Ye Yang's initial shock faded, replaced by a tense understanding. Hell's words, however unbelievable, rang with a chilling certainty.
He looked at the monstrous floating body before them, its violet light now beginning to shift, a sickly red hue creeping across its unnatural skin.
The transformation wasn't complete; it was still changing, growing, becoming sothing even more terrifying.
"That guy," Hell said, his voice low and hard, the playful lilt entirely absent, "made a pact with a demon. Now, that demon is using his body as a vessel to manifest in this world."
A pact with a demon. The concept was foreign to him, he had heard of demonic cultivators but this was his first ti seeing a real demon or a pact with a demon... Ye Yang struggled to fully understand it.
He had faced powerful demonic cultivators, dangerous beasts, but the idea of sothing from another world, sothing inherently evil, taking root here? It was difficult to process, yet the suffocating aura radiating from the growing creature made it impossible to deny.
He couldn't diminish the horrifying possibility as the body of human changed into a foreign thing, a demon.
As Training Head's body finished its grotesque transformation, turning entirely a sickly red, swelling to a towering ten feet, its eyes still closed, Ye Yang's mind raced as he asked.
"How do you know this," Ye Yang began, his eyes scanning the changes on Training Head's body, "and what type of demon..."
"BOOM!"
Before he could finish, the air exploded with a sudden, violent surge of energy.
The demon's eyes, two pinpricks of burning violet fire, snapped open.
They swept over the ruined training ground, taking in the destruction, the scent of blood, the lingering energy of the battle.
A guttural, horrifying sound, more a rumble from deep within its massive chest than a laugh, echoed around them as he deeply inhaled.
"Finally!"
The demon bellowed, its voice a grating, alien sound that seed to vibrate in Ye Yang's very bones. "I have stepped into the world of oblivion! Now no one can stop from creating a new world!"
World of oblivion? Creating a new world? The words were completely foreign to Ye Yang.
He glanced at Hell, whose expression remained grim, a tight line across his lips. It seed Hell was as unfamiliar with this particular demon's terminology as Ye Yang was.
What could "creating a new world" even an? And why did this creature call their world the "world of oblivion"? The questions swirled in Ye Yang's head, adding another layer of unsettling mystery to the terrifying situation.
The demon savoured the mont, drawing in deep breaths of the air, as if tasting the very essence of this realm.
Its fiery eyes scanned the area again, and then, they landed on Ye Yang. A flicker of recognition, dark and twisted, appeared in those violet depths.
And then, impossibly, Training Head's voice, reedy and filled with malice, ca from the towering demon's massive form.
"Ye Yang," it snarled, the sound distorted and unnatural. "Now I'll make every woman around you into my plaything and..." but the voice cut off abruptly.
The demon's head tilted slightly, its fiery eyes narrowing, no longer focused on Ye Yang but directly on Hell. The malevolent energy shifted, a ripple of confusion and intensity radiating from the creature.
"You!" the demon bood, its alien voice returning, layered with surprise and a growing wariness.
It was scrutinizing Hell, sensing sothing that didn't fit, sothing off about the seemingly calm figure. "Who are you? Why do you have a familiar aura..."
Hell, however, didn't flinch. A cold, dangerous sneer curled his lips.
His usual easy-going deanour was gone, replaced by a presence representing death itself. He raised his voice, the sound cutting through the oppressive air, laced with pure, disdainful power.
"What," Hell said, his voice resonating with an authority that made the demon's confident posture falter, "is a lowly demon from the lowest stairs of the Underworld doing here?"
The demon froze. Its fiery eyes widened slightly; the calculating intensity replaced by utter shock.
Lowly? Lowest stairs of the Underworld? The arrogance, the sheer dismissal in Hell's tone, coupled with the seemingly impossible knowledge of its origin, struck the creature like a physical blow.
It was clearly stunned, its monstrous face a mask of disbelief. The terrifying aura it projected wavered for a mont, a crack appearing in its terrifying facade.
The shock in the demon's fiery eyes was unmistakable. Hell's casual dismissal, the specific ntion of the "lowest stairs of the Underworld," struck a nerve.
The demon wasn't literally from the very bottom, but to Hell, whose own origins were clearly tied to the deepest, most ancient parts of that dark realm, anyone else was effectively a minor player, a lowlife demon scrabbling in the shallow end.
Being called "lowly" was a deep insult to its pride, a blow to whatever twisted sense of prestige it possessed.
The shock quickly morphed into blinding fury. The sickly red skin of the demon seed to deepen in colour, and the oppressive aura around it surged with raw killing intent.
It didn't roar, didn't waste ti on threats; with a sudden, explosive burst of speed that belied its massive size, it lunged at Hell, its massive, clawed hands aid to tear him apart.
Hell, rely sneered, a chillingly confident expression, "Indeed," he murmured, "the lowly demon."
With a swift, effortless motion, Hell shoved Ye Yang to the side, sending him stumbling several feet away.
Ye Yang, still unsteady, landed awkwardly but managed to stay on his feet, his eyes wide as he watched Hell step forward to et the incoming monstrous attack head-on.
Hell didn't draw a weapon. He didn't chant an incantation. He simply balled his fist, which seed tiny compared to the demon's incoming claw, and punched.
"BOOOOM!"
The impact wasn't just a sound; it was a concussive force that ripped through the air, shaking the very ground beneath Ye Yang's feet.
A wave of displaced energy radiated outwards, sending dust and debris flying.
The demon, despite its size and terrifying power, was sent reeling. Its massive form was propelled backward like a ragdoll, crashing through the remnants of the training ground walls and skidding across the churned earth, leaving a deep furrow in its wake.
Hell, anwhile, stood his ground. He hadn't moved more than a step, yet a faint wince crossed his face. He looked down at his outstretched fist, flexing his fingers.
A faint, almost imperceptible shimr of golden energy pulsed around them.
He shook his hand, as if trying to dislodge sothing botherso. "Tch," he mumbled, his voice barely audibles even to himself. "I have beco too weak that a lowly demon can hurt ."
He truly felt it. A dull ache pulsed in his knuckles, a trivial pain by his usual standards, but the fact that this creature, this demon from the lower levels, could inflict any discomfort on him was a stark reminder of his current state.
His recovery since arriving in this world had been painstakingly slow, so slow that he had forgotten how many years he had been trapped in this world.
"AAHAAARRRRRRRRRHHhhh" Demon roared in pain as its half of the body was dislocated.
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