Volume 2 chapter 18
The Western Border of the Morris Empire.
A Black Titan and a White Titan stood upon the shattered earth, towering over the mortal world like pillars of creation.
It was as if the ancient wars of the Age of Myth had resumed. The two colossi engaged in a brutal, primal wrestling match. Fist met flesh in a rhythm that shook the planet's crust. Each blow delivered carried the force of a collapsing star, erupting in blinding flashes of light visible for dozens of kilometers, searing the retinas of anyone foolish enough to look directly at them.
The shockwaves generated by their brawl swept through the heavens and the earth. Space itself behaved like a thin sheet of paper, tearing and crumbling with every movement of their limbs. Tides of annihilation spread for hundreds of kilometers. In this zone of absolute destruction, only a Saint could hope to survive.
"We can't intervene! Both of these Titans possess a fragment of the will of the Demon God and the Lord of Light! We are completely locked out!!"
Theia, the Elf Empress, struggled to stabilize herself against the gale-force winds of mana, watching the distant battle with a mix of awe and dread.
"I miscalculated..." Farragut sighed, his voice heavy with regret. "I never imagined the Demon God would protect this Demon Lord at such a catastrophic cost!"
"What do we do now?" Curtis asked, looking lost for the first time.
"Bad news!" Melton suddenly shouted, his voice urgent. "The mages monitoring the Wall of Holy Light just reported in. The Abyss is showing unprecedented activity! A massive swarm of demons is assaulting the other side of the Wall!"
"What?!"
The Wall of Holy Light.
This colossal barrier had stood for over ten thousand years. In the hearts of all living beings on the continent, it was an eternal symbol of safety, an unshakable divide between civilization and chaos.
But at this moment, the Grand Mage responsible for monitoring the far side stared at the crystal scrying tablet in horror.
The image on the tablet was a nightmare.
Countless demons were surging toward the Wall like a black tide. Wave after wave, they threw themselves against the holy barrier. Even as the divine light crushed their bodies into powder, they did not retreat. They climbed over the dead, clawing at the light with fanatic desperation.
More terrifyingly, this was not a rabble.
Every single demon in the horde was Mid-Rank or higher. There were no Low-Rank fodders. Among them were species the mage had never seen before—nightmarish forms twisted by the deep Abyss.
"One Ninth-Rank... two Ninth-Ranks... three... four..."
The Grand Mage counted the high-level signatures blankly, his mind reeling. The numbers kept climbing. With just a glance, he spotted no fewer than twenty or thirty Ninth-Rank demons leading the assault.
"Why... why are there so many?"
______________________________
Deep within the Soul.
Darkness. Absolute, suffocating darkness.
She was back here again.
All perception of the outside world was severed. Her soul felt as though it had been exiled to the deepest trench of the Abyss.
"Hey! Is anyone there? Demon God? Phyllis?"
Clyris tried to shout, but there was no response. Her voice didn't even echo. It was simply swallowed by the void.
"Seriously... dragging me into this hellhole and then ignoring me? What is the meaning of this? Hey! When are you going to let me out?!"
She shouted a few more times. Still, nothing.
"Hey..."
A chill crept up her spine. A seed of anxiety began to sprout in her heart.
They wouldn't just... leave me here to rot, would they?
She shook her head violently, tossing the thought out of her mind.
"Phyllis? Demon God? Hey! I know you're there! Can you at least acknowledge me?"
Clyris continued to shout into the nothingness for what felt like hours, but the only answer was the dead silence.
In this sensory deprivation, she tried to move forward. Like a blind woman, she stumbled through the obsidian dark, hands outstretched, grasping at nothing.
She walked for an unknown amount of time. It was long enough that she eventually adapted to the blindness, walking with a steady gait.
There was no mana here. She couldn't feel the power inside her body. She was reduced to the state of a normal human.
After walking for an eternity—having lost all concept of time—she suddenly realized something strange: she wasn't tired.
This realization sparked a thought. I must be trapped in a Mental Space!
Only in a pure mental construct would she be unable to use her physical strength or mana.
But this was also an opportunity. In a Mental Space, strength of will was everything. If one's conviction was strong enough, even a mortal could defeat a Saint. It was a slim hope, infinitely better than the zero chance she would have in reality.
And the gap between her and Phyllis wasn't as hopeless as the gap between a mortal and a Saint. She had a chance.
Thinking of this, Clyris felt her spirits lift. She began to focus her mind, condensing her will to repel the darkness before her.
"Hmph. You think you can trap me this easily? Keep dreaming!" She smiled defiantly.
"Sigh—"
Finally, a sigh echoed from the darkness.
"Why..."
The Demon Lord—white hair, crimson eyes—manifested from the shadows.
"You finally decided to show yourself!" Clyris felt a surge of relief.
"Why... why can't you just—die obediently?!" The Demon Lord grit her teeth, her face twisting in frustration. "Why... must you force me to do this myself!?"
As the words fell, a majestic pressure, heavy as the sky itself, descended. It carried a will that permitted no defiance, crushing in on Clyris from all sides, threatening to grind her ego into dust.
"You are nothing but... an outsider! Don't think you can make me submit!" Clyris clenched her jaw, her knees shaking but locking in place against the pressure.
"Hah?!"
The Demon Lord raised an eyebrow, looking down at her with disdain.
"Get your facts straight! You disgusting little thing. You were just lucky enough to fall on top of the seal. You just had the dumb luck to trigger it, absorb my power, and get a second life!"
"Without me, you would have died silently like a stray dog by the roadside!"
The Demon Lord pointed a finger at Clyris, her voice dripping with contempt. "Even this body you wear—it was sculpted by my power! You are the outsider! A despicable thief!"
Then, her tone shifted to one of malicious glee. "Although... I suppose I should thank you, you foolish little thief. You actually did one good thing. If you hadn't established a connection with my Father, my residual will would have slept forever."
"What..."
"You didn't know? For High Demons like us, as long as a sliver of consciousness remains, we are not truly dead. We will always return. My main body died, yes. But because this fragment of my will was sealed, my Father could sense I was 'alive.' However, the seal prevented me from contacting Him. I was slowly being ground down into nothingness."
"By the time you broke the seal, I was so weak I had almost vanished. But you... you actually took the initiative to contact my Father! He understood my situation instantly and poured power in to restore me!"
So that’s it... Clyris realized. That explains the Demon God's sudden rage during our first contact. He realized his daughter had been stolen.
"Hmph! Enough talk. Now, disappear! Don't worry, I am quite satisfied with your new body. I will put it to good use!"
The Demon Lord snorted coldly and intensified the pressure.
"No..."
Clyris gritted her teeth, refusing to kneel.
"I will... not... give up!!"
It felt as though she were being crushed at the bottom of the ocean. The pressure wanted to flatten her into a pancake. But she forced herself to stand, straightening her spine, and glared back at the Demon Lord.
"You?!"
The Demon Lord seemed to fly into a rage out of humiliation. A scythe materialized in her hand, and she slashed down.
Clyris, who had used all her strength just to stand, had no way to defend. She was sent flying.
The Demon Lord didn't stop. She chased after her, scythe swinging again and again.
"Hah! Die! Break!"
Blade after blade struck her body, each carrying unstoppable force.
Clyris had to be thankful this was a mental space. In reality, she would have been minced meat by now. Here, her form remained intact.
But the pain was real. And worse than the pain, every strike chipped away at her will, grinding down her spirit.
She wanted to fight back, but the omnipresent pressure suppressed her completely. She couldn't muster a shred of strength. She could only be a punching bag, passively enduring the Demon Lord’s massacre.
"Die! Die!! Die, die, die..."
Slash after slash.
Eventually, even Clyris reached her limit. Her vision began to blur, fading into gray...
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