"Tch!"
Bul-Kathos, expressionless, tightened his grip. A sharp crack echoed from Satan's neck.
"Who is he?" Angel Manny, ignoring his fallen kidney, gaped as if trying to swallow the northwest wind.
"Hell Lords don't die easily," Gabriel said, regaining some will. She struggled to her feet, her graceful eyes calm. Having felt her power siphoned by her kin, she knew she was no mastermind—just an angel led astray.
Though far from Satan's match, she understood his abilities. "Dear Gabriel, now that you're awake," Constantine slurred, dark circles under his eyes, "after bearing Satan's child, can I still ascend to Heaven?"
He stared into her eyes. "Your soul will find no peace," Gabriel replied, glancing at her wings, her tone grave.
Mammon dangled from Bul-Kathos's grip, sensing something amiss. Even Baal could survive with just a head—how could his father die from a broken neck? No transfer of Hell's authority had begun.
"A Hell Lord is Hell's embodiment. Like my neck? Take it to vent," Satan's voice rasped from his limp body. His lawyer-like, portly form swelled into a chaotic orb of light, distinct from the black glow he'd used to resist.
Rumlow and Luke turned, ready to charge into battle. Mammon's arrival wasn't without benefit—Hell's rules could seep into the mortal realm through him. Agamotto's barrier shielded against external threats, offering only a faint warning within.
Satan's body expanded into a black mist, enveloping Mammon and Bul-Kathos. A Hell Lord's domain unfurled!
Nightmare once used his dream dimension to battle Andariel; Satan, or Lucifer the Fallen Prince, had his own. His singular Hell dimension held all of Hell's rules, though lesser in scope and strength.
No matter. Its versatility secured his seat among Hell Lords—no weaknesses, no standout strengths. To defeat him, one had to utterly overpower him.
"Fool," Ancient One muttered, releasing Manny.
Displaying his dimension to Bul-Kathos meant exposing his power's source. Ancient One recalled Dormammu's horror when the Dark Dimension crumbled.
Bul-Kathos, dragging Mammon and Satan's corpse, seemed intrigued. The last time he'd encountered such a dimension, he'd found a satisfying punching bag. Now, battle excitement stirred again.
In another dimension, he could unleash his power without restraint. No force would affect the outside world until the dimension shattered.
"Xia!" His war cry erupted, unrestrained. A shockwave exploded outward, centered on Bul-Kathos.
The barbarian's secret realm was akin to these dimensions. In the Dark World, as rule-bound beings died, their essence merged into the Nephalem's body. Secret realms were fragments of those rules.
Every demon held a sliver of Hell's authority. Dead demons became Nephalem power, forming countless secret realms. Here, demons were weak, perhaps because they lacked even a trace of Hell's authority—or this Hell's limits allowed only a few to wield it.
Now, a slice of Hell lay before Bul-Kathos. He'd teach Satan the folly of facing him.
Mammon, clutched in his hand, was oddly docile. But as the mastermind behind a noble's death, Bul-Kathos wouldn't forgive its momentary compliance.
Armor materialized on Bul-Kathos, plain but brimming with primal strength. At his side, a crystalline warhammer gleamed—radiating judgment and justice. The Hammer of Judgment, Tyrael's weapon, symbolizing justice's authority to judge.
"Ong!" Bul-Kathos clasped his hands. A massive hammer, the size of a small house, solidified from a shadowy outline, its rugged patterns vivid. Its appearance rang like the ancient bell of Harrogath's sacred mountain.
The sulfur-laden air of this Hell quaked under its power. Mammon, fused to the hammer's handle, felt its righteous force erode his will, leaving him a passive vessel for Bul-Kathos's might.
"Feel unmatched power!" The hammer crashed down, as if cleaving space itself.
Outside, Rumlow and others turned toward Bul-Kathos's vanished spot, sensing ripples like water tremors. The Nephalem's essence was the chaotic union of angel and demon rules from the Dark World—boundless, endless.
The faint Nephalem blood in Rumlow, Luke, and others surged, boosting their physical prowess by over thirty percent.
As Bul-Kathos's Ancestral Hammer struck, Mammon's body was obliterated, along with his inherited Hell authority. Satan reclaimed what he sought, but at a cost—his singular Hell shattered like fragile porcelain.
(End of Chapter)
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/DaoistRoeoNQ
If you guys wanna check it out.