A cruel smirk tugged his lips as he watched the horde charge; his gaze utterly captivated.
The shifting miasma far above looked like shifting purple dragons. Distant volcanic activity would glare like a flare in the dark. Demonic vulture-like creatures circled the sky, waiting for remnants and fleeing souls.
His eyes found Lyra again.
It wasn't like she was the only female, at least from what he could tell. Yet, she was the only one that had beautiful humanoid features… the other appeared to be a monkey devil of sorts. It was only because of her blatantly naked breast that he could tell she was female.
'I suppose she must be an absolute beauty for her former race…' He thought in passing.
Unlike her, Lyra was different: her appearance was wild and feral, yet elegant and enchanting.
She wore rough, skinned leathers stitched with thick sinew and leaves from hell's bizarre fauna, which did little to protect, but did hide her slender, powerful body and her privates. Garments that were most likely worn in her former life; for the wild clothing was meticulously crafted, allowing one to appreciate the artwork and mastery of her craft.
Her silver hair was tied back roughly, starlight strands escaping to frame her face.
A slender, small, growing tail, tipped with a small, spade-like barb, twitched restlessly behind her plump butt. Her elegant 'L'-shaped horns had tiny, intricate grooves beginning to form on their surface, like fingerprints tracing the growth of her power.
Then, as he was admiring her beauty, he saw her stop as a faint, yet visible, tremble ran through her body.
Her silver, pupil-less eyes went wide with a deep, instinctual wariness, unlike the surrounding demons who were fused with battle lust.
Her instincts were screaming at her; a primal warning that she was being observed, but not as a combatant, and instead as prey.
Though she had only become a devil for a few short months, she had grown accustomed to the insane levels of aptitude and instincts that she was gifted as a result. Her understanding of mana and potential were rewritten upon her rebirth.
It made her believe her instincts: that she should retreat as soon as possible to escape whatever threat it was that gave her shivers.
But she was trapped.
Ranked the third weakest among the recruited devils, she had no authority, no say. She was just another cog in Kaelgor's war machine.
Her wariness and frustrations only grew as she inched towards the barrier.
Adam observed, his red eyes gleaming.
"Even if there were no boost in power for claiming the lass," Adam muttered to himself, the words lost in the growing roar of the charge, his gaze locked on the silver-haired elf devil, "I would still want to capture you."
The game was no longer about mere defense: it was about fulfilling a unique, insatiable desire.
"Go!"
The air shattered.
Kaelgor's roar was the signal, and the horde exploded forward. It wasn't a charge; it was an earth shaking tsunami of bone and muscle. One thousand demons, a tidal wave of fangs, claws, and raw, screaming malice, charged. A full grown demon was a threat that rivaled, no, surpassed tanks.
Now, these supernatural beings were charging going to collide with the shimmering black barrier.
"BOOOOM!"
The impact was colossal.
A deafening BOOM echoed through the basin, and the barrier flared with violent rings of light, rippling out from the point of impact like a stone thrown into a pond.
The very ground trembled and cracked.
On the shabby wall, lesser demons flinched, bracing for the end.
But Adam stood immovable, his senses extended.
With his newfound power as a mid-tier lesser devil and his refined mental control, he wasn't just seeing the attack; he was feeling it.
His consciousness was tethered to the nexus point, to the deep, thumping well of power at the heart of the obelisk; the nexus's connection to hell's chaotic expanse was extension of his will now.
He felt the barrier's energy dip sharply as it absorbed the colossal kinetic strike, a sudden drain that made the humming pitch drop for a fraction of a second. But then, like a heart pumping blood, the nexus responded. Energy flooded back into the defensive barrier, replenishing it, stabilizing the shimmering wall in a matter of moments.
The intense ripples faded, and the barrier held firm, humming once more in a steady rate.
A collective sigh of relief swept through the defenders on the wall.
Agri gripped the rough stone, her knuckles white, while Blair let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Their faith in their master's work was vindicated.
Adam's eyes, however, were not fixed on the chaotic mob.
Instead, they were analyzing.
His crude wall was 50 meters from the barrier, a distance that provided a decent panoramic view of the assault.
The entire scene was reflected in his gleaming red gaze; every detail being processed.
A calculation, swift and cold, was made.
This scattered, frenzied attack was manageable.
The nexus could easily outpace the energy drain. It was like having an infinite reservoir, but the barrier itself, the 'pipe', could only handle a certain volume of energy flow at once.
This assault was testing its limits, not exceeding them.
Yet, he did not act.
He did not unleash the attack rune because his focus was locked on one figure in the chaotic melee.
Lyra.
She was there, but she wasn't an active component of the assault. While the other two devils scrambled with the charging horde, unleashing burst of flames or mana lances against the barrier, she held back.
She was tens of meters from the shimmering wall, a silver-haired beauty at the edge of the storm. Her existence an afterthought in the rampage for most.
Her motions were perfunctory, a mere facade of attack.
Her liquid mercury eyes weren't fixed on the barrier; they were scanning, analyzing the obelisk, the layout of the basin, the forces on the wall, and the forces behind her. She was searching for an escape route. Within her search for escape, she was also looking for the source of her unease, for the threat she had instinctively felt moments ago.
She was a creature of survival, not mindless fury.
And Kaelgor was one to notice it too.
The massive warlord did not join the charge, instead he stood back; a general observing his troops, his armored arms crossed over his chest.
His initial satisfaction at the ferocity of the assault began to fester into impatience, and then into a bubbling annoyance.
The barrier had barely flickered!
His gaze swept over his devilish lieutenants, and it lingered on Lyra. He saw her hesitation, her distance from the barrier, her lack of commitment, and a fresh wave of fury washed over him.
These recruited devils were unreliable, weak willed, and stupid.
If they were to concentrate their attacks more, then the barrier wouldn't be able to replenish fast enough; that much he noticed!
Being a peak-tier lesser devil, Kaelgor had been able to acutely feel the barrier's mana supply drop drastically before being replenished. Though, the barriers ability to withstand such an assault did surprise him quite a bit.
Though, when he looked back at 'his' army, his thoughts grew irritated once again.
'They are holding back. They see this as someone else's war, lacking any desire in coordinating the demon forces… I will break them myself after I break this whelp's fortress.'
Staying true to a devil's nature, Kaelgor didn't think that there was nothing wrong with forcing these weaker devils to do his bidding. Such was law, where only the strong reign.
He took a step forward, his intent clear; he was going to stop observing and start attacking himself!
The true test of the barrier was about to begin.
The chess pieces of the battle shifted instantly.
Adam saw Kaelgor's immense body, radiating demonic mana so intensely that it shattered the ground he walked on, begin to move. He was a dark sword of abyssal steel and fury, leading the vast, untouched reserve of 4,000 demons and the seven devils who had been hanging back alongside his 500 armored elites.
The true war hammer was about to fall.
And Lyra, his prize, was drifting further back, positioning herself to melt into the chaos or flee altogether when the real violence began.
Time and the opportunity was slipping through his grasp.
He had to act now!
His mind wracked for a solution.
A direct attack was out, for it would spook her, giving her a chance to run away directly. Feigning an opportunity to break through the barrier wouldn't work, as she wasn't looking for one.
Then it struck him.
The most potent weapon in a devil's arsenal, refined by his newfound understanding: not just force, but contamination.
Not just a blow, but a poison.
He would use this nature against her.
A taunt!