Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1200: Enel Is Evil
The orbs swirled and shimmered, merging and shaping until a revolver materialized, gleaming with an otherworldly light.
Its barrel was gilded in gold, etched with intricate silver runes that glowed faintly, and engraved along its body was Narina’s face, forever frozen in a contorted expression of agony—eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.
The crowd collectively gasped, horrified and spellbound. Murmurs erupted, some questioning if what they’d witnessed was creation magic. But Enel’s feat went far beyond mere magic—it was the product of soul runes, used in a dark and mentally forbidden craft.
He had extracted Narina’s very soul, dismantling her essence and weaving it together with his blood as a binding thread, fashioning her spirit into a weapon, a fate worse than death.
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The Queen paled, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. For the soul was meant to pass on, judged by Lady Death herself and directed to heaven, hell, or the wheel of rebirth.
But Enel had violated this sacred cycle, trapping Narina in torment that rivaled the worst depths of hell.
The agony etched on her spectral face was unmistakable, visible even to those unskilled in magic, a constant reminder of the pain that now bound her existence.
Enel gave a slight smirk, unfazed. "A sword would have suited me better," he said, almost nonchalantly, his eyes glinting with a twisted satisfaction. "But my magic level isn’t high enough to savor such a spectacle in a fight against deep demon ."
He raised his hand, flicking his fingers, and a small gap opened in the rune shield surrounding him. Without hesitation, he fired four shots in rapid succession, the bullets blazing across the arena, each infused with Narina’s tortured essence. With each shot, a piercing scream echoed—Narina’s soul, howling in pain as her spirit was torn apart with each bullet released.
The elders stumbled back, each projectile blasting towards them with deadly precision, the echoes of Narina’s cries haunting every inch of the arena. Her screams reverberated, sending chills through the onlookers, and many averted their gaze, unable to watch the horror unfolding before them. The arena fell silent, gripped by an eerie dread, as they realized they were witnessing something they had never dreamed possible, a darkness deeper than any demon’s reach, Enel was evil.
The first bullet tore through an elder’s arm with a sickening impact, embedding the twisted essence of Narina’s soul within his flesh. Instantly, his skin began to darken and swell, an unnatural rot creeping from the wound. His eyes widened as he felt the dark magic twisting his soul, clawing at his very essence. In a quick, desperate decision, he drew his sword and, gritting his teeth, sliced off his arm just below the shoulder. Blood spattered the ground as he staggered back, the cursed limb falling away and writhing as it lay useless on the floor.
But the second elder, struck square in the chest, had no such chance. The magic spread rapidly, warping his body from within. His veins bulged grotesquely under his skin, forming dark boils that throbbed, expanding and oozing a foul substance like pus. His torso contorted, limbs convulsing uncontrollably as his flesh stretched, pulled tight over swelling lumps of decay. His horrified expression was fixed as the corruption within him reached a crescendo, and then, with a grisly squelch, his body burst in an eruption of blood and tissue, painting the ground in a gruesome spatter.
From the mangled remains, a twisted wisp of his soul began to rise, writhing in agony as it was drawn toward Enel’s gun. It swirled through the air, a dark, ethereal thread, screaming as it was sucked into the revolver’s chamber. With a subtle click, the weapon reloaded itself, brimming with the fresh essence of the fallen elder, the screams of two trapped souls now humming faintly from within the gun.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, some with their hands over their mouths, others with expressions twisted in revulsion and horror. Even the most hardened fighters and spectators couldn’t hide their fear, realizing that Enel’s power was not simply an illusion—it was a nightmare made real, and no one was truly safe from it.
Seeing what had happened to the other two elders, the remaining two were scarred to advance.
Enel had brought out miracle after miracle.
Even though his strength was obviously below their own in number and magic quality, he had continually been able to push them back again and again.
Unknown to them, Enel was also cracking hard at his mind at an opportunity to end this battle.
Then again, the rules of the battle stated that it would only end if Luca was kicked out of bounds or if he died.
Enel looked at the battle between Luca and the masked person helping him.
Their fight was a deadly display.
Some time within the battle, Luca had used his blood on the ground, using it as a means to summon creatures of the Nether.
The creatures Luca summoned from the Nether Realm were terrifying in their twisted, unnatural forms. Each of the four beasts was cloaked in shadow, a swirling darkness that seemed to absorb all light around them, casting an eerie, bone-chilling frost across the battlefield.
Their forms were vaguely humanoid but grotesquely elongated, with limbs stretched into razor-sharp talons and spindly legs ending in curved, hooked claws that dug into the ground as they moved. Their faces were nothing but hollow voids, with gaping mouths that dripped with a thick, inky liquid, emitting a faint, echoing whisper that crawled under the skin of anyone who heard it.
Their eyes, if they could be called that, were two small pinpricks of sickly, pale green light, hovering within the darkness of their heads, and they watched every movement with an unsettling, predatory focus. The creatures hissed and moved in a fluid, unnatural manner, their bodies bending and twisting in ways that defied anatomy. As they approached, a trail of shadowy frost lingered on the ground, leaving the earth beneath them brittle and covered in thin, spider-web cracks.
Yet, Enel’s masked ally was undeterred. They moved with an animalistic agility, crouching low on all fours, their body sleek and coiled like a predator ready to strike. Each motion was fluid and precise, as if they were one with the battlefield. With a swift lunge, the masked figure extended their arms, long obsidian claws gleaming ominously against the dim light as they cut through the shadowy beasts. The claws were wickedly sharp, slicing through the creatures’ mist-like forms with brutal efficiency, dispersing the dark matter into the air, where it dissipated with an anguished hiss.
The masked figure moved in unpredictable, almost feral patterns, evading the attacks of the Nether creatures with acrobatic rolls and flips, using momentum to strike with deadly precision. Their low, growling breaths matched the rhythm of the battle, every motion imbued with a primal intensity. As the beasts lunged toward them, the masked figure met them head-on, claws slashing in a flurry of strikes that tore the shadowy forms apart, scattering them into wisps of dark smoke that dissolved into the air.
Each time another beast fell, Enel could feel a faint tremor of relief, but he knew the struggle was far from over. The masked figure didn’t pause or falter, their gaze fixed on Luca, who stood back, watching the carnage with narrowed eyes, already preparing his next attack.
And then it happened. The masked figure brought an attack down, but Luca smiled...
