"Brothers, all for the cause!"
Orson clenched his teeth in frustration. Staring at the mini-map’s marker for the fragnt in the blood river, he ordered every single clone he had to jump from the Crimson Lizard King into the crimson torrent.
But this divine blood was outrageously overpowered.
The suffocation damage didn’t just target individual units. Even with all his clones thrown in together, they were hit with the sa indiscriminate destruction.
They didn’t even stir up so much as a ripple before they were wiped out to the last.
Hours passed as Orson tried every trick he knew.
Nothing worked—whether altering terrain with magic, or having the Crimson Lizard King haul an entire mountain and dump it in.
The divine blood river wasn’t just corrosive to matter. It devoured magic itself. Completely untouchable.
"Fine, rot with so dignity then, you overgrown snake!" Orson snapped, pointing at the god corpse and venting his anger.
If a dead god could make him this helpless, it was terrifying to imagine what it would be like alive.
He slumped on the bank, let out a sigh, then narrowed his eyes, glancing slyly at Aeloria.
Her thick scales could probably endure the blood for a few dozen seconds.
But he quickly shook off the thought. Even if this shaless master ordered Aeloria to die, she wouldn’t flinch.
But trading her life for so fragnt of scrap tal? Absolutely not worth it.
"Maybe invulnerability would work... or an item that nullifies water-type damage," Orson muttered, brainstorming.
He checked the cooldown on the Queen of the Elves Statue. Still over twenty days left. anwhile, his trial deadline was only ten days away.
"Forget it. Guess fate says this treasure isn’t for yet. I’ll co back for my Lin family’s divine stash another ti." He tried to console himself.
But there was no guarantee he’d still be able to return to this world after completing the final trial.
So with no other choice, Orson climbed back onto the dragon’s saddle, leaving the Abyss of Fallen Gods behind—hoping one day he could co back for it.
Then just as Crimson Lizard King rose into the air, a dark mass billowed across the sky.
Orson squinted. Hundreds of winged Heaven Demons, giant bodies and batlike wings, shrieked in a deafening cacophony as they sward toward him.
[Wing Fiends: Level 100]
[Low-tier Heaven Demon Type]
[HP: 9 million]
[Attack: 16,000]
[Skills: Storm Blades, Death Spiral, Screech]
At the sa ti, burrowing Savage Devourers erupted from the ground around the abyss, all drawn by the scent of prey.
"So it’s not just Crimson Lizard King that’s been freed by lifting the flight ban. These filthy beasts can fly now too."
Orson let out a chilling laugh. Just as well—he needed sothing to take out his frustration. Free adventurer war rits? He’d happily accept.
Crimson Lizard King roared and shot upward, carrying Orson into the sky.
The Wing Fiends let out rhythmic cries, and from ruined towns in the distance more Heaven Demons took flight, a massive tide surging straight at them.
To Orson, low-tier Heaven Demons shared at least one trait with typical monsters: suicidal courage paired with absolutely garbage intelligence.
None of them had the sense to recognize who the real threat was.
The title above Orson’s head shimred and changed.
Exclusive Title: [Sky Sovereign] activated.
Within a thirty-kiloter radius, every flying creature lost lift and plumted earthward.
In this fused world, titles with special effects were basically simplified rule fragnts—low-tier Heaven Demons weren’t immune.
Orson raised his War Supre Staff. The chaotic six-pointed star beneath him pulsed, casting dark crimson light even more sinister than the blood moon above.
His opening volley of Chaos Magic Balls slamd into the falling swarm.
Critical Hit!
Crit -2.2 million!
Ethereal Echoes triggered!
A swath of Heaven Demons was shredded by chain damage.
Then he followed up with Awakened Judgnt Fla. A mushroom cloud burst skyward, carving a vacuum into the sea of demons.
"You slew a Savage Devourer. EXP 47,000!"
"You slew..."
Orson’s expression was blank, chanically unleashing spell after spell. His experience bar rocketed upward.
Deliberately, he avoided the Wing Fiends that could summon reinforcents.
He wanted these vermin to keep gathering, to milk them for EXP and Soul Seal mastery.
Riding Crimson Lizard King across the night sky, a writhing horde of tens of thousands of Heaven Demons trailing behind, he’d casually look back and drop another nuke.
The demonic swarms that once terrified adventurers were now his personal XP farm.
Everywhere he passed, Heaven Demons were left in smoldering ruin.
By dawn, he’d racked up over a hundred thousand war rits—aning a hundred thousand low-tier Heaven Demon souls had been sent back to hell.
He’d also leveled up twice, reaching level 85.
Along the way, he flew over several bizarre towns.
There, mutated descendants of adventurers were corralled like livestock by Heaven Demons.
Many had horns, tails, fanged maws or even multiple heads—half-man, half-demon abominations.
At first Orson thought to liberate them. But when he saw how, starving, they’d turned to cannibalizing each other again and again...
And how their beastly instincts outweighed any humanity, attacking him the mont he got close...
He knew there was no saving them. Nor did he have the heart to cull them like animals.
Instead, he simply wiped out their Heaven Demon wardens, letting them fend for themselves.
The horror of it all made his skin crawl. This was what happened when you failed to resist the Heaven Demons.
Forget the glory of dying on the battlefield. Even your descendants would pay the price, over and over, forever.
"You’ve discovered Spirit Source Valley!"
Words drifted across his HUD. Before him lood a massive black city.
Unlike previous ruins, this place stood intact—grand and solemn.
Buildings were pristine. Humanoid figures moved through its streets. He even heard the hum of a busy marketplace.
Orson’s eyes widened. It felt oddly similar to that succubus village.
The streets were filled with [Soulcrystal Stone Demons], humanoid Heaven Demons leading mutated adventurer-beasts on leashes, hawking them like cattle.
Taverns sold blood brews distilled from living flesh.
These Heaven Demons looked surprisingly human. They rode lesser demons through the avenues.
Their skin was nearly transparent, revealing three dark hearts beating inside. Most were partially covered by strange crystal growths.
Their currency was equally bizarre—chips of the very crystals that grew on them.
The richer a demon, the more of its body was encrusted.
This was Orson’s first ti seeing [Soulcrystal Stone Demons] in person. In his last life, they’d only been rumor.
Those crystals, called [Nightriven Stones], supposedly granted overwhelming power if they completely encased one’s body.
"Kill! Kill him!"
"Whoever slays this ancient plague will earn at for a million mouths!"
"Cut him to pieces! Devour his flesh and free our race from this prison!"
Roars erupted from the city’s center. Stone demons poured through the streets toward the commotion.
In a massive arena, tens of thousands of Heaven Demons scread themselves hoarse.
High overhead, Orson had been just about to start a purge. But he paused, peering down at the spectacle.
On the field stood a three-ter-tall stone demon, its limbs nearly entirely covered in Nightriven Stones.
It radiated power far beyond its kin. Though only level 80, it had fifty million HP—on par with a Saint Lord-Class NPC.
Opposite it stood a man in green robes, eyes blank, moving like an empty shell.
"An adventurer descendant?"
Orson frowned. But oddly, the man’s body showed no demonic mutations.
The stone demon flexed its massive arms and swung its blade at the frail human.
The green-robed man didn’t dodge. Instead, he tilted his head up blankly, exposing his neck to the blow.
Critical Strike!
Blood sprayed in a crimson arc. Orson’s eyes widened. The man’s head flew off.
Damn it. The first normal human he’d found—dead in an instant.
Yet the stone demon kept hacking, over and over, hacking the body into pulp until it was exhausted.
Then sothing strange happened.
Silver light flickered in the shredded remains. The pile of at convulsed. Bones knitted.
Monts later, the man was standing again, hollow-eyed, alive.
"Ancient plague! Die already!"
The stone demon howled, chopping the man down again, stuffing chunks into its mouth.
But no matter what, the man resurrected.
"Soone please grant death..."
"I am a sinner. I deserve a thousand deaths... I should have fallen with the general, on that eternal battlefield."
Tears of blood streaked from the man’s dead eyes as he muttered.
Orson gaped and checked his stats.
[Era of Immortals Adventurer: Giant Jack (Remains)]
"Giant Jack, the War God!?"
Orson’s gaze snapped to the silver scale at Jack’s waist.
It was exactly what he needed: the [Draconis Reverse Scale].
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