Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons-Chapter 402: Global Assessment

Across five allied nations, Arthur’s summons had redefined the meaning of national defense. Each creature brought capabilities that transcended human understanding of warfare.

High-level protection from powerful summons for mortal nations.

The countries took advantage of the opportunity to level up new champions, champions that would become nightmares for the demons to come.

Meanwhile, non-allied nations struggled with casualty rates exceeding 60%. Their newly awakened fell to epic-rank demons that Arthur’s summons eliminated casually.

The alliance benefits were measured to have saved millions of lives.

The reality was undeniable.

Arthur’s political gamble had paid dividends that reshaped global power structures. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

Protection purchased with loyalty.

Investment yielding infinite returns.

Each summon continued their demon harvesting, providing experience points that elevated human forces beyond previous limitations.

This is what evolution looks like.

This is what protection costs.

This is what Arthur Fate provides to those wise enough to choose correctly.

...

Inside the Demon World.

The obsidian spires of Mal’thuzad stretched endlessly into crimson skies, their colour reflecting the blood of conquered worlds. Within these towering monuments to cruelty, demons lived lives of casual luxury while other worlds burned around them.

To the demons, their world was a paradise, a paradise built on bloodshed. But they didn’t care; Why would they? They were a warrior race. The strongest survived, whilst the weakest served or died.

In the entertainment districts, demons gathered around viewing crystals that displayed a few demons’ ongoing torment. Humans fled through burning cities while demonic forces gave chase—footage that drew raucous laughter from the assembled audience.

These humans weren’t from Earth. They were humans from a world that the demons had conquered.

"Look at them run! Every time I see this iconic clip, I laugh, hahaha." A four-armed demon pointed at the crystal showing.

"They boasted so much when we initially attacked them. But after a short while, they started fleeing like insects fleeing poison!"

Clearly, the demon’s amusement was derived from genocide.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the structure collapsed, crushing dreams along with bodies.

Gambling chips changed hands as mortals inside cages became entertainment. This was one of their entertainment methods. Putting humans in cages as they watched them fight it out to death, betting on who would survive for their next opponent.

Death was a sport. Suffering was a currency in this world.

Similar scenes played out across the realm’s countless entertainment venues. Demons of every rank gathered to witness such things, their hearts finding joy in death.

This is what apex predators do in their spare time.

In the commercial districts, vendors sold souvenirs from conquered worlds. Human artefacts—wedding rings, children’s toys, family photographs, including human skulls. They were all displayed like trophies in glass cases.

"Fresh from the latest batch!" A merchant called out. "Genuine human despair, crystallised at the moment of death!"

Demons examined the wares with connoisseur appreciation. Some pieces commanded premium prices based on the intensity of suffering required for their creation.

The Obsidian Throne Room

Prince Malthorn stood before an entity that defied description.

Shadow given form, malice condensed into consciousness. King Bael’s presence made the air itself recoil in horror.

After all, King Bael was an entity above the legendary rank.

He was the definition of ancient evil, wearing the trappings of royalty.

"How is Earth’s progression going, Malthorn?" The demon king’s voice carried harmonics that could shatter mountain ranges.

"It’s going well, King Bael." Malthorn’s response carried calmness despite his internal frustration.

Even demons knew when to lie for diplomatic reasons.

No matter the race, creatures always bootlicked those who were stronger, more influential.

"That’s good." Bael’s burning eyes held depths of malice. "I don’t want any mistakes with this world, Malthorn."

It was an implicit threat wrapped in casual conversation.

The demon king’s aura increased, causing tremors that propagated through the castle’s foundation. "The system has chosen this world as the gateway to Arkhalon."

"Once we take control of this blue planet, entering Arkhalon will be much easier."

Malthorn nodded understanding. Arkhalon represented the conquest that they failed to capture—a realm of pure magical energy that could fuel demonic expansion.

"We delayed our forced entry to Arkhalon because of its sudden dimensional connection," Bael continued. "If we can control this world, we would be commanding both realms simultaneously."

"Our advance forces inside Arkhalon from the last invasion are still trapped. Several demon kings remain cut off from our support. Their life and death are unknown."

The trapped demon kings represented both opportunity and threat. Their eventual rescue would restore powerful allies—or create dangerous rivals for Bael’s throne.

Malthorn processed this information with growing understanding. Earth wasn’t just another conquest; it was a key to Bael’s plans.

"The epic-rank forces should handle any remaining resistance," he replied confidently.

Projecting certainty despite private doubts.

"Excellent. I expect daily progress reports. No delays, no excuses." Bael’zarok’s satisfaction carried undertones of dismissal.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

...

Prince Malthorn’s Private Chambers

Alone in his obsidian-walled sanctuary, Malthorn’s composed demeanour cracked like ice under pressure. Fury radiated from his form in waves that made the wind blow powerfully.

He is using this assignment as an excuse to politically exile me.

The truth burned in his consciousness like acid. Earth represented punishment, not opportunity. Bael had deliberately assigned him to a "worthless" conquest to prevent his rise through the demonic hierarchy.

My talent threatens established power structures.

Success breeds jealousy among inferiors.

But Bael’s paranoia had finally acted. Instead of promoting Malthorn to the inner circle, the demon king had exiled him to oversee the destruction of primitive mortals.

The assignment was calculated humiliation. Any competent general could handle Earth’s resistance—sending Malthorn was like using a siege engine to crack nuts.

Waste of my capabilities.

Worse, the delay meant missing opportunities for advancement. While Malthorn managed backwater conquests, other princes would claim glory in more prestigious campaigns.

His clawed hands crushed obsidian furniture as rage overwhelmed the restraint placed on him.

Centuries of careful positioning, ruined by a jealous superior’s machinations.

Through crystal displays, he could see that the lesser demons weren’t performing as expected.

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