Currently writing about Lisa's death with tears in my eyes, for all the poor innocent souls we lose in daily life.
*****
{Chapter: 261: Truth of Abyss}
Looking at Valeera, who had fallen into silence in front of him, Dex reached out casually, the tips of his fingers brushing along the underside of her smooth chin. The soft touch was laced with familiarity, a subtle dominance threaded through the act as he lifted her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes.
His tone was calm, but his golden, abyss-touched eyes glimmered with a cruel wisdom. "There's no need for me to explain, Valeera. You know the truth already. This world... it's hopeless."
His words hung in the air like the scent of smoke after a fire—lingering, damning, undeniable.
"You've seen the reports. The devastation. Entire nations swallowed by the void. A quarter of the gods are dead—gone. Their holy domains shattered, their believers orphaned. The abyssal front presses harder every month. This isn't a war you're fighting anymore. It's a reckoning."
Valeera said nothing, but her lips parted slightly as if to speak—then closed again.
She looked stunning even in silence. Her emerald eyes flickered with quiet defiance, her long golden hair cascading like rivers of light over the black-and-red corset she wore. Elven features sharp, flawless—predatory in their beauty, yet deceptively soft around the mouth when she was lost in thought.
Dex knew that look. She wanted to argue. But she couldn't.
She knew he was right.
She was Valeera, after all. A once-proud blade-dancer of Elsera. Trained in seduction and subterfuge, equally skilled with a blade or a lie. And yet, here she was—barefoot, lounging lazily beside him in a thin silk robe, eyes shadowed by the truth she didn't want to accept.
"Is there really no way?" she asked, voice quiet, low, husky.
Before Dex could reply, a second voice echoed across the room, melodic and commanding. Alison.
She was already standing near the archway, arms folded beneath her chest, her long silver-blonde hair tied in an elaborate braid that hung over her armor like a ceremonial sash. She had arrived unnoticed, though she had clearly been listening for some time.
"You two are hopeless at hiding your despair," Alison said, stepping into the light. "I came to speak to Valeera about Kolia. But it seems I arrived just in time for your prophecy of doom."
Dex raised a brow. "Then you know already—this world is done for."
Alison narrowed her eyes. "Is it?"
Dex didn't answer with words. Instead, he gestured to the projection hovering in the center of the room—a flickering mass of red lines and energy flows. Demon tides sweeping across the lands. Abyssal fortresses rising like tumors across the continent. Dozens of ruined cities marked with black sigils of corruption.
"You want the truth, Alison? Then here it is: The only path forward is bargaining with other high-level worlds. Offer your best magic, bloodlines, artifacts, divine rights, women—anything they'll trade for intervention. Even then... it's a prayer, not a plan."
Valeera slowly rose to her feet, her robe parting slightly to reveal the tight leather garments beneath. Her bare feet made no sound on the obsidian tile. She walked toward Dex, hips swaying in smooth, lazy arcs that made it clear she wasn't just trained in war. Her fingers danced across the top of his chair as she leaned in, breath warm on his ear.
"But you know how to cross the barrier, don't you?" she whispered. "You've been through worse. You've tasted the void."
Dex smirked, but didn't deny it.
Alison's tone turned sharper. "If you have a method, and you tell me, I will make it worth your while."
Dex let out a low laugh, the sound laced with dry amusement. "Believe me, if the Abyss Contract didn't exist, I'd sell out Lord Carto and the rest in a heartbeat. For fun. For pocket change. Hell, just to see the look on their faces."
Valeera chuckled darkly, lips brushing Dex's jaw. "You demons really are incorrigible."
Dex turned his head and met her gaze. "You're still here, aren't you?"
She smiled slowly, sensually, her fingers now tracing the edge of his collar. "I'm here because I like monsters who know they're monsters."
Alison rolled her eyes. "Get a room."
Dex shrugged. "Already have one. You just walked into it."
Returning to the topic, Dex turned serious. "I can only give you a general outline. The route lies beneath the world's crust—old ley lines warped by the abyss. You'd need a vessel strong enough to survive spatial distortion and corruption. You'd also need a god's permission, or their corpse. Your odds are... low."
Alison folded her arms tighter. "We'll take what we can get."
Valeera gently pulled Dex to his feet. Their bodies were close now, her thigh brushing his as she guided him toward the arched window. Outside, the skies had begun to swirl again. Red lightning crackled on the horizon.
"You said the Abyss was winning," she said. "Then what happens when they finally break through?"
Dex didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the storm clouds—a gateway forming in the sky.
"When the Abyssal Lord arrive, there won't be war. There won't be diplomacy. There will only be feasting. Cities turned to bone gardens. Rivers clogged with corpses. The world itself will become a food source."
He turned to them both.
"And I will be one of the feasting mouths."
Valeera leaned close again, this time resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand slid over his chest, and her voice was a whisper of silk and sin.
"Then make sure I'm the last one you eat."
Dex grinned.
And somewhere far off, the Abyss pulsed. A heart beating in a godless dark, waiting, ever hungry.
So she changed the question and continued, her voice calm but edged with a lingering stubbornness. "Then do you think that if we maintain the current resistance, wear them down, stretch their resources... we might force the demon lord to retreat through attrition?"
Dex sighed softly, dragging a hand down his face as if her words physically pained him.
This kind of question could only come from someone who had never truly stared into the writhing, screaming soul of the Abyss.
"That's... incredibly naive." He chuckled bitterly. "And I don't mean that as an insult. You're just thinking like a creature from a world with rules and balance. That's not the Abyss."
He leaned back, the candlelight flickering in his eyes, voice laced with a strange warmth and warning.
"Generally speaking, the only way to repel a Demon Lord is through immediate and overwhelming strength—shock and awe. You crush the idea of victory before it sprouts. If you miss that window..."
He trailed off and shrugged.
"Your only other option is a coalition of worlds. Multiple planes pooling their forces. And that... rarely happens."
Valeera, who had returned to lounging on the window sill with feline grace, tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder. She looked down at Dex, legs crossed, fingers tracing idle shapes on her bare thigh where her slit skirt exposed most of it.
Her voice carried the same lilting charm that had turned warlords into fools and generals into tools.
"You make it sound so hopeless, darling," she purred, tilting her head with faux concern.
"Are you saying all our effort has been a waste? That I should've just spent the last century polishing my daggers and perfecting my leg split atop someone's skull instead?"
Her lips curled into a smirk that was half challenge, half flirtation.
Dex glanced at her—no, studied her—with an appreciative glint.
It wasn't just her beauty, though she possessed that in dangerous abundance: her blood-red lips, the sly smile, the tantalizing tension in her every movement. It was the way she could veil warlike instincts behind seductive charm and make even despair look like something worth chasing.
"Hopeless isn't the same as pointless," he replied, standing.
"But you're smart enough to know that already, aren't you, Valeera?"
She winked. "Oh, I'm smart enough. I'm just waiting to hear if it's worth putting on my high-kill-count boots or not."
Alison cleared her throat, clearly unamused by Valeera's playful antics. "Can we get back to the point?"
Dex chuckled, nodding. "Right. As I was saying..."
He looked back at Alison and shifted the mood slightly. His tone cooled, analytical now.
"You might not fully grasp the weight of the title 'Demon Lord.' It's not just a name or a rank—it's a mantle, a throne, an empire carved from pure chaos. Each Demon Lord rules a layer of the Abyss—sometimes one, sometimes several. Think of it as a kingdom, except everything wants to kill you... and that's just your breakfast."
Alison blinked. "I... heard something like that before. But I didn't think it was literal."
Dex spread his arms theatrically. "Welcome to the pit."
He turned more serious. "Now let me ask you something. Do you know how many demons have died since this invasion began?"
Alison furrowed her brow in thought. "A scholar recorded it not long ago, using reports and military logs. About seventy-five billion."
Valeera let out a low whistle and slid from the window, gliding over to Dex's side, her hips swaying.
"That's a hell of a lot of corpses," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his back.
"Almost makes me jealous. You demons really know how to party."
Dex didn't even flinch at the touch, though his smirk deepened.
"And more than half of those died by the hands of other demons, not yours," Alison added, watching Valeera's antics with a mix of exasperation and resignation.