Blood Netherworld

The Iron Serpent's words were barely out when a cluster of grotesque, obsidian-scaled snakes slithered towards the victim. The dying man, his body wracked with pain, could only groan as the snakes, with terrifying precision, sank their fangs deep into his flesh. The screams ceased abruptly, the final, desperate gasps for air silenced.

Killer watched, his gaze fixed on the snakes' fangs. Initially, a bright red liquid—the victim's blood—filled the needle-sharp points. But as the deadly venom mixed with the blood, the crimson hue darkened, transforming into a sinister black.

Killer understood. These weren't ordinary snakes. The Iron Serpent's snakes possessed a unique adaptation, a horrifying evolution bred by the Armored Ones: they consumed human blood, a perverse fulfillment of their predatory instincts.

"Well done, Iron Serpent. You've executed the Bound Demon King's orders with efficiency," Night Shadow Crow complimented, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Indeed. Please convey my respects to the Bound Demon King," the Iron Serpent replied, but his words were met only with silence.

A low croak echoed through the air—"Crow… Crow…"—and from the darkness above, a vast, swirling cloud of Night Shadow Crows descended upon the recently emptied corpse. The birds, a ravenous horde, fought over the remains, tearing at the flesh with their sharp beaks. In moments, only bare bones remained, a stark testament to the brutal efficiency of nature's scavengers.

"Ah, so that's your army, Night Shadow Crow," Killer, the Scorpio God, finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "My scorpions have found a new home. Let's tidy up this… *mess*."

With a long, shrill whistle, a swarm of scorpions emerged from the shadows. With surprising speed and efficiency, they began to carry the remaining bones, adding them to the already massive pile of skeletons. From the gaps between the bones, small, newly hatched scorpions scuttled, their tiny claws already stained with marrow. The horrifying realization dawned on Killer: these creatures fed on the bone marrow of the dead.

Night Shadow Crow's voice cut through the scene. "Let's not waste time here. We need to meet the Bound Demon King."

A series of dull thuds filled the air—"Thump… Thump…"—followed by the metallic clang of the Scorpio God's chain—"Clang…"

A sudden gust of wind whipped through the desolate landscape. From the inky blackness above, Night Shadow Crow descended, landing with a jarring thud. He held Slaughter Blade, a massive, wickedly curved blade, its point already embedded deep within the rock. With effortless grace, he hefted the enormous weapon onto his shoulder and set off towards the distant, imposing mountain range to the west. His army of Night Shadow Crows, sensing their master's departure, rose into the air, a swirling vortex of black feathers, following in his wake. Slaughter Blade, a weapon as infamous as its wielder, seemed to drink in the darkness, its wicked curve promising death to all who crossed its path.

Killer, the Scorpio God, waited until Night Shadow Crow and his fearsome weapon had disappeared before addressing the Iron Serpent. "That Night Shadow Crow… his arrogance is infuriating, especially with Slaughter Blade in his grasp."

The Iron Serpent nodded, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "The Bound Demon King places considerable trust in him. I, too, find his demeanor unsettling, particularly given the power he wields."

Killer, the Scorpio God, let out a harsh grunt. "Hmph. Let's see how long his arrogance lasts. Let's go, Iron Serpent." He mounted his giant scorpion, and with a flick of his wrist, the colossal chain swung behind him. The Iron Serpent, followed by its serpentine legion, moved in the same direction as Night Shadow Crow, towards the looming mountain range.

The mountains rose before them, a formidable barrier of jagged peaks and sheer cliffs, an impenetrable wall of rock and shadow.

Night Shadow Crow's voice echoed across the desolate landscape. "Blood Netherworld… open!"

Night Shadow Crow's words were barely out when the earth trembled. With a grinding roar, two colossal mountains parted, sliding silently aside to reveal a gaping chasm—a hidden passage cleaved through the heart of the range. Night Shadow Crow, carrying Slaughter Blade on his shoulder, strode confidently into the newly revealed path. Killer, the Scorpio God, and the Iron Serpent, their legions trailing behind, followed in silence. As the last of the scorpions and snakes entered, the mountains began to close, sealing the passage behind them. Escape, or entry, would be impossible unless the stone gate reopened.

The path was flanked by towering stone walls, their surfaces etched with arcane symbols. Strange lamps, fueled by a viscous, opaque yellow liquid, cast an eerie, unsettling glow along the passage, illuminating the way forward.

Killer, the Scorpio God, broke the oppressive silence. "So these humans… surprisingly useful. Nothing goes to waste."

The Iron Serpent's voice, smooth and chilling, followed. "Indeed. While alive, they serve as a source of vitality. Once deceased… their souls and blood provide sustenance. Their bones, marrow, and flesh become bait for our creatures. Even their fat can be used as fuel."

Killer nodded, his gaze sweeping across the strange lamps lining the passage. "The weak… they are expendable. Resistance only prolongs their suffering. Resignation… that is their only path to a swift end."

Night Shadow Crow's voice was a low murmur, tinged with bitterness. "Fairness? In this world? Perhaps in the afterlife." He wasn't sure if he was referring to the fate of the humans they had just dispatched, or his own bleak existence under the Bound Demon King's rule.

He stopped abruptly. Before them loomed a series of colossal fortresses, constructed from massive blocks of blackened iron. The structures seemed impossibly vast, their design defying logic and reason. A chilling aura emanated from the fortresses, a palpable sense of dread that sent shivers down their spines. A low, keening wail, like the cries of tormented souls, echoed from within the structures, a sound that spoke of unimaginable horrors. An oppressive magnetic field pulsed from the iron, a force that would have instantly killed any ordinary mortal.

Killer, the Scorpio God, the Iron Serpent, and Night Shadow Crow bowed in unison. "We await the Bound Demon King."

Night Shadow Crow's words hung, a chilling benediction in the oppressive silence. Then, the inky cloud above writhed, a sentient shadow convulsing with a life of its own. It did not drift; it *fell*, a deliberate descent, a dark shroud settling upon the hall with the weight of a thousand nightmares.

A deep, resonant *boom*, like the heart of a slumbering leviathan, pulsed through the stone—*Bong… Bong…*—announcing the arrival of something immense. From the dissipating gloom, the Bound Demon King materialized: a colossal, bipedal horror, its torso a fusion of writhing muscle and blackened iron plates, its limbs ending in clawed hands of polished obsidian. Each movement sent tremors through the hall, a palpable sense of power radiating from its very being. A crown of twisted iron horns ringed its head, and from its gaping maw, a miasma of shadow and sulfurous smoke poured forth.

The Iron Serpent's voice, a whipcrack of authority, sliced through the expectant hush. "Serpent Legion! Assimilate!"

The command unleashed a maelstrom. Tens of thousands of snakes, a living torrent of sinuous darkness, surged towards the Bound Demon King. They weren't merely crawling; they were *flowing*, a black river engulfing the monstrous form, disappearing into its gaping maw with a sound like the swallowing of the earth itself.

The sight of the snakes, writhing and twisting in a frenzied mass, was horrifying. Then, simultaneously, with a chilling synchronicity, every snake opened its jaws, revealing twin fangs of terrifying sharpness and unnatural transparency.

A viscous, black liquid oozed from the fangs, then, with horrifying precision, jets of venom arced towards the Bound Demon King. Killer remembered the rebels, their lives extinguished as the snakes drained their blood. This wasn't just an army; it was a conduit, a vessel carrying the lifeblood of countless victims harvested from across the world, now offered as tribute to the ancient horror before them.