Chapter 252: A Web of Deception

Kerrigan was no longer human. No one observing him would mistake him for one. He hadn't been resurrected—his body still bore the wounds inflicted by the artificial human's blade. A sticky, viscous substance held the two halves of his torso together, but every movement caused the wound to tear open, only to be sealed shut again by the same grotesque material. He was a corpse, pale and reeking of rot, animated by some supernatural force granted by his master.

As he emerged from the shadowy forest, the towering conifers around him began to decay, their trunks slowly crumbling as if their vitality had been drained in an instant. Illuminated by the fiery glow of the burning plane's wing, Solomon watched this eerie scene unfold. It's a trap, he thought. This was Mephisto's doing—a carefully orchestrated snare. Lilith's appearance, the crash site of the airborne bus, all of it had been foreseen by the devil's prophetic magic. Perhaps the old demon had even anticipated the arrival of the witches. Solomon was the bait, and Lilith had been lured to distract the witches. The immense magic required to summon Madame Butterfly and Lady Styx left Bayonetta and Jeanne unable to spare any power to help Solomon counter Mephisto's schemes.

"You should hand over the boy, kid," Kerrigan croaked, ignoring the sorcerer's sharp gaze. His voice was hollow, monotone, and phlegmy, as if some viscous substance was perpetually clogging his throat. With every word he spoke, foul-smelling bubbles formed on the putrid material sealing his wounds. "And while we're at it, I want the girl who killed me too. She owes me for that, doesn't she?"

Solomon detested Kerrigan's smug tone, but his real target wasn't this reanimated corpse—it was Kerrigan's master. Without a word or glance at the undead creature, Solomon held back the artificial human from acting, drew the wand at his waist, and pointed it directly at Kerrigan. With a thunderous roar, flames erupted from the wand, engulfing Kerrigan in a fiery blaze. The decaying trees nearby were shattered by the blast, their damp wood fragments igniting mid-air and scattering as glowing embers. Smoke billowed upward, and the foul-smelling wounds on Kerrigan's body were the first to catch fire. Gas escaping from the wounds ignited into flames, and his pale, wrinkled skin burned as if soaked in oil. Kerrigan's entire form twisted into a grotesque, human-shaped torch. Though he appeared impervious to pain, Solomon didn't give him any reprieve, conjuring another surge of flames that cast a crimson glow through the dark forest.

"This won't be enough, Mephisto," Solomon declared, his voice cutting through the screeching alarms of the falling bus with clarity. He turned to face the dark, empty forest. "One undead creature isn't enough for you to take the boy."

As if in response to his words, rustling footsteps began to emerge from all directions. The artificial human informed Solomon of the enemies lurking in the shadows of the forest. Solomon nodded, holstering his wand. Meanwhile, above them, the battle between the two demons raged on, spilling over from the material plane into the shallow ethereal layer—a dimension just a thin veil away from reality. Neither side showed any signs of stopping. Perhaps it was the chaotic magical turbulence emanating from Lilith's spells or the gale-force winds caused by Madame Butterfly's supersonic punches that stirred the storm clouds. After a few deep rumbling thunderclaps, torrential rain began to pour from the heavens without mercy.

What was the Sorcerer Supreme's plan? Solomon had no idea, but his unwavering trust in the Ancient One emboldened him. He stood fearlessly on the plane's deck, watching the approaching enemies grow closer. The rain extinguished the fires on the engine, and the acrid scent of ozone and burning electronics mingled with the thick, rising smoke. Cold rainwater dripped from his hair, seeped down his collar, and slid down his spine, steadily sapping the warmth from his body.

Nick Fury, observing from a distance, witnessed a breathtaking display of magic.

A wall of fire erupted, encircling the clearing where the bus had crashed and isolating it from the encroaching enemies. The rain evaporated into thick clouds of white steam that swirled outward as if guided by Solomon's gestures. The scalding vapor wove through the dense forest, growing heavier and denser near the bus. A flash of lightning leapt from the sorcerer's fingertips, striking the vapor. A chain of explosions followed as Solomon ionized the steam and used the fire wall spell to ignite it, wiping out every enemy in the vicinity in one fell swoop. The hot air expanded outward before contracting sharply, drawing the remaining steam back toward the bus and obscuring both Solomon and the aircraft in a dense white fog.

In the aftermath, the lingering flames coalesced into a humanoid shape. From the fire emerged an elderly man with white hair, dressed in a suit and leaning on a cane. "Solomon," the old man said, his voice crackling like flames doused by rain. His tone was affectionate, almost familiar. "You should know what I want. I only need the boy. That's no loss to you, is it?"

The sorcerer stepped out from the mist, his boots sinking slightly into the muddy ground, the artificial human following closely behind. "You're just an avatar, my dear Mephisto," Solomon replied, his tone calm and deliberate. "You don't get to decide the will of the true Mephisto. And I'm well aware of your schemes. If you think I'll hand over the boy, then you're an even bigger fool than I thought."

"Your soul is highly coveted—not just by Belial, but by every devil and demon alike," the demon pointed out, gesturing toward the sky where flashes of the ongoing battle illuminated the darkness. "Even Lilith herself desires you. While I may be just an avatar now, with enough power, I could challenge my true self in hell. Once I seize control of hell's authority, I will become the true Mephisto. At that point, I could forge a pact with you. I only want the boy. In exchange, I'll help you achieve your goal of opposing hell. It's a deal where neither of us loses."

Solomon's gaze flickered. This avatar clearly wasn't aware of the contract the true Mephisto had already signed with the Sorcerer Supreme. Lilith's involvement seemed to be this avatar's doing. To avoid the influence of his true self, the avatar had deliberately operated outside the devil's direct sphere of control, instead allying with groups like the Southern Cross cult and contacting Lilith. This explained why Solomon had encountered the cult's dark priestess.

However, Solomon didn't believe a single word about seizing hell's authority to fight against hell itself. The vision was far too idealistic, and anything that came from a devil's mouth was like poisoned honey—sweet but deadly. Only a fool would savor its sweetness and forget its danger.

Not everything the avatar said was a lie, though. Both demons and devils sought Solomon's soul. If the avatar had allied with demons, it would be all too easy for Mephisto's true self to rally the hellish lords against him. Moreover, the true Mephisto would never rely on Solomon to resolve the situation; uniting other hell lords for greater profit was practically instinctual for him.

Yet, Solomon had not seen any direct involvement from the true hellish forces so far, which meant the true Mephisto had yet to act. This realization heightened Solomon's vigilance. Devils were cunning, and it was possible that Mephisto's true plan was already in motion, simply undetected.

Above, the battle in the sky began to wane, eventually fading into silence. Madame Butterfly's fiery combativeness seemed to have pushed Lilith to reconsider the value of their clash. Fighting Madame Butterfly on the material plane was pointless for Lilith—they were powerless here. Only in the lower planes could she face her opponent on equal footing. Taking advantage of a brief opportunity to create distance, Lilith retreated to her own plane, with Madame Butterfly in relentless pursuit.

Neither side lacked reinforcements. Lilith had birthed countless monsters of varying forms and origins, while Madame Butterfly was aided by several female demons. Lady Styx herself would also join the battle, bringing with her the souls of fallen witches. A multi-dimensional war in the abyss was imminent.

For demons, strategies and calculations were meaningless. The thrill of a wild, unrestrained battle far outweighed any tactical advantage.

This was a conflict in the lower planes sparked by Solomon, though he was unaware of it. To him, the battle between Lilith and Madame Butterfly had ended. With Lilith gone from the material plane, the witches would soon be free to help him deal with the current situation. Smirking, Solomon raised an eyebrow at Mephisto's avatar, signaling the demon's failure.

But the avatar merely tilted its head and smiled, as if mocking the young sorcerer's naivety.

"You should pay closer attention, Solomon," the demon said. "This body may be weak, but my servants are far more numerous than you think. I will always be the winner."

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