{Chapter: 175: Behind Enemy Lines}
Resolving himself to act, he immediately turned his attention to the surviving demigods on the field. Selecting over a dozen of the most agile and tactically flexible among them, he began forming a strike force—one capable of penetrating deep into the abyss-infested zone to eliminate Dex before things worsened further.
Alison and Emerson, two fellow high-ranking commanders, observed his decision with grim expressions. A silent glance passed between them before Alison stepped forward. Her tone was calm, but carried the weight of authority.
"Henry," she said, "do you remember the [Middle Demon] I spoke of not long ago? The one we suspected had infiltrated this region earlier than expected? I believe this is the same one. In my opinion, he's an extremely cunning and resourceful type. You should proceed with utmost caution. Don't fall into his traps."
Her warning wasn't unfounded. Henry understood exactly what she meant.
The sparse intelligence they had acquired could very well have been fabricated—or deliberately planted to mislead them. A trap disguised as truth. The Abyss was known for its manipulations, and a clever demon could easily twist a counterattack into a psychological game, luring enemy forces into a prepared ambush.
Still, Henry could only sigh and shake his head.
"I understand the risk," he said, his voice low. "But we're out of time. If we hesitate any longer, the infection will reach critical levels. We'll lose the defense line entirely—and with it, our last hope of holding this region."
Unlike Dex, who operated with the luxury of time and chaos, Henry and his forces were constantly racing against the clock. Every hour gave the demon more ground. More souls. More strength.
If this plague spread continued unchecked for even a few more days, the consequences would be catastrophic. Civilization itself could collapse across the eastern front.
Alison saw that Henry had made his choice. She exhaled quietly, her shoulders relaxing in resignation. "Very well," she said. "I won't stop you. Just… come back alive."
Henry gave her a faint, grim smile.
"That's the plan."
Seeing that Henry Moore had made up his mind, Alison let out a faint sigh. She didn't try to dissuade him further. There was no point.
She understood just as well as he did—perhaps even more so—that the current situation was dire. They were standing at the edge of an abyss, and if they didn't act decisively now, they might never have another opportunity to push back.
There was no room left for hesitation.
All she could do was hope that the factions within the Abyss remained disorganized, each faction playing its own power games without aligning under a unified banner. If they began working together, orchestrating ambushes or laying traps, the situation would rapidly deteriorate.
Yet even this sliver of hope felt fragile.
Alison didn't have much faith in that possibility. The odds of such chaos working in their favor were slim. But there was one saving grace: demons, by their very nature, were rarely capable of sustained cooperation. They were unpredictable, chaotic, and driven by personal ambition or madness more than any shared cause.
In theory, their disunity should give the defenders a chance.
Most of those present quietly agreed with her, though few voiced it aloud. The morale was low. Many of them didn't hold out much hope for success in the coming operation. Some even believed that marching deeper into the corrupted lands would only lead to disaster. They feared an ambush, overwhelming resistance, and devastating losses.
Still, that grim possibility didn't change the fact that they had to try.
After all, what other choice did they have?
---
Meanwhile, in another part of the corrupted zone, Dex—the Abyssal infiltrator they were all seeking—had his own thoughts.
Compared to his idiotic teammates from the Abyss, Dex found the idea of fleeing and regrouping to be far more practical.
He had no intention of getting dragged into some grand Abyssal coalition or trusting those deluded, bloodthirsty freaks who called themselves his allies.
While the defenders on the front line believed that penetrating deeper into enemy territory was tantamount to suicide, they were still forced to press forward. It wasn't bravery. It was desperation.
As he watched from afar, hidden among the miasma and shadows, Dex might have scoffed had he witnessed the scene—warriors, spellcasters, and soldiers stepping onto teleportation arrays with grim determination etched into their faces.
If he were standing there, he would have simply sneered.
Placing your hopes on a group of humans who can barely protect themselves? Pathetic.
In Dex's mind, this entire world was already teetering on the edge. The Demon Lord Carto hadn't even fully anchored his true body in this dimension yet, and still the defenders were struggling. The gods of this realm, once mighty, were already at a disadvantage. And soon, that imbalance would only worsen.
---
Henry Moore opened his eyes just as the teleportation ended. The brief moment of dizziness passed quickly, and he regained his composure.
He scanned the area, wary of an ambush. But there was no immediate threat. That alone brought him a sliver of relief.
The team's leader, a seasoned warrior with numerous battle scars, surveyed the companions around him. All had recovered. No injuries. No monsters leaping from the shadows. So far, so good.
He allowed himself a small breath of relief.
Then he sniffed the air—and his expression twisted in distaste.
The stench of corruption hung heavy here. The very air had been altered by Abyssal influence. It brimmed with toxins and malevolent energy, a cocktail that made the skin crawl. Even demigods, shielded by powerful enchantments and constitution, would begin to feel the effects if they lingered too long.
With a wave of his hand, he cast a spell to filter and isolate the harmful elements. A shimmering aura formed around his body.
Then he turned his attention to the magical item in his palm—a crude compass made in haste by one of the realm's most skilled demigod-level artificers. It had been attuned to a fragment of Dex's aura, extracted during the early skirmish. In theory, it would help track him.
But in reality, the device was imperfect. Its construction had been rushed. The compass face displayed a foggy projection, with two faint glowing dots flickering within the haze. One of them remained completely still, while the other moved sporadically through the projection.
He furrowed his brows.
The compass was too primitive. It didn't show the exact distance of either target—only their general direction. There was no way to determine which light represented the true Dex, and which was a decoy or trap.
After weighing the possibilities, he made a decision.
"We'll go to the stationary one first," he ordered. "If it's a decoy, better we find out now."
His team nodded, grim but ready.
They moved quickly through the blighted terrain, navigating over cracked earth, twisted roots, and glowing puddles of tainted sludge. The air grew heavier with every step, but they pressed on until they reached the source of the unmoving light.
After scanning the area, one of the scouts pointed out something on the ground.
"Over here."
A few team members gathered around what appeared to be a lump of gray, pulsing flesh.
One of them poked it with his sword cautiously. It gave under the blade like jelly.
With a furrowed brow, he muttered, "Why does this thing look like… a living brain?"
Another stepped forward and peered closer. "No… I think it is a brain."
The captain stared at the grotesque object for several seconds. It was twisted and partially embedded in the soil, as if it had been discarded—or maybe planted.
He shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell is this supposed to mean? Did Demon… lose his brain?"
The team exchanged glances.
"That's… not impossible," one of them said slowly. "I mean, we are talking about a demon. Maybe it was part of a ritual. Or maybe he shed it. Like… a snake."
The bizarre suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Then, almost reluctantly, the others began to nod.
Given what they knew about the Abyss—its laws of madness and constant mutation—nothing could be ruled out.
Maybe the compass had led them to a part of Dex.
Or maybe this was exactly what he wanted them to find.
*****
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