Chapter 109: The Infernal Ritual

With renewed fury and with his enemy identified, his swords flashed in silver and dark arcs at the cultists charging towards him erratically.The ground, sleek with blood, splashed on his greaves, and another adversary collapsed with each step he took.

The pungent scent of blood flooded his nostrils, and the clangour of metal colliding with metal rattled in his ears. Yet, nothing would stop him, not when another bastard threatened his subjects' lives.

Even though he knew that he looked like a savage with his bloodshot eyes and the furious grimace distorting his lips and cheeks, he didn't care. The crushing frustration imposed on his shoulders and heart had to find a way out. And what better way than through the heat of combat?

Therefore, he slashed, slashed, and slashed again, cursing the demon kings and the gods, those shameless bastards, with each vicious strike he delivered.

His subjects heard his furious growls as the pressure on them mysteriously lessened.

Ifrit turned his head, his eyes widening as he witnessed his lord's blurring arms and the two opposite lights crisscrossing the air. More than his weapons' trails, they appeared to him as if Adam had mutilated the air itself. Even the whistles resonated as if the air howled in agony under his lord's fury.

The sight alone forced his heart into a beating frenzy as the two embers burning in his eyes ignited like a raging inferno. That was the kind of lord he wanted to follow! Someone who showed no mercy against their enemies and fought on the frontline, a monster that could shed its disguise to impose its will upon the world.

Spurred by Adam's effort and enthralled by his demonic charisma, he moved faster and struck harder. With each strike, his fury and ambition grew. He would be Adam's right hand, his enforcer, the one who would cleanse the land of their foes. He would be a monster, a force of nature, a storm of wrath that would consume all in its path.

Bart and Garduck saw Adam next. Yet, they remained composed and methodically swung their long and broad swords. Each strike they delivered separated a body into halves while they kept an eye on the recruits.

Meanwhile, Maven gawked at Adam's hair bristling strength and determination. But the thing causing his heart to race against his chest was the simple yet lethal strategy he had taught the demons.

Despite the seemingly overbearing difference between the two sides, he could feel the sliver of demonic essence pulsing through the cultists veins. They were by no means weak. In fact, they were stronger than him, not to mention their numerical advantage. Yet, like the others, he gutted them like pigs.

And everything tied down to a single difference between the two sides: they fought in a formation, while Adam's strategy prevented the cultists from doing so.

Even now, demonic spells exploded in a cacophony of agonising screams the moment they gathered. Worse, they could have tried to surround the demonic army. Yet, barrages of spells kept shattering their forming flanks. Like lambs, they could only throw themselves one by one into their army's gaping maw. What an irony for cultists who enjoyed sacrificing innocent lives during their cruel practices.

Soon, the chaotic battle noises and screams lessened until an oppressive silence replaced them.

Adam's blades left a bright cross in the empty air. Not feeling the familiar sensation of cleaved flesh, his eyes regained a sliver of clarity. Narrowing them, he scanned the blazing camp and the thousands of stiff corpses. They littered the blood-soaked ground, creating horrifying charred hills.

He took a sharp exhale, evacuating part of his frustration through it as his eyes regained focus.

Then, he raised his dark blade as his voice thundered.

"Victory is ours!"

Before his words could linger and without any warning, the thick blood watering the ground stirred.

Like a river, it flowed towards the tower.

The empty gate frame swallowed it until only dry ground remained under their feet.

His eyes narrowed into fiery slits as his lips parted in urgency.

"Rush to the Djinns division! Luna, join us! Bart, Garduck, Ifrit, behind me!"

Without looking back, he charged inside the tower, mumbling in worry under his breath.

"No matter what the cultist's leader is scheming, I can't let it happen."

Once inside, he saw deep grooves covering the ground. The collected blood flowed inside to form a complex demonic pentagram.

A hooded figure smirked at him before an immaculate altar pulsing with green engraving and supporting a blood-filled jar.

"Took you long enough to kill all these insects." He touched the jar as his body shook, and mad laughter reverberated for a second. "But I must thank you for forwarding the summoning." seaʀᴄh thё nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The jar lighted an ominous scarlet with his touch as the pentagram rumbled to life.

Adam's breath caught in his throat, and his eyes trembled in dread as an invisible pressure crashed onto him.

Slowly, his legs chattered and bent despite his unwillingness. Yet, he couldn't resist the instinctual horror he felt deep in his bones. A horror intensified by the leader's incomprehensible next actions.

Like a lunatic, the man raised the jar, pouring its contents onto his face. Then, he drew a dagger from his belt and, before Adam's trembling pupils, slit his own throat.

Faced with the disturbing situation, his mind rumbled in confusion. Did the leader commit suicide? Why?

Unfortunately, the answer came the next second.

The blood stinking to the man's clothes squirmed. Like snakes, it dug into his corpse as the pentagram shone brighter. The grooves drove more of the scarlet liquid into the body, causing it to bloat for a second before a horrifying voice echoed.

"I accept your body as a vessel to walk in this realm."

With it, a fiery image appeared, one that sent Adam's mind reeling in disbelief and horror.

'A balor!'

His jaw dropped at the colossal figure, its broad wings, and powerful arms.

As he did, the image shifted into a green stream and rushed into the leader's brain.