Chapter 79 Hell has 10 layers?
Holy Sword Tournament Arc
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(POV: Akashic Records)
Demon Kings... formidable and treacherous entities, possessing immense power and daunting stature. A mere flick of their wrists could transform sprawling expanses of land into desolate wastelands. A simple utterance of their word would command an army to charge forth and obliterate their enemies, driven more by fear of incurring the wrath of their leader than the sharp spears of their foes. These fearsome beings were monsters both in body and spirit and were driven by their ruthless ambition and Faustian efficiency, which hardened their souls beyond redemption.
The Four Great Demon Kings of the Demon Continent, Varvatos, Barbatos, Garmatos, and Arceiatos, were all purely manifested from the Demon Emperor himself, imbuing them with unmatched power across the three continents.
Yet, beyond their realm was a far more treacherous place - Hell.
This demonic realm was comprised of ten layers, each layer housing monstrous beings of incredible power.
1st Layer - "Frozen Wastelands",
2nd Layer - "Wraith Enclave",
3rd Layer - "Ashen Plains",
4th Layer - "Abyssal Heights",
5th Layer - "Sanguine Citadel",
6th Layer - "Velcirius",
7th Layer - "Tenebrous Slade",
8th Layer - "Abyss",
9th Layer - "Sovereign Gorge",
10th Layer - "Infernal Planes",
...
<Abyssal Heights>
At the top of the Abyssal Heights, a grand castle loomed large, casting its dark shadow over the entire fourth layer of Hell.
Vyndariel, the Demon King, sat calmly on his throne with a glass of blood-red wine in hand. His black hair glimmered, while his red eyes shone with confidence and seductive charm.
As he glanced around the empty throne room, he heard footsteps approaching.
A beautiful demon spirit wearing a tattered black robe and holding a sheathed sword at her side entered the room.
Vyndariel smiled in recognition, "Lirien, my dear. I was hoping you'd come."
Lirien removed her hood, revealing striking angular features that resembled Isadora. Her nearly pale complexion emphasized her ethereal appearance, while her dull red eyes betrayed no emotion.
"You summoned me," she said in a monotonous tone, her voice devoid of any hint of enthusiasm.
Vyndariel's smile faltered as he placed his wine glass on the table beside his throne.
He descended from the throne and walked towards Lirien, his eyes fixed on her graceless form.
As he reached out to touch her buttocks, he leaned in to land a kiss on her lips.
But Lirien stepped back, her voice still dull, "Not today."
Vyndariel chuckled heartily, playfully chiding her for being no fun.
Lirien sighed. "I'm interested in fun."
The Demon King offered her a seat. "I summoned you here because I missed you, you know.."
"We both know you're lying." Her voice steady and ambivalent.
Vyndariel leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "The reason I called you here, my dear Lirien," he said, "is because I need your help with the upcoming Holy Sword Festival. Have you heard about it?"
Lirien replied in her flat tone, "No, I haven't."
Vyndariel nodded in understanding and continued, "Well, I plan to make sure that the next Holy Sword Festival belongs to us."
Lirien's face remained expressionless as she asked, "What do you want me to do?"
Vyndariel leaned back on his throne as he sipped his wine, letting the sweet taste linger on his tongue.
"The Holy Sword Festival is celebrated every decade, in honor of the Holy Sword, Devaniel, that was used by the hero Saint Melcius to slay the Black Dragon of Destruction, Valtara. As long as the sword remains pinned into the dragon's heart, Valtara can never be revived." (Vyndariel)
"So you plan to revive Valtara?" Lirien remained dull and unimpressed.
Vyndariel chuckled darkly. "No. I actually want her power for myself... such a power would make Demon Emperor candidacy much easier."
Lirien nodded, still silent.
"So, any news regarding Isadora?s whereabouts?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.
Lirien sighed, her expression sullen. "I've searched the entire Demon Continent, but there's no trace of Isadora's mana," she reported.
"That's disappointing," Vyndariel remarked, swirling the wine around in his glass. "But I doubt Isadora would hide somewhere that obvious."
Lirien raised an eyebrow. "Then where do you think she might be?"
Vyndariel leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a devilish light. "She could be anywhere. The other continents, the human realm. She's a smart one, that Isadora."
Lirien nodded slowly, her grip tightening on her sword. "What do you want me to do, my lord?"
Vyndariel lounged back in his throne, taking another sip of wine. "If you manage to pick up the scent of her mana, act with haste and capture her. The Demon Lord seed in her is just as important as Valtara's heart."
But Lirien shook her head, determination glinting in her eyes. "I won't capture Isadora."
Vyndariel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And why not?"
"Because she's my sister," Lirien replied flatly. "And I plan to talk to her."
Vyndariel's lips curled into a sly grin. "By all means, do as you please. But don't forget about the Holy Sword Festival. You know what to do."
Lirien paused at the giant doors, turning back to face Vyndariel. "I won't forget," she said softly. "But I won't forget about Isadora either."
Vyndariel's voice echoed through the grand throne room. "I hope you deliver, Lirien."
Lirien turned back, indifferent as she replied, "I'll do my best."
Vyndariel chuckled wickedly. "Just in case, take the others with you. You never know when you might need some assistance."
Lirien shook her head slowly. "I can handle myself, they're always too noisy."
Vyndariel nodded, still chuckling menacingly. "As expected from one of the 10 Battle Gods of Akaza. I expected no less from someone like you."
Lirien remained silent as she exited the grand throne room and entered the corridor. Her footsteps echoed against the marble floor, but she didn't slow down.
『 Ten extraordinary warriors have earned the coveted title of the Battle Gods.
Handpicked by the revered and enigmatic Goddess of War herself, Akaza, these formidable individuals are the epitome of power and might.
Each of them has been bestowed with a divine artifact, specifically tailored to amplify their unique race and class abilities.
To even be considered for this esteemed position, the contenders must possess an astounding MP of no less than 10,000 and a formidable physical strength of 5,000.
However, it is the miraculous power imbued within their divine artifacts that sets them apart from the ordinary warriors.
With the aid of these ethereal treasures, the Battle Gods have transcended their limits, unlocking the awe-inspiring potential known as the "paragon stage."
Within this elite group, ranks prevail, marking the Battle Gods' prowess and distinction.
Numerical crests, representing their standing within the hierarchy, adorn their being.
Should a Battle God gain more strength, their crest will seamlessly interchange with the one they've surpassed. 』
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