The air crackled with an eerie energy as Fein's fists became lethal weapons. Two guards foolishly tried to challenge him, drawing their weapons with misplaced confidence. But Fein's reflexes were honed to perfection, and in an instant, his fist pierced through their armored chests, puncturing their hearts. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless and defeated.
Fein stood amidst the aftermath. He didn't even sweat and exert effort. But their was an intensity gleaming in his eyes. He surveyed the scene, the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, a stark reminder of his SS-rank strength. The demon guards were at least B-rank and A-ranks which was definitely overkill.
As Fein turned to leave, he could hear the sound of footsteps in the distance, signaling the arrival of more guards.
...
As the witnesses and oppressed onlookers beheld the display of Fein's brutal strength, a flicker of hope ignited within their hearts. The sight of him effortlessly dispatching the demon guards filled them with a renewed sense of determination. Their voices rose in unison, a chorus of oppressed souls yearning for liberation.
"Enough is enough! We won't stand for this any longer!" shouted one of the witnesses, his voice brimming with defiance.
Others joined in, their voices blending together in a symphony of resolve. They raised their hands towards the darkened sky, their fingers interlacing as they chanted an ancient incantation. The words spilled forth from their lips, imbued with the desperation and determination of those who had endured years of suffering.
The air crackled with an electric energy as the chant echoed through the streets of the Abyss. The ground beneath their feet trembled in response, as if the very fabric of the realm acknowledged their plea for justice. Eyes filled with determination met one another, forming an unspoken pact to stand united against their oppressors.
But their hope soon turned to dismay as the demon guards, recovering from their initial shock, turned their attention towards the defiant crowd. With sneers of contempt, the guards approached, their armor gleaming ominously in the dim light.
"Pathetic worms! Do you really think your feeble attempts at magic can stand against us?" mocked one of the guards, his voice dripping with disdain.
The oppressed held their ground, refusing to back down despite the overwhelming odds. Their faces reflected a mixture of fear and defiance, their eyes shining with a glimmer of unwavering resolve.
With a swift motion, the guards lunged forward, their weapons poised to strike. The oppressed braced themselves, ready to face whatever fate awaited them. But as the guards clashed with the crowd, it became painfully clear that their strength was no match for the formidable demons.
The clash of metal against flesh reverberated through the air, accompanied by cries of pain and anguish. The oppressed fought valiantly, their bodies driven by an unyielding spirit, but they were outnumbered and outmatched. Their spells faltered and dissipated under the relentless assault of the guards.
...
As Fein trudged his way back home, his mind buzzed with thoughts and plans. What a day it had been. He couldn't shake off the images of the those arrogant demon guards oppressing the demons. It got him thinking, though. Why does the fuck was he sympathizing with demons as a human?
Though, it might not be bad as he needed their help If he wanted to enter the middle realm without drawing the attention of the Satans, he needed the rebels on his side. Time to make some shady alliances.
He wasn't really afraid of Satans with the level of his strength. But he still have to remain cautious against the Demon God that was likely have SSS-rank magic power.
Entering his humble abode, Fein let out a long, heavy sigh. The weight of the day's events settled on his shoulders like a boulder. He dropped himself onto a rickety chair, his tired bones sinking into its worn-out cushion. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced along the peeling wallpaper.
With a tired hand, Fein scratched his scruffy beard as he surveyed the maps and documents strewn across the table. He ran his fingers over the faded ink, tracing the paths and shortcuts that could get him closer to the middle realm. The flickering candle nearby added an eerie ambiance to his makeshift war room.
Lost in his thoughts, Fein mulled over the risks and rewards of working with the rebels. He needed their insider knowledge, but he also had to figure out what he could offer them in return. What were they after? What could he bring to the table? It was a real puzzle, and he had to solve it fast.
Drumming his fingers on the table, Fein's mind raced through the possibilities. The clock on the wall ticked away, reminding him that time wasn't exactly on his side. He needed to gain their trust, and that meant being strategic, cautious, and maybe a little bit sneaky. Well, he just need to take care of high end combatants of the Four Nobles, right?
Then the rebels would take care of the rest. He needed them to act as a cover while he was slaughtering the strongest line up of the Noble Houses.
As the night wore on, exhaustion clawed at Fein's eyelids. His body yearned for rest, but his mind refused to shut down. So many questions, so many scenarios played out in his head. But he knew he had to make a move soon, or all this planning would be for nothing.
Dragging his weary body to the small, humble bedroom, Fein flopped onto the creaky bed. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. The room was filled with a hushed silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind outside. Fein's eyes drooped, his mind surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep.
With each passing breath, his features relaxed, the tension of the day fading away. The lines on his face softened, giving way to a calmness that only sleep could bring. In the dim light of the room, his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a testament to the peace that had finally found him.
The night embraced Fein, guiding him into a world of dreams and possibilities. It was a respite, albeit a temporary one
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