The Netherworld's Embrace

A low, guttural hiss filled the air—"Shh… Shh…"—followed by a series of heavy, rasping breaths—"Huh… Huh… Huh…" The air crackled with anticipation, thick with the stench of sulfur and blood.

Night Shadow Crow, his obsidian eyes fixed on the Bound Demon King, muttered, "The ritual… it's taking hold." He gripped Slaughter Blade, its wicked curve gleaming faintly in the infernal light.

Killer, the Scorpio God, his voice a low rumble, observed, "The power… it's almost palpable. I can feel it resonating in my very bones." He adjusted the massive chain slung across his shoulder, the metallic clang a stark counterpoint to the creature's unearthly glow.

The Bound Demon King's form pulsed with an unnatural light, its surface glowing with an intense luminescence. Countless black tendrils, like writhing shadows, erupted from its body, lashing out wildly, striking the air with the force of a thousand blows. The surface of the creature boiled, the blood and venom churning in a maelstrom of activity. From within its depths, a low, guttural growl resonated, a sound that seemed to claw at the very fabric of reality.

Iron Serpent, his voice a chilling whisper, spoke, "The sacrifice… it is complete. The awakening… is imminent." He watched his legion, now absorbed into the Bound Demon King, with a mixture of awe and dread.

Night Shadow Crow, his gaze unwavering, added, "Let us hope… it serves our purpose."

The Bound Demon King's form pulsed with crimson light, its surface glowing with an infernal heat, transforming into a colossal furnace. The blood, far from freezing, reacted to the intense heat, bubbling and roiling. Each bubble, infused with the potent venom of the Serpent Legion, erupted, jetting skyward like grotesque, black geysers.

Then, from within the creature's upper torso, horrifying limbs, slick with black blood, clawed their way out, struggling against the confines of their prison. Bloody heads, their eyes vacant and white, surfaced, their mouths agape in silent screams. Countless others followed, a tide of tormented souls—victims of the Serpent Legion's venomous fangs—rising from the depths, desperately clawing their way towards the Bound Demon King's mouth, seeking escape from the fiery inferno of their shared torment.

The Iron Serpent's laughter echoed through the hall, a cruel, triumphant sound. "Scream, you pathetic things! Drown in your own blood!" Even in death, the Bound Demon King's victims were subjected to unimaginable torment.

The wails of the tormented souls rose in a cacophony of fury and despair, their cries carried on the wind. From the writhing mass, a single voice, filled with anguish, pierced the din. "Help…"

Killer, the Scorpio God, smirked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Well, well… looks like the leader of the pathetic humans has arrived."

The cry for help had come from the human leader, still clinging to life amidst the swirling chaos. He had led the rebellion against the Bound Demon King, a doomed struggle whose outcome was tragically clear. As his final words faded, he mustered every ounce of remaining strength, launching himself into the air, becoming one with the wind.

Inspired by his defiance, the other spirits, straining against their ethereal bonds, broke free. They soared into the sky, a ghostly torrent, their anguished cries echoing through the hall. They danced among the clouds, their liberation a stark contrast to the horrors they had endured. The sky above the Bound Demon King's fortress was filled with a multitude of spectral forms, a testament to the countless souls yearning for release, their silent prayers for a transcendent peace carried on the wind.

A chilling whisper echoed through the hall—"Similar… Same…"—and instantly, a howling gale erupted, a furious vortex of wind that tossed the liberated spirits like dandelion seeds on a storm.

The iron fortresses groaned under the strain, their surfaces shimmering with a cold, metallic sheen as a powerful magnetic field rippled outwards, a cage of force designed to contain the escaping souls.

Killer, the Scorpio God, the Iron Serpent, and Night Shadow Crow spoke as one, their voices resonating with chilling satisfaction. "Welcome… to the Blood Netherworld."

From the trapped spirits, a chorus of pained cries arose—"Chi… Chiu… Chiu…"—mingled with the desperate gasps for breath—"Ah… Ah… Ah…"

On the floor of the great hall, a force pierced through the thick iron and steel and flew straight into the sky at breakneck speed, aiming at the leader of the undead.

After just a blink of an eye, he missed the moment when the power pierced straight into the heart of the leader of the other undead. .That tassel is actually a piece of iron chain, the top of the head is a rather long, pointed cylinder that emits a deep red aura, ready to penetrate all matter from entities to invisible illusions.

The leader of the spirit was pierced by the iron chain's power, and struggled weakly when suddenly lifted in the air, but could not get out. The ghosts who lost their owners panicked and scrambled to find a way to escape.

A sharp, metallic clang echoed through the hall—"Keng… Keng…"—as the first iron chain materialized from the floor, followed by a storm of others, a deadly rain of metal piercing the spectral forms. The chains intertwined, forming a cage of cold, unforgiving steel, ensnaring the escaping souls and dragging them back into the infernal depths. The scene was horrifying, a brutal spectacle of power that seared itself onto the mind, leaving an indelible mark of terror.

A voice, resonant and chilling, echoed through the hall, its words carrying the weight of ages. "To defy the Bound Demon King… is to invite oblivion. There is no escape." The speaker remained unseen, a hidden presence wielding terrifying power, their cruelty matched only by their mastery of dark magic.

The remaining members of the Armored Ones watched, faces pale with a mixture of awe and terror, as the spectral forms writhed in their iron prison. A cold dread settled over them; the horrifying spectacle served as a stark reminder of their own mortality, a chilling premonition of what awaited them should they ever fall out of favor with the Bound Demon King. The air hung heavy, thick with the stench of blood and the agonizing screams of the trapped spirits, a suffocating atmosphere of fear and despair.

With a sickening thud—"Puff… Smack…"—the chains yanked the remaining spirits from the air, hurling them back into the Bound Demon King's form. The spectral bodies rained down, their struggles ceasing as they were absorbed into the monstrous entity. The moment they touched the creature's surface, they vanished, their essence merging with the boiling blood and venom. A wave of foul-smelling black gas erupted, a miasma of death and decay that filled the hall.

A low, guttural groan echoed from the Bound Demon King—"Clinking… Whoosh… Whoops…"—a sound that spoke of immense power and barely contained fury.

From the ceiling, countless iron chains descended, piercing the floor with ease, their tips sinking into the stone as if it were soft mud. With a deafening roar, thousands of chains simultaneously lifted a colossal metal block, blotting out the moon and plunging the hall into near-total darkness. The wind howled, the very ground trembled beneath the immense weight, and the Armored Ones' headquarters seemed to groan under the strain. The Bound Demon King's laughter echoed through the darkness, a chilling sound that spoke of immense power and cruel satisfaction. Killer, the Iron Serpent, and Night Shadow Crow exchanged triumphant glances, their master's return a source of both awe and fear.