"Foolish, cowardly little worm—how much longer do you think you can hide?"

Deep in the forest, where the land had been utterly scorched black, a hollow yet unnervingly magnetic voice drawled lazily—gravelly, thick with phlegm.

Above, the starry sky was swallowed by pitch darkness. The surrounding trees, stained an eerie ash-gray, crumbled to dust at the slightest gust and vanished without a trace.

*Whoosh… whoosh…*

Fierce, chaotic rending sounds echoed nonstop. The gale tearing through the vast woods wasn’t high-tier magic—it was the frenzy of countless black-gleaming demonic steel tentacles lashing outward in all directions.

Segmented like chains with hard bony joints, they clashed with sharp cracks as they twisted—a hellish symphony both mesmerizing and instinctively terrifying.

Controlling them was Roth Abil, one of the only two Demon Lords of the Abyss.

He hovered at the center of the swirling mass. From afar, his silhouette seemed almost human—save for the absurdly large black horns crowning his head. Up close, however, Roth’s true visage was pure nightmare.

His entire body was sheathed in pitch-black, bone-like demonic scales, rippling rhythmically like breath. Beneath them sprouted the tentacles: starting as tongue-thin tendrils no wider than a pinky finger, they thickened outward until each resembled a giant’s steel whip. A single flick could summon a storm.

Most horrifying was his utterly inhuman, insectoid face: three huge golden pupils; a vertical slit of a mouth bristling with needle-like fangs; a vivid crimson tongue, flexible yet rigid at will. Its blood-grooved tip could snap into a devastating drill—spinning with explosive force enough to freeze any surface-dweller’s blood, especially females.

But that drill hadn’t tasted blood in ages. Ordinary surface females no longer stirred his interest—until years ago, when the Elder God himself transmitted a message:

"That newly ascended Archangel of Supremacy among humans is a perfect vessel, a once-in-ten-millennia find. Drop everything. Capture her. This is the Abyss’s most crucial battle in millennia. Securing her will hasten my revival by twenty thousand years."

The Elder God’s intent was clear. Roth’s excitement surged instantly.

*A perfect female worthy of the Elder God’s praise… from those insignificant surface-dwellers?!*

Unashamedly greedy, Roth launched a full-scale assault. To hasten the archangel’s capture, he activated the Corrupted Nest—the Abyss’s core—corrupting and recruiting weak-willed humans as spies.

Proof came swiftly. Once mobilized, the Abyssal horde crushed all resistance. In mere years, Roth seized nearly a third of the surface realm. Excluding the southern wastes—long reduced to an ancient battlefield—the surviving races now clung to less than half their original lands.

Humans abandoned hope and fought desperately. Beastkin trembled, debating full retreat. Even the dragons, ever proud of their nobility, grew restless.

Roth was delighted—especially by the poisoning plot against the human Archangel of Supremacy. So pleased, he devoured several high-tier demon servants in joy.

"Rejoice! Leap for joy! To become scraps in my belly is your highest honor!"

Roth laughed heartily, his three golden pupils spinning gleefully.

But…

Just as he prepared to seize the archangel himself, an insolent, cowardly little worm had the audacity to ruin his mood.

"Don’t think slaying that worthless high-tier succubus means you’ve escaped my grasp, worm destined for my drill."

He’d lost the worm’s location a while ago—but Roth wasn’t worried. One twitch, even underground, and he’d teleport there instantly.

Where his tentacles reached was his domain of instant death.

Wait…

*What is this?*

A faint, intermittent scent of blood drifted through the wind. The moment Roth caught it, his three golden pupils blazed brilliantly.

"This scent… this scent…"

His demonic scales rippled wildly. His steel-drill tongue spun uncontrollably—a reflex of sheer ecstasy.

*Hssss… Haaa…!*

"Ahhh! Such exquisite sweetness! I’m so thrilled I’m… trembling!"

Drawn by the blood aura, he threw his arms wide, inhaling deeply. His already grotesque face twisted further—beyond any word’s power to describe.

"Is this the human Archangel of Supremacy the Elder God praised?!"

"I’ve finally found you!"

With a hoarse, unrestrained roar, Roth vanished into the night. Even the sky-churning demonic steel tentacles disappeared without a trace.

————————

Beneath the giant tree, Kroso urgently restored his mana.

He’d made other preparations too. He took the unprecedented threat of a Demon Lord deadly seriously.

Yet doubt lingered—would any of it be enough? He could only hope not to be ambushed when battle began.

Then…

*Crack… crack…*

A faint sound, like an eggshell breaking, echoed in his mind. Kroso’s eyes snapped open.