There was nothing left to conquer.
He had taken in several subordinates, only to have them taken to the deeper layers of hell against his will. His expansion was limit, reduced to a patrol guard for this section of hell; for his greatness, Arch Devil Gorael. He wasn't even allowed to take in devil subordinates, at least he wasn't because of Gorael's plans.
His limitation was only because of his great, unstoppable strength, but also because of the lack there of…
Any and all available low-level information, arts, and techniques had long been consumed by him.
He had squeezed every drop of potential from this barren layer long ago.
That was the core of his emptiness.
He was the strongest being allowed to exist here, and the title had become a gilded cage.
Most devils, upon reaching maturity and the peak of their lesser devil strength, fled the 1st layer's restrictions, eager to test their mettle in the deeper, more dangerous layers. Where true power, ancient beings, and exotic treasures resided.
Where opposing factions collided more openly, where the gates to other worlds were abundant, where strength was sought and obtained through bloodied hands.
Staying for a century, as he had, was a testament to a unique, stubborn patience.
Or a deep-seated fear of becoming a small fish in an infinitely larger pond...
He was a rare devil indeed, and he felt the reality of that rarity directly as stagnation.
His current thoughts were not of battle plans, but of departure.
He was planning his exit, contemplating the chaotic, terrifying, and new challenges of the deeper layers and beyond~
The crunch of footsteps on the cracked earth broke his reverie.
One of his elite berserkers approached with a firm grip on the scruff of a small, trembling imp-like demon.
The creature was clearly a wild one, not part of his army, its eyes wide with terror.
It was the demon who was caught by Kamir and sent to deliver a message.
"My Lord," The berserker grunted, shoving the imp forward, "This vermin was caught skirting at the perimeter. It claims to have information."
Kaelgor's boredom evaporated, replaced by a flicker of interest. He leaned forward, the firelight carving deep shadows into the planes of his face that was hidden by steel.
"Speak." His voice a rumble.
The imp fell to the ground, its entire body shaking from fear. The aura of a devil was overbearing, making it instinctively shudder.
"G-great Lord! M-mighty Kaelgor!" It stammered, words tumbling out in a franticly, "I was sent to deliver a message!" Kaelgor's silent stare told the imp to keep on speaking, "They… they, three high-tier devils went to the newborn's basin! They spoke with the devil within! They sought an alliance! They wanted to use his nexus point, his fortress, as a refuge! As a stronghold to defy you!"
The words hung in the air.
Immediately, thoughts of the three most troublesome rogue devils in his territory appeared in his mind. Each individual was strong enough to escape his grasp, his forced enlistment. Now, they were all together. Not just hiding, but organizing, and seeking a base… and they had just approached the newborn.
Kaelgor's initial flicker of interest morphed into a subtle fury.
New variables were sprouting like weeds, shifting the playing board, forking the already uncertain future: leading to outright rebellion within his jurisdiction!
All because of that newborn, that insignificant, weak whelp. No, it wasn't him, it was his surprisingly sturdy fortress, now at the very center of it all!
His cage, the 1st layer, had just become slightly more interesting.
After all, three powerful devils holding the nexus point would be a challenging obstacle for Kaelgor, should they succeed into tricking the welp to help that was.
Of course, he had a hunch that the newborn wasn't one to easily deceived.
His boredom was gone, his motivation igniting like a flame, his thoughts of his future thrown to the back of his mind, his goal clearer than ever: utter annihilation.
He stood.
The silence around the bonfire was shattered by the groan of abyssal steel armor shifting as Kaelgor rose to his full, imposing height.
Four meters of pure, condensed power and muscle, encased in sleek, black armor that seemed to drink the firelight, leaving only glints of malevolent, corrupted mana slither around its frame.
His specially crafted helmet, a masterpiece of smithing, accommodated the proud, crown-like curve of his horns, making his head seem larger, and more imposing.
A true lord of the abyss.
The casual boredom that had plagued him was incinerated, a piddling of anticipation stroked his heart.
"We move out."
It was a low, resonant command that cut through the night and reached the ears of every sleeping elite warrior in the camp. Although he didn't shout, every subordinate of his heard his call clearly.
'The time for waiting is over. I have given the newborn enough grace to squander. He has built his nest and now greedy rebels seek to obtain it. Now, he… they will learn the price of defiance.'
Anger surged once again, thinking of those troublesome 'rats'.
"Badum!" "Badum!" "Badum!"
His small army started to wake and march to him, their sheer size causing small tremors and dust to be blown up into the wind.
Yet, he didn't care much for the horde, as his sights were on the individuals before him; the heart of his newfound strength.
Ten figures, each radiating an aura of power that dwarfed any demon. Their appearance either divinely beautiful, or intimidating and powerful. All wore a unique crown to mark their specialty.
Devils!
Their forms were varied; a hulking brute with skin of perfectly carved obsidian, a lithe female whose body flickered with subtle shadows, one with beautiful fur and wolf-like features, others bearing the marks of fire, poison, or other traits.
They ranged from low-tier to a single, imposing, high-tier lesser devil; a being whose presence made the very air around him tremble, with dark vines twisting around him.
They had been 'persuaded' to join his army, their independence crushed under the weight of his strength and the stark choice between service and death.
They stood now, not as willing allies, but as extensions of his will.
Their gazes towards him were anything but polite, yet the respect and fear buried within didn't escape his gaze.
Their strength had made Kaelgor put extra attention onto them: he made them set up camp close to him.
Their greater numbers didn't even make Kaelgor flinch, as he was confident of taking them all down even if they fought together.
"This is what you were recruited for," Kaelgor's voice boomed, his gaze sweeping over them, "Not to skulk and wander in the wilds, but to conquer. To break fortresses and collect souls. To invade and plunder! Tonight, you put your strength to good use. If you do right, then the future holds promise of more."
As he finished speaking, a clear soul hovered in his hand: a soul of another realm, a being with purity and high life force.
Chances to invade other realms… and to take their souls!
A delicious and tempting bait indeed...
The devils looked on with hungry eyes, finding that there may yet be profit from following Kaelgor.
Cunning thoughts and various schemes swirled within the bunch.
A dark flicker of hope-laced cunning was born in the shadows…
Satisfied with their expressions, he turned, his massive form a dark silhouette against the dark sky.
Devils who wanted something were easy to control. Even if they wanted to scheme or rebel, their emotions and thoughts would be easier to read now. With strength, he could enforce order and give out punishments and rewards.
It was those who sought nothing that were hard to predict!
The demon elites had jolted out of slumber and rolled their tents with practiced efficiency. Their supplies were given to weaker demons to carry.
Seeing that everyone was ready, Kaelgor raised a gauntleted fist, and a signal, a demon roaring, echoed through the ranks.
The march began.
It was an earthquake.
Kaelgor at the lead, a titan of black steel.
The ten devils followed; his living weapons, the apex hunters, the core of his newfound strength.
Behind them, the disciplined, thunderous footsteps of his 400 elite berserker demons shook the ground. Their abyssal-steel appearance even more menacing than the 10 devils in the lead.
But what followed…
Behind them, a vast, seething tide of over 5,000 other demons moving like a wave of flesh!
It was monstrous horde of claws, fangs, and raw insanity that he had swept up in his short, yet ruthless campaign.
His small personal army was gone, replaced by a decent sized invasion force; a wave of destruction ready to crash upon Adam's bubbling kingdom.
A force that could conquer weaker realms.
They moved unimpeded through the deepening darkness.
The fading light meant nothing to them; they were children of the abyss, crafted from the very essence of night. Their vision was sharper in the dark, their senses attuned to the whispers of the night.
Their thunderous advance was a drumbeat of doom rolling across the hellscape, towards the lone obelisk and the devil who dared to think he could defy the natural order.
The time for games was over.