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*****
{Chapter: 257: Shadows Within Shadows}
"It's difficult… One was already a headache, but how can there be two clones of two different evil gods?"
Standing atop a ridge of shattered stone and melted metal, Gewa, commander of the abyssal legion assigned to this operation, clenched his jaw as he glared across the devastated battlefield.
A tight knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach.
This wasn't part of the plan.
He knew that if this operation failed, his fate would be worse than death. The Abyss was not known for giving second chances.
According to their scouts and long-prepared intelligence, Augustus was supposed to be an easy target. A heavily populated city, yes—but its elite powerhouses were said to be spread thin. Most were veterans or retired transcendents without active command. But now, the truth was proving otherwise.
Reports were pouring in across demon communication channels:
There were at least 25% more high-level combatants in Augustus than anticipated.
That alone was worrying but manageable.
"So what if a few more popped up? Not every powerhouse broadcasts their name to the world. Some are low-profile. They keep their power hidden, out of pride or caution. I had fallback plans for that."
But these two?
These two were not just hidden powerhouses.
They were clones of evil gods—each of them emanating power far above that of most natives, laced with abyssal corruption and divine madness. Even in clone form, they were far more dangerous than standard legends or demigods.
"This… this isn't an accident. This is infiltration on a divine scale."
Gewa could feel the weight of it in his bones. He wasn't looking at city defenders anymore.
These were ancient entities, each carrying pieces of divine power and some of their original special abilities.
And now, they stood not as allies—but as wildcards.
"Each one of them could stall more than a dozen Higher Demons… If we commit to battle now, we'll be pulled into a three-way war… and that'll kill us all."
Even with over a dozen demons at his command, Gewa understood that if they kept fighting, they'd be sandwiched between the evil gods and the recovering native warriors.
So the fighting slowed.
The demons regrouped on one side.
The evil gods—Gruul and the other unknown entity—stood tall and silent on another.
And the stunned defenders of Augustus stood frozen on the third, still coming to terms with what they'd just witnessed.
Their city lord, the man they trusted, had been an evil god's avatar in disguise.
Their companions and officers—people they had bled with—were now stepping out from the crowd to stand beside the evil gods.
Trust shattered. Reality warped.
The battlefield turned into a triangle of betrayal, suspicion, and silent fury.
After a long, tense moment, Gewa took a deep breath and broke the silence.
"I can let the two of you leave," he said coldly.
It wasn't an offer. It was a warning wrapped in diplomacy.
Letting the evil gods walk away wasn't a loss—it was damage control. If they left, Gewa could stabilize the operation, push the remaining defenders back, and report a controlled outcome.
Another minute of all-out war, and he'd lose too many resources to justify the mission.
The two evil gods exchanged a brief glance.
No words were spoken, but between their divine consciousnesses, an immense volume of information was exchanged. Strategies. Risks. Values. Ego.
Finally, Gruul spoke, his voice calm and deep.
"Not just the two of us. We leave with our followers as well."
It was a test—he wanted to see if Gewa would flinch.
But Gewa didn't hesitate. He nodded once, then added:
"Fine. But on one condition. You swear an oath—no leaking any information about what happened here, in any form, for at least one month."
That was all he needed.
A month of silence was a month of cover-up. A month to spin the story, bury evidence, and salvage his standing in the Abyss.
Gruul agreed.
So did the other evil god—though his face remained dark, his fury barely hidden.
They each raised their hands, and swore binding oaths, witnessed by the infernal contracts that stitched the skies above Augustus.
Then, as if signaled, dozens of native warriors stepped forward silently from the crowd.
Some were lieutenants. Some were demigods. A few had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the defenders minutes ago.
Now, they aligned themselves behind the two evil gods.
The betrayal was soul-crushing.
The remaining defenders stared in disbelief, some dropping their weapons, others trembling with rage. Their friends… their commanders… had always been cultists.
Gewa watched with a mix of awe and grim admiration.
'That's one-third of their elite force... gone, just like that. The infiltration was this deep?'
He didn't say it out loud, but he now suspected the demon-blamed sacrifice in the nearby kingdom wasn't their doing at all.
'It was probably these two who orchestrated the whole thing... framing us for their slaughter.'
And he was right.
As the two evil gods prepared to leave, they gave a final look to Dex—the one who had accidentally triggered this chaos and then somehow survived every part of it.
Gruul smirked slightly and gave him a subtle nod—a look that said, "Little brother, we'll remember you."
Dex waved back half-seriously, half-mockingly.
"I do make an impression, don't I?"
With that, the evil gods and their cultists faded into the distant horizon, escorted through the crumbling edge of the city's outer barriers.
Gruul, despite the cost, was in good spirits.
Sarah was dead, yes. But he had gained two demigods, a handful of legends, and most importantly—influence.
As for the other evil god, he was filled with bitterness. His carefully laid plans, his decades—perhaps centuries—of building power in the shadows, had all been reduced to ash.
He left with clenched fists and eyes burning with vengeance.
But none of them noticed the one smiling the widest.
Dex, still soaked in blood, stood in the ruins with a satisfied sigh.
"What a fun city…"
---
According to the original, long-gestating plan of the hidden evil god, the city of Augustus was supposed to become his perfect sacrificial altar. After using the excuse of "safety from demons" to herd countless refugees and citizens into the city over the past few years, he had been quietly preparing a massive underground ritual array.
The goal? To sacrifice the entire population—men, women, children, even the elderly—in a single instant, channeling their souls into the divine body of his true form.
Such a move would have catapulted his power forward, possibly even elevating him above his current divine station. He would not just feast; he would ascend.
But all those dreams… were dashed.
Because of the unexpected invasion of the Abyssal Demons, his delicate, years-long plan was now ripped open and looted by others.
"To have it all slip through my fingers… and watch those same demons reap the rewards… I should have slaughtered them all!"
If he'd been confident he could win, he would've risked everything and launched an all-out attack on Gewa and the others. But reason prevailed—barely. His power was not infinite, and his enemies had numbers.
So instead, he slinked away, fury hidden behind a calm exterior.
Not far away, Dex, who had just regrown both his arms, flexed his fingers and rotated his wrists as if nothing had happened. He watched the backs of the two evil gods disappear through the edge of the barrier. On the surface, he looked unfazed.
But deep down, he was quietly disappointed.
He had no solid plan to fight a god's clone—certainly not without allies, and not while risking his own survival. But then the fool bit into his arms without hesitation.
"That took balls. Real balls. Or just plain stupidity."
Because Dex, a creature born of contagion and death, possessed the [Death Plague], an intrinsic corruption that lived in every cell of his body. Though his blood glowed like molten magma, it was just a façade. In truth, his flesh was lethal beyond measure.
Even in its dormant state, his blood could melt a small army.
One drop of Dex's active essence was enough to dissolve an entire battalion, or reduce magical steel to vapor.
Had he waited just a few more minutes…
Had the god grown even slightly complacent…
Had Gewa not intervened out of risk aversion…
Dex would've detonated those dormant plagues from within, corroding the clone's organs, brain, soul-core—everything—from the inside out.
But Gewa had called for restraint, fearful that delay might doom the entire operation.
"Coward," Dex thought bitterly. "He didn't want victory. He wanted insurance."
So Dex played it safe. He didn't activate the poison, choosing instead to feign weakness and back off—masking his intentions under false fear.
After all, while they couldn't kill him outright, these demons weren't above crippling him out of spite, especially if he became a liability.
But he didn't give up the play entirely.
Instead, he subtly converted the viruses within the chewed flesh into a semi-dormant tracking form, embedding thousands of microscopic plague markers inside the god clone.
"I don't need to win today. I only need to know where to aim tomorrow."
*****
Get those stones going boys and tomboys, we need to get those numbers up!
If you want to discuss the story or just meme about join my discord server:
*****