Valtraak spread his arms, "First I shall eliminate the Dragon Lords, then I shall seek the prophesied Champion of the Gods and slay it—whether infant or in the womb of its mother." His voice wasn't loud by any means but it spread far and wide and every monster nearby turned to look at him, fearing not doing so will incur his wrath.
"Then I shall seek the most beautiful human women who shall become my sex slaves. Succubi may have accompanied me to satisfy my desires but I desire the soft body of a human woman, as delicate as the stem of wheat that break under a single snap.
Valtraak walked among the monsters looking at him with their pitiful gazes. Though they all maintained their rage and desire for destruction, their eyes looked empty, as if they had gone mad from spending all that time in an undying world, constantly having to survive or experience pain daily.
"How pitiful you all look," he continued, lowering his arms as if the sight itself bored him. "Do you know what eternity in the Layers of Hell truly is to be this miserable? None of you tasted the fires that touch the edge of Cocytus—I have. You may think to yourself a river is always cold, wet and refreshing. But the River of Lamentation—Cocytus—is anything but. It burns with the heat produced by the energy of all the souls that end up in that river. Malebolge was my punishment—the realm Zephyros banished me to, the realm burning with the ash of the flames that line up along the riverbanks of Cocytus. The kind of things that realm produces is unthinkable to describe with common sense. They ripped me apart day by day until I grew strong enough to fend them off. I clawed my way through the horrors that lay between the realms, growing stronger by the day. 900 planetary cycles later, I found Limbo, the very first realm. The realm you all consider the worst horrors you have ever faced—WEAKLINGS!" His voice suddenly became louder, filled with bloodlust.
"You are my soldiers and yet you dare show me your pitiful states? I ought to torture your souls for eternity in my Hellfire Prism." As he balled his hand into a fist, a dark red flame appeared around it, with a black pigmentation around the edge of the flame.
Seeing that fire made them all retreat back slightly.
They know the chaos this flame can bring, for it chases you even into the afterlife so even if they die from it, their souls itself will taste the power of the sun for all eternity. They may not have pain receptors in the afterlife, but the flame makes sure you feel everything.
"If you want my forgiveness, break this barrier, even if it costs you eternal pain. I promise you, what I will give you will hurt more." Within moments, they rushed in all directions, with the sole purpose of breaking out for their new King.
The purpose of this is to see if enough pressure will break it apart. If his eyes are correct, the transparent runes floating within the dome looks similar to the barrier separating the demon realm from the mortal realm, which split the world in half centuries ago. He heard that with enough force that exceeds the amount of energy being produced by Valhalla when a gate allows its energy to flow through, is enough to shatter the barrier. He hasn't tested this theory yet though.
At least this is easier than dealing with the "Key that unlocks the gate" since that person is—without a doubt—a powerful archangel or even one of the Guardians.
While his minions work on breaking the gates, he will handle the obstacles in front of him. then again, they were being disintegrated on the spot when even attempting to go through so that plan might prove to be unsuccessful.
In any case…
Just up ahead—
Thousands of angels and dragons looked down on him, including a giant dragon who was a hundred times his comrades' size. They cast a dark shadow over this valley.
Valtraak stood before an army as but one demon.
Normally a king has his lords to fight alongside him but Valtraak's lords were killed thousands of years ago. The logical thing to do is go to the demon realm—which is a part of this mortal world—but that troublesome barrier, put up by an Archmage in the past and maintained to this day, prevents him from doing that. As such, it's important that he deals with the current Archmage first and waits until the barrier can hold no longer.
As Valtraak sat there on a tree stump, waiting to see if the monsters can break through the barrier, he sensed multiple signatures approach—powerful signatures.
Three individuals—a blonde haired young man wearing light armor, a woman in a purple dress and broken helmet with long red hair, and a blonde-haired girl wearing an academy uniform of some sort, floating through the air.
'That blonde girl—she's flying without the aid of wings or a magic circle. An angel perhaps?' he had that fleeting thought as they approached him with no fear or hesitation.
He threw a rock aside and stood up, summoning his spear.
All three of them may radiate the power of divinity but he's undying so he needn't worry about his one weakness in this life. As such, he can take as many risks as it takes.
Despite also knowing this, there wasn't a hint of nervousness on their expressions.
"Before we begin, I would like to know the names of the warriors who could survive this battlefield for this long." He said, like an enemy nation king confronting three prodigies on the battlefield. Throughout his long life, he's only met a few like them. After meeting one prodigy in particular, a brat from the Metal Eater clan Greater Demons, his perception of reality changed and he vowed to never judge a book by its cover.
If the title of Demon King was not beholden to his bloodline, he would have crowned that demon the true King of the Demons.
"Gwyn." The red-haired woman said.
"Lancelot." The blond-haired man said.
"…Ceru." The blonde girl said.
He nodded before examining them closely.
Valtraak's interested was piqued by the levitating girl. "An angel acting the part of a scholar to blend in with the humans," he mused, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Or perhaps you were sent down here on a mission. But as with previous attempts, the heavens have always loved sending incomplete answers to impossible problems—How nostalgic."
None of them replied to his mutterings. Well, he just liked talking in a place where he could be understood. While he was not barred from speaking due to the curse, every day conversation was rare in Hell. The succubi he used for his pleasure weren't educated enough to hold conversations with him so he never bothered to speak to them.
Valtraak looked back at the red-haired woman.
She barely had any leg guards despite wearing a helmet. Her bare feet were stained by the mud and sand but miraculously there were no wounds on her silky-smooth legs. Her arms were also spotless, as if her skin itself was made from the strongest mineral. Either that or she's just that fast and managed to dodge and block every attack these calamities threw at her.
This woman… is very interesting. Even more than the angel and the young knight.
His gaze dragged over her without shame or restraint, slow, as if stripping her piece by piece in his mind. After thousands of years surrounded by twisted succubi whose beauty only lie in their bodies, flayed demons, and soulless husks that merely mimicked desire, the sight of a living human woman was enough to make something feral stir within him.
Naturally, the small waistcloth covering his crotch rose as his member hardened, pointing straight to the heavens.
Ceru shuddered in disgust as her face went pale seeing that. But that was not meant for her.
Full breasts, child-bearing hips, silky smooth white skin, beautiful lush lips, strong legs and a healthy overall physique.
"So humanity still produces women like you," Valtraak said, voice low, almost pleased. "Strong female warriors who retain the beauty and alure of their Valkyrie ancestors who came to this world centuries ago."
His lips curled upward.
"You will be the only one I keep alive," he declared calmly, as if stating a simple fact. "From you, I will sire generals and future kings. You should be honored. To be useful after your kind is erased."
She drew her sword in one smooth motion, blade humming as it caught the light. The wind from the mountains blew the wind downhill towards Valtraak at that moment, carrying Gwyn's scent along with it.
He took a deep breath as if to savor this smell to remind himself of the prize that could be his.
"I like men who speak boldly," she said, leveling the blade at his throat. "But you won't touch me. And you won't leave this battlefield whole."
The moment that last word left her mouth, she appeared in front of him in an instant, ready to cut off his head. She must know going in for the kill is futile. Then again, a drawn-out battle will only exhaust her.
"!" even though her blade connected with his neck, it barely left a mark. Normally even her normal attacks could cut through most things, even the elemental rock golems and titans she fought earlier. But this demon's skin was harder than even those monsters' skin.
"You underestimate me, woman." His large hand grabbed her by the throat but before he could do anything else, he was punched from the side and sent flying across the ground.
Lancelot, body glowing in a golden light, threw that punch. He offered Gwyn a hand who was staring at her sword in bewilderment.
Cackling to himself, Valtraak got up. That was certainly a solid punch, one of the hardest he's ever taken. On top of that, it was imbued with divinity so it did a lot of damage to him.
Puffing out his chest, he constricted his core. Muscles swelled, veins glowing faintly beneath crimson skin as pressure rolled outward in waves, "I have withstood thousands of years of torture, at the mercy of God-like entities beyond my comprehension. Did you think I would come out the same man I once was?"
He is much stronger than the first time he challenged Zephyros. Thousands of years ago—before even the Valkyries descended upon this world—him, Sersei and Suluvuk attempted to invade the divine realm. He thought numbers would be enough to achieve their goal but they were crushed before they could even reach the Land of Gods.
Valtraak pointed at Lancelot.
The instant his finger aligned, Lancelot leapt aside. A beam of condensed crimson annihilation struck where he stood, moving at the speed of light, collapsing the ground into a boiling crater as debris erupted skyward and turned the battlefield white with dust and shrapnel.
He smirked as if satisfied that he spooked the human. That was just a test to see his reflexes. It seems this will be a head-on three versus one.
Unless… he takes out the most troublesome member of the group.
First, the healer. Since she's an angel, she will be able to regenerate limbs and save them from near death experiences rather easily. Valtraak is a close combatant so he has no measures against her. The tide of the fight would change if Sersei showed herself though.
But she was cowering somewhere for some odd reason.
"Ghh!!" Valtraak attempt to use that smokescreen created by the shockwave of his attack to take Ceru down, however, a fist buried itself into his abdomen, releasing a concussive blast that flattened everything within fifty meters. The shockwave alone hurled his body backward, bones screaming under pressure that felt fundamentally wrong.
'T-T-This power…!' he felt him being pushed back several meters from the shockwave alone.
This punch couldn't even be compared to Lancelot's punch because they were worlds apart. It felt a hundred times heavier and faster than his punch.
Valtraak keeled over, saliva staining his chin as he gritted his teeth, clutching his stomach.
"The purpose of this engagement is not execution," she said, voice resonant, layered with something that made the air vibrate. "So I restrained myself."
She removed her helmet and placed it gently upon the ground, the motion deliberate, as if placing a bouquet of flowers upon the grave of someone she had never forgiven.
"But restraint is a luxury afforded only when facing lesser foes."
She lifted her sword, as if to threaten him to make a move now that she's taking the fight seriously. But that taunt only emboldens him. He survived thousands of years of one-sided battles, tasting only few victories here and there.
Letting loose will scratch that warrior itch at the back of his neck.
Valtraak laughed, coughing through the pain as exhilaration crawled up his spine. This—this was what he had been denied for millennia. Not slaughter.
Challenge. Even if he is undying, he will take this fight as if it's to the death.
"I admit that caught me off-guard. It seems both of us have a lot to learn so that we avoid underestimating our opponents."
A black aura began to coil around his form. It focused on a single point then shot out like a tentacle. Guinevere cut it apart when it was inches away from her face then she charged at Valtraak. Lancelot coated both magic swords in divinity, sunlight flooding their edges until the blades sang, and followed an instant later, his movements leaving afterimages of gold in the air.
Ceru raised both hands.
Sigils appeared behind her, forming intricate ancient formations of magic not known to the mortal worlds.
Golden script unfurled around Guinevere and Lancelot like wings made of light, sinking into their bodies as if they had always belonged there.
"[Heaven's Accord]."
A wave of white energy burst forward, and got consumed by Guinevere and Lancelot's bodies. As if receiving a power boost, they attacked Valtraak with limitless vigor.
Guinevere vanished upon receiving that buff, reappearing at Valtraak's flank in the span between heartbeats, her sword already descending in a flawless arc meant to bisect. Valtraak barely twisted aside, the blade grazing his ribs and tearing through demonic flesh, holy light detonating outward from the wound and burning far deeper than before.
Lancelot arrived from above.
The sun answered his call, condensing into his descent as he brought both swords down in a crossing strike that split the sky, the impact hammering Valtraak into the ground hard enough to create a crater that swallowed him whole. The shockwave rippled outward, flattening what remained of the battlefield and forcing even distant monsters to their knees.
A huge black hand made from his aura burst out of the ground, grabbing Lancelot in an instant. However, his body glowed brighter and released a scorching heat that burned the hand to ash.
Dozens of more hands burst out of the ground and assaulted the duo. Meanwhile another one dug through the earth, about to snatch Ceru. As if foreseeing that, Lancelot threw one of his swords, impaling the arm at one swift moment.
He then jumped towards the angel, pulling her away from the fight a fair distance away. It seems that she doesn't have any barriers or other defensive spells to fend off against Valtraak. He can make use of this weakness of hers but as long as these speedy warriors are on his trail, that will be quite difficult.
Valtraak's spear and the red-haired knight's sword clashed.
Demonstrating her superior speed, her sword carved a clean arc across his shoulder, dodging right through his attack and tearing through flesh and muscle before he twisted away. Black blood sprayed across the battlefield, hissing as it struck the scorched earth.
Valtraak gave no reaction and drove his spear forward—but there was a permanent smile plastered on his face.
Steel met steel.
The impact detonated outward.
The ground beneath them collapsed into a shallow crater as shockwaves rolled through the battlefield, flattening monsters and snapping trees like brittle bones. Guinevere slid back several meters, boots grinding trenches into the earth, then pushed forward again without hesitation.
Lancelot struck from above.
Both of his blades burned white-gold as he crossed them down toward Valtraak's spine. Valtraak twisted at the last possible moment; one sword grazed his back, carving a glowing line of golden fire across his flesh, while the other bit into his ribs and punched clean through.
For the first time, Valtraak staggered.
He wrenched himself free, tearing the blade out of his own body as he swung his spear in a wide, brutal arc. Lancelot barely managed to block. Under the demon's greater arm strength, the force sent him flying, his body crashing through stone and skidding across the battlefield, armor screaming in protest.
Guinevere didn't give Valtraak a second to recover.
She closed the distance in a blink, her sword thrusting straight through his abdomen.
It pierced him cleanly.
The blade emerged from his back, steaming with heat and divinity, letting out a powerful shockwave that decimated everything behind him.
For a heartbeat, everything went still.
Then Valtraak looked down.
Slowly.
His lips curled.
He wrapped one massive hand around the blade still lodged in his body and pulled it deeper, forcing Guinevere closer instead of pushing her away. Blood spilled freely now, thick and dark, running down his torso and dripping from his chin. Some even fell onto her beautiful face.
That was when he laughed.
"Ha… Hahahaha!"
He tore the sword free and staggered back a step, smearing the blood across his chest and face with both hands, breathing it in like a long-forgotten scent.
"It has been thousands of years since a blade cut this body of mine," he said, voice shaking—not with weakness, but with exhilaration. "I have been ripped apart, flesh torn by incomprehensible savages, melted by acids that could dissolve moons, eaten alive by titans the size of worlds—"
His laughter grew louder, more unhinged.
"And now I finally remember it. War. Pain. The joy of it." His eyes rolled back slightly as his body trembled, blood still pouring freely from his wounds, "The pain of steel splitting flesh… puncturing organs… ahhh—what a pleasant feeling."
His eyes peeled in the back of his head as the euphoria from the pain sent chemicals into his brain that made him relax.
His entire world suddenly span around after the sound of a blade cutting the air resounded.
…
Though his head was cut off, he still smiled, tasting the remnants of consciousness that only a headless body can experience.
But as if being robbed of "release" by a haughty mistress, that pleasure instantly vanished and he regenerated.
'Ah… Why does death feel so good?'
He thought as he floated through the air. Gwyn appeared directly above him and roared but the world was silent as if his senses didn't want to return.
A thousand swords of golden light appeared directly above her at that moment.
As if welcoming them, he spread his arms, expecting each sword striking his body to bring him greater pleasure.
"[Sword Tribulation]" the moment that cold voice echoed through the air like the voice of a God, the swords descended at breakneck speeds.
"?" the voice belonged to neither her or Lancelot.
Gwyn was stunned, signaling that that skill was not hers.
The last thing Valtraak saw before dying yet again were countless swords made from blinding gold, rush toward him like an upside-down tower falling from the heavens.
Valtraak died over ten times during that single skill.
Regenerate.
Die.
Regenerate.
Die.
Each cycle came faster than the last, his body failing to fully reform before the next blade arrived…