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{Chapter: 239: Coordinates transmitted}
The Next Day
As Dex stepped out of his hotel suite into the fresh morning air, a familiar figure unexpectedly entered his line of sight.
The moment their eyes met, a flicker of surprise crossed both their faces.
After a brief pause, Sarah composed herself. A forced yet elegant smile bloomed on her flawless face. She took a half step forward and offered a courteous bow, her voice warm yet cautious.
"My lord, it's been quite some time. How have you been?"
Internally, however, she was filled with unease.
"Of all the places in this vast world... how did I run into Dex again after two years?"
Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor.
Still, Sarah understood the balance of power well. Dex was not someone she could afford to be casual with—not even slightly. This man could end her life as easily as flicking dust off his coat. No amount of annoyance or bad timing could justify carelessness.
Therefore, despite her inner frustration, her etiquette remained flawless.
The men and women accompanying her—dressed in various robes and ceremonial uniforms—instantly recognized the shift in her demeanor. Seeing their superior show such deference, they quickly lowered their heads and offered respectful bows of their own.
Dex glanced over them briefly before turning his eyes back to Sarah. He took in the faint lingering aura of an evil god on her body and nodded in recognition, his tone composed and dry. "Indeed, it's been a while. I didn't expect to run into you here, of all places."
Sarah had originally planned to exchange a few pleasantries and move along—just enough to be polite and stay safe. But the moment Dex spoke, a thought sparked in her mind. Her eyes shifted slightly, calculating. Then, with a subtle change in expression, she quickly pivoted her approach.
"Actually... if I may be so bold, my Lord is quite interested in you. Perhaps you'd consider an audience?"
Dex raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip twitching in faint amusement. "Your master?"
He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. There was no fear in his expression—just a deep and visible disinterest.
"Tempting offer, I'm sure. But I'll pass." He shook his head, speaking with firm clarity.
"It smells like trouble. The kind I have no desire to get involved in."
While the idea of working with an evil god wasn't taboo for someone like Dex—in fact, demons and such beings often found themselves in alignment when it came to methods—there was a problem: mutual benefit rarely equated to mutual trust. The moment either party sensed weakness, treachery was inevitable.
More importantly, anything involving an evil god meant potential divine entanglements, and Dex had no intention of getting caught up in celestial politics.
He disliked unnecessary complications more than anything.
Caught off guard by his outright refusal, Sarah blinked once in surprise. For a moment, she thought perhaps he was overly cautious, possibly even afraid of her Lord's deeper intentions. But she quickly let the thought go. There was no use forcing someone like Dex.
With a faintly disappointed smile, she replied gracefully: "I understand. Then I won't press further. I still hope we might have the opportunity to cooperate one day."
Dex offered a noncommittal shrug.
"We'll see."
With that, he turned and walked away, his long coat fluttering slightly behind him.
As he departed, the atmosphere among Sarah's followers shifted. Displeasure flickered across several faces.
To them, Dex's refusal was nothing short of disrespectful. Meeting with their god was an honor few could dream of—and this man turned it down as if it were an invitation to a common tea party?
If not for Sarah's presence, and the fact that she herself had treated Dex with respect, someone among them might have already stepped forward to voice their anger.
'These followers of hers are rather sharp,' Dex thought casually, sensing the heat of their glares without even glancing back.
But what those loyal believers didn't realize was that Sarah had been silently observing their reactions all along—and she was more than pleased.
She knew exactly the type of people her Lord had gathered: zealous devotees, each one prepared to offer their life for their god without hesitation. While their fanaticism was useful, it could also be dangerous. Zealotry often bred recklessness, and that had ruined more missions than she cared to count.
What she feared most were rash outbursts in critical moments.
Yet today, despite their clear disdain for Dex's dismissal, none of them acted impulsively. They held back. They measured the situation.
That restraint pleased her deeply.
Fanatics were easy to find. Even gods with questionable domains could gather armies of the faithful. But finding zealots who also possessed rational minds—that was rare.
Sarah's eyes gleamed as she walked ahead, leading them to their next destination.
These people weren't just believers.
They were loyal, intelligent, and measured in judgment. That combination made them assets of true value—followers who could be trusted to handle important missions without losing control.
Such people were priceless in the grand game they were about to play.
---
Unaware that he had just passed a hidden test designed by Sarah and her companions, Dex stepped out of the grand hotel, the heavy door shutting behind him with a soft thud. The early morning air was crisp, filled with the faint scent of dew and distant smoke—possibly from another burned-out building left behind by war or neglect.
He had no destination in mind.
All he had was a coordinate, sent to him during the previous night through the power of an Abyssal Contract—a forbidden communication method only shared among demons or other beings connected to the lower realms. The magic that sealed the message was unmistakable.
The sender had invoked the name of Demon Lord Carto.
Naturally, it wasn't Carto himself who sent the message. A high-ranking Demon Lord like him wouldn't lower himself to personally summon a [Middle-Rank Demon] like Dex—not unless there was something incredibly urgent. No, the one who transmitted the coordinates must have been a subordinate—likely one of Carto's trusted envoys acting on his behalf.
But Dex didn't mind. He had been feeling aimless anyway, and the invitation—if that's what it could be called—felt more like an order than a request.
---
A Thousand Kilometers from Augustu, in a Remote, Barren Mountain Range
After what seemed like an endless journey, Dex finally reached a desolate ridge surrounded by jagged peaks. There was no obvious structure, no welcoming gate, and certainly no sign of civilization.
But Dex, after carefully cross-referencing the surrounding terrain with the details burned into his mind by the contract, knew he had arrived at the designated spot.
There was a strange, muted energy in the air.
Something about this mountain felt… off. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the rocky slope. Despite his efforts, he couldn't see what lay beyond a certain point—his vision was being blocked by a veiled barrier.
Dex's brows furrowed. A barrier strong enough to block even his enhanced perception meant one thing: someone didn't want anyone seeing what was happening inside. That alone made the meeting feel less like a conversation—and more like an ambush or a test.
Without hesitation, he raised his hand and began tracing symbols into the air, his finger glowing faintly with infernal magic. The gestures mirrored the instructions encoded into the Abyssal message.
As if recognizing a password, the air before him shimmered and twisted. A spiral gate—glassy, translucent, and swirling with dark crimson energy—appeared where there had been nothing moments ago.
Dex didn't flinch. He stepped into the portal without hesitation.
---
Inside the Barrier
Crossing the space gate gave the usual disorienting tug, a momentary loss of direction as gravity and balance ceased to exist. But Dex, used to such transitions, remained steady.
When he emerged on the other side, the dizzying sensation dissipated in an instant.
He stood within a massive, artificially hollowed-out cavern that looked like it had been gouged violently from the mountain with raw power. Jagged boulders and broken chunks of obsidian-like stone littered the area.
The cave's walls shimmered with leftover magical residue from whatever force had carved it open.
All around him, other demons loitered. There were dozens of them—sprawled across the cavern floor, leaning against the walls, or perched atop rocks like vultures waiting for something to die. Some were dozing. Others ate grotesque meals. A few sat cross-legged, meditating silently.
Each had a different form.
Some resembled humanoid beasts; others retained their natural monstrous appearances—horns, scales, tails, claws. A handful had disguised themselves to look almost indistinguishable from humans. One or two were so well-hidden, they could've passed as native mortals if not for a subtle shift in the air around them.
But they all shared one feature: they had minimized their size.
Most demons had forms that could stretch dozens of meters, towering like titans. But inside this confined cave, they had wisely scaled themselves down. Otherwise, a few of them could've filled the cavern to capacity by themselves.
Dex scanned the crowd with a calm expression, a flicker of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes.
"So many demons in one place…" he muttered under his breath. "Is this a conference, or a trap?"
His appearance, however, had drawn more attention than he expected.
At first, many of the demons barely acknowledged him, assuming he was just another minor participant. But as they examined him more closely, their expressions changed.
A ripple of tension spread through the cave.
Some narrowed their eyes. A few began channeling abyssal energy into their limbs and claws, preparing for battle—just in case.
Because something was wrong.
Dex gave off no discernible demonic aura.
To demons, this was disturbing.
A demon's aura was like their fingerprint—unmistakable and impossible to fully conceal. Even the best shapeshifters could not hide the essence of the abyss that radiated from their core. It was the mark of their origin, and the primary way they identified each other in a world dominated by humans and other races.
But Dex felt like a blank slate.
To them, that could only mean one thing: he was not what he appeared to be. Some even began to wonder if he was a spy from another faction, or worse, a native mortal using demonic magic to infiltrate.
A few prepared to strike.
Dex noticed this immediately. But rather than react with aggression, a slow, knowing smile crept across his face.
Then, his body shimmered—and transformed.
A wave of intense heat rolled through the cavern as his real form was revealed.
He now stood nearly two meters tall, his body encased in glowing, scarlet armor that pulsed with infernal energy. A pair of black, curved horns spiraled out from his skull like a crown of death, and four bat-like wings, each the color of dried blood, unfurled from his back.
The ground beneath his feet melted into black crystal under the sheer heat of his presence.
His transformation was a silent declaration: I am no pretender.
As his full, unrestrained demonic essence flooded the chamber, every other demon present paused. The temperature rose sharply, the very air seeming to vibrate with pressure.
They now recognized the truth.
His bloodline was pure—far purer than most.
Among demons, the concentration of abyssal blood was a direct measure of strength and status. Only those born of elite stock or who had consumed countless others could achieve such a powerful presence.
Slowly, one by one, the eyes filled with suspicion turned away.
Dex's calm demeanor hadn't changed. His tail, shaped like a trident and covered in scales, lazily flicked behind him.
Then, a voice came from nearby—a raspy, tired tone belonging to a small, elderly-looking demon that resembled a bearded dwarf.
"It's not time yet," the old demon muttered. "Please wait a moment."
Dex nodded.
"Understood."
Without another word, he swung his tail once. A sharp gust of force—thin like a blade—shot from the motion and struck a wall of the cave. With a thunderous crack, it split the rock, creating a clean ledge large enough for someone to sit.
His wings flared briefly as he flew upward and landed upon it with the grace of a predator.
He sat down in silence, his eyes half-closed, his aura contained again like a sleeping volcano.
The room quieted.
No one dared speak to him now.
And above them all, the unspoken understanding began to form—this wasn't just some Middle-Rank Demon.
This was someone dangerous. Someone chosen.
And whatever was about to happen in this meeting… was bound to shake the abyssal hierarchy in this world.