Chapter 553: Chapter 553

Lilith, wrapped in Luna’s stolen flesh, followed the greatest Imp toward the corridor’s ornate doors. The Wild Hunt moved in formation behind them, their footsteps echoing through the halls like a funeral march, for when they smelled prey, it was the end of it.

The greatest Imp raised his fist and knocked against the massive doors. The sound reverberated through the corridor, deep and resonant.

"Enter," came a voice from within—seductive and melodious, balanced perfectly between masculine authority and feminine allure.

The gates swung open with silent grace, revealing what should have been a throne room but resembled something entirely different. Soft beds filled every corner of the vast chamber, their silk sheets rumpled from recent use. Transparent draperies of vibrant silk hung like opened curtains, creating intimate alcoves throughout the space. Where a throne should have commanded the room stood the largest bed, its sheets still damp with sweat and reeking of carnal pleasures. Clothes and pieces of armor lay scattered across the silk, abandoned in moments of passion.

Seated upon this bed of sin was a demon whose beauty defied comprehension. Delicate horns curved gracefully before his forehead, framing hair that sparkled like the trail of falling stars. His skin gleamed fairer than alabaster, unmarked by the corruption that twisted lesser demons. Almond-shaped green eyes held depths of ancient knowledge, while rose-red lips curved in perpetual invitation. He embodied the perfect paradox of lust—handsome and beautiful simultaneously, masculine strength wrapped in feminine grace.

The greatest Imp dropped to one knee before the bed, his head bowed in perfect deference. When he spoke, his voice flowed like poisoned honey. "Thank you for receiving us, Master Asmodeus."

Asmodeus rested his head against his palm, slender fingers cupping his cheek with casual elegance. Red nails caught the light from the chandelier of pulsing demonic fire that hung above. When he spoke, his voice chimed like celestial bells, crystalline and melodious. "The others are already on the move, ready to end this farce of a war. Make it worth every second I’m granting you."

His eyes shifted to the members of the Wild Hunt. Supreme boredom twisted his features. "Astaroth and his goons. Should I be surprised or have expected you’d show up when pantheons fall faster than mortals?" He sneered, the mocking sound reaching every corner of the castle. "Let me guess? You still believe they’ll return. You believe the time to reclaim your rights as the prince of hell might have come?"

His eyes narrowed into slits bursting with green fire. "Speak!"

Astaroth and the members of the Wild Hunt merely smirked. Then, he simply declared. "I don’t believe they’ll return, Asmodeus." He stepped aside, letting Lilith through. "One already has."

Asmodeus scanned the woman standing before him. His senses swept over Luna’s form, searching for any hint of deception or hidden power. At first, he felt nothing from her—just mortal flesh wrapped around a soul he couldn’t quite identify. His brow furrowed slightly as he leaned forward, expecting to discover some elaborate trick.

Then his eyes widened. Deep within his body, the mark of lust stirred—that ancient seal that served as both the key to Lilith’s prison and the source of his authority over the sin itself. It roared like a child trying to return to its mother’s embrace after eons of separation, pulling and twisting within his very essence.

"Lilith." The moment the name left his lips, blood spurted from his chest.

He gazed down at the arm piercing through his torso, then up at the woman smiling as if he were a delicious treat waiting to be devoured.

She tore the mark from his body, taking his heart with it. Asmodeus tried to resist in vain, his form convulsing as power drained from him like water through a shattered vessel. "Help me!" he called to the greatest Imp, desperation cracking his melodious voice.

The greatest Imp just stood by, laughing with genuine amusement. When Asmodeus called him a traitor, he simply shrugged. "I had the best teacher I could have hoped for."

Meanwhile, Lilith chuckled in a voice more elegant than Asmodeus could have ever hoped to possess. "Do you remember when you served Ahriman, Aeshma?" She used his true name like a blade, cutting through millennia of carefully constructed identity. "I admired your strength and conviction back then."

She covered her mouth as her chuckles turned eerie. "Actually, I never had. I hated you from the first day. But you were more useful and entertaining alive." Her eyes gleamed with ancient malice. "A rebel who fought both Ahura Mazda and Ahriman, yet survived to tell the tale. A living legend who finally believed he had found a home. All to learn he had been a tool all along, a mere piece of the intricate arrangement woven by Satan."

She savored his suffering as he drew his last breath, watching the light fade from those perfect green eyes.

And just like that, Asmodeus, the second most powerful demon king, died in his own castle.

In the distance, where legions of demons mixed with the few remaining lords, the seven other demon kings felt it.

"NO!" They roared in unison, their forms stretching into colossi, their steps gouging the earth as they rushed toward Asmodeus’s castle.

Baal led the way, jaw clenched, heart racing against his ribs. Adam should be busy destroying the Mesopotamians. He had been waiting for him to weaken while he culled common enemies. The converged realms? This realm had a single and simple name—the new demon realm. But if more marks lost their vessels, there would be nothing left but ashes.

Once he reached the castle, he tore the roof with his bare hands, revealing the throne room. Asmodeus’s bloody chest lay on his bed, painting the sheets crimson. But the culprits? Vanished like mirages.

He stepped toward the still-warm corpse, biting his lip. The mark of lust was gone. The source of thɪs content is 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝕟𝕖𝕥

He turned toward his peers, face solemn, voice heavy. "Lilith will descend."

Heavy silence fell on Zagan, Balam, Purson, Beleth, Paimon, and Belial.

Then he continued. "We can fight her back. Together. As one." He emphasized each word. "But we cannot lose any more of us. If another demon king dies, everything is over."

He glanced west, toward Atlantis. "The mortal... The god slayer." He corrected himself, giving Adam due respect for his achievements. "We can’t let him stab us in the back. We must kill him before her descent—at any cost. Return to our armies and march! We won’t be slaves to the devils again. We are free!" He thundered. "Free to kill, to hate, to lie, to tempt. We are the demon kings who filled the vacuum they left. The guardians of their prisons. The last rampart against uncontrolled chaos and madness."

The others thundered in agreement, and guided their demonic legions—hundreds of thousands of demons, each of the eighth tier.

Juggernaut Demons thundered across the battlefield like living siege engines. Their massive frames rippled with corded muscle beneath armor-like hide, each step cracking the ground beneath their weight. Spikes and bone protrusions jutted from their shoulders and backs, while their faces bore the permanent scowl of creatures bred for nothing but destruction.

Grolar demons lumbered forward with savage grins splitting their brutish faces. Thick hides scarred from countless battles protected frames built for raw violence. Their claws extended like rusted blades, and yellowed fangs dripped with anticipation of the slaughter to come.

Hezrou demons hopped and crawled on their toad-like limbs, their bulky forms reeking of decay that wilted plants in their wake. Pustules and boils covered their grotesque flesh, bursting occasionally to release clouds of noxious vapor. Their wide mouths stretched in permanent leers that revealed rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Vrock demons screeched overhead, their vulture-like forms casting shadows across the advancing horde. Tattered feathers fell like black snow as they circled, their cries capable of shattering stone and driving mortals mad with terror. Their talons gleamed with anticipation, ready to tear apart anything that moved.

Marilith demons slithered between the ranks, their serpentine lower bodies propelling them with fluid grace. Six arms wielded curved blades that sang through the air, while their beautiful faces smiled with the cold hunger of apex predators. Their scales rippled with each movement, hypnotic and deadly.

The greatest army the demonic realm had ever assembled marched toward Atlantis, where Adam returned victorious from his last conquest, unaware that the game had changed forever.