My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 234: Madness vs Corruption II

The Demon Continent – City of Vainglory, Seat of the Demon Lord of Pride

The city stood like a monument carved from arrogance itself—tall black spires etched with golden lines, each tower a mirror reflecting only its own grandeur. Every building shimmered with enchantments that boasted their creator's superiority. Statues of the Demon Lord of Pride lined the streets, each one exaggerated in elegance and size, as if the city worshipped no gods but the image of its ruler.

Shubh walked through the main gate without disguise, without stealth—her dark, abyss-kissed aura trailing behind her like liquid smoke. The guards at the gate turned to stone not from magic, but from sheer terror, their bodies freezing under the weight of her presence. Their minds cracked, unable to comprehend the being before them.

"Another fool who believes their ego can defy inevitability," she whispered to no one, her many black eyes opening across her back like blooming flowers of death.

Within moments, she was in the inner palace.

The court of Pride was a hall of mirrors, designed so the Demon Lord could see himself from every angle at all times. He lounged upon a golden throne shaped like a lion-dragon hybrid, shirtless, his muscular body glittering with divine-infused oils. Around him, countless succubi, scholars, and warriors praised him in hushed voices.

Then Shubh entered, silent as dusk.

All fell quiet.

"Who dares disturb my perfect reflection?" the Demon Lord demanded, standing, his long white hair flowing as his aura surged—Tier V pressure crashing like a tidal wave across the hall.

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But Shubh only smiled.

Her smile should not have existed on a face. It split her head unnaturally, growing wider and wider until it touched her ears. Her cloak peeled away to reveal the abyss underneath—hands, mouths, eyes, and tentacles writhing, barely contained by her humanoid form.

"I am the shadow of a supreme will. I am his silent storm, and you, little pride, are simply in the way."

The Demon Lord laughed, hurling a spear of golden pride infused with hell flame.

She caught it with her tongue.

It melted.

Gasps rang out. The Demon Lord's face twisted in disbelief for the first time in centuries.

Then she moved.

One heartbeat—he was standing.

The next—he was pinned against a mirror, his arms ripped from their sockets, his reflection now showing only his vulnerability.

"I want you to see yourself… helpless," she whispered into his ear. "I want your last memory to be the truth: that you were never a god. Just a narcissist with power."

Her claws traced his face, delicately slicing every inch, slowly turning his skin into a bleeding canvas.

He screamed, but the sound didn't reach outside the chamber. Her abyssal aura consumed noise itself. No one could help him. No one dared.

His generals burst in, only to meet her other limbs—shadow-laced tendrils that pierced their hearts and extracted their souls before they could speak.

"You lived for adoration," she said, lifting his torn body above her head, "but you will die alone and unseen."

She devoured him then—not with fangs, but with a void inside her, a pit of nothingness that turned even immortality to dust.

When she left, the city of Vainglory was silent.

The statues crumbled.

The mirrors cracked.

The air itself felt lighter, as if pride itself had died.

And high above, in the sky, the mark of Leon's will—a dark sigil shaped like a closed eye—hovered, burning like an eclipse in full bloom...A sigil she has created herself.

***

The Demon Continent – Gilded Maw, Fortress-City of the Demon Lord of Greed

If Vainglory was a monument to self-worship, Gilded Maw was a shrine to possession.

The city was carved into the side of a colossal mountain veined with gold and obsidian, the very earth groaning under the weight of vaults buried deep within it. Above ground, towers of polished coin and gem-encrusted walls rose like jagged fangs, shining so brightly that even demons wore enchanted shades to survive the reflection.

At its heart stood the fortress-palace of the Demon Lord of Greed, known simply as Malvagor. A twisted abomination of scales and flesh, his body had grown over the years by absorbing gold, treasures, and souls, becoming a heaving, serpentine mass too large to leave his throne room. His veins pulsed with molten gold instead of blood. His voice dripped with promises, each lie layered in truth.

He owned everything in his domain—buildings, beasts, breath, and even names. To speak without paying a tax was punishable by death. His citizens didn't live—they rented their lives.

And into this kingdom of hoarded desire stepped Shubh Nigurath.

She didn't arrive quietly.

She tore through the front gate—literally, ripping through the spell-forged alloy like wet paper. Alarm bells rang, but they died out as her tendrils slithered up the towers and choked the bells until they cracked.

Guards rushed her, draped in golden armor, their swords humming with bound greed spells.

She didn't fight.

She devoured.

Her shadows danced like serpents. Each soldier struck would find themselves frozen in place, staring into countless eyes. Then came the mouths—hungry, endless, pulling not just flesh but desire from their souls until all that remained were hollow statues of ash and coin.

The city panicked.

Merchants tried to flee with sacks of gems only to find their legs missing. Vaults were locked, keys swallowed, scrolls burned.

But gold was no barrier to her.

Shubh's form became liquid void. She flowed down into the cracks, oozed through enchanted gaps, and reappeared in front of Malvagor's hoard like a nightmare given form.

And there he sat—the Demon Lord of Greed, bloated and gleaming, his massive body coiled upon a bed of ingots and cursed artifacts. His breath steamed with heat and hatred.

"You dare come here? You dare touch what is mine?"

His roar shook the chamber, his thousand eyes blinking open across his hide. Gold flaked off his scales like dandruff.

But Shubh only laughed.

"Yours?" she cooed, her voice slithering across the chamber. "You never owned anything. Everything you took… was just borrowed time."

He unleashed a wave of molten treasure, transforming coins into spears and relics into missiles. Walls collapsed under the weight of enchantments being unleashed at once.

Shubh walked through it.

Unburnt.

Unmoved.

Unfazed.

And then she whispered, "Greed is hunger without end. But I... I am the end."