CH: 144: Elite Teammates

{Chapter: 144: Elite Teammates}

After an arduous stretch of travel through scorched badlands, rivers of obsidian rock, and valleys shrouded in acidic fog, the two demons finally came to a halt.

The wind howled across the cracked terrain, carrying with it the stench of rot, scorched sulfur, and something more—something metallic and venomous. The sky above was a jaundiced shade of gray-green, churning with sluggish clouds that never rained but occasionally crackled with electric pulses from some forgotten storm god's rage. Beneath their feet, the dirt crunched like old bones.

Hart lifted a clawed finger and pointed down toward a murky basin nestled between two jagged hills of volcanic stone.

"That's the camp I chose," he said, his voice tinged with a sense of grim satisfaction. "It used to be a lake, long ago. Now? It can barely be called a swamp."

Dex, standing beside him in silence, flared his nostrils. A faint hiss escaped his throat as he twitched his nose again and caught the scent—a pungent, sour tang of venom mixed with decay.

"It stinks like a serpent's armpit," Dex muttered. "You're sure this is the best place?"

Hart shrugged, folding his arms. "There aren't many options this close to the mortal defense line. You try finding better terrain when the earth itself wants to eat your boots."

From their vantage point, the basin below was an eerie sight. The cracked remnants of what was once a vast lakebed were now webbed with fissures, as though some great hand had baked the mud and stone until it shattered. Pools of stagnant green fluid shimmered beneath a thin, swirling mist that rose lazily from the ground like steam from an open wound.

Dex narrowed his eyes. The liquid wasn't water. No, the viscous, sickly hue—and the acidic aroma burning the inside of his nose—told him otherwise.

"Whatever evaporated the lake must have done it with fire or magic," he observed, voice low. "This place was boiled dry. The swamp that remains is more venom than moisture."

Indeed, from the center of the basin rose faint trails of light green vapor, curling into the air like the breath of sleeping serpents. The mist blanketed everything, shrouding the landscape in a perpetual twilight haze. Shadows flickered and twisted across the surface of the green slime as though something unseen moved beneath it.

Dex let out a low hum of disapproval. "The area's a bit cramped... but I suppose it'll do. Enough room for a few dozen demons—if they don't mind stepping on each other's tails."

Hart gave a resigned grunt. "Make do for now. Once we break through the mortal defense lines, we'll force the locals to build us something proper. A palace, maybe. With towers. And an indoor lava pool."

He tried to sound enthusiastic, but even he wasn't convinced.

Truthfully, the place was a dump—but in demon terms, a dump was still home. The Abyss wasn't exactly known for its luxury.

Besides, Hart had long accepted that the demons under his command were never going to lift a finger to build anything civilized. All demons were a volatile breed—too proud to serve, too lazy to create, and too unstable to lead.

"They're not like you," Hart muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Dex. "You're an artist. These other guys… they don't even know what symmetry is."

Dex gave a small, amused smirk. "That's because their definition of balance is 'left horn bigger than the right.'"

Hart barked a laugh. "Exactly! They've got no sense of design. Just diseases and claws."

In truth, few buildings in the Abyss were ever constructed by demons themselves. Most were the handiwork of enslaved races—imps, corrupted dwarves, fallen elves. The demons knew how to destroy things very well—brilliantly, in fact. There were demolition experts among them who could dismantle a fortress with nothing but laughter and bodily fluids.

"But that's what makes this defense line we're about to attack so impressive," Hart added, his tone now tinged with something approaching reverence. "It's stood against us. All of us. The horde of demolition geniuses."

Dex glanced down at the green ooze in the basin and absently picked up a nearby stone. He tossed it into the liquid.

"Sssszzt—"

The stone hissed and fizzed violently before dissolving into nothing, as though it had never existed.

"More corrosive than concentrated abyssal sulfur," Dex remarked, watching the bubbles rise.

Hart squinted. "What are you doing?"

Dex tilted his head slightly. "I was wondering if there were any fish in there."

The silence between them lasted long enough to be uncomfortable.

"…Fish?" Hart blinked. "In that?"

Dex offered a casual shrug. "I don't know. Stranger things have happened. Maybe they evolved."

Hart stared at him with what could only be described as mild, infernal disappointment. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the others. Maybe that'll help you forget whatever childhood trauma made you ask about fish."

"Lead the way," Dex said dryly.

---

Later, in a winding cave deep beneath the toxic swamp, Hart led Dex into their underground refuge—a series of naturally formed tunnels laced with glowing fungus, poisonous mushrooms, and webs that pulsed faintly like beating hearts.

The walls were damp, streaked with a slime that defied color. The air inside the cave was humid and oppressive, every breath thick with spores and mildew. Yet for demons, it was almost cozy.

Hart gestured toward a massive, bloated spider creature crouched near the entrance. It had a bulbous body covered in jagged bristles, and it was currently gnawing on a leg bone while drooling purple venom onto the cavern floor. Several smaller spiders scurried over its back, some of them clinging to the pile of bones it carried like it was wearing a ghoulish backpack.

"This charming lady is Korki," Hart said. "She's a ground spider demon. Don't step too close unless you want your skeleton sucked out through your pores."

Dex nodded politely. "Korki."

The spider demon responded by rattling her mandibles in a way that might have been a greeting… or a death threat.

Moving on, Hart gestured toward a squat, pale-skinned demon who was lounging in a pool of fetid green sludge. He was round as a barrel, with two stubby arms and a gaping mouth planted square in the middle of his bloated belly. A pair of tiny, unfocused eyes blinked slowly on his face, which held an expression of eternal vacancy.

"This is Dero," Hart said. "Poison Ghoul. He's immune to every poison known to demonkind. Actually prefers to drink poison. We think it makes him smarter, but no one's brave enough to test that."

Dero raised one hand lazily and waved at Dex with a friendly gurgle, then slurped another mouthful of swamp ooze.

Dex forced a nod. "Pleasure."

They continued deeper into the cavern, where loud crashing sounds echoed from a broader chamber. There, several giant demons—hulking brutes with malformed limbs and more than a dozen oversized teeth jutting from their mouths—were brawling violently, smashing each other into the walls and floor.

Hart gestured broadly. "And those are the Irontooth Brothers. Don't bother learning their names—they change them every time they knock each other unconscious."

Dex stared in mild fascination as one of the brothers bit off another's ear and promptly ate it.

"Charming," Dex murmured. "Do they fight for dominance?"

"Nope," Hart said. "They just think it's fun."

As the introductions wrapped up, Dex took a step back and surveyed the room. Bones littered the floor, some bleached white, others still fresh with meat. Strange lights flickered in the depths of the tunnel. Despite the madness, the noise, and the danger—it felt strangely familiar.

He smiled faintly. "We peace-faction demons are really… talented."

Hart grinned wide, sharp teeth glinting. "Damn right. You don't get to be a [Middle-level Demon] without some serious creativity—or at least a very enthusiastic body count."

Dex turned toward the group and extended a clawed hand in mock formality.

"Then allow me to introduce myself."

*****

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