New Calendar 462, late spring.

Central continent, the convergence lands between the Seran Plains and the Uneer Mountains.

The hills and meadows that once stood here were gone.

This used to be a major route for caravans. In spring, wildflowers chased each other across the fields, grass could grow over a person’s knees, and meltwater from distant mountains formed streams that nourished the land.

But now, everything had changed.

The region centered on that purple-black rift had been corrupted, transformed into an alien landscape of charred black and dark red.

The soil cracked; vegetation withered.

Abyssal energy seeping from the depths of the rift acted like invisible tentacles, continuously corroding every inch of the Material Plane.

At the same time, a massive fortress was gradually taking shape.

Abyssal matter and the stained wreckage of Sky City combined to form its main structure.

The fortress walls rose a hundred meters high, rough and uneven, covered with spikes and protruding bone-like structures, dominated by purple and black, exuding an impenetrable texture.

Inside the fortress, the buildings were chaotic.

There was no planning; everything was piled up according to demonic tastes.

Towering altars, prison-like barracks, mountains of bones, boiling blood pools...

Everything emphasized the place’s inhuman nature.

On the outer ramparts, a slender and dangerous figure stood quietly.

It was a six-armed female serpent demon.

Her upper body was humanoid, lines flowing smoothly. Six arms hung naturally at her sides, each hand tipped with blade-sharp nails. Her skin was dark purple, covered with fine scales that shimmered metallic in the light.

Her face was strikingly beautiful, long hair cascading over her shoulders.

But her eyes radiated a chilling cold that made one’s heart race; there was not a trace of coquetry.

Her lower body was a thick serpentine tail over twenty meters long, wrapped in glossy black scales with edges sharp as blades. When it swayed, it scraped the surrounding walls with a faint grinding sound.

Six-armed serpent demon.

Among the demon races of the Abyss, the six-armed serpent demon clan ranked above average.

They possessed not only tremendous physical strength but also notable intelligence, making them excellent warriors and tacticians, often serving as commanders or senior officers in demonic legions.

In the chaos of the Abyss, few demons retained the clarity of mind needed to devise strategy.

Six-armed serpent demons were one of those rare types.

Verishka, among the six-armed serpent demons, was particularly distinguished.

Her rank corresponded to the crown-level in the Material Plane; in the Abyss she was called a “senior demon general.”

At the same time, she was the commander of the demon legion in this area of the Material Plane, sent on direct orders from a lord.

The lord promised that if she could successfully hold the rift and create conditions for weaker beings to descend, she would receive general promotion, become an Abyssal lesser demon, and might even gain a territory of her own.

“The fortress is complete and the legions are ready.”

Verishka whispered, her gaze sweeping across the scene inside and outside the fortress.

On the ground inside the outer wall, iron-mounted demons formed ranks.

At first glance these demons resembled centaurs, but far more ferocious. Their thick hooves ended in hooked claws capable of tearing through heavy armor; their bodies were covered with chitinous plates like armor, seemingly indestructible; their long powerful tails ended in sharp bony spikes that could strip flesh from bone.

They were naturally adept with heavy weapons—great axes, chains, war hammers—and fought with a ferocity bordering on stupidity, apparently ignorant of fear.

Under most lords, these iron-mounted demons served as heavy cavalry, the shock troops, the blades that tore enemy lines apart.

At this moment, they were stamping the ground impatiently with their hooves.

Closer to the rift, countless imps and dretches crowded together, noisy and chaotic, tearing at one another.

They were cannon fodder and backup provisions.

When a legion needed sustenance but had no other food, these low-tier demons were the easiest source. Thus they were most numerous and died the fastest.

From vantage points throughout the fortress, barbed-lance demons stretched limbs bristling with spear-like bones, like living ballistae.

Their forms resembled giant hedgehogs but more savage, covered all over in bone spikes of various lengths, tips sharp as spears.

Beside them, brain demons floated in midair.

These demons had no fixed shape; their core was an obese brain about a meter in diameter, exposed, laced with pulsing veins and bundles of nerves. A dozen or so tentacles extended beneath the brain, ending in suckers or barbs.

Brain demons did not speak, but invisible waves flickered and ebbed.

That was how they communicated.

They formed the demon legion’s sorceress corps, responsible for curses, mental attacks, and defensive magics.

A single brain demon was not exceptionally strong, but in groups their abilities stacked and produced qualitative leaps.

In the air, patrols of winged demons crossed like black lightning, occasionally emitting ear-piercing shrieks.

Beyond these, there were berserker demons like heavily armored elites.

Muscles taut over their bodies, they entered frenzy in combat, feeling neither pain nor rest until death.

Berserker demons were massive; at the same rank they far outclassed most species. They were scattered throughout the fortress, training, resting, or fighting among themselves.

Sometimes they even killed one another.

Demons had no friendship, only hierarchies of strength and temporary obedience.

“Everything is proceeding according to plan.”

Verishka flicked her tail with satisfaction.

Now, this fortress was capable of resisting assaults from the Material Plane’s allied forces.

Materials tempered and corrupted by Abyssal energy were far tougher than the Material Plane’s metals and stones; they had exceptional resistance to magic and physical strikes, almost unbreakable. Combined with carefully laid defensive formations, they could even withstand a sustained assault from Abyssal great demons for a time.

According to known intelligence,

there were no Mandate-level beings on this continent’s surface equivalent to a great demon, and there were certainly no demon kings.

The strongest here were crown-level—and they were few.

As for that slightly stronger Material Plane empire, the Halden Empire, it currently had its hands full and dared not approach the surface. It could only cling to life in the sky, barely resisting.

At the same time, the surface rift continued to slowly expand.

Every moment more Abyssal energy leaked out, eroding surrounding spatial structures and making the rift wider and more stable.

The day when stronger entities could pass through was not far off.

“Commander.”

A voice came from behind, rough and grating like a rusty saw cutting bone.

Verishka did not turn. She knew who had come.

The Reaper Demon Hecas, one of her most impetuous and fiercest subordinates.

He was the classic Abyssal reaper in appearance:

a powerful torso, a pointed headcrest, sickle-shaped forelimbs, and a maw lined with jagged teeth that kept opening and closing.

Hecas climbed the wall.

He then moved to Verishka’s side but did not get too close.

“Commander, when do we move out?” the reaper demon asked impatiently. “I can’t wait. I want to tear apart those fragile bodies, revel in sweet blood and death. We’ve been here so long my claws are rusting.”

He was not alone; most demons were restrained by impatience.

They had not come to the Material Plane to sightsee or to build a fortress.

In the Abyss they fought constantly—other demons, devils, or beings from other planes.

Battle was their instinct; slaughter their pleasure. Here, they craved killing and destruction, tearing every living thing into pieces.

To demons, Material Plane life was potent nourishment.

Feeding on flesh or souls from that plane accelerated demonic advancement—an irresistible lure for those who hungered for power.

“You’re very eager?”

Verishka asked.

“The legions are assembled, the fortress is finished, and those Material Plane people haven’t shown a trace yet!”

Hecas’s voice rose. “Ah, I’m starving. Let me lead a squad. I’ll circle the area and bring back any living thing I see. We can throw a banquet!”

Verishka finally turned to face the reaper demon.

Hecas instinctively shrank his neck, but his mouth did not stop.

“I feel... sitting here waiting for them to attack is stifling. Look at those iron-mounted ones—their hooves are nearly rusted. Those berserkers, with no enemies, they turn on each other. Two fought yesterday and someone’s brain came out.”

“Let them fight.”

Verishka said. “Chaos is our nature; it cannot be fully suppressed. So long as it doesn’t damage the fortress structure or cost too many lives, let it be. Fighting keeps them sharp. That’s better than complete idleness.”

“But...”

Hecas tried to argue.

The six-armed serpent demon interrupted him. “How long did you live in the Abyss before coming to the Material Plane?”

The reaper demon paused, then answered honestly.

“Eleven hundred years. Including larval time, maybe even longer.”

“How many battles?”

“Countless.” Hecas’s tone carried pride. “Fought demons, devils, elemental beings...”

“Have you ever lost?”

Hecas said, “Yes. Of course. Once I had half my body chewed away and nearly died.”

“Besides being weak, why did you lose?”

Verishka continued.

Hecas scratched his head and reluctantly replied, “Carelessness. Sometimes I rushed ahead too fast without waiting for my squadmates; sometimes greed led me to chase fleeing enemies into ambushes; once I was too excited and missed a trap.”

Verishka shot him a warning glance.

“You are doing the same thing now.”

“Impulsive, impatient, driven by appetite and the urge to fight, disregarding the bigger picture... That’s why you will always follow my orders. Even if you are not weaker than I am in raw combat, in strategic thought we are not equal.”

In the Abyss, combat power was not rare.

Powerful demons were everywhere; new strong ones were born daily, and old ones fell.

What was scarce was a mind capable of normal reasoning.

Verishka had such a mind, which made her the commander. Hecas lacked it, so he had to obey orders.

The six-armed serpent demon turned her gaze back to the land outside the fortress.

“What you see is that Material Plane creatures dare not show themselves. What I see is that they are preparing, mustering, and converging on us. Scouts report large troop movements to the east, south, north, and west. Though they are still far, they are coming—and not as a single army but several, from different directions.”

“That’s perfect!”

Hecas grew excited, his sickle-like limbs swinging. “Let them come! The more the merrier! Let our blades taste blood! Haha, I want to eat more human brains; I hear it makes demons cleverer.”

Perhaps from excitement, he accidentally nicked his own head with the sickle. Black blood flowed, but he didn’t care—he only grew livelier, flicking his long tongue to lick the wound.

Verishka asked, “And then?”

“And then?” Hecas blinked. “Then, of course, we kill them all and conquer the Material Plane! Make this our new hunting ground!”

Verishka did not reply immediately.

Her gaze passed the fortress, beyond circling vulture demons, and fixed on the purple-black rift.

The rift looked like a massive scar across the earth, darkness seething within.

It was slowly spreading, growing wider and more stable by the moment.

At the rift’s deepest point, a faint pulsation was strengthening, like the heartbeat of some colossal beast, low and powerful—something only demons with keen perception could sense.

“Hecas, do you know why we were sent here?” Verishka asked suddenly.

“Because we’re formidable! The lord trusts us!” Hecas answered without hesitation.

“No. Because we’re expendable.”

Verishka turned to the reaper demon and stared at him.

“The current limit this rift can tolerate is our tier—senior demon generals, crown-level. Stronger beings cannot pass yet. The spatial structure is unstable; forcing passage would shred them. So we come first.”

“We build the fortress, we hold it, we draw in the Material Plane’s forces. We fight them, bleed, and die. When we grind together until the rivers run red, that blood, those deaths, and the dissipating soul energy will be absorbed by the rift and converted into Abyssal energy, quickly stabilizing the rift.”

“Then stronger beings can descend.”

She paused, then continued.

“Our mission is not conquest, not hunting, not indulgence. It is to hold this fortress, to hold this rift, until great demons—or even our lord, our Map King—arrive here.”

“Then conquest will truly begin.”

The reaper demon’s sickle-limb slowly lowered.

He was not stupid; he now understood the implication.

“How long must we hold it?” he asked.

“As long as it takes.”

Verishka sneered. “Until the rift grows further and stabilizes, or until we are all slain. Either way, the mission is accomplished.”

Her gaze swept across the fortress inside and out.

Ranked iron-mounted troops, the noisy dretches, circling vulture demons, floating brain demons, berserkers fighting one another...

These were her chips, her expendables.

Just as she herself was a tool under a lord.

Verishka knew her place well, but she never complained or felt resentment—because that was the Abyss.

Unless one could become a lord, everything else was meaningless.

“Do not underestimate the life forms of the Material Plane.”

The six-armed serpent demon continued, reminding Hecas and herself.

“Don’t forget how much loss Halden inflicted on us in earlier Abyssal wars. Those humans in that empire are ferocious, cunning, and reckless. They once pushed back our legions, seized our territory, and even captured a few great demons, displaying them along borderlands for centuries.”

She sneered suddenly.

“But those humans were arrogant and presumptuous, thinking they could seize everything in the Abyss without paying the cost, and they ended up awakening our masters from slumber.”

“Their immortals thought they could defeat demon kings.”

“Heh. Now they have learned their lesson.”

“When more Sky Cities fall and more rifts form, when our legions pour down, and when our Map King arrives, the Halden Empire will crumble like sandcastles in wind with no retreat. Those arrogant humans will wail as they are reduced to slaves or food.”

“And then...”

Verishka’s lips curved, revealing a demon’s smile—beautiful and dangerous, like a poisonous flower blooming on bone.

“This entire planet will become part of the Abyss, ours. After our king seizes this new land for the Abyss, he will advance further, becoming a true Abyssal lord with even greater authority and power. We followers will be rewarded, grow stronger, and possibly win territory.”

Her gaze went to the horizon again.

Something moved faintly and quickly, a flash and then gone.

Maybe a bird, maybe a cloud, maybe... an approaching scout from the enemy.

“Hecas, issue the orders.”

Verishka said.

“All legions maintain vigilance but are forbidden to sally forth. If an enemy squad approaches, drive them off with ranged attacks; do not pursue. If a large enemy force appears, report immediately but do not engage proactively—wait for them to lay siege.”

“Let them look, let them scout, let them bring back everything they learn to their decision-makers.”

“When they think they have our measure, when they have planned and, full of confidence, commit their armies.”

Verishka turned, six arms unfolding like a blooming flower of death.

“Then we will show them what true war is, what despair is, and what... the Abyss is!”

The reaper demon left in haste.

On the rampart, the six-armed serpent demon stood alone.

The wind carried the scent of the Abyss—but also other smells.

Grass. Trees. Living things.

The life-breath of the Material Plane was so sweet and enticing to demons, like a parched traveler finding a spring.

Verishka drew a deep breath, inhaling that scent into her body, feeling the life energy contained within.

Soon.

She thought silently.

This fortress is unbreakable; the Material Plane’s attack will fail.

Then, when the lord descends...

All the waiting, all the endurance, all the sacrifices will be rewarded.

She will be promoted, gain power and status, and the creatures of the Material Plane will understand that their resistance was futile.

They will all become nourishment for the Abyss.

Without exception.