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{Chapter: 241: Ending}
After listening quietly to the basic information and strategic outline provided by Gewa, Dex's lips curled into a faint, calculating smile. His crimson eyes opened slightly wider, glinting with amusement and a trace of intrigue as he looked toward the old dwarf.
"So," Dex began, his voice low and smooth, echoing slightly in the quiet cavern, "how do you plan to deal with the surrounding powers?"
There was no aggression in his tone, only the pointed curiosity of someone who had survived far too long in a world where even allies could turn at any moment.
What Gewa had said so far sounded simple enough on paper. Destroy a city, conduct a grand sacrificial ritual, and create a new [Pollution Land] as a foothold. Given enough time, the demons gathered here could indeed carry out such a task. They were all veterans of blood and chaos, each with the strength and cruelty necessary to stain the land with death.
But it was never that simple.
They weren't operating in some godforsaken wasteland or a forgotten corner of the world. No, they were deep within enemy territory—surrounded by layers upon layers of organized resistance and magical surveillance.
They were in the beating heart of the enemy.
And just a short distance away was Augustus, a formidable city and one of the key strongholds in the region. Dex knew better than to underestimate it. The moment things turned even slightly chaotic, dozens of demigods and elite forces would rain down upon them like divine judgment. Once the alarm was raised, they wouldn't have minutes—they would have seconds before the response began.
And once reinforcements started arriving from the surrounding cities, even the strongest among them would have difficulty escaping unscathed, let alone completing a delicate sacrificial ritual.
Still, Dex wasn't concerned for himself.
His vitality had long surpassed what could be considered mortal. Unless his body was reduced to dust or his soul shattered, he wouldn't die so easily. And if the price offered was high enough… then even reckless risks were worth it.
Gewa, facing Dex's pointed question, did not dodge or try to gloss over the danger. Now that all present had signed the Abyss Contract and were technically on the same side, he saw no point in hiding things. In fact, secrecy now would only breed mistrust later.
With a steady voice, he revealed classified information—details that would have been worth a war in any other gathering.
"Inside the city of Augustus," Gewa said, his tone calm but filled with subtle weight, "there are already several high-ranking figures who have pledged their loyalty to our cause. At the right moment, those individuals will assist me in breaching the city's defensive barriers from within. Once I initiate the sealing ritual, all communication between Augustus and the outside world will be severed. As long as we act swiftly, we will have enough time to complete the sacrifice before the other forces realize anything is wrong."
Dex nodded slowly, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He didn't say anything further, but the gesture made it clear—he was satisfied, at least for now.
A moment later, a different voice broke the silence.
It belonged to a demon who appeared more arachnid than humanoid—an unsettling hybrid of spider limbs, segmented exoskeleton, and glowing yellow eyes.
"When do we begin?" it asked, in a voice that clicked like insect mandibles grinding together.
Gewa glanced at it before responding, his expression serious.
"It will still take approximately two to three years to make all the necessary preparations," he said. "Several ritual materials must be gathered, the internal rebellion cultivated further, and the protective barrier's magic mapped in full. By then, the political landscape in Augustus may shift, and some of the information I just shared might no longer be accurate."
He paused for a moment before adding with emphasis, "During this preparation period, if you need to hunt souls to recover or grow stronger, I advise you to stay away from the area surrounding Augustus. Do not risk drawing attention. We've spent decades building this opportunity. I don't want one impulsive action to jeopardize everything."
Several of the demons responded with scoffs or sneers, their expressions full of disdain, but none bothered to refute him out loud. For now, they would show restraint—though whether they would truly obey such advice was another matter entirely.
Carto's name still held some weight among them. It was not enough to command their loyalty, but enough to earn their patience.
At least, until they were personally inconvenienced.
No one in that cave was there out of camaraderie or loyalty. They were predators, each with their own ambitions, their own power to build and protect. The only reason they had the patience to remain hidden was because they had something to gain from doing so.
They weren't mindless killers like the low-ranking demons that roamed the battlefield in blind rage. No, these were seasoned schemers, elite combatants, and dangerous opportunists. Their restraint was temporary. Their loyalty, conditional.
After another half hour of discussion—mostly final confirmations, clarifications, and reminders—everything had been laid out. No further questions were raised.
Dex rose from the slab of stone on which he had been sitting, adjusted his long cloak, and with a single step, passed through the barrier and vanished into the world outside.
One by one, the other demons followed suit. Some disappeared into dark portals, others melted into the shadows or flew off in silence.
Within minutes, the once-crowded cavern was empty again, quiet as a tomb.
Only Gewa remained, standing alone in the flickering firelight of the cave, his expression unreadable.
The silence lingered for a few moments before it was broken by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps coming from the shadows beyond.
A youthful male voice echoed from the darkness, filled with teasing amusement. "It seems the elite of your race are particularly... difficult to manage. They didn't look like they respected you much at all."
Pop!
With a noise like a bubble bursting, a large sphere of oily black energy expanded from the darkness. It writhed for a moment before collapsing inward and vanishing with a hiss.
From within it stepped a tall figure.
He looked like a human in his early twenties—fair skin, a height close to 1.9 meters, dressed in an elegant dark blue robe embroidered with strange abyssal runes. He carried a slim staff made of what looked like twisted glass and bone. His features were sharp and refined, his long golden hair immaculate, as though styled by a noble's hand.
But it was the glowing mark on his forehead—a bizarre, otherworldly sigil—that made him seem more alien than anything else. It pulsed faintly with arcane energy, casting a faint halo across his skin.
He was handsome, yes—but there was an aura of cold superiority around him, the kind that made one question if this creature had ever been human at all.
And judging by the smirk on his face, he had clearly been listening in for quite some time.
In response to his words, Gewa sat there calmly, his expression indifferent as he replied with a casual wave of his hand:
"That kind of thing doesn't matter at all—just don't mess it up."
His tone was flat, almost dismissive, as if nothing in this world—or any other—could truly stir him.
The man across from him fell silent for a moment, reflecting on the gathering of demons he had just witnessed. After a pause, he shook his head slightly, a trace of disapproval in his voice.
"In my opinion," he said slowly, "since we're preparing to carry out something as crucial as this operation, we should at least be working with participants who are reliable. And those... 'compatriots' of yours from earlier? They didn't look reliable to me at all."
He crossed his arms and continued, his tone firmer now.
"All I saw in their eyes was mutual suspicion and undisguised hostility. It was as if each of them was ready to strike down the one next to them at any moment. There was no sign of camaraderie, no shared sense of purpose—only bloodlust waiting to boil over. Honestly, I still can't understand how a race as chaotic as yours could become so terrifyingly powerful."
Gewa scratched his ear lazily and yawned, unbothered by the accusation. Then, shrugging, he responded in a calm and measured tone.
"You're not the first to ask that question," he said. "And you won't be the last. Countless beings across the worlds have pondered this same thing. How can a species built on madness and violence—one that revels in killing its own—rise to such strength? Just thinking about it sounds absurd, doesn't it?"
He chuckled softly.
"But that's the truth. As unbelievable as it may seem, this race of lunatics... is absurdly powerful."
He paused, his expression growing a bit more thoughtful.
"I once overheard a scholar try to explain it," Gewa continued. "He tried to analyze the reason why the demon race thrives so wildly despite its madness. He broke it down like this:
One: Our numbers are infinite. Every moment, newborn demons crawl from the blood-soaked banks of the Abyssal Sea Rivers. There's no end, and we never worry about running out of soldiers.
Two: The potential of each demon is built into their blood. Every one of us is born with innate cultivation power methods, memories of their history in their blood. No need for books, teachers, or schools—we know what we must do the moment we open our eyes.
Three: Our strength grows with every kill. The more we slaughter, the faster we evolve. We don't need knowledge. We don't need peace. All we need is bloodshed—and the will to fight.
And four: We are immortal. Truly immortal. Unless we're slain by some outside force, we'll live on eternally. Stars may rise and fall, empires may turn to dust, but a demon can remain exactly where it stood a thousand years ago—waiting, watching, growing stronger."
The young man listened quietly, but a faint bitterness crept into his voice as he muttered, "Limitless numbers, innate cultivation methods, a natural instinct to evolve through violence, and an endless lifespan... You really are a race to envy. Most beings only dream of having even one of those things, yet you're gifted with all four at birth…"
Gewa smirked, unfazed by the envy in the man's voice.
"So what?" he replied with a grin. "You don't seriously believe that effort alone is enough to survive in the infinite planes, do you?"
He leaned forward slightly, his voice suddenly laced with a quiet intensity.
"Birth is everything. The starting point of all life. And among the races that truly stand at the peak of this vast multiverse, not a single one is ordinary. Even your so-called 'human race'—they're not all the same. There are god-created humans, golden-blooded humans, ancient primordials... Each category is vastly different from the next. Most humans in this world are already quite exceptional compared to the multiversal average."
He paused, his smile widening.
"Stronger. Smarter. More talented... and more delicious."
There was a flicker of something predatory in his eyes as he said the last part.
The young man narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the malice behind the words. "What's the point of all that," he muttered. "It still doesn't make you strong enough."
Gewa burst into laughter at the blunt remark.
"Haha! That's true! If you're not strong enough, nothing else matters!" he said, still chuckling. "That's the simplest truth of the Abyss. Strength is everything. Everything else—bloodline, advantage, heritage—is just the groundwork."
He stood up slowly, his expression growing more serious.
"But if you keep working hard—if your contribution proves significant enough—then according to the terms of your contract, when our great Lord Carto descends into this world, he will personally conduct the Demon Ascension Ritual for you."
His eyes gleamed with a faint red glow.
"You will shed your fragile human skin. Your mortality, your limitations, your ties to this decaying world... all of it will be burned away. You will become a true demon. And from there, your future will no longer be bound by the smallness of this plane. It will stretch endlessly before you."
The man gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, but there was clear irritation in his tone.
"I hope so," he muttered. "Your tone is starting to sound a little too patronizing for my liking."
Slipping back into the shadows that seemed to embrace him like an old friend, the young man began to vanish from sight. But just before his form disappeared completely, he paused and turned his head slightly.
"By the way," he said, voice now half-muffled by the darkness, "some of those demons earlier... I think a few of them noticed me. Are you sure that won't be a problem?"
Gewa waved a hand dismissively, as if swatting a fly.
"It's not a big deal. They might have sensed you, sure. Some of them are probably stronger than me—it's not unusual. But they ignored you, didn't they? That means they don't care. So you don't need to worry about it either. Just don't get in their way, and they won't get in yours. That's how demons operate."
As the last echo of the young man's presence faded into the cavern's gloom, Gewa stood alone in the growing silence.
He exhaled, slowly.
"Soon," he muttered under his breath, eyes glinting with something fierce and ancient, "very soon... this world will begin to rot."