CHAPTER 91

He stood against the wave of creatures exuding the breath of the Abyss. His eyes couldn't believe it. He, a legendary being himself, was witnessing the onslaught of millions of demonic creatures, forced to merely watch the war and massacre due to his conflict with the new Demon Queen. Now, even the orcs—once known as a warrior race—had grown weary of bloodshed after such prolonged wars. And yet, while a vastly outnumbered enemy surged through the lands of the orcs, a massive force from the western shore of the continent had launched a bloody assault. The Demon Kings called this new army the force of an undead Demon King.

But he couldn't believe it.

Among that army, there were several beings using divine techniques, and the number of creatures carrying the ancient and primordial breath of the Abyss was overwhelming. Techniques that even he—a being of legendary rank—feared. Yet, he could do nothing. The limitations imposed upon legendary beings shackled him, allowing him to interfere only if another legendary-ranked being was present on the battlefield. However, even if such a presence existed, his god was a subordinate of the God of Destruction, and any attack against a servant of a higher god would be harshly condemned.

While none of the Demon Kings knew of his existence, he hovered alone in the sky, invisible, watching as many warring Demon Kings were effortlessly subdued by this new force. Those who had their power sealed were taken before an elf of epic rank.

"God of the Hunt… do not abandon us…."

He could see the battlefield littered with the corpses of orcs amidst the demons—those same orcs who once prayed daily to the God of the Hunt, offering their prey as sacrifices with unwavering faith. He decided that, at the very least, he would take action against this army that left no survivors, desecrating the bodies of the brave orc warriors by raising them as undead. The moment he made that decision, he felt an legendary breath emerging at the center of the new army.

"What?"

Turning back, he saw it—at the center of the army, the elf was ascending to the legendary rank. Surrounding it, countless undead creatures were forming protective shields and magical barriers to conceal its presence.

"How?!"

He could barely accept that these beings had reached the epic rank in less than two years, but legendary rank? It was beyond belief. How long had it taken him to break through the epic rank and ascend to legendary status? Ten years? A hundred? No… thousands of years of relentless training, putting himself in life-and-death situations. And yet, this being, supported by creatures favored by the God of Destruction, had achieved it so effortlessly.

"God of the Hunt…"

Was worshiping the God of Destruction superior to worshiping the God of the Hunt? A deity that granted such power to his followers? But within seconds, he dismissed that thought. The followers of the God of Destruction in this world were utterly insane, readily sacrificing themselves. None of them even reached the rank of Lord. Worshiping the God of Destruction was akin to corrupting one's own mind, for embracing the faith of Destruction led only to destruction.

"At the very least, I can save the orcs!"

At first, he hadn't cared about the slaughter of orcs, but now, he could no longer stand idly by. If this massacre continued unchecked, every last orc would be turned into mindless undead.

And so, he manifested.

The ground trembled as massive stones surged from the depths, stacking upon one another. Twenty colossal, thirty-meter-tall stone golems emerged. Though they lacked magic, their sheer strength rivaled the epic rank, and they marched alongside him.

Six Days Ago

When Amon and Afarit set foot on the new continent, it took only two days before they encountered their first battlefield.

Standing before the warzone, three Demon Kings of Lord rank were unleashing a torrential downpour of magic upon the fortress of a Troll Demon King. The stone walls stood firm as trolls retaliated with ballistae, catapults, shamans, and firebombs, preventing the yeti, lizardmen, and dark elves from seizing the fortress easily.

"With power like this, there's nothing to worry about."

It had only been two days, yet the Demon Kings of Death had already summoned ten million mixed-rank warlords and lords. This battle, fought between one army of twenty thousand and another of a hundred thousand, was nothing in comparison. These summoned forces were remnants of an ancient war between Heaven and the Abyss—far beyond the capabilities of freshly created soldiers who lacked true battle experience.

After all, the God of Destruction wouldn't even bother summoning beings below the warlord rank. Instead, he created them on the spot, using fragments of the divine law of Creation. The amount of power needed to create a single Lord-rank entity was so insignificant to the God of Destruction that even millions of them wouldn't warrant his attention.

As the four battling Demon Kings felt the earth tremble, they turned their eyes westward—and what they saw turned the sky black.

An uncountable swarm of dragons and wyverns soared through the air, carrying knights brimming with powerful breath, while on the ground, a legion of giants, abyssal mummies, and other abominations marched, their footsteps thundering louder than any war drum.

"Who are they?!""Reinforcements?!""I've never seen them in any of our camps!"

From atop the fortress wall, the Troll Demon King watched in disbelief.

He controlled the westernmost stronghold of the continent, and this army meant only one thing—an invasion from another continent.

There was no chance they were allies.

He immediately rushed to the teleportation gate, taking his treasures and elite warriors with him.

"Survival is the most important thing! Only the main army can fight these monsters! There's no way they'll come to save me!"

As a Demon King of Lord rank, his small fortress couldn't sustain the arrival of the main army, and his faction's forces wouldn't come to his aid. Staying in this place meant certain death.

And so, he abandoned his altar and fortress, taking only his elite forces and whatever riches he could carry.

A wise decision—one that saved his life.

Meanwhile, the three remaining Demon Kings found themselves trapped. The teleportation gate was near the altar, and since they couldn't access it, escape wasn't an option.

Desperately, they contacted other allied Demon Kings, but no one had any knowledge of this army.

And that meant only one thing: run—run without looking back.

But attempting to flee was laughable for a Lord-rank being.

They were swiftly captured and slaughtered, their armies annihilated, and they were dragged before the Elf Champion.

"We surrender!"

The Dark Elf lowered his head, knowing that these Demon Kings were affiliated with the Abyssal forces.

But Caesar and Lucas—the two Fallen Angel Demon Kings— had no interest in recruiting them.

And so, as the three kneeling Demon Kings bowed their heads, hoping for mercy, they were silently beheaded.

For a few seconds, their disembodied heads could only stare in shock—the elf's face showed no emotion.