Game of the World Tree-Chapter 582

【 THE RAGE OF AZAZEL 】

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Inside the Demon Labyrinth Dungeon

A group of players, having fought their way through hordes of demons and finally acquired the key to the dungeon’s final boss, now stood before the ominous and imposing Demon Lord’s Palace, their faces filled with anticipation.

The veteran players amongst them remained calm and composed, efficiently consuming potions and applying various buffs with practiced ease.

In contrast, several public beta newbies experiencing the Demon Palace for the first time looked around with curiosity and excitement.

“So this is the inner chamber of the dungeon, the Demon Lord’s Palace? It looks amazing!”

“Haha, I’ve seen videos online. I heard this boss is insane! It even has a learning mechanism and can memorize players’ attack patterns.”

The newcomers were visibly thrilled, but the party leader, tasked with directing the raid, reminded them sternly:

“Hey, you rookies, do not cast any fire-based spells. This boss is immune to fire and can even absorb it to grow stronger.”

“Once we’re inside, stick to the formation we discussed. The boss only uses a limited set of attacks. As long as you stay alert, you can kite it safely.”

“Also, take your potions beforehand. Ignore the side effects if necessary—just make sure you maintain your mana. Clearing the dungeon takes priority.”

“Of course, if you happen to have mana fruit without side effects, then forget what I said.”

The players all nodded in acknowledgment.

“Don’t worry. We’ve studied the guides in advance,” said one of the players.

“I have to get a Class Advancement this time! I already saved up enough contribution points and had worked an entire month as a mine supervisor to earn them.”

The player rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation.

“You mean the one in the Mountpeak City mines? The quest that involves overseeing the orc laborers?”

The party leader raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly! Moe Moe Committee really is generous. The contribution rewards they offered were really incredible.”

The newcomer responded enthusiastically.

“Of course. That guild made its fortune in real estate. They own nearly half of Chosen City so naturally they’re loaded,” a veteran player chimed in.

“Wait, half of the city? Isn’t real estate there insanely expensive?”

A new player was visibly shocked.

“Exactly. While you’re still grinding for contribution points to buy a place, their newest guild members already has their own exclusive dormitories. That’s the difference… So work hard, and do your best to pass Moe Moe Committee’s membership trial.”

The party leader gave the new player a firm pat on the shoulder, speaking with a mix of sympathy and encouragement.

The new player could only remain silent.

Such was life, inequitable and filled with helplessness.

After a brief rest and careful preparation, the players finally pushed open the massive doors of the Demon Lord’s Palace.

As rows of torches ignited one by one, the eerie and oppressive atmosphere of the palace came to life in flickering shadows. At its center stood their final target:

An enormous horned demon statue.

The palace doors closed automatically behind them. Then, a thunderous and authoritative roar echoed through the hall:

“You pitiful ants dare trespass into my domain?!”

Under the players’ tense yet excited gazes, the cold statue transformed into a towering horned demon wreathed in flames.

This… was the final boss of this dungeon: Azazel, the Seventh Demon Lord.

With heightened enthusiasm, the players quickly assumed their designated positions and launched their assault, just as they had practiced.

As predicted from the guides, the boss let out its iconic pre-attack battle cry:

“Tremble and perish!”

However, to the players’ surprise, the expected pattern of attacks did not follow.

Instead, the enormous horned demon roared again and suddenly charged straight toward them.

Huh?

Why is it rushing at us already?

Isn’t it supposed to draw its Flame Sword and take a defensive stance before retaliating?

The veteran players were visibly confused.

Before the party leader could issue any meaningful commands, the boss’s body began to glow intensely, deep cracks appearing along its form.

“What… skill is that?”

Even the experienced leader, who had guided countless rookie teams through this dungeon, was momentarily stunned.

He had never witnessed the boss of the Demon Lord’s Palace behave this way.

In the next instant, an immense and terrifying surge of energy condensed within the palace.

Under a chorus of shocked exclamations from the players, the charging boss erupted in blinding light and then…

—It exploded.

BOOM!

The entire Demon Lord’s Palace trembled violently from the blast.

After the explosion, more than three-quarters of the dozen or so players in the raid party had already died and been sent back to the World Tree, while the remaining few lay sprawled on the ground, gravely injured while barely clinging to life.

The silver-ranked raid leader, who had successfully led countless Demon Lord Palace raids, now coughed up blood as he stared blankly at the site of the boss’s self-destruction in utter disbelief.

The new players who had been joking just moments ago were now completely gone, all of them obliterated by the blast.

Their cheerful expressions seemed to still echo in the air…

“What… what just happened?”

The raid leader looked dazed, clearly overwhelmed by the boss’s sudden self-detonation tactic.

“Damn it! I’ll be back!”

A familiar roar echoed once again within the palace.

The surviving players: “…”

There was no sign of the boss in the palace anymore, and hearing that line now only made the situation feel even more bizarre and oddly comical.

Then, the system prompt appeared within their field of vision.

They… had somehow cleared the dungeon.

And yet, despite this “victory,” none of the survivors felt the slightest bit happy.

Because the boss had self-destructed before they could land a single blow, they received no experience points at all. What’s worse, due to the high number of casualties, their performance was rated the lowest possible, and the treasure chest reward totaled a mere 1,000 contribution points.

Those who had died received nothing, not even a share of that meager reward.

The raid leader was utterly speechless.

“Did… Did the dungeon somehow glitched out?!”

His eyes widened in shock.

→⟐←

The Final Boss of the Labyrinth Dungeon was bugged!

This news spread like wildfire throughout the entire player base. freewebnσvel.cѳm

For some unknown reason, Azazel, the very boss that drops the coveted Silver Advancement Slot had started behaving erratically.

Every time players entered the dungeon, the boss no longer fought normally. Instead, he immediately rushed toward the players and will self-destruct, dragging everyone down with him.

Moreover, the explosion’s power was overwhelming, so no raid group could withstand it.

In the best-case scenarios, half the raid group would be wiped out on the spot. But in the worst, the entire party was annihilated.

While the system still registered the dungeon as “cleared” due to the manner in which the boss was defeated, this method of completing the dungeon was effectively meaningless to the players.

After all, they gained no experience nor any valuable loot.

So what was even the point anymore?

Countless Iron-ranked players had been waiting to farm this dungeon for their Class Advancement Slot!

As the officially designated instance for such drops, the Demon Lord’s Palace had been the one chance for unlucky players to turn things around.

In an instant, many Iron-ranked players across the entire server erupted in outrage. The official game forums were soon flooded with complaints, and the feedback channel was overwhelmed by thousands of bug reports…

All of them demanding answers about the system bug.

The players were furious but unbeknownst to them, Azazel, the Seventh Demon Lord…

No one understood his pain.

Azazel was in a very bad mood.

An extremely bad mood.

As a mighty Demon Lord, he had never imagined that he would be treated this way.

Awakened only to be mobbed to death and sealed.

Then awakened again, only to be mobbed and sealed once more.

Day after day, without end.

As an ancient evil god who had been imprisoned for over a thousand years, even Azazel found that the time he spent sealed away back then didn’t feel as agonizing as the present.

At least back then, he still had his dignity.

Now, he didn’t even have that.

Granted, evil gods were known to be thick-skinned, but whether one should have dignity and whether one did were two different matters.

Not to mention… the emotional exhaustion.

When the elves first resealed him, Azazel had been filled with rage.

Each time, he would fiercely resist, determined to take down as many of them as he could before being subdued again.

Especially after realizing he was merely being used as a source of entertainment…

But no matter how furiously he fought, no matter how desperately he struggled, the outcome was always the same.

Eventually, even Azazel grew numb.

Time changes everything.

Even for Azazel, the unending torment at the hands of the elves slowly wore him down, until he grew used to it.

This legendary-rank demon, whom were only one of the Seven Demon Lords in existence, began to find twisted amusement in the suffering.

He found joy in preemptively striking back, by controlling the demon minion he scattered throughout the dungeon to eliminate those despicable long-eared invaders before they could reach his inner sanctum.

As long as the elves never reached the core chamber, he could at least enjoy some peace and quiet.

But… that was in the past.

Now, all he wanted… was silence.

And everything started with his repeated battles against the elves.

At first, Azazel’s tactics of using his demonic underlings to stall the elves were somewhat effective.

However, as the elves grew more familiar with the demons and gained deeper understanding of the structure of the Labyrinth, Azazel’s counterattacks became increasingly difficult.

They were simply too fast.

The rate at which these elves adapted and improved was astonishing.

Once a tactic had been used even once, it would quickly be analyzed and countered.

By the time the next group arrived, that strategy was already obsolete.

Azazel strongly suspected that these elves possessed some special means of communication, one that allowed them to share intelligence without ever meeting in person.

Even so, as a Demon Lord, Azazel remained proud and unyielding.

The stronger the elves became, the more stubbornly he resisted.

He vowed to keep every last one of them out of his inner palace.

Oddly enough, this gave the pitiful Demon Lord a new sense of motivation, relieving much of the frustration that had accumulated from being repeatedly ganged up on.

It was as if, in the depths of despair, he had found a reason to persevere.

Originally… that was how things were supposed to go.

Until the arrival of the public beta players.

The Demon Labyrinth was the only dungeon with a chance to drop a Silver-rank Class Advancement Slot.

Even before the public beta, it was a paradise for max-level Iron-ranked players to grind.

After the public beta players reached max Iron-rank, it became even more popular.

And that… was when the real problem began.

Previously, although elves entered the dungeon in a steady stream, their numbers were still limited.

Only a few teams, having passed various eliminations, would even make it to the Demon Lord’s Palace.

At that time, though Azazel was harassed constantly by the players, he still had breathing room and an ancient god had even imposed a restriction: only one team per day would be allowed to reach his chamber and fight him.

But now… the times had changed.

Most of the players from the first public beta had already reached max Iron level. Among the 200,000 players from the second batch, many “hardcore” grinders had also pushed themselves to level 40.

For them, the most coveted goal was obtaining a Class Advancement slot and ascending to Silver rank.

And so…

An overwhelming flood of players poured into the Labyrinth Dungeon.

Their numbers were like a swarm of locusts, and even Azazel, hidden in the shadows as he commanded his demonic minions, was utterly stunned.

The delicate balance he had painstakingly maintained, using his minions to stall the elves, collapsed instantly. His subordinates were clearly no match for this endless tide of players.

And as the final boss, Azazel suffered the worst.

To his horror, he discovered that the previous restriction where only one team could reach him per day had been lifted. Now, as more and more elves entered the dungeon, he found himself reduced to a revolving-door boss, assaulted by one team after another.

Often, he would be sealed by one group, only to be attacked again the very next second by the next.

It was endless torture.

No matter how resilient one’s spirit was, after two straight months of this torment, even a Demon Lord like him would go mad.

“Yggdrasill! You vile witch! Bitch! Shameless! I’m done with this damned job!”

Azazel roared furiously in his mind.

He failed to notice how some of the words in his outburst were ones he never would have used before and how, on some subconscious level, he had already accepted his tragic fate as nothing more than a practice dummy for the elves.

Naturally, those strange words were ones he had gradually picked up during countless battles with the players.

Driven to the brink of insanity, Azazel finally snapped. In a fit of rage and despair, he began to self-destruct on purpose.

He knew the elves could absorb a small portion of his power through combat and while the amount was limited, it was still substantial enough.

He also knew that if they performed well—especially if they sealed him without taking damage—they would receive rewards from Yggdrasill.

So, he decided: if he was going down anyway, then he would take them along with him.

However, trapped as he was within the labyrinth’s powerful seal, he couldn’t truly self-destruct. Not in a way that would end his existence or allow him to be reborn in Hell.

Hence, all he could do at this point was destroy his current physical form, after which he would immediately revive at the sealing core beneath the Demon Lord’s Palace.

But after several of such self-detonations, Azazel began to notice an unexpected benefit.

The elves could no longer siphon power from him.

Nor could they receive rewards from Yggdrasill.

This realization brought him a certain twisted satisfaction, thus fueling his resolve to continue blowing himself up with even greater enthusiasm.

Of course, what he conveniently ignored was the fact that, by doing so, he had already begun to view these elves as equals—opponents to be confronted on a level playing field.

In the past, whether these weaklings lived or died, whether they gained anything or lost everything, it simply didn’t matter to him.

Once a lofty and prideful Demon Lord who found amusement in corrupting mortals and leading true gods astray, Azazel had now devolved into someone who would gladly suffer severe losses just to spite what he once considered mere insects.

It was… a pitiful fall from grace.

Yet, just as Azazel was indulging in his cycle of self imposed explosive retaliation to vent his growing frustration, a clear and ethereal female voice suddenly echoed within his mind:

“Why do you torment yourself like this?”

Azazel stiffened for a moment. Then, consumed by fury, he roared:

“Yggdrasill!”

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