Chapter 12.4. Third time’s the Charm (4)

  The human mages, having restored much of their mana, re-entered the fray. Waves of fire crashed across the frontline. Blizzards howled through tightly packed demonic ranks. Bolts of concentrated holy power pierced through the chaos.

  But something was different this time.

  The demons did not fall as easily.

  Holy magic no longer burned through them as it once had. Where it should have purified flesh, it now merely scorched it. Normal elemental spells left little more than shallow wounds across hardened bodies.

  Forced to escalate, the mages began casting larger-scale spells. Columns of flame erupted from beneath demonic feet. Jagged glaciers impaled entire sections of the advancing horde. Lightning split the earth and flung bodies aside.

  The battlefield devolved into pure chaos.

  Formations broke apart.

  Human and demon soldiers became tangled together in brutal close-quarters combat. Screams overlapped. Blood—red and black—soaked the soil indiscriminately.

  Yet even amid the devastation, the pattern was clear.

  The humans were falling faster.

  For every demon that collapsed, two or three human soldiers were dragged down in return. The momentum was shifting steadily toward the demonic side.

  From his vantage point, Lucifer observed with quiet interest.

  “Mephistopheles,” he said evenly, eyes never leaving the carnage below, “tell me something… did you enhance the army’s strength?”

  Mephistopheles stepped forward slightly, folding his hands behind his back.

  “Why, yes, my lord,” Mephistopheles replied with a polite bow. “During your recovery, we distributed portions of the power you once granted us to the Demonic army. We trained them to withstand it… and to wield it properly.”

  Lucifer’s eyes moved across the battlefield again.

  Demons who once resembled twisted beasts now carried themselves with sharper awareness. Their physiques were more refined, their movements more controlled. Even the monstrous ones radiated a denser, more oppressive aura.

  “Hmmm. I see.”

  His gaze lingered on a towering demon whose form looked almost human—save for the horns curling from his temples and the blackened veins pulsing faintly beneath his skin. Nearby, massive beast-types tore through shield formations with terrifying strength.

  “No wonder the demons appear more human… and the beasts more ferocious than ever.”

  Lucifer gave a small nod.

  “I commend you all. You used your heads while I was absent.”

  “We exist to serve, my lord,” Mephistopheles replied smoothly.

  “Hmmm.”

  That faint sound came not from Lucifer—but from Kane.

  Lucifer’s eyes shifted. “What troubles you, Kane?”

  Before Kane could answer, Apollyn tilted her head. “Yes, what is it?”

  Kane continued watching the battlefield carefully. His skeletal fingers tapped lightly against his arm.

  “Something feels… wrong.”

  Astarte raised an eyebrow. “Wrong? We are overwhelming them.”

  “That is precisely it,” Kane said calmly. “Yes, the Demonic army has grown stronger. Yes, their resistance to holy magic has increased. But even so… this feels too easy.”

  Ammit gave a dismissive snort. “You worry too much. Look down there—we are winning.”

  Kane did not look away from the battlefield.

  “The humans have not panicked.”

  There was a subtle shift in the air as those words settled.

  “They are retreating in organized patterns. Their images are conserving more energy than before. Their elites have yet to fully commit.”

  Lucifer’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened slightly.

  “You believe this is not their true strength?”

  Kane nodded slowly.

  “We are being allowed to win.”

  For the first time since the demonic charge began, a faint tension crept into the atmosphere around the Sins.

  Below, amidst the chaos of steel and magic, human horns sounded once more from within the capital.

  And this time…

  The sound was different.

  “Hmmm… perhaps you are right,” Kane murmured, though his hollow gaze remained fixed on the carnage below.

  Demonic soldiers ripped through living flesh without hesitation. One creature tore a screaming man in half while another crushed a knight’s helmet—and skull—with its jaws. The brutality was absolute.

  And yet…

  It did not feel decisive.

  Lucifer’s expression darkened slightly. The same unease stirring in Kane had begun to coil within him as well.

  Without another word, a subtle pulse radiated from Lucifer’s throne.

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  His Overlord Sight activated.

  The Qi in the surrounding air bent toward him, gathering like invisible threads. For a moment, the entire battlefield seemed to dim—then expand within his perception. Every fluctuation of energy, every hidden signature, every concealed presence became visible to him.

  He scanned the frontlines.

  The mid-field.

  The capital.

  And then—

  His eyes narrowed.

  “So that is it…”

  The air around him grew heavier.

  “Sins,” Lucifer said calmly, though his voice carried unquestionable authority, “prepare to join.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the Sins answered in unison.

  At that exact moment, movement erupted along the towering walls of the capital.

  Dozens—no, hundreds—of archers appeared across the ramparts, positioning themselves in perfect synchronization. Their movements were fluid. Too fluid.

  Kane’s hollow gaze shifted upward.

  “There are far more archers than anticipated.”

  Lucifer’s eyes sharpened.

  “No.”

  A brief pause.

  “Look closer.”

  Kane focused, enhancing his own perception. When he did, realization dawned.

  Their ears were long.

  Their posture impossibly graceful.

  Their bows carved from pale wood that radiated faint spiritual energy.

  “…They are not human.”

  The first volley released.

  The arrows streaked through the sky like falling stars, their tips glowing with concentrated mana. They pierced through demonic hides with far greater ease than the humans’ previous ranged attacks. Several demons fell instantly, holy-infused shafts embedded deep within their cores.

  “Elves…” Kane muttered. “Why are the elves joining this fight?”

  Indeed, according to long-standing tensions, humans and elves had never shared open alliance. Distrust and territorial disputes had kept them divided for generations.

  “They should have no reason to aid humanity in this war,” Kane said, confusion lacing his tone.

  Lucifer’s gaze remained fixed on the walls.

  “Unless…”

  Another surge of Qi flowed through his perception.

  “…this war was never solely humanities to begin with.”

  Below, demonic soldiers began dropping in increasing numbers as perfectly timed elven volleys rained down upon them.

  And somewhere beyond the capital walls—

  More powerful presences were awakening.

  Lucifer’s lips curved faintly.

  “If you are surprised by this… you will be far more shocked as time goes on.”

  His gaze never left the capital walls.

  “Envy. Lust.”

  The two stepped forward immediately.

  “Yes, my King,” they answered in unison.

  “Remove those archers.”

  “As you command.”

  Dark energy flared behind them as vast demonic wings unfurled from their backs. With a single powerful beat, they launched into the sky, streaking toward the capital walls like twin shadows. Halfway there—

  They vanished.

  Their presences erased.

  Below, the elven archers continued their assault with flawless precision. Their arrows shimmered with ancient magic, humming softly before release. Not a single shot struck a human soldier.

  Every arrow found demonic flesh.

  And piercing was only the beginning.

  The moment the shafts embedded into their targets, luminous veins spread outward from the wound.

  Then—

  Branches erupted from within.

  Thick roots tore through muscle. Vines burst from ribcages. Bark spread beneath skin. In mere seconds, demonic soldiers were reduced to grotesque, unmoving sculptures of wood and flesh.

  They were being killed from the inside out.

  For a brief, rare moment—

  Both armies hesitated.

  Even the demons were stunned.

  But only for a few seconds.

  Roars resumed. Blades clashed once more. Magic thundered across the battlefield again as if nothing had interrupted it.

  High above, hidden within distortion magic, Envy and Lust reappeared silently along the upper edges of the wall.

  Their eyes scanned the rows of focused elven archers.

  Lust smiled faintly.

  “What elegant creatures…”

  Envy’s expression hardened.

  “Elegant or not, they stand against our King.”

  Below, the war intensified under a new variable.

  And atop the walls—

  A second battle was about to unfold.

  “Well… that is not something one sees every day,” Kane muttered, watching wooden growths burst from demonic bodies across the battlefield.

  “Hmmm. Indeed,” Lucifer replied calmly.

  Kane’s gaze shifted toward the capital walls. “Where are Envy and Lust? They should have reached the wall by now.”

  Before an answer came, another massive volley darkened the sky.

  Thousands of arrows descended like a lethal storm. Each impact was followed by a demonic scream. Though the army pressed forward relentlessly, their numbers were thinning under the sustained precision fire.

  Then—

  The arrows stopped.

  Lucifer’s crimson eyes flickered faintly as his Overlord Sight remained active. Through the distortion of mana and shifting life signatures, he observed the truth.

  “They are inside the walls,” he said calmly. “Envy and Lust are eliminating the archers.”

  As if in confirmation, several elven presences winked out in rapid succession.

  But just as that threat diminished—

  Another emerged.

  Lucifer’s gaze shifted sharply behind the demonic formation.

  From the treeline opposite the capital, banners of pale silver and green rose into view. An entire elven army emerged in disciplined ranks, bows already drawn.

  “They committed a full contingent,” Kane said grimly.

  A storm of arrows flew into the backs of the demonic army. Unlike the earlier enchanted shafts, these were conventional war-arrows—yet guided by elven precision and mana reinforcement, they were devastating nonetheless.

  Demonic creatures at the rear turned in fury and charged toward the elven ranks.

  They never reached them.

  Before they could close even half the distance, they were pierced dozens of times mid-stride, collapsing into the dirt. The elves moved with impossible coordination—step, fire, reposition. Their formation never broke.

  Lucifer watched silently.

  “Well… this is becoming rather one-sided.”

  His voice was no longer amused.

  “They are hunting my army like stray dogs.”

  For the first time that night, a faint killing intent bled into the air around him.

  “Gluttony. Sloth. Deal with them.”

  A heavy presence stirred nearby.

  “Understood…” Gluttony rumbled.

  Kane glanced around. “Speaking of Sloth… where is he?”

  Lucifer did not move his gaze from the battlefield.

  “Look up.”

  Kane followed his words.

  High above the battlefield—so high that even the mages below had not noticed—

  The clouds were moving unnaturally.

  No.

  They were compressing.

  At the centre of the swirling sky lay a massive silhouette, almost blending with the heavens themselves. Curled within the clouds like a resting colossus, Sloth’s enormous body floated silently, supported by an invisible cushion of demonic energy.

  One gigantic eye slowly opened.

  Below, the elven army continued firing in perfect rhythm—unaware that something the size of a small mountain had just awakened above them.

  The sky began to darken.

  The Demon Lords—Kane, Pride, Wrath, and Greed—tilted their heads upward.

  There, only a few meters above Lucifer’s throne, resting casually on a thick tree branch as if the battlefield below did not exist… was Sloth.

  Curled slightly.

  Fast asleep.

  His breathing was slow. Peaceful. Almost irritatingly so.

  Greed’s eye twitched.

  “Seriously… does he ever stay awake?” he scoffed. “At a time like this he’s sleeping that soundly?”

  He cracked his knuckles mid-air.

  “I’ll wake him up properly.”

  In a blur, Greed launched himself upward, fist cocked back and aimed straight for Sloth’s face.

  Sloth showed no reaction.

  No flinch.

  No movement.

  But just as Greed’s fist reached inches from his nose—

  Sloth’s eyes opened.

  Time seemed to halt.

  Greed’s body froze mid-strike, suspended unnaturally in the air. Even the wind around him stilled.

  Sloth blinked lazily at the immobilized fist hovering before his face.

  “…Can’t a guy get some shut-eye without being bothered?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

  He stretched one arm overhead, yawning as though nothing unusual had occurred. The sheer casualness of it made the display far more unsettling.

  With a small flick of his finger—

  Greed was released and dropped back to the ground, landing awkwardly but regaining his footing with an irritated scowl.

  Before any further argument could begin, Gluttony appeared beside the branch in a blur of mass and presence. Without ceremony, he grabbed Sloth by the arm and dragged him down from the tree.

  “Orders,” Gluttony rumbled. “We’re to handle the elven army.”

  Sloth stumbled slightly as his feet touched the ground, still half asleep.

  “Gentle… would it kill you to be gentle?” he grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “I literally just woke up.”

  Gluttony didn’t respond, already turning toward the rear of the battlefield where the elven army continued its relentless barrage.

  Sloth sighed heavily, scratching the back of his head.

  “Fine… fine…”

  His lazy eyes slowly shifted toward the distant elven ranks.

  And for the briefest moment—

  The air above the battlefield dipped.

  As if gravity itself had grown tired.