Chapter 20
IN THE MORTAL REALM.
SOMEWHERE IN THE HEART CONTINENT.
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Inside a lavish palace, a figure lay sprawled across a massive bed, dressed only in sleeping clothes. The room itself was obscene in luxury.
Countless veins of gold decorated the walls, massive gems lined the bedframe itself, each one glowing faintly in the dim light.
Outside the room, several guards stood watch.
Their auras alone were enough to crush the will of anyone foolish enough to approach the sleeping lord with even a shred of malicious intent.
But good things never last.
The man's face suddenly twisted in his sleep. Sweat drenched his body from head to toe.
His fingers clenched the soft sheets as his body began to twitch violently. His mouth opened wide, yet no sound came out. Even a fool could tell he was trapped in a nightmare.
No.
This was far worse than a nightmare.
The lord, perhaps even the king of the Rugraiy Kingdom, was reliving hell itself.
In the dream, the Heart Continent burned. Not just the Heart Continent. The other continents burned with it.
The world was at war, but not like any war before. The nations were not fighting each other. They were fighting something else.
Something unfathomable.
An existence that brought destruction to the world itself.
From what he understood, the devil did not want kings to bow to him. If that was all, they would have done so long ago after witnessing his power. No. What he wanted was far worse.
He wanted to abolish the very hierarchy that kept the world stable. He wanted kings erased. He wanted powerhouses wiped out. He wanted the world plunged into eternal chaos.
Naturally, none of the continents or great kingdoms accepted that fate.
So they chose war.
King Jalon stood on the battlefield and looked behind him. Endless soldiers stretched as far as the eye could see. Their numbers were monstrous, and none of them were weak.
Cultivators. Knights. Generals.
Powerhouses from every great faction. With this many warriors standing together, with the major powers united, that villain would surely be stopped.
Jalon's grin widened.
The battle that destroyed his kingdom, that slaughtered his people, would finally end. He would get his revenge.
Then a figure stepped out from the horizon.
From utter darkness.
His gaze was calm. Composed. His face completely neutral as he walked forward. His eyes swept across the countless warriors gathered before him, yet his expression never changed.
He spoke calmly.
"Welcome, gentlemen, to the grand finale of your reign."
One of the powerful cultivators stepped forward, fury darkening his face as he shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.
"Your endless terror ends today. If you have any last words, say them now before you suffer your demise."
The devil tilted his head slightly.
Then he did something insane.
Right there, in the middle of a battlefield that held the combined might of entire continents, he reached into the darkness and pulled out a dark red throne.
He placed it down.
And sat.
Cross legged.
He rested his chin on one hand, posture relaxed, eyes half lidded. Comfortable. Casual. As if the countless armies before him were nothing more than scenery.
An absolute declaration.
He did not place the alliance of worlds in his eyes at all.
The scene alone was enough to ignite unmatched rage within the warriors. They roared in fury, power surging, spells and techniques flaring to life. They were a single moment away from attacking.
Then a figure clad head to toe in blood red armor raised his hand.
Everything stopped.
All attacks froze in place. No one dared disobey him. He was the leader of the alliance. The strongest among them all.
The man in blood red armor stared at the handsome devil seated upon the throne. That calm gaze looked at them as if they were not here to erase him, but to perform for his amusement. The sight was infuriating.
Still, he restrained himself.
He studied the devil.
Empires had fallen to this man. Kingdoms erased. Entire continents reduced to ruin. His destruction was wild, yet disturbingly controlled. He was powerful. Unquestionably so.
But not enough to kill them all.
The alliance was the remainder of humanity. Survivors from every land. Their combined power was monumental. Even if this devil took countless lives, there was no way he would survive everyone gathered here.
Then why stand so boldly.
The blood red armored leader smiled, amused.
"Since we both know you will fall here," he said, "answer me one thing. Do you truly believe you are indomitable. That you are invincible. That no one can stop you."
The handsome young man remained seated. He did not interrupt. He did not rise.
Instead, he asked calmly, as if ordering a drink.
"Tell me. How long do you think you have left to live in this world."
The blood red armored leader scoffed. His confidence did not waver. Why should he feel fear. He was the strongest cultivator across the mortal realm. He commanded near endless forces. Why would he fear a single man.
Then the handsome devil raised one finger.
Just one.
He pointed it at the blood red armored leader.
No energy blast formed. No technique flared. It looked almost playful.
But the sudden change in the leader's expression said everything.
Danger screamed through his instincts.
He reacted instantly, raising his hands as multiple barriers formed around him, layer upon layer of condensed power.
It did not matter.
The force struck a moment later and erased everything in its path.
The armor meant to withstand continent shattering attacks was annihilated. The barriers collapsed like paper.
"I'm going to die."
The thought barely finished forming before consciousness slipped away.
As his awareness faded, there was no anger. No terror. No regret.
Only realization.
None of them were a match for the handsome devil.
He was far stronger than anyone had ever understood.
As the strongest cultivator of the mortal realm lost consciousness, pity surfaced in his final thought.
Pity for the entire alliance.
They were doomed regardless. Facing this devil only hastened that fate.
His body collapsed with a heavy thud. His head rolled free. The armor was completely destroyed. Hundreds nearby were erased alongside him.
It all happened in a single instant.
Silence followed.
Shock. Stillness. Minds unable to process what had just occurred or what it truly meant.
"That is wrong," the handsome devil said softly, his gaze sweeping over the alliance.
"You die now."
Such a waste of effort.
The words carried across the battlefield, sending chills through every spine. One by one, they turned to look at him.
For the first time, he seemed far more terrifying than anything they had imagined.
Their will to fight shattered.
But surrender was no different from death.
They were caught in a dilemma.... but not for long.
The handsome devil's eyes blazed through them all, cold and unyielding. His voice, calm as if discussing the weather, sliced through the tension.
"Now let me ask you all a question," he said, a smile forming that was far from a smile. "How do you think I will kill you?"
The alliance froze. Some fell to their knees. Others collapsed outright, paralyzed by the sheer terror clawing at their minds. Not all of them. A few resisted.
They thought they could defy a tyrant's hand. No, they would end him.... together, with the full might of their combined will.
The warzone erupted into chaos. Some pleaded, some cried, others fled. A few still charged.
The destroyer's gaze swept over them, unshaken, disappointed even.
"You are all wrong again," he said softly. "I won't be killing you myself."
The world shuddered at his words. Behind him, a massive door stretched into infinity. Chains wrapped around it, binding it to the very edges of the world. The ground itself seemed to tremble.
The already terrified warriors collapsed, some dying from heart attacks, others wetting themselves in sheer panic. Those still charging redoubled their efforts, but it was meaningless.
The gate of Hell opened. The chains shattered. The door creaked, groaned, then split wide, revealing countless dormant Hell warriors, their presence infinite and terrifying.
The devil's command was calm, simple: "Annihilate them all."
Hell broke loose. The charging army was wiped out in moments. The kneeling, pleading warriors were slaughtered next.
There was no mercy, no hesitation. Chaos devoured everything.
King Jallon watched the destruction around him. His gaze turned empty as he saw Hell descend and consume everything. If he had doubted before, he knew now.
This was the devil of legend.
He sank to the ground, defeated, hopeless, knowing it was already over.
Back in reality, King Jallon jolted upright in his bed, sweat streaming down his body, his heart hammering like a drum.
"What… what the hell was that…"
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To be continued.....
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