Somewhere along the borderlands of Sylvanwood...
A colossal mountain range loomed, vast and ancient.
Normally, this place would be a lush paradise—towering trees, thick canopies, and a forest so dense it felt like the earth itself was breathing green. But now?
Now it was hell on earth.
The once-verdant landscape had been torn apart—scorched by rivers of molten lava, choked by thick black smoke that clawed at the sky, and poisoned by the stinging stench of sulfur that burned the lungs with every breath.
A massive scythe slammed down onto a jagged black rock, its surface slick with sulfur and heat.
Then, from a sudden twist in the air—a tear in reality itself—stepped out a towering figure clad in dark crimson armor. His skin glowed like embers, his head crowned with curved demonic horns, and his eyes—those blood-red eyes—burned with a terrifying, unnatural light.
Not just any devil, either.
This was a 14th-Tier Mythic Ace Unit—an Inferno Arch Devil.
"Ahhh... now that’s a smell I could get used to," he said with a lazy stretch, his voice deep and gravelly, like magma bubbling beneath the earth. "All this sulfur in the air... absolutely delightful. If this wasn’t the wrong place for it, I’d be tempted to kick back and soak in a nice, long lava bath."
He cracked a grin, then turned his gaze toward the looming black mountains ahead. His lips curled into a cold, amused smile.
There—sprawled across the darkened horizon—was an endless swarm of Infernal Legions, pouring into this world like a plague of locusts.
To him, of course, they were nothing more than insects—pitiful, groveling creatures who bowed before the true might of the Inferno Devils. Weak. Obedient. Disposable.
But even insects had their uses.
The Inferno Devils were infamous for their cunning and deceit, yes—but their true strength?
Every time the Inferno marched to war, their Tier 1 to Tier 10 units would flood enemy lands in an unstoppable tide—killing, burning, dying... and transforming.
Not creatures. Not soldiers.
They didn’t just conquer. They corrupted.
Every Inferno Devil was a servant of the great Destroyer Chaos Dragon, Urghash. His power flowed through their veins, and through every twisted, burning creature in their ranks.
Urghash—the eternal rival of Asha, the Creator Order Dragon—was the embodiment of raw, primal chaos. He was the Father of Destruction, the Lord of Mutation, the God of Madness.
And his power was pure, unrelenting chaos.
So when the Infernal Legions swept across the land like a living storm, they didn’t just leave death in their wake—they left ruin. The very environment twisted and broke, reshaped into a hellscape of lava flows and sulfur pits, a world tailor-made for devils.
And for their enemies?
Even if they somehow managed to survive...
They’d be left with nothing but a shattered world—a cursed, burning wasteland.
That so-called Cataclysm—it wasn’t just about death or conquest.
It was the fall of nature itself.
That’s why the Inferno Devils rarely ever lost. Victory wasn’t the point. Their goal was destruction. Chaos. Madness. Anarchy. Obliteration. The outcome of the war didn’t matter to them.
But the process? Oh, that was everything.
He was here to ruin this place. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by Novᴇl_Fire(.)net
To drown it in chaos and insanity...
To turn it into an Infernal Blight.
"This feeling... it’s just delicious," he muttered, his voice trembling with twisted delight. Then he threw his head back and laughed—low at first, then louder, until it echoed like thunder across the scorched mountainside. "Heh... hahahaha... HAHAHAHAHA!"
His face twisted into a manic grin as he watched the land burn.
But just then—ripples of warped space shimmered in the air behind him.
More Devils emerged—each one wreathed in blood-red flames, their bodies radiating the raw scent of bloodlust and chaos. They weren’t as powerful as him, but they were still no joke—13th-Tier Legendary Ace Units of the Inferno.
"Lord Azareth," one of them said, his voice sharp and urgent. "We’ve spotted traces of Gold Dragons. They’re attacking our forces."
"Gold Dragons?" Azareth’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of disdain and amusement dancing in their crimson depths. He reached down and yanked his massive scythe from the cracked earth, the blade hissing as it cut through the sulfurous air.
"Well then," he said coldly, "let’s show them what we’re made of."
He paused, then added, "And don’t forget Lord Malgrath’s orders. We need to figure out the true strength of this so-called Emerald Castle. They may not be famous, but from what I’ve seen so far... they’re not weak."
"Lord Azareth, that’s easy," another Inferno Devil chimed in with a cocky smirk.
"If we want to know their real strength, why not just teleport straight into their rear lines? What are they gonna do—stop us? I don’t think so. We’re Inferno Devils. Our spatial teleportation is unmatched."
The 13th-Tier Devil sneered, clearly full of himself.
Azareth chuckled softly, then turned to look at him—his smile calm, but with a glint of something darker underneath.
"In that case, Quintis... I’m giving the mission to you."
Quintis froze. His smug expression vanished in an instant.
"What’s wrong?" Azareth’s smile widened, but it was ice-cold now—merciless and cruel. "You’re not thinking of disobeying me, are you?"
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt louder than a scream.
"Go on, Quintis. You want to do this, don’t you?"
Quintis’s face turned a sickly shade of green, then purple, then back again. He clenched his jaw, clearly swallowing his pride—and his fear.
"...Yes, Lord Azareth."
And with that, he vanished in a flash of red light—teleporting away into the unknown.
The Inferno Arch Devil Azareth let out a cold snort, his voice flat and laced with contempt.
"Even Lord Malgrath takes these enemies seriously, and you fools still dare to underestimate them? If you weren’t at least somewhat useful... I’d have already sliced you in half."
The two remaining Legendary Ace Inferno Devils exchanged uneasy glances.
One of them forced a nervous chuckle. "Please don’t worry, Lord Azareth. We may not be as strong as Quintis, but we’re definitely not as stupid. We know better than to take enemies of this caliber lightly. But... what’s the plan now? Are we going in head-on?"
Azareth shook his head slowly, his eyes gleaming with savage anticipation.
"We’ll see how things play out..." he muttered, a cruel grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hope they surprise me. Otherwise, my scythe won’t be showing any mercy."
He turned, his gaze burning like molten steel.
"Drevak. Malrik. You two handle the Gold Dragons."
"And as for me... I think it’s time I got my hands dirty."
"Yes, Lord Azareth!" they answered in unison, their voices sharp and eager.