SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS-Chapter 738 : 69 Million Demon Army!?
The Demon Lord's castle…
The new castle of Demon Lord is carved from enchanted black stones and infused with malevolent energies, stood at the northern edge of the Abyssal Wastes.
Around the castle, fields of twisted rock and lifeless soil extended for miles, offering little sign of life—except for the legions of demons standing in perfectly organized battalions.
From atop the castle walls, Phillip—the new Demon Lord—surveyed his vast army. Hovered in the air on his newly attained pet, a four-winged ghostly bone dragon.
The creature beneath him had a skeletal frame laced with flickers of hellish fire, and each of its four wings shimmered with an eerie, translucent glow.
The demon legions were arranged in precise squares stretching into the dark horizon, nearly sixty-nine million strong.
Phillip let his bone dragon descend for a closer inspection, carefully gliding over the first ranks. He glanced down to see each segment of his legion, meticulously divided by race and rank.
First came the Bloodfiends, tall humanoids with elongated limbs and crimson skin. They specialized in berserker attacks, relishing the taste of fresh blood. Their general, a hulking figure named Prakopa stood at the head of his contingent, carrying a serrated axe as big as a man.
Next to the Bloodfiends were the Narakablins—pale, slimy demons that excreted poisonous sludge from pores dotting their torsos. Their commander, known as Mahasura boasted an uncanny ability to corrode humans with a single touch.
Behind them marched a legion of half-dead corpses, reanimated by necromancy, and led by a robed necromancer demon called Kaalajit, meaning "conqueror of death." Their sunken eyes glowed with unnatural light, and some wore the remains of old human armor. The dead had been unearthed from countless graveyards across the demon worlds, bolstering Phillip's army with a tireless, mindless horde.
Further along, an entire battalion of Bush -like ghosts, floating wraiths with tattered cloaks, soared near the ground. Their commander, Vetalaraja, had translucent wings emerging from his spectral back. Legends said he could hypnotize an entire enemy unit into turning their blades on each other.
Mixed among them were single-eyed Cyclopean demons called Ekachakra, whose single orb glowed with potent illusions. Some had advanced illusions so strong they could spawn entire illusory armies. The lesser ranks included feral Rakshasas, winged vampires known as Pishachas, and wintered ones bearing frosted horns and a breath of ice. More bizarre were the half-limb abominations, mutated from unknown experiments deep in demon laboratories. Yet all of them bowed to Phillip's will.
Phillip's bone dragon halted in midair. Around him, demon generals soared or levitated, each wearing gruesome armor layered with dark protective spells. Some had multiple arms, others boasted elongated necks or tails wreathed in flames. Each general approached in turn, reporting readiness.
The first to speak was Chaturbhuj, a demon with four arms, all gripping sickle-like blades. "My lord," he rasped, "the southwestern battalions stand prepared to march at your word. We've tested their ability to endure magical bombardments, and they remain steadfast."
Mahasura, the Narakablin general, spoke next: "We have reinforced the poison channels. Should an enemy attempt to flank us from the left, they will drown in our lethal sludge."
Ekachakra's lead illusions master hissed, "Our illusions are strong enough to confound even lesser gods. No mortal will see through them until it's too late."
Finally, Vetalaraja drifted forward, spectral robes fluttering. "My wraith legion can demoralize entire cities in mere hours, sowing fear like a plague."
Hovering a little above them, Phillip listened to each general's report with tight-lipped satisfaction. Seizing the moment, he lifted a hand.
"You have done well," he declared, his voice reverberating through the thick air. "We are assembled in a way no demon army has been before—sixty-nine million strong, drawn from every corner of all domains."
"Prepare to move soon," he announced. "We shall claim more than just the demon worlds. We shall claim everything."
Having heard all he needed from his generals, Phillip guided his bone dragon back toward the looming citadel. A large arched gateway opened to reveal the castle's interior, lit by green torches crackling with demonic energies.
Phillip dismounted in the open central hall. In the center, on a raised dais, stood a golden dagger hovered in the air. The dagger's hilt was fashioned into the shape of a screaming skull.
Phillip approached, then knelt down in front of it, bowed his head. A dark aura pulsated from the dagger, and the air around it warped, forming a faint silhouette that towered over Phillip.
"O almighty Goddess of Death and Destruction," Phillip murmured, voice thick with reverence. "I have gathered sixty-nine million demons under my banner. They await your command."
A chilling laugh echoed through the hall. The skull on the dagger seemed to glow with an inner malice. "So, you have done it, my loyal slave," the goddess's voice purred. "An army from the lower, middle, and upper demon realms. Even the dead have answered your call."
Phillip smiled, though sweat beaded on his forehead. "None can stand against us now. The demon worlds are unified under my rule. Your rule."
The goddess's silhouette flickered with approval. "From now on, we can claim all realms as our dominion. No god or mortal shall withstand 69 million demons." She paused, then issued a shrill chuckle. "Well done, slave. You haven't disappointed me."
This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.
Phillip's grin widened at her praise. "Where do we begin, almighty one? Shall we strike the lesser realms first? Maybe corner some of the petty gods in their domains?"
"Foolish questions," she replied with a mocking laugh. "We shall crush from the base. Let us start with the lower realms—the Nine Realms. You told me of Kent, correct? The human-turned-something-else who decimated the old Nine Realms Association? We shall cut off his head as a grand raising."
A thrill surged through Phillip's veins. "Kent… yes. My arch-enemy. I've long wished to see him grovel."
The goddess's laugh reverberated with grim satisfaction. "I want his head before me, so the gods themselves tremble at my name."
"Consider it done, my goddess" Phillip replied. "I'll mobilize the entire legion. I can't wait to see Kent's downfall."
His excitement lingering, Phillip rose from his kneeling position. A sudden thought struck him, chilling his fervor. "Almighty Goddess… the path to the Nine Realms is not so simple. Moving even half a million demons is considered impossible. We have nearly 69 million. How shall we breach the boundaries?"
The dagger glowed with an eerie intensity, and the goddess's voice hissed back, "That is where the power of the Space God would be indispensable. One tear in dimensional barriers would allow your entire legion to invade swiftly."
Phillip's expression darkened. "But the Space God is allied with the other gods. Why would he help us?"
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