods, one cannot look solely at divine rank. You should understand this well, shouldn't you?"
Anbaixiu nodded. "Of course I do. If you were to fight me right now, I could only rely on this borrowed power to resist. I wouldn't stand a real chance of victory like Zariel did. The might of the dragon race is indeed something beyond the reach of a mortal like me."
This was no false modesty, but the plain truth.
The innate advantages of dragon deities were simply too overwhelming. Setting aside the laws of Hell, Zariel was likely no match for Tiamat. As for Anbaixiu, who relied entirely on the laws of Hell for self-preservation, he truly could only defend himself; suppressing the Dragon Goddess the way he had bullied Bel was impossible.
Tiamat would only need to pay a small price to escape Hell with ease.
In other words, if a multitude of gods truly entered this First Layer of Hell, Anbaixiu might genuinely not be able to defeat them, because he could only rely on himself now—the other devil archdukes would not lift a finger to aid him.
Once Cyric assembled the gods, Anbaixiu might very well become the first "deity" to be slain inside his own divine realm.
Yet precisely because of this, Anbaixiu was going on the offensive.
Setting down his teacup, Anbaixiu spoke to Tiamat with grave sincerity: "Whether it is the great Dragon Goddess, the Prince of Lies, or that Goddess of Pain... all my enemies think the same way. To them, I, this lich, am merely a mortal who happened to obtain power rivaling a god, without any real change in essence.
"That is exactly what I want. I want all of you to keep thinking that way, treating me as an ordinary mortal. But you have all overlooked one thing. Back when I was a mortal, I had to be subservient to high-and-mighty gods like you because our power was completely unequal; I could only resist with words.
"Now, however, things are different. I possess the power to make you bleed."
Anbaixiu clenched his fist. Colossal magical power coalesced within his palm, condensing into a pulsing Heart of Hell. It was the manifestation of the laws of Hell, radiating an immense pressure that made even Tiamat furrow her brows.
Anbaixiu continued, "When I was still a mortal, I dared to attack gods with words. Now that I have attained godhood, how could I still wait passively like a mortal for you to come seeking vengeance? The one who should be seeking vengeance is me! I am the victim who was bullied and threatened by the gods all along! Did none of you ever stop to think that I might take the initiative to strike back at you?
"The moment I became the master of this First Layer of Hell, of Avernus, I made my decision: this time, there is no need to trouble Overgod Ao to intervene. I will take my revenge personally, and let them know what a true devil is!"
Tiamat felt a pang of regret. Not regret over cooperating with Anbaixiu, but regret over having made an enemy of him in the first place. Had she known fate would unfold like this, wouldn't offering him favors early on have solved everything? Back then, Anbaixiu had been so impoverished that he couldn't even afford a youth potion; a single drop of dragon blood would have earned his undying gratitude.
Tiamat let out a soft sigh and asked, "Then what exactly is your plan? Give me a hint, lest I end up dragged down with the rest."
"Honored Dragon Goddess, if you remain in the dark, you won't need to lie and keep secrets on my behalf, which will make things far easier for you when facing Cyric." Anbaixiu gave her a polite smile and offered reassuringly, "Rest assured, I am still cooperating with the dragon race. You, the Mother of Chromatic Dragons, are not on my revenge list."
Cooperating... if enslavement, blood-draining, and skinning counted as cooperation...
Just as Tiamat was about to say something, Anbaixiu abruptly shifted the topic: "Tiamat, the Dragon Gods possess an ancient history and are among the most knowledgeable of deities. I would like to ask you a question. If you can answer it, I would be most grateful."
Puzzled, Tiamat asked, "I doubt this question will be easy to answer. Aren't you on good terms with Oghma, the Lord of Knowledge? Is there a question that even the Lord of Knowledge cannot answer?"
Anbaixiu replied helplessly, "I posed my question to the wise Oghma, but received no response. So I wish to ask you: have you ever seen the Goddess of Fate?"
Chapter 625