"Hehehe...!!!"

Rey’s maniacal grin widened as the undead Prince of Darkness fully manifested before him, its massive form radiating power that made the devastated Labyrinth seem insignificant by comparison.

Then his eyes rolled back, consciousness finally failing as accumulated injuries and Ether depletion overcame even the Divine-grade armor’s life-sustaining capabilities.

He collapsed, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap of broken limbs and catastrophic damage.

THUD!

But the Prince of Darkness remained standing, its seven heads tracking Valdris with predatory focus that suggested hunger transcending normal biological imperatives.

Valdris forced himself to analyze the situation with tactical clarity despite the horror he felt.

The Prince had been resurrected through Hollow Technique’s Forbidden Sequence, but such techniques operating at this scale couldn’t possibly achieve perfect completion.

There had to be flaws.

Limitations.

Weaknesses he could exploit.

"Prince of Darkness," Valdris called out, his multiple-toned voice carrying diplomatic overture rather than combat aggression. "You’ve been resurrected through unnatural means, bound to that Nephilim’s will through a mystical connection that shouldn’t exist. But you possess intelligence sufficient to recognize your current state."

The Prince’s seven heads tilted simultaneously, studying Valdris with eyes that glowed with both malevolent awareness and the emptiness of undeath.

"SPEAK QUICKLY, DEVIL," the creature rumbled, its voice carrying harmonics that made reality itself seem to vibrate. "MY PATIENCE IS LIMITED."

"The resurrection was imperfect," Valdris continued, gesturing toward Rey’s unconscious form. "The Nephilim lacks the capability to fully control a Tier 4 entity, even as undead. He even passed out before he could give you a command. You possess agency beyond what a normal Hollow Technique should permit. Which means you can choose to reject the binding."

He spread his wings in a gesture combining supplication and negotiation.

"Stand down. Allow me to eliminate the Nephilim who attempted to enslave you. Once he’s dead, the mystical connection forcing your obedience will sever, and you’ll be free to exist according to your own will rather than imposed commands."

The Prince’s multiple heads exchanged glances among themselves, some silent communication passing between the consciousness fragments distributed across its form.

"YOU OFFER FREEDOM," it stated, amusement in its terrible voice. "BUT YOU MISUNDERSTAND THE SITUATION FUNDAMENTALLY."

One head descended to eye level with Valdris, bringing its massive bulk close enough that the Devil could see his reflection in eyes that had witnessed millennia.

"REY IS MY NEW MASTER. THIS IS NOT ENSLAVEMENT—THIS IS FULFILLMENT OF PURPOSE I HAVE AWAITED SINCE BEING PLACED IN THESE DEPTHS BY MY PREVIOUS MASTER."

Valdris’s expression shifted to confusion mixed with growing dread.

"Previous master? You’re a Chaos Dweller—a manifestation of pure Chaos. You don’t have masters. You exist as force of nature, not as servant to—"

"INCORRECT," the Prince interrupted, its tone carrying certainty absolute. "I WAS CREATED. SHAPED FROM RAW CHAOS ENERGY AND GIVEN PURPOSE THROUGH ANCIENT TECHNIQUES THAT PREDATE YOUR CIVILIZATION. MY PREVIOUS MASTER POSITIONED ME HERE, IN THE LABYRINTH’S DEPTHS, TO WAIT FOR SPECIFIC CONDITIONS."

Another head joined the first, both studying Valdris with intensity that made his Devil-tier perception ache.

"THE CONDITIONS WERE: ONE WHO POSSESSES HOLLOW TECHNIQUE MASTERY AT THE FORBIDDEN SEQUENCES. ONE WHO DEMONSTRATES RUTHLESSNESS SUFFICIENT TO SACRIFICE EVERYTHING FOR SURVIVAL. ONE WHO CARRIES DUAL AFFINITIES INCLUDING THE HOLLOW TECHNIQUE."

The Prince’s massive form shifted, its wings spreading to encompass the entire devastated area.

"REY SATISFIED ALL CONDITIONS. HE DISPLACED THE DIVINE-GRADE ARTIFACT THAT MARKED THIS LOCATION. HE DESCENDED INTO UNCHARTED DEPTHS DESPITE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. HE SACRIFICED AN ENTIRE CIVILIZATION TO CREATE CIRCUMSTANCES FORCING MY RESURRECTION. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY—"

All seven heads focused on Valdris simultaneously.

"—HE POSSESSED THE CAPABILITY TO RESURRECT ME THROUGH HOLLOW TECHNIQUE’S SEQUENCE #0, BINDING MY EXISTENCE TO HIS WILL WHILE FULFILLING THE PURPOSE MY PREVIOUS MASTER INTENDED."

Valdris felt cold dread settling into his chest, recognition dawning of implications that transcended mere combat threat.

"Who?" he demanded, his voice tight with controlled terror. "Who was your previous master? What entity possessed the capability to create and position a Tier 4 Chaos Dweller with such precise purpose?"

The Prince’s expression—to the extent its monstrous features could convey expression—shifted into something approaching satisfaction.

"MY PREVIOUS MASTER’S NAME WAS—"

It spoke a word that reality itself rejected, syllables that couldn’t properly exist in normal space-time. Valdris heard it as a corrupted sound that made his consciousness fragment from mere exposure:

"L@#!&*r."

Valdris’s eyes widened in absolute horror, his wings spreading reflexively as every combat instinct he possessed screamed simultaneous warnings.

"No," he whispered, the word carrying disbelief that transcended rational thought. "That’s... that’s impossible. That entity was destroyed several millennia ago. The Ancient Chaos God shouldn’t have failed to—"

Understanding struck with the force of revelation.

This had never been about a simple artifact displacement. The triggered ancient arrangement, the Divine-grade armor positioned precisely where Rey would find it, the prophecy that had drawn Rey into the Labyrinth, even the Nephilim civilization surviving exactly where they needed to be—

All of it had been orchestrated.

Planned across millennia by an entity whose capabilities exceeded anything Valdris had encountered.

The Prince of Darkness had been a trap.

Not for Valdris specifically, but for anyone who might interfere with Rey’s development. And Valdris had walked directly into it by investigating the triggered arrangement.

"I have to report this," Valdris stated, his voice carrying urgency that overrode tactical consideration. "The Archdukes need to know that L@#!&*r’s influence extends beyond—"

"YOU WILL REPORT NOTHING," the Prince interrupted, its tone carrying finality absolute.

"MY PURPOSE IS TO SERVE REY. AND YOU REPRESENT A THREAT TO MY MASTER’S SURVIVAL. THEREFORE—"

Valdris activated his teleportation capabilities immediately, committing his remaining Ether reserves to emergency evacuation. Distance didn’t matter, accuracy didn’t matter—he just needed to escape the Prince’s attack radius before—

The Prince’s claws intercepted him mid-teleportation, tearing through the spatial distortion and dragging Valdris back into material space with force that shattered the technique completely.

"—YOU MUST BE ELIMINATED."

Seven heads attacked simultaneously, each using different Chaos Art Techniques operating at Sequence #0 or Sequence #1:

Mutation attempting to transform Valdris into something that couldn’t maintain consciousness.

Entropy was accelerating his body’s decay beyond even Devil-tier regeneration.

Corruption was spreading through his soul and poisoning his mystical foundation.

Perversion was twisting the fundamental rules governing his continued existence.

Degeneration was reducing his capabilities toward the absolute baseline.

Contamination was poisoning every technique he attempted to activate.

Paradox was creating logical impossibilities that his fragmented consciousness couldn’t resolve.

The combined assault exceeded what Valdris could counter in his current depleted state.

He’d expended everything fighting the Prince while it was alive—his Artifacts were destroyed, his Ether reserves nearly empty, his body already catastrophically damaged.

He tried to deploy his sword, the Mythical-grade weapon that had served him so well earlier.

But the blade refused to manifest, its enchantments depleted beyond recovery from the earlier combat against the living Prince.

"YOU FOUGHT WELL," the Prince acknowledged, almost respectful despite the ongoing slaughter. "DEFEATING ME WHILE I LIVED REQUIRED CAPABILITIES SLIGHTLY ABOVE THE AVERAGE LEVEL OF A DEVIL. BUT YOU EXPENDED EVERYTHING IN THAT VICTORY."

Its claws tore through Valdris’s defenses, each strike inflicting damage that even Devil-tier regeneration couldn’t overcome fast enough.

"AND NOW YOU FACE ME AGAIN, WHILE DEPLETED AND INJURED, WHILE I POSSESS ADVANTAGES UNDEATH PROVIDES."

Blood sprayed from dozens of wounds as Valdris tried desperately to mount an effective defense. But the Prince was simply too powerful, too fast, too coordinated across its seven independently-attacking heads.

"THIS IS NOT PERSONAL, DEVIL. YOU SIMPLY CHOSE THE WRONG INVESTIGATION, AT THE WRONG TIME, AGAINST THE WRONG TARGET."

Valdris felt his consciousness beginning to fragment as the accumulated damage exceeded even his extraordinary tolerance. His Devil nature allowed him to survive injuries that would obliterate ordinary beings, but survival wasn’t the same as victory.

He was going to die here.

"At least..." Valdris gasped through blood-filled lungs, "...tell me why. Why does L@#!&*r need Rey specifically? What purpose justifies this elaborate scheme?"

The Prince paused its assault briefly, several heads tilting in consideration.

"REVENGE," it stated simply. "REY SEEKS REVENGE AGAINST FORCES THAT DESTROYED HIS PREVIOUS WORLD. AND L@#!&*r REQUIRES AGENT CAPABLE OF EXECUTING THAT REVENGE WHILE SERVING BROADER OBJECTIVES."

It resumed its attack with renewed intensity.

"THE DETAILS ARE NOT YOUR CONCERN. YOUR ROLE IN THIS SCHEME HAS CONCLUDED."

The final assault came from all seven heads simultaneously, their combined Chaos Art techniques operating at levels that simply couldn’t be survived.

Valdris Morgath, Third Circle Devil in service to Archduke Marbas, died without ceremony or dramatic final words.

His body dissolved under concentrated Chaos Energy, his consciousness dispersed beyond possibility of recovery, his existence erased so completely that even mystical resurrection would fail.

The Prince of Darkness stood among the remains, its massive form radiating satisfaction mixed with weariness.

"COMPLETE," it rumbled to itself, analyzing the combat results. "THREAT ELIMINATED. MASTER PROTECTED."

But then it paused, one head turning toward its own body with what might have been concern.

The resurrection through Hollow Technique had been successful, yes. But not perfect. The Prince could feel the difference in its capabilities—diminished power, reduced mystical density, limitations that hadn’t existed before death.

"TIER 5," it concluded with resignation. "THE RESURRECTION REDUCED MY CLASSIFICATION FROM TIER 4 TO TIER 5. A SIGNIFICANT DEGRADATION."

The massive creature sighed, the sound creating wind that scattered debris across the devastated Labyrinth.

"BUT STILL SUFFICIENT FOR MY PURPOSE. STILL POWERFUL ENOUGH TO PROTECT MASTER REY WHILE HE DEVELOPS THE CAPABILITIES L@#!&*r REQUIRES."

It turned its attention toward Rey’s unconscious form, the young Nephilim’s body showing catastrophic damage that would kill him without immediate intervention.

One of the Prince’s heads opened its maw, and darkness poured forth—not shadow, but concentrated absence of light given physical form. The darkness enveloped Rey gently, creating a cocoon that began healing his injuries through principles operating beyond normal mystical medicine.

The Divine-grade armor integrated with the cocoon seamlessly, its enchantments recognized and respected by the Prince’s construction.

"SLEEP, MASTER," the Prince rumbled, its tone carrying something approaching affection despite its monstrous nature. "I WILL PROTECT YOU WHILE YOU RECOVER. WILL TRANSPORT YOU TO THE LABYRINTH’S DEEPEST SECTIONS WHERE INTERFERENCE IS IMPOSSIBLE."

It lifted the cocoon containing Rey with surprising gentleness, cradling the unconscious Nephilim as though he were precious cargo rather than mere master.

"L@#!&*r CHOSE WELL," the Prince continued, speaking to itself as it began descending into passages that led to territories even the Nephilim had never reached. "THIS ONE POSSESSES RUTHLESSNESS, CAPABILITY, AND DESPERATION IN PERFECT COMBINATION. HE WILL SERVE THE BROADER PURPOSE ADMIRABLY."

The Prince descended into absolute darkness, carrying Rey toward depths where even light feared to penetrate.

Behind them, the devastated Sanctuary lay in ruins—seventeen thousand Nephilim dead, their civilization obliterated, their prophesied champion revealed as architect of their destruction.

And deeper still, in a place beyond mortal comprehension, an ancient force watched with satisfaction as their millennia-spanning plans continued advancing according to design.

Rey slept, unaware that his survival had cost far more than he could possibly understand.

The Prince of Darkness carried him into the abyss.

[A/N: One more Chapter until the end of Volume 1. I hope you enjoyed yourself so far.]