Ashen Dragon

The Natural War Maniac replied, "Just a few days ago, Cassius descended into Hell, blocked the demon's offensive, defeated the incarnation of Koschech, and temporarily held the Abyssal Legion at the frontline."

"So that's how it is..." Singo lowered his head, deep in thought.

At this moment, Mantou pointed toward the distant sky, his voice trembling, "Look quickly!"

"It's the Abyssal Legion, they are coming!"

"Hurry, speed up the progress, we must complete the fortifications before the demons arrive! We cannot relax!"

In the distant sky, countless demons appeared, flapping their wings chaotically. This swarm of demons stretched for miles, with no end in sight, spreading toward the Bronze Fortress as if to bring darkness upon the entire world.

The piercing shrieks, wailing cries like infants, and hoarse roars filled the sky, intertwining with each other, causing unprecedented chaos and ear-piercing pain.

On the ground, the demons surged toward the South like a black tide, nearly frantically covering most of the wasteland. Wherever the demon army passed, not a blade of grass grew, turning all into filth-ridden Abyssal soil.

In the demon group were the bloated and pus-filled Soul Judgment Demons, the fiery Barlow Flame Demons, and the Abyssal Dragons with dark red scales...

Most prominent among them were the Tanari Frost Giants.

Different from ordinary Frost Giants, these giants had mottled gray skin, bodies covered with menacing spikes, corrosive venom dripping from their mouth corners, and eyes exuding icy cold light.

They were remnants of the great Giant civilization, but unlike their vanished kin, these Frost Giants chose to follow Koschech, pledging themselves to the Abyss, willingly accepting the corruption of Chaos Blood.

The giants particularly revered the Angry Lord for his battle lust and violence, even attacking other Frost Giants who did not serve Koschech.

The Frost Giants wielded scepters, chanting ancient spells, bringing forth a biting cold wind that howled, sweeping over the land, freezing everything in front of them into ice.

They were Frost Shamans, Frost Giant servants carefully cultivated by Koschech, wielding Rune Power inherited from ancient times.

On the far horizon, three gigantic figures stood majestically, emerging faintly from the thick Chaos Mist, causing all beings to tremble.

The figure on the left wielded a longbow, half-human and half-horse, covered in fine gray scales, with blood-red eyes exuding an overwhelming killing intent.

The figure on the right was bloated, oozing sticky black liquid, with hundreds of thick tentacles dancing chaotically in midair.

Yet the figure in the center stood much taller than the other two, this giant had gray skin, a strong physique, clad in light armor sewn from White Dragon Skin, with eyes exuding a bone-chilling coldness.

At this moment, the "Hunting Monarch" Mastifa, the "Black Water Lord" Ishinix, and the "Angry Lord" simultaneously projected their will upon Avernus!

Atop the Bronze Fortress, Piere flapped broad Bat Wings, raising the Hell Longsword high, his voice impassioned, every word powerful.

"Gentlemen, Devils are the finest warriors, we possess superior tactics, indomitable morale, and better equipment!

We will win this war, driving those Beasts back to the Abyss! Avernus will always belong to the Devils, and only to the Devils!"

"Do you desire status and strength? Want to ascend the ranks?" Piere pointed his longsword at the distant demons, roaring, "Kill them all, and I swear in the name of the Master of Avernus, you will obtain everything you desire!"

"Kill them all!"

"For the Nine Prisons! For Avernus!"

The Devils raised their arms and shouted, their expressions fierce, their cries resounding across the sky.

As products of evil order, hatred for demons is inherent and instinctual for Devils. They will never allow these embodiments of chaos to occupy Hell.

In the face of this common enemy, Devils can even temporarily put aside internal strife and calculations, setting aside past grudges to unite and fully resist the demon invasion.

Within the "Leased Territory" of the Ashen Empire, players also gazed at the distant Magic Tide, discussing fervently.

"There's so many demons!"

"Yeah, these demons are everywhere, covering the sky, too many to count, impossible to count."

"The pressure is immense, wait, who's playing the BGM? Are they trying to boost the enemy's momentum?"

If it were ordinary Mortals facing this Scourge-like Magic Tide, they would likely be scared unconscious, even driven mad. Even the Devils, who engraved the art of blood war into their heritage, felt their hearts tremble against such a tide.

Yet the players showed no reverence, their eyes filled with greed towards the demons, as if seeing countless walking money bags, Experience Packs, some even drooling at the sight of these ugly monsters.

"So many demons, if we kill them all, how much experience can we gain..."

While the Scattered Individuals were still marveling, the large Noble Guilds were already making intensive preparations.

The sky was shrouded by sulfur smoke, the charred earth crisscrossed with web-like cracks, magma coursing through like blood vessels. The Red Dragon Grazthor—a legendary evil dragon that has lurked in Avernus for thousands of years—built its lair atop the Fire Lake in the depths of the rift. Zareel's Steel Fortress hovered on the rift edge, its shadow pressing down on the Dragon Nest like sharp claws. Their conflict stemmed from the Red Dragon's disdain for the Hell Legion: "Dragonflame is the true Authority of Hell!" Meanwhile, Zareel needed the dragon's head to deter any devils questioning her leadership.

The Red Dragon's roar shattered the canyon walls on both sides, magma gushing like blood.

"Zareel! Your Iron Throne is nothing but a heap of scrap metal!" Grazthor unfurled its immense Dragon Wings, dark red Dragon Flame brewing deep in its throat.

Zareel leaped from the fortress's pinnacle, Burning Sky Wings exploding into a trail of flames behind her: "Your Pride is the cheapest fuel in Hell."

Dragon Flame Breath swept in like a meteor stream, but Zareel dove into the fire, the giant sword Slayer of Hope cleaving through the fire waves, its blade aiming for the Dragon's Eye. The Red Dragon jerked its head, the blade scraping past the dragon horn, sparking a blinding trail, turning scorched soil within a hundred meters into glass.

The Red Dragon's claws slashed towards Zareel's chest, the Hell Lord's Black Iron Armor screeched with jarring scratches, molten metal dripping like blood. Zareel grabbed the dragon's wrist, her giant sword slashing off a dragon toe. Grazthor's roar of pain triggered a magma tsunami, but the severed toe bones were quickly remolded by Hellfire within seconds—the corrupting force of Avernus nourished this evil dragon.

Zareel's wings flapped suddenly, unleashing a ring of flame Shockwave (Burning Sky Wings), forcing the Red Dragon back to the canyon's edge. Grazthor used its Dragon Wings to whip up a hurricane laden with lava shards, Zareel was swept into the storm's center, the flames on her wings temporarily extinguished, revealing charred and tattered feathers—scars from her fall, never to heal.

The Red Dragon's tail hammer struck Zareel's spine like a battering ram, sending her into the magma lakebed. But in the next second, the Hell Lord leapt from the boiling lake surface, her giant sword entwined with Purgatory Rune (Purgatory Slash), severing the dragon tail's end spike. Where Dragon Blood sprayed, magma solidified into Obsidian spires, as if Hell erecting a monument for this battle.

Zareel abruptly withdrew her sword, allowing the Red Dragon's fangs to bite into her left shoulder. As the Dragon Tooth pierced the armor, her hand pressed against Grazthor's forehead, Devil Contract runes spreading from her palm to the Dragon Scale.

"You think I desire your death? No... I want your submission." Zareel sneered.

The Red Dragon's spirit convulsed violently under the contract's erosion, but its soul had long been tainted by Avernus's sins. Zareel unleashed Dominion Will (Legendary Action), compelling Grazthor to spit Dragonflame, incinerating its own lair. In the Dragonflame, the Red Dragon's hoarded treasures turned to ashes, its offspring's remains wailing in the fire.

"Now, you have only one path left—" Zareel's sword tip pressed against the Dragon Heart, "Fight for me, or add a trace of Dragon Soul to the edge of my sword."