But Belath was not like the others.
It didn't take Aron much effort to open a dimensional gate large enough for an entire legion to pass through.
He didn't need an army.
It was enough for him to appear.
One word, and he could summon Hela and her army of the undead.
As if he carried that army in his pocket.
Efficient. Fast. Without unnecessary complications.
"Hela! You and I have no grievances or hatred!"
"Why are you attacking Limbo?"
Belath shouted as he faced her with bloodshot eyes.
They were both sub-heavenly fathers.
The battle quickly spread from the ground to the air, then from the air to the blazing rivers of magma.
Each clash of their powers created devastating shockwaves.
The terrain deformed under their might, mountains crumbled, lava sprayed like flowers scattered by a storm.
"Ants have nothing against your boots!" Hela shouted.
In her hands, she held the Sword of the Night Sky, a weapon as powerful as Mjolnir.
Forged from Uru metal, each swing released deadly waves of energy that tore through the land.
"You really are brother and sister, both saying the same things," Aron muttered as he hovered above the battlefield, arms crossed, coldly watching the destruction unfolding below him.
This scene, majestic, brutal, epic was far more impressive than any special effects.
As Hela and Belath fought, their warriors didn't stand aside.
The army of the undead, led by Hela, emerged from the cracks in the sky like a dark tide.
In an instant, they clashed with the infernal legions under Belath's command.
The battlefield expanded, and blood was spilled at every step.
Neither Hela's undead nor Belath's demons were ordinary mortals.
"Kill!"
"Stop the undead!"
Nastier, Aron's old ally, led a handful of elite demons trying to halt the invasion.
Limbo was still suffering from the previous defeat, when Aron had shattered their invasion of Earth.
Because of that, the remaining forces were thinly spread.
But the problem wasn't just in numbers.
It was nearly impossible to oppose Hela's army. Every time a demon touched the soul of an Asgardian revenant, that soul would explode with tremendous force.
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
Echoed from the battlefield, with shouts from warriors who once served Asgard.
Dressed in ancient armor, wielding weapons blessed in battles of the Nine Realms, they charged without fear.
Many of them were veterans of ancient wars, warriors who had conquered worlds with Hela thousands of years ago.
Although they weren't allowed to enter Valhalla, their power had not diminished.
"Devils... they are devils!"
Hellish demons soon began to retreat, fear spreading through their ranks.
Panic erupted.
Demons who had once sown terror now fled in panic, shouting that the others were the true demons.
Defeat in the front lines caused a chain reaction.
In the rear, lower-ranked demons—l, those hastily recruited, lost morale and began fleeing without a fight.
It was total desertion.
By nature, demons are cunning, cowardly, and power-hungry. When they sense defeat, they turn their backs even on their own masters.
High above all of it, Aron hovered, watching the army collapse.
"Of course I've killed them before."
"But back then, I didn't pay attention to their demonic energy after death."
He closed his eyes.
Now he noticed something else.
Each time a powerful demon was killed, its inner force, its demonic essence, would vanish from the body and attempt to return to this dimension.
A cycle.
Energy taken from the dimension would eventually return.
But, even though he was aware of this, Aron didn't run around collecting energy like some greedy creature.
It would be beneath his dignity.
And there was no need.
As the new master of this dimension, even if it was broken and unstable, Aron could channel power through his warriors and servants.
That was his pride.
"And demonic power is of limited use to me as well," Aron murmured, his eyes narrowing as he pondered.
"Unless..." he paused. "Unless the amount is sufficient."
His gaze fell on Belath.
The hellish lord of Limbo looked like a broken shadow of what he once was. His massive demonic body was covered in scars and blood. His leathery wings were riddled with holes, carved out by Hela's Sword of the Night Sky.
"Hela!" he roared through his teeth. "Do you really want to wage war with me?!"
There was more pain than anger in his voice. Humiliation burned within him.
If it hadn't been for that man, that damned man, he would still have his weapon, the Flame Saber. He wouldn't now be standing so helplessly before the Mistress of Hell.
"If I hadn't lost my saber, do you think you could have defeated me?!"
He had just finished the sentence—
"Hey!" Aron shouted from afar. In his hand, a flaming combat knife gleamed.
"Looking for this?"
He swung the knife like a magician, playing with it in front of the demon lord's eyes.
Belath's face twisted.
"Damn you!" he screamed. "I swear I'll kill you!"
He furiously ignored Hela and rushed straight at Aron, claws ready to tear him apart.
But Aron didn't move. He simply turned the Mirror of Dimensions, and space twisted. Belath's attack missed, passing through an illusion.
At that moment, Hela appeared behind him and slashed with her sword, cutting through his left flank.
"ARGH!" Belath screamed as he fell from the air, blood spraying like boiling lava.
The severed wing plunged into a river of magma, causing geysers of flame.
"My dear is right," Hela said as she landed next to Aron. "Why the rush, Belath? Careful not to fall into a loophole~."
The Sword of the Night Sky in her hands split, a duplicate formed out of nothing. One in her right hand, the other in her left.
Unlike Mjolnir, this sword could be multiplied infinitely. It could be used in close combat or thrown from a distance.
At that moment, Aron also landed on the ground, right beside Hela.
"How about a deal, Belath?" he asked calmly. "Give me all your power. I'll spare your life... and pull Hela out of Limbo."
"That way, you can continue being the Lord of Hell. And the lost power, you can regain it quickly."
There wasn't a trace of deceit on his face. He spoke like someone offering a solution, not an enemy.
Belath remained silent.
The aura of the hellish lord had vanished. All that remained was shame, rage, and a wound that still hadn't fully healed. The place where his wing had been severed had stopped bleeding, but the pain lingered.
And he knew, this was a dead end.
"Hela... is what he says true?" Belath tried to ignore Aron and address her directly. "Do you really plan to leave the border of hell with your army?"
Even on the brink of defeat, he still thought Aron lacked the strength to negotiate with him.
He trusted Hela, she was the Mistress of Hell, not him.
Hela silently stepped back. She stood behind Aron.
She didn't answer with words, her position said it all.
She stood by his side.
––
Hey, guys, I hope you like the translation, even though I'm not experienced in this, because this is my first time doing it, I hope you can read it. Even though there will be here and there some incomprehensible moments, but I hope you will be able to understand. You know how Chinese fanfics are.