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*****
{Chapter: 74: Ascension in the Lava Wasteland}
After adapting to the strange currents of the sky for a while, Dex hovered steadily, his four slender, barbed wings stirring the hot, sulfur-laden air with lazy ease.
The crimson mist from his transformation had long been absorbed, but remnants of his awakening still clung faintly to the surrounding atmosphere, tinting the sky an eerie blood-red wherever he flew.
Dex narrowed his eyes. His gaze, empowered by the [Void Breaking Eye], easily encompassed the land within dozens of kilometers, every detail from the cracked ground to the shifting magma rivers visible in perfect clarity. The whisper of every heartbeat, the rustle of every wingbeat or claw against the earth—nothing could escape him.
Within moments, his senses locked onto a promising target.
A faint movement, a flicker of aura—some pitiful creature trying to mask its presence underground.
A twisted grin spread across Dex's scaled face.
With a single thought, he adjusted his wings. His body twisted sharply in midair, and then—like a meteor guided by malice—he launched himself straight toward the unsuspecting prey below.
---
Beneath the scorched surface, hidden under more than ten meters of brittle rock and dirt, a creature named Clo twitched his sensitive limbs.
Clo was a spider demon, classified as a [Lower Demon] by the crude standards of the Abyss. Though hardly among the elite, he ruled his little patch of wasteland with impunity, terrorizing the smaller beasts and weaker demons that dared to tread into his domain.
Today had been a good day for Clo. He had already completed three hunts, trapping two scorpion demons and a sluggish stone crawler. His bloated abdomen throbbed with satisfaction, about fifty percent full, enough to make him lazy but not enough to quell his hunger.
Carefully, Clo shifted his spindly frame, each of his hair-lined limbs twitching in response to the delicate vibrations of the surface above him. His body, covered in tiny sensory hairs, was a perfect instrument for detecting movement. Even a creature no larger than a pebble would send shivers through the ground that Clo could sense.
Clo's simple mind churned lazily. Based on previous experiences, it was about time for a roaming herd of skeletal demons to pass through his territory. He detested them—huge, slow, made entirely of dense bone. Hard to kill, dangerous when provoked, and worst of all, barely any meat worth sinking his fangs into.
No, better to slink away before they arrived. Better to conserve his energy for softer, juicier prey.
As he prepared to burrow deeper into the side tunnel, his instincts screamed.
Something… massive… something alien… was descending from the sky.
Clo's eight eyes widened in primal fear. His survival instincts, honed over countless cycles, urged him to hide, to burrow, to flee deeper into the abyssal earth.
But he was too slow.
The air above him split with a deafening roar, and before Clo could even twitch his limbs, the ground exploded inward. Dust and rocks flew in all directions. From the shattered ceiling, a flaming claw wreathed in soul-devouring bloodfire struck downward.
Impact.
The world blurred. Clo's vision filled with the image of a monstrous figure descending from the skies like a judgment from the abyss itself.
Agony seared through him as the claw punctured his armored skull effortlessly. His soul, barely anchored to his body, was torn free in a screaming blaze of crimson energy.
Clo could only shriek silently as he was lifted out of his own corpse, trapped within the iron grasp of his slayer.
---
Dex stood calmly in the smoldering crater he had created, his massive form outlined against the churning magma flows behind him.
Without ceremony, he crushed Clo's struggling soul into his palm, absorbing it into himself.
Knowledge—memories—experiences—poured into Dex's mind like a filthy, broken stream. He sorted through it dispassionately, allowing the irrelevant, fragmentary memories to burn away in the soul flames.
What remained were the few useful scraps of information:
This was the 6548257th layer of the Abyss, a plane known as the Lava Wasteland.
A world where night never fell. A domain ruled by the eternal glare of fire and magma, illuminated by rivers of molten rock that crisscrossed the land like glowing arteries.
The ruler of this infernal realm was a Demon Lord named Karto, though the spider demon had never seen him personally—only heard whispers among the lower demons.
The very "land" was treacherous, barely solidified volcanic dust and crust, floating atop endless seas of lava. Everything here—the air, the soil, even the rain—was imbued with unbearable heat.
Clo's memories also held rumors of the center of this layer—a place so distant and perilous that no lower demon had ever dared approach.
In his memory, according to the descriptions of other lower-level demons, it would take about 1,344 hourglass hours to reach there by flying continuously at a speed several times faster than sound.
Dex mused for a moment, calculating.
He turned his gaze to the distance and casually extended a claw. A tiny orb of blood-red flame condensed on his fingertip and shot outward like a bullet.
It traveled far—until it detonated with a deafening boom against a distant rock outcrop.
A large hole several meters deep appeared there.
"Boom!!"
The explosion rippled outward, scattering molten dust into the sweltering air.
Dex tilted his head slightly, listening carefully. The time it took for the shockwave to return was almost instantaneous.
'Speed of sound… 967 meters per second.'
Based on the distance of the explosion and the time it took for the sound to reach his location, Dex calculated the speed of sound in this layer of the abyss.
Then he compared the time calculations of both sides and concluded that one hour here is equal to roughly equivalent to three Earth hours.
Finally, the actual distance between the center area and himself appeared in Dex's mind.
Thus, the center of the abyssal layer wasn't as far as it seemed at first glance.
He smiled—a savage, confident smile.
To a lesser demon like Clo, the center was a death sentence. To a [Middle Demon] like Dex—newly evolved, his soul and body reforged in the crucible of transformation—it was merely a journey.
He flexed his wings, feeling the power ripple through him. His scaled exoskeleton gleamed with sinister light under the eternal flame of the wasteland.
If he had remained a [Lower Demon], perhaps caution would have been necessary.
But now? Now he stood among the true predators of the abyss.
In a demon army, he would be a captain at the very least, leading others with iron claws and burning rage. Here, in the lawless wilderness of the Lava Wasteland, he was the one who decided who lived and who died.
This was the strength Dex had accumulated across countless battles—millions of lives fought, killed, and swallowed, only to rise stronger.
Even with the help of the mysterious system he had acquired, the power he wielded was the product of relentless struggle. It was proof he was no waste of life, no coward cowering in the dark corners of the Abyss.
He could act with caution when necessary, calculating risks, measuring threats—but there was no longer any need for fear.
Fear was for prey, not predators.
After settling his resolve, Dex slowly floated upward. His massive form lifted off the scorched earth as if weightless, carried by an invisible force of anti-gravity that rippled faintly around him.
With only the barest glance to find the right direction, he pointed himself toward the distant target and accelerated.
A shrill whistle erupted, followed by deafening sonic booms that split the air. His figure blurred, becoming a streak of flame and shadow that tore across the bleak, molten sky at speeds that shattered the sound barrier again and again.
The wind roared against the desolate landscape of the Lava Wasteland. The broken remnants of Clo's corpse, crushed deep into the magma-baked ground, were left far behind without even a second look. In this place, weakness was death, and the dead were forgotten almost instantly.
---
276 hourglass hours later...
Dex's journey was long and grueling, marked only by the endless flow of molten rivers and the jagged remains of ancient volcanic mountains.
But at last—on the burning horizon—he saw it.
Towering above the hellish terrain was a city.
Not a ruin. Not a village of savage tribes. A true civilized creation, forged by the demonic inhabitants of this infernal world.
An unexpected thrill shot through Dex's heart as he caught the first distant glimpse of it.
"So this... is demon civilization," he murmured to himself, unable to hide a flicker of awe.
Even though he was still miles away, just laying eyes on the outline of the city caused something strange to happen—runes and sigils he had never seen before lit up in his mind's eye, and detailed maps of the city's entrances, pathways, and structures unfolded before his consciousness.
It was as if some ancient, invisible force had reached out and gently tugged at his mind, guiding him toward the heart of the demon city.
"A guidance spell," Dex realized. "Built directly into the city itself. Like a lighthouse drawing ships to harbor..."
His respect grew immediately. To place such a subtle yet powerful magical effect over such a vast region—this was not the work of mindless beasts or brute demons. This was craftsmanship, knowledge, and power combined.
He pushed onward, eager now, his wings slicing the thick sulfurous winds as he crossed the last great lava rivers separating him from the city.
As he drew closer, the true scale of the city became clear—and it was far beyond anything Dex had ever imagined.
The outer walls alone stretched farther than his vision could trace, vanishing into the red mist on either side. They were carved from massive slabs of dark red basalt, reinforced with veins of blackened iron and embedded with razor-sharp obsidian spikes.
The sheer size was mind-boggling. Each individual spike was larger than a watchtower, each stone the size of a small mountain.
And the height—
Dex craned his head upward, stunned. The walls soared into the churning sky for what must have been ten thousand meters or more. A titanic fortress, standing defiant amidst an endless sea of molten magma.
Compared to it, Dex felt like an ant staring up at a colossal god.
"Incredible," he breathed. "A true masterpiece of the Abyss..."
It was a city built not just for defense, but for dominance. For pride. For eternity.
The city was alive in its own way. Great chains creaked and groaned across the gates. Watchtowers fashioned from the fused bones of ancient behemoths loomed overhead. Occasionally, massive shadows flitted across the blood-red sky—winged patrols, sentries of the demon lord's army, keeping constant watch for threats.
Despite all his power, Dex moved more cautiously as he approached.
This was not a place where lone travelers could afford arrogance.
---
Several hourglass hours later, Dex stood before the main city gate.
It was a monstrous creation—an archway fashioned entirely from polished bones, gleaming under the burning sky. The gate itself soared thousands of meters tall, a grotesque monument to slaughter.
*****
"By now, you've probably heard that India has launched missiles toward Pakistan. I live in India — and while the chances of a full retaliation are low, if one does happen, my city, Jaipur, would likely be a primary target.
So, if you don't hear from me for the next fifteen days, there's a chance I'm either lying in a hospital bed… or I've left this world altogether.
Until then… take care."