The dark carnival crushed the land of Purgatory, and insane laughter replaced the screams of fear.

Such a pathologically twisted scene, piercing through the screens of Black Abyss Arena, became deeply etched in the minds of the audience. An indescribable palpitation and panic took root in their hearts, a terrifying spiritual plague.

Every soulful onlooker felt a chill from head to toe, a gloom chillier than death itself, almost freezing their blood. Madness began to revive within them, and new knowledge unfolded in their hearts.

It was, in itself, unreadable.

That fear which squeezed into their minds existed only for an instant.

As black tentacles crawled onto the screens, the crystals and demon bats that transmitted the images of corruption also became part of this madness.

The images disappeared from the leather, and all contact with Hell Plane number six was completely severed.

Cold sweat began to form in the pores, leaving trails on the stiff skin.

Unrest began to occur. Every pair of panicked eyes whispered amongst themselves.

That was a Hell Plane, an ancient land that had existed since the last era, crumbling before their eyes like a cookie in dessert after a meal. Heavy breathing mixed with heartbeats, pairs of eyes covertly watched Andrey’s stands.

The Liches Andrey, in fact, hadn’t reacted at all.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"That... Plague Doctor, did he just blow up the Demon Race’s hometown?"

"There’s more than one Hell Plane, it’s like tearing down a single room."

"That... Tearing down someone else’s room... Is that illegal?"

"Death penalty and above."

"Can Andrey afford enough bail money?"

"Yes, if Andrey starts a clan war and kills off the Demon Race, then the Plague Doctor will be released without charges."

Andrey Liches’s mood was very delicate, even a faint sense of guilt was present.

If Lyle had lost, Andrey could have given the Demon Race a lesson in a fit of pique, while also displaying the viciousness of ultimate evil.

But now, Lyle had turned the younger generation of the Demon Race into experimental materials and had also blown up their home. Was it really appropriate to cause trouble now? Even the dead couldn’t do such a thing shamelessly, even if the Liches inherently had no face to speak of.

"The power of gods, has awakened." Mr. Scholar clenched his fists, his mind still haunted by that ominous giant of ill omens. It had been foreseen, ever since Nia’s first birth, it was Mr. Scholar who had suppressed Its growth.

The surging black mire, the madness of wickedness, the Blue Dragon Priest had condoned all this, and now, the Fruit of Evil he had cultivated had ripened. An evil balancing humanity and nature.

"Did I do the right thing, Morocoy?"

Mr. Scholar left the stands, moving towards the dark corridor that led to the center of the arena.

There, someone was waiting.

Irason’s face was cold, lacking the usual naivety shown when facing his elder brother.

"Morocoy, you walk a dangerous path. You too have experienced that era poisoned by divinity, you are recreating the enemy of the world. In Triton’s divine realm, lie our comrades who died with eyes still open."

"Let go, elder brother. Don’t let their sacrifices be in vain."

Blue ancient masks emitted black flames from their seams, the power of fear that resided within the heart of the Dragon Priest, that very scene of revelry also left its mark on the Dragon Priest.

"If I let go, I will fail them. They certainly didn’t want this future."

"I’m not reshaping history."

"Triton, is a god of bygones."

"And It, is a new god I have crafted."

Irason sighed, following behind Mr. Scholar.

"It will be more dangerous than Triton. We might fall into an abyss with no peace evermore."

"We need miracles, that’s enough."

"What are we to do now?"

"Protect Lyle from the wrath of the Demon Race."

"I don’t think we can do much, the Black Abyssal Demons without their prince are not so easy to persuade."

"Who said they were lost?"

Within Black Abyss Arena, a female of the Demon Race dressed in formal attire stepped out. Anxiously proceeding to the center, she led a team equipped with various instruments and several Hell’s Nails. Completely disregarding the gazes around her, the female demon immediately ordered everyone to set up the Demon Array, attempting to locate the lost plane’s information from the remaining anchor points’ traces.

"Pomfrey Black Abyss." The true master of Black Abyss Arena, a strong woman who ruled over the Black Abyssal Demons through force and means surpassing force. It was not just those Demons skilled in detecting planes who had sealed the gates of hell.

Raymond stood on the stands, exchanging glances with the fully armed Lords of Hell.

The gates of hell, once the anchor point of the Hell Plane, were also the place most likely to reopen.

Raymond knew what they wanted.

"Lyle." When the black sludge spread over Lyle’s body, Raymond did not move. The holy light told him that this was a power belonging to Lyle, a hidden power.

"Abyssal force." Darker than darkness itself, more impure than impurity. During Raymond’s lengthy campaign, he was not unfamiliar with such a power. But at that time, the power seemed feeble, like a dying tree ripped from its roots, far weaker in the face of the deterrence of holy light than the scorching dragonfire. This was a twisted life force, fleshy mud that existed beyond extremities.

"If I remember correctly, it was Gallaron’s Purifiers who purged the abyssal force last time."

If he were still alive, Raymond would have eradicated such evil force at the first opportunity. But after death, the judgment as a leader of the Crusaders had relaxed considerably, and moreover, Raymond firmly believed in the purity of the pure, just as he believed in his own martial prowess.

The power of the holy light flared again, like a rising sun.

"I did promise to protect him. Anyone who stands in my way shall die, Demon Race."

"Roar!" "Roar!" "Roar!"

Facing the intense glow were the roars of the Lords of Hell and the ferocious faces transformed by demonic power.

In the midst of such a standoff, a cool voice echoed in everyone’s ears.

"Mother, Hell Plane number six has disappeared..." Fema Black Abyss’s delicate face showed sorrow. "There’s not a trace of hell’s force... not even a single rock left..."

The Demons had lost the ability to reopen the gates of hell.

But in the next moment, the portal with a black background and red circle, as if mocking the worthlessness of demonic spells, reappeared. The gates of hell trembled and spat out a slender figure.

"Kill him!!!!!"

"You’re courting death!!!!!"

Hellfire collided with the Holy Light Spear in an instant, and the explosion’s aftermath knocked off the hood of the youth lying on the ground.

That was Lyle, his eyes tightly closed, as if in peaceful sleep.

"Fema! Grab that boy!" Pomfrey, after a period of madness brought on by the pain of losing her offspring, had regained her calm. She had lost her next generation, but she could not lose the entire Black Abyssal Demons.

This was the rationality of a ruler; her emotions had already cost her. Now, the Demons needed to take Lyle hostage to confront the anger stirred within Lord Raymontos.

Raymond shattered the defense line constructed by the Lords of Hell in an instant, swiftly pursuing the Demon girl who was running wildly.

So close—at the moment Fema’s demonic claw was about to touch Lyle, Raymond’s Light Sword could have severed her head.

But then, Fema was blocked.

Behind the portal, a hand adorned with Magic Runes and Obsidian Fragments grabbed her hand as it reached for Lyle.

That hand was so similar to hers, as if they had the same origin.

Fema dumbly looked at the tall figure emerging from behind the portal.

"Brother... Brother?"

Gallaron Black Abyss walked out from behind the portal, his face wearing a smile that was clearly joyful from his sister’s welcome.

"Sorry to let you see your brother’s shameful defeat. But still, being furious and hurting Lord Lyle, this is not the etiquette of the Demon Race."

Absurdity filled everyone’s minds.

"But, brother, weren’t you killed by him? Together with the entire Hell Plane..."

Gallaron revealed an ’I see’ expression, and smiled apologetically at Mr. Raymond.

"You misunderstood, I indeed lost, got terrified by Doctor Plague."

"That spell, the one that ripped apart the entire Hell Plane, was actually just a vivid illusion. Although I only discovered it afterward, indeed, Doctor Plague played me entirely with his fear."

"Everyone was deceived, weren’t they?"

"We’re all good, and so is Hell Plane number six. If you don’t believe me, you can go check for yourself, little Fema."

That apocalyptic vision, merely... an illusion?