CH: 07: True Colors Of Chaos

So as you know, I am opening my second account on Subscribestar for my translation work, but it's been more than a week and it still says. "YOUR PROFILE IS UNDER REVIEW. Keep checking your xxxxxx@gmail.com inbox for possible inquires from our Screening Team. Until your profile is approved, uploading/posting capabilities are limited to text and photos only." I still haven't received the email. So, do any of you have any idea what is going on? Please tell me; it would be a great help. Thanks.

*****

{Chapter: 07: True Colors Of Chaos}

Silent cast spell. Instant cast spell

Blood Spell: Painful Strike

Effect: A cursed spell undetectable by weak minds and soul. Once cast, the next attack inflicts excruciating pain upon wounding the target, amplifying their suffering significantly.

Blood Spell: Soul Shock

Effect: Concentrates the caster's soul energy into an invisible strike, directly assaulting the opponent's soul. This attack bypasses physical defenses, inflicting intense spiritual damage.

Two combos of deadly pain.

Knowing that his opponent's vitality was unnaturally strong and that even a fatal blow might not be enough, Dex refused to give him any chance of survival. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, closing the short distance in an instant. His movements were decisive, merciless. His foot lashed out like a whip, a vicious kick aimed directly at the man's skull.

A sickening crack echoed through the battlefield as the impact connected. His opponent's head snapped backward violently, the sheer force of the strike causing his entire body to lift slightly off the ground before crumpling back down. Through the precise application of force techniques, Dex ensured that the enemy's brain was obliterated inside its own skull, reduced to a pulpy mass before the body even hit the ground.

Had Dex not wanted to preserve both the corpse and the soul for his own use, he wouldn't have even bothered getting close. Normally, he would have simply conjured a fireball and incinerated his foe from a safe distance. That would have been the most efficient choice—swift, effortless, absolute.

But fireballs were a waste of resources.

Resources were valuable. The chaotic depths of the Abyss did not tolerate carelessness, and those who squandered their power did not survive long. Every spell cast had a cost, and Dex was not about to waste precious magical energy when a direct kill was just as effective.

The fact that his enemy had dared to attack him moments earlier, launching a spear with full force, had irritated him somewhat. Had it not been for his reflexes and magical defenses, that spear might have impaled him, might have ended him. The thought was unacceptable. He didn't take kindly to such offenses. But now that his foe had become nothing more than a source of nourishment, he was feeling a bit more forgiving.

His tail twitched with satisfaction as he drained every last drop of flesh and blood essence from the lifeless body, absorbing its strength into himself. The physical husk was left behind, a shriveled, mummified corpse with hollowed-out eyes and parchment-thin skin. What happened to the remains was of no concern to Dex. Let the scavengers fight over it.

With his absorption complete, Dex took quick stock of the battle's aftermath. He had expended a quarter of his magical reserves and a small amount of physical stamina in this fight. There was no absolute power gap between him and his opponent—their raw strength, speed, and endurance had been nearly equal. In fact, judging by the sheer destructive force of the spear throw, his adversary may have even possessed a slight physical edge.

Dex knew that if the tables had been turned—if that spear had landed cleanly—he wouldn't have walked away unscathed.

Of all the enemies Dex had encountered so far, this one had been the most formidable. They had been evenly matched in strength, and either one of them could have claimed victory. In the end, it had come down to a matter of decisiveness.

His foe had hesitated, clinging to old hunting strategies—strategies that had worked against lesser beings, against beasts, against lesser demons. He had tried to kite Dex, attempting to wear him down through mobility, much like he had done before against wild demonic creatures. But he had made a fatal miscalculation.

He had mistaken Dex for a beast.

He had failed to see that Dex was no longer simply another lower demon engaged in meaningless hand-to-hand brawls. Dex had already begun his transformation. No longer just a physical combatant, he had evolved into a spell fortress, an entity capable of weaving destruction from both magic and might.

This error had cost the enemy his life.

Had he taken Dex seriously from the start, had he not underestimated him, things would have been different. Dex would have been forced to take some level of damage in order to claim victory. It would not have been so effortless.

But in battle, mistakes were fatal.

Dex's tail lashed out, piercing through his fallen enemy's chest with surgical precision, bypassing the body's outer defenses as if they were nothing. The remaining life energy, raw strength, and accumulated power within the corpse were pulled directly into Dex's form, absorbed in a matter of seconds. The once-powerful warrior was reduced to a withered husk, his body crumbling into dry, hollow remains.

A notification flickered across Dex's consciousness.

[Evolution Points +1277]

A smirk curled at the edges of Dex's lips.

His opponent had been worth more than two thousand points.

"Not bad," Dex thought, his amusement growing. Most lower demons weren't even close to this level. In fact, most of them were far worse.

"A nice little gift package."

---

The Unknown Abyss – Ten Days Later

Beneath the towering demonized trees, whose twisted, blackened branches stretched toward the sky like skeletal fingers, Dex stood motionless. His sharp, predatory gaze scanned the dimly lit forest, a flicker of caution in his eyes. He had just discarded the stripped remains of another unfortunate opponent, and now, his instincts were screaming at him.

Something was coming.

Closing his eyes, he let the sounds of the Abyss wash over him. He listened—not just with his ears, but with the acute awareness granted by his demonic nature.

A slight twitch of his pointed, elven-like ears—tipped with tiny, scale-like ridges—signaled his heightened focus. There was movement. A faint, almost imperceptible noise, carried by the thick, stagnant air of the Abyss.

And then—he heard it.

A noise from above.

Dex's eyes snapped open, blood-red irises gleaming in the dim light. He turned his gaze skyward, muscles tensing in anticipation.

Something was approaching from the skyes.

Without hesitation, he plunged his tail into the nearest enchanted tree, embedding it deep into the bark. Then, using it as a powerful anchor, he launched himself upward. His ascent was swift—whenever his speed began to wane, his tail would re-anchor itself, propelling him even higher.

Within ten seconds, he had reached the canopy's peak. Balancing effortlessly on a thick branch, he gazed out over the landscape, his sharp eyes locking onto the disturbance in the sky.

A swarm of monstrous creatures had gathered there—winged horrors of all shapes and sizes. Their screeches and guttural roars clashed in a deafening cacophony, an overwhelming maelstrom of noise and violence.

The sky itself was darkened by their numbers.

The monsters were circling, swarming, their bloated, nightmarish forms shifting like a writhing, living mass. And from time to time—something fell.

Dex watched as severed limbs and mangled corpses plummeted from the battle above, raining down in a grotesque, blood-soaked downpour.

The scent of fresh carnage hit the ground-dwelling creatures like a drug. Those who had been lying in wait—hiding, lurking, suppressing their instincts—lost all restraint the moment the first drops of blood touched the earth.

An all-out frenzy erupted.

Fangs tore into flesh. Claws ripped through bone. The entire battlefield became a slaughterhouse, as monsters turned on one another in an uncontrollable feeding frenzy.

For them, this was more than just combat. This was a ritual. A grand, sacred event that took place once in an age.

Dex's blood-red eyes gleamed even brighter.

His instincts urged him to join the slaughter, to leap into the fray, to rip and tear until there was nothing left but twitching bodies beneath his feet.

But he held back.

Because something else was coming.

Something far greater.

The gift of the Abyss would soon descend.

And Dex intended to claim it.

[Gift of Soul]

The sky churned with ominous energy, dark clouds swirling violently as if the heavens themselves were tearing apart. From this maelstrom descended crystalline objects, glowing with an eerie radiance. These were no ordinary gemstones or minerals—There are [Soul Gift], a crystallization of highly condensed soul power, a treasure coveted by every demon lurking in the abyssal wilds.

Even a single shard of this power was enough to propel a [Lesser Demon] into the ranks of a [Lower Demon], a crucial step on the never-ending ladder of demonic evolution. In the vast and brutal expanse of the [Wailing Forest], the [Dead Soul Abyss], and the [Dark Crypt], these precious crystallized souls were rewards—rewards given by the demons that governed the [Demon Novice Village]. They were not gifts of kindness, but bait in an unrelenting culling.

The practice was reminiscent of raising wolves—tossing out scraps of meat to incite a frenzy, fostering the strongest, while the weak were torn apart in savage competition. But this was far crueler than any human understanding of the process.

The moment a demon absorbed a [Soul Gift], the struggle did not end. The power within could not be instantly assimilated. The crystalline shell had to be slowly eroded with one's own magic, a meticulous and time-consuming process. Yet, during this period, the [Soul Gift] acted like a beacon—radiating an irresistible call to all surrounding demons. It was not merely a prize; it was an invitation to carnage, an announcement to all that its bearer was ripe for the taking.

To possess a [Soul Gift] was to be marked for death.

This was the purest form of survival of the fittest. The weak were not merely eliminated; they were recycled. The cycle continued endlessly, ensuring that only the most ruthless, cunning, and resilient demons would ascend the hierarchy of the abyss.

And so, at every predetermined time, when these coveted gifts rained from the sky, the demons of these cursed lands erupted into a frenzy.

There was no negotiation. No alliances.

Only slaughter.

Demon against demon.

Steel against claw.

Fangs sinking into flesh.

Every creature here knew—hesitation meant death. The ground would soon be painted red with the blood of the fallen, their corpses adding to the mountain of flesh that fertilized the cursed land.

And yet, the real event had yet to begin.

Dex, his predatory instincts honed by days in the abyss, could sense it—there were still several minutes left before the descent truly began. The chaos unfolding around him was merely a prelude, a warm-up. The true carnage would begin the moment the [Soul Gifts] fully materialized in the sky.

But demons were not patient creatures.

Already, the first waves of violence had broken out, painting the battlefield in shades of crimson. The enchanted plants that covered the land had been soaked in blood, their once-dark leaves now glistening with a fresh sheen of gore. Rivers of scarlet snaked through the landscape, carrying with them the scent of slaughter.

The air had become thick—so thick with the stench of iron that it felt suffocating.

This was not just a feast for demons and demonized creatures. The very plants, twisted by the dark energies of this cursed realm, reveled in the bloodshed.

Bloodthirsty flies swarmed through the sky, their grotesque, bulbous eyes reflecting the carnage below. Some trees had begun to shift, their twisted roots writhing as they absorbed the lifeblood that dripped onto their bark.

The battlefield was alive.

Alive with the screams of the dying.

Alive with the howls of those who hungered for more.

Creatures continued to die, and yet more came, drawn to the irresistible allure of battle. Those that once lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, had abandoned caution. Stealth was meaningless now. There was no need for ambushes. There was no need for strategy.

Only one truth mattered—kill or be killed.

Dex stood still, his body cloaked in the thick, swirling mists of the battlefield. Somewhere in the chaos, an agonized shriek cut through the din of battle, its owner falling silent just as quickly. The red mist that filled the air condensed further, thick droplets of blood dripping from above, splattering onto his face and shoulders. He did not flinch. This was merely background noise to him.

His gaze remained fixed on the sky.

The vortex in the heavens had reached its peak, the storm of abyssal energy roaring with barely contained fury.

And then—

The first scent of the [Soul Gift] trickled through the air.

Dex's pupils dilated.

Every predator in the vicinity froze for a fraction of a second, as though an unspoken signal had reached them. The pull of the [Soul Gift] was undeniable. It was intoxicating.

In the forests spanning hundreds of kilometers, monsters stirred. Millions of them.

The sheer volume of roars that followed was deafening, each a declaration of hunger and ambition.

Even demons and creatures that had been too far to sense it before were now being drawn in.

Yet, despite the overwhelming numbers, this was but a fraction of the abyss's true forces. Similar events were occurring at other points where the [Soul Gifts] were set to descend.

Dex could feel it.

The vortex's energy had reached its limit.

The first [Soul Gift] was about to drop.

His fingers twitched. His muscles tensed, prepared to lunge. But he did not move—not yet. He was not foolish enough to throw himself into the initial chaos.

The lesser demons, those incapable of restraint, had already begun their rampage.

Blood spattered wildly as they clashed, their claws and fangs tearing into each other. The first casualties fell, their corpses still warm as others trampled over them, more concerned with tearing apart their next victim.

Some demons had already lost sight of the goal.

They no longer cared about the [Soul Gift].

They cared only for the kill.

Because that was what demons were.

Beasts that knew nothing but slaughter.

A distant rumble shook the sky, and then—

Boom.

A deafening explosion of energy split the air as thousands of burning purple crystals shot out from the vortex, their descent igniting the battlefield into an even greater frenzy.

The sky was instantly filled with madness.

Countless winged creatures surged upward, their eyes gleaming with unholy hunger as they rushed to seize the falling prizes.

But the creatures below were not about to let them claim all the spoils.

Tens of thousands of long-range attacks followed.

Blazing fireballs. Streaks of lightning. Jagged ice shards. Clouds of venomous mist, and even stones and sticks were thrown at them.

The air became a death trap.

Demons who had just managed to grab a [Soul Gift] found themselves instantly impaled, incinerated, frozen, or poisoned. Their bodies plummeted from the sky like broken marionettes, crashing into the battlefield below where waiting monsters tore them apart.

Despite their aerial advantage, the winged creatures were quickly overwhelmed. Chaos ruled supreme, and in the end, the majority of the [Soul Gifts] fell to the ground, where they became the center of a new bloodbath.

Dex watched from his perch atop a towering tree, his sharp eyes assessing the battlefield. The true slaughter had begun.

Standing on the top of the tree and looking at the millions of monsters in the distance, the fighting intensified, Dex still did not choose to rush in, because this level of melee is too chaotic, and it is easy to be confused when entering. .

But he was still waiting.

The numbers needed to thin further.

More bodies needed to fall.

Still have to wait a little longer, when they die an extra part, and get another part seriously injured, will he have a chance to intervene…

Only when the weak had perished, and the strong had exhausted themselves, would he make his move.

For now, he was content to observe.

After all, patience was a virtue.

Even in the abyss.

******

So as you know, I am opening my second account on Subscribestar for my translation work, but it's been more than a week and it still says. "YOUR PROFILE IS UNDER REVIEW. Keep checking your xxxxxxxx@gmail.com inbox for possible inquires from our Screening Team. Until your profile is approved, uploading/posting capabilities are limited to text and photos only." I still haven't received the email. So, do any of you have any idea what is going on? Please tell me; it would be a great help. Thanks.