{Chapter: 137: The Rift to Mi Ling World}
He looked around and noticed some other demons, abominations, and abyssal war beasts simply stood or crouched where they were, silent and motionless as obsidian statues, some blinking lazily with glowing, malevolent eyes.
It wasn't due to any sense of respect or camaraderie, nor a shared appreciation for peace and quiet. Quite the opposite. Every creature present in that gathering held a festering, innate desire for violence. Each of them was a walking storm of rage, hatred, and chaos compressed into flesh and spirit. But they were leashed — temporarily — by the word of the six-armed snake demon.
"Combat between ranked warriors is forbidden within the staging zone. Any violation will result in immediate disintegration," she had declared earlier, her voice like silk scraped across stone.
That was the only reason they weren't at each other's throats.
But it wouldn't last. Once they arrived at Mi Ling World — once the terms of the Abyssal Pact were fulfilled and the spatial anchor stabilized — all restraints would dissolve. The battlefield would return to what it truly was: a land soaked in blood and ruled by savagery. At that point, who lived or died, who slaughtered enemies or comrades — none of it would matter.
The culture of the Abyss was, and had always been, one of internal strife. Conflict was their heartbeat, betrayal their breath. Murder was not condemned but expected. It was not a symptom of failure; it was the proof of strength. The great mother didn't care how you rose, only that you crushed those beneath you to do it.
And so, the waiting horde simmered.
Time passed.
Gradually, more demons and monsters gathered, funneling in from all directions like rivers of darkness converging into one monstrous sea. Demonic beasts the size of buildings, flayed wraiths made of smoke and pain, iron-masked warriors soaked in blood — they all answered the summon. The air grew thick with power, the pressure so intense that even the black stone underfoot groaned.
Then, without warning, the great red vortex in the sky began to stir. At first it rotated slowly, like an eye waking from ancient slumber. But within moments, it accelerated — swirling into a massive spiral of blood-red light and screaming winds. Invisible energy howled across the clearing, tearing up debris and bones, sending clouds of infernal dust spiraling upward like a storm of ash.
A massive tornado formed in the heart of the swirling vortex, twisting violently and glowing with malevolent arcane runes. The portal had been activated.
"Transmission begins!" roared the six-armed snake demon. Her voice struck the entire area like a gong of war. "Enter the gate! All units proceed at once!"
The waiting horde surged into motion.
They moved like a tide breaking free from its dam — howling, shrieking, stomping, charging. The chaos was overwhelming, but it had a singular direction: into the heart of the rift. One after another, the monsters dove into the dimensional gate, bodies twisting and flickering as they were sucked into the swirling energies.
Dex did not hesitate.
A grin played on his lips as he stepped forward. His heart pounded, not from fear, but anticipation — the sharp-edged joy of embracing uncertainty and danger. He blended into the mass, his aura masked just enough to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Still, his tall frame and crimson-lit eyes drew glances, but none dared block his path.
As his body entered the rift, reality fractured.
Time collapsed. Space dissolved.
He was no longer a being in some space but of raw, coded energy — a spectral stream of information carried across dimensions. There was no air, no sound, no gravity. Only endless currents of shimmering light, like a river of broken glass reflecting a thousand dying stars.
Dex floated within the current, his awareness flickering like a candle in a storm. And yet, he held on. Others were not so fortunate.
Weaker demons—those with fractured minds or unstable spiritual cores—lost themselves in the stream. Their identities were stripped away like paper burning in the wind. As Dex drifted, he watched with eerie clarity as some of them melted into featureless shadows. These formless echoes drifted toward one another, instinctively merging into grotesque hybrids — fused masses of limbs, maws, and bone.
Abominations. Failed warriors repurposed into weapons.
The demon lords were ruthless, as always. There was no room for the weak. Their armies had to be efficient, brutal, and resourceful. Even discarded souls were turned into something useful.
Dex understood. He admired the cruel brilliance of it.
How long he drifted, how far he drifted, he did not know. Time and space was meaningless here. As he traveled through nearly infinite distance.
But then—he saw it.
In the distance, framed against the endless dark, a colossal golden wall appeared — radiant and unblemished. It stretched into the void without end, glowing like the shell of a newborn star.
He had no words for the awe it inspired.
It was vast in a way the mind could not measure. Like an ocean seen by an ant, or a continent glimpsed from a grain of sand. The barrier pulsed with layered power, woven from laws of divine order and ancient will. It was not simply a wall — it was a boundary between realms. A cosmic firewall meant to keep chaos at bay.
As Dex drew nearer, he noticed something strange. At the edge of the golden wall, tendrils of black flame licked the surface, coiling like ink across parchment. And then — he felt it.
A presence.
Even in his state, Dex shuddered.
A gaze — two burning eyes — watched from beyond the veil. Ancient. Eternal. Dominant.
He knew them instantly. The eyes of Carto, Demon Lord of Black Flame, master of the Abyss Lava Layer.
The black fire seethed, gathering in an eruption of violence. Then — like a living blade — it cut. The flawless golden wall screamed in silence as a crack split across its vast surface. It was small, no wider than a canyon, but it was enough.
The rift of entry had opened.
Dex's body surged toward it. But just as they reached the breach, it happened.
A hand — a golden hand — rose from the other side.
It was so large that its fingers alone could grasp mountains. Its emergence was silent, but its presence shook the soul. It moved to swat them from existence, to annihilate the incoming stream of demons like bugs scattered across a divine scroll.
Dex froze in awe. This was not magic. This was not power. This was divinity.
And yet — he didn't tremble.
Instead, his lips curled in wonder. His spirit resonated with excitement. It was the thrill of peering into the machinery of gods.
But the hand never fell.
With a roar that echoed beyond time, Carto's black flames surged upward again — crashing against the divine hand with such fury that space shattered. The flames wrapped around Dex and the others, hurling them forward. The hand recoiled, momentarily overpowered, and Dex felt himself pulled through the barrier.
Just before passing through, a voice rang in the void.
A snarl. Deep, cold, divine.
A sneer, echoing from the unseen god beyond the barrier. One who had failed to block the breach. A challenge, thrown into the darkness.
Carto's flames hissed in response, mocking and unbowed.
And then, in a blinding flash, the demons were gone. The breach sealed behind them. The golden wall restored its perfection as if it had never been touched.
Mi Ling World awaited.
*****
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