The battlefield of Demon and Human…
The Demon army, once an impenetrable fortress of darkness, had turned into a graveyard. The poisonous mist that spread through the battlefield, crafted meticulously with Kent’s own blood, was wreaking havoc among the demon ranks.
Screams filled the air as demons clawed at their throats, their bodies convulsing violently before crumbling into lifeless heaps. The poison had seeped into their flesh, ceeping at their very essence, turning their strengths into weaknesses. The battlefield became a deathbed, as wave after wave of demons fell before they could even lift their weapons.
Taking full advantage of this situation, the human army pressed forward. Fatty Ben, towering over his foes while riding his giant war elephant, wielded a two-sided blade that sliced through demons like a hot knife through butter. He laughed heartily, his voice booming over the battlefield as he roared, “Come at me, wretches! You think you can match the might of my lord? Die where you stand!”
The 13 ancestor women, known for their fearsome mastery over forbidden arts, led their women faction deep into enemy ranks. They formed a deadly formation, their coordinated attacks creating a vortex of destruction that swallowed every demon in its path. Within mere hours, over a million demons had perished under their wrath.
Elarin, the Supreme Sword Magus, unleashed his fury, his sword cutting through space itself. His blade sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield, each strike obliterating demons by the hundreds. He cared nothing for mana preservation; he knew this was the moment to go all out. Explosive sword lights tore through the enemy lines, turning whole squadrons into ash.
Meanwhile, Jamba Zi and Tang Zi transformed into their true beastly forms, a massive boar-headed monstrosity and a giant shadow wolf respectively. Their battle cries sent shivers down the spines of even the fiercest demons. They rampaged through the battlefield, crushing demons beneath their monstrous limbs, their fangs and tusks stained with blood.
As demons fell in waves, their cries of agony echoed through the battlefield, pleading for their demon lord to save them. Yet Philip was nowhere to be seen.
The spirit world spectators, who had gathered in the skies and around the battlefield, were completely shaken. “At this rate, the war will be over before sunrise,” a lesser god muttered. “The demons are collapsing.”
Far above the battlefield, Philip was desperately trying to escape. He had miscalculated everything. Kent was not just powerful—he was merciless. Philip had never imagined a human could be this strong. His chariot moved through the clouds at a terrifying speed, but no matter how fast he went, Kent was right behind him.
“This monster… how is he so fast?” Philip gritted his teeth, gripping his weapon tightly.
Summoning all his power, Philip spun around and released the ‘Abyssal Death Spear’, a cursed weapon gifted by the Goddess of Death and Destruction. The air trembled as he chanted the incantation:
“Mara-Kshatriya! Dhvansh-Bhumi! Karala Bhairava Shakti!”
A dark light consumed the spear, and it shot toward Kent with terrifying force. The ground beneath them cracked from the sheer pressure.
Kent narrowed his eyes. He could feel the deathly energy seeping from the spear. Without hesitation, he reached into his storage ring and retrieved the Abyssal Mace, a treasure given to him by the War God.
With a powerful swing, Kent launched the mace toward the oncoming spear.
‘BOOM!’
A blinding explosion erupted in the sky, sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
Phillip used this explosion as an opportunity and escaped from the vision of Kent. His chariot twisted through the clouds, disappearing into the sky.
But Philip did not realize one thing—Kent had anticipated this. A silent predator followed him through the clouds, a creature that had been lurking in the shadows, waiting for its moment.
A seven-tailed fox.
Kent, who anticipated Phillip’s magical chariot, released his pet fox before even the battle began.
The beast had been tracking Philip since the battle began, waiting for its master’s signal. And when Philip believed he had escaped, the fox made its move.
Philip felt a sudden presence behind him. He turned, expecting an attack, but what he saw, the sight sent a chill down his spine.
Kent. Not as a human, but as a beast.
His golden scales shimmered in the moonlight, his eyes glowing like burning suns. His wings stretched wide, casting an ominous shadow over Philip. His face had transformed, no longer human or a LION but that of a Nirvanic DRAGON, ancient and divine.
Philip’s breath caught in his throat. “Impossible…”
Kent didn’t give him a chance to react. With blinding speed, his wings curved and he lunged forward and grabbed Philip by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
“You’re going to die today,” Kent said, his voice like rolling thunder. “No one can save you. Not the Forbidden Goddess. Not your army. Not even the gods themselves.”
Philip struggled, his limbs flailing. He tried to summon his mana, but Kent’s grip was absolute. He was suffocating.
Kent looked at him one last time before whispering, “Take one final look at this world, Philip. It’s the last thing you’ll ever see.”
Then, with a powerful twist, Kent snapped Philip’s right arm like a twig. Philip howled in pain, his body convulsing in agony.
The battlefield fell silent.
The demon army stopped fighting.
The human army held their breath.
Everyone watched in horror as Kent slowly dismantled Philip’s body, piece by piece. The once-mighty demon lord, who had led an army of sixty-nine million, was reduced to nothing more than a helpless, screaming figure in Kent’s grip.
Finally, Kent grabbed Philip’s head and pulled. A sickening crack echoed through the air.
Philip’s lifeless body dropped to the ground.
The war came to halt.
The spectators trembled. Some turned away, unable to stomach the brutality. Others gazed in awe at Kent, who hovered in the sky, his golden scales gleaming, his dragon form exuding divine power.
The demons fell to their knees in despair. Their leader was dead. They had lost.
The humans erupted in victory chants. “All hail the Dragon Lord!” they cried. “All hail Kent, the savior of the Nine Realms!”
Kent took a deep breath, his dragon form slowly fading. He glanced down at the battlefield, at the blood-soaked ground, at the thousands of corpses.
“AHHHH…!!!!”
Suddenly an ear piercing cry came from the demon castle as a golden dagger shot out at lightning speed.
“You wretched beast!”
Kent’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden-cry. He turned around in horror.