It took them 30 minutes to defeat Aamon, the Grand Marquis of Hell at record ti, progressing to the 2nd floor of Demon’s Tower.
Against Lilith, the Demoness of Night and the hidden boss, Magoth, the Duke of Hell, they took longer ti to clear the 2nd floor, approximately 45 minutes.
It was almost the sa ti that the current record holder of Demon Tower’s dungeon, one of the raid parties of the big guilds had.
But considering that Noah and his teammates took on this 2nd floor on Hell Mode, theirs was even more impressive.
And then, they progressed.
The gateway to the 3rd floor lood before them, a towering construct of blackened iron and molten runes, pulsating like a living thing.
Unlike the eerie, shifting veil that led to Lilith’s realm, this entrance was solid, industrial, an engineered masterpiece of demonic craftsmanship.
The double doors stood thirty feet high, each side adorned with intricate engravings of suffering souls, their forms twisting and writhing within the tal itself. The centerpiece was a massive, glowing sigil inscribed in demonic scripture, radiating a searing, blood-red light.
Gears clanked within the walls, the sound echoing through the chamber as if the entire tower was adjusting itself for the next trial.
The scent of burnt tal and sulfur thickened, filling their lungs with an oppressive heat even as it gave a hint to the Demon Lord that resided higher up.
At that mont, a deep chanical voice rumbled from the gate itself, emotionless yet filled with authority.
"Input: Flesh. Output: Perfection".
"All who enter the Infernal Crucible shall be reforged in the fires of Azazel".
The sigil flared, and with a deafening clank, the doors split apart, revealing the hellish forge beyond.
Noah exhaled sharply, stepping forward.
Following behind him, Benjamin chuckled. "Looks like we just walked into the devil’s workshop".
BZZZ!
The air changed the mont that they stepped through the gate.
Gone was the suffocating twilight of Lilith’s domain, replaced by an infernal, chanized nightmare.
The floor beneath them clanked, no longer stone, but obsidian tal laced with pulsing veins of molten energy.
A cacophony of whirring gears, clashing tal, and hissing steam filled the space, drowning out all else.
The walls themselves seed alive, shifting with intricate chanisms that ground together like the insides of a colossal, demonic machine.
High above, massive iron chains dangled, swinging over a blood-red sky, illuminated by the glow of distant furnaces. Conveyor belts snaked through the battlefield, carrying grotesque constructs in various stages of assembly.
It was a factory of war, a nightmare forge.
And sowhere within it, Azazel, the Leviticus Demon waited.
They didn’t get far before the first wave hit.
With an ear-splitting screech, the Hellforged Sentinels activated; monstrous humanoid war machines standing at over ten feet tall, their torsos cracking open to reveal spinning buzzsaws.
Flathrower breath erupted from their maws, filling the air with blistering heat.
"Machines now?" Benjamin grumbled. "You’d think demons would have a little more class".
"Tch". Aria drew her blades. "Seems like the Leviticus Demon is modeled after the chanic class. Who cares? They die all the sa".
They charged.
Aria beca a blur, weaving between the Sentinels’ massive strikes, carving deep gashes into their tallic bodies.
While she moved, Caleb unleashed his summoned creatures, using them to clog the conveyor belts, cutting off reinforcents.
Then the Screaming Gears sward.
Autonomous, razor-sharp gears infused with demonic consciousness ca spinning out of the walls, latching onto their armor, trying to rip through them like ravaging sawblades.
"This is why I hate machines!" Benjamin groaned as he lit up the battlefield with a storm of lighting, frying the constructs mid-air. "Persistent bastards!" He cursed.
As for Noah?
He watched all of it happen, calculating.
They weren’t just fighting demons; they were fighting against a war machine that repaired itself.
And then he spotted them, the Desecrated Machinists.
The twisted, part-demon, part-machine engineers were sifting through scrap, welding new constructs in real ti. If left alone, they’d keep rebuilding the minions of the Leviticus Demon’s army indefinitely.
They were the true nace.
"Caleb, focus fire on the engineers!" Noah ordered.
Caleb nodded, sending a horde of summoned beasts barreling toward the machinists, ripping through their malford bodies.
One by one, the enemy ranks fell.
It took ti, it took persistence and perseverance, it took patience, repeatedly spamming the sa skills ti and again, grinding the machinists and the chanic abominations that they created to death over and over again.
It was tiring but having played Warstar for the best years of their lives, these 5 pro players were sufficiently equipped to engage in these monotonous actions.
They continued, never stopping till the factory floor suddenly grew silent.
The battle... was over?
Yes, but the true battle was only just about to start.
At that mont, the voice of the 3rd floor’s boss echoed through the chamber.
Clap! Clap!
A slow clap rang through the battlefield.
And then from the shadows of a towering furnace, a figure erged; Azazel, the Leviticus Demon..., the Demonic chanic.
He wasn’t monstrous like Aamon, neither was he ethereal like Lilith.
Instead, Azazel was beautiful.
His form was sleek and refined, an unnerving mix of grace and cruelty. His obsidian-black exoskeleton glead under the hellish light, intricate engravings of demonic scripture glowing along his arms.
His crimson eyes shimred with amusent, studying them like an artist examining raw materials, or rather a mad scientist examining test subjects.
A slow, confident smile curved his lips.
"Fascinating". His voice was smooth, rich like purified oil sliding over steel. "Your efficiency... is admirable".
He raised his chanized arm, and with a single clench of his fingers, the gears within the factory rumbled to life again.
"I am Azazel, the Leviticus Demon. I am the artisan of war. And you...," he gestured at them lazily. "...are imperfect specins".
The ground shifted beneath them.
Machines reassembled, weapons unfolded from the walls, and he forge itself prepared for war.
Azazel smirked. "Let’s begin the real test, shall we?"
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