Devil Slave (Satan system)



The undead army had retreated and their magi stepped forward, their hollow eyes gleaming with an unholy purple fervor. With terrible meaty a tear upon their own flesh, black blood dripped to the ground, staining the earth with a malevolent hue. 

Their voices, low and rhythmic, echoed through the night, a haunting chant that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the wasteland. In unison, the magi all chanted the same spell, their voices harmonizing with an eerie melody that sent shivers down the spines of any who heard it.

The black blood, thick and viscous, flowed from the wounds of the magi, snaking its way across the ground like creeping tendrils of shadow. 

As it spread, it formed intricate crop circles, sigils of ancient power etched into the very fabric of reality. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron and decay, the acrid tang of the undead mingling with the earthy aroma of the soil tainted by negative magic.

With each chant, the temperature in the night dropped further, the once-chill air turning frigid. 

Frost coated the already-dried earth, and the breath of the living hung in the air like ghostly apparitions. 

The very atmosphere seemed to thicken as if the nether realm itself was reaching out to claim the world in its icy grasp. The stars above flickered, their light dimmed by the encroaching darkness.

Clawed, watched in astonishment as the magi's ritual unfolded before his eyes. His eyes widened with realization as he understood the magnitude of the danger this undead army now posed.

 The portal to the nether realm, formed by the twisted magic and the sacrifice of the magi, loomed like a gaping maw, a gateway to a realm of grotesque forms and unspeakable horrors.

From the portal, creatures of nightmarish proportions began to emerge. 

Their forms were a grotesque fusion of twisted limbs, oozing flesh, and glowing eyes that glinted with malevolence. They crawled out of the portal like shadows given life, their movements sinuous and unnatural. The ground trembled beneath their weight, and the air seemed to hum with their otherworldly presence.

A bone-chilling wail pierced the silence of the night as the nether creatures slithered out of the portal, their voices a cacophony of anguish and hunger. 

The very ground seemed to writhe beneath their feet, as if recoiling from their foul touch. The wasteland now roiled with chaotic energy, the boundary between the mortal realm and the nether realm blurred by the magi's dark ritual.

Clawed, despite his astonishment, steeled himself for the battle ahead. His eyes narrowed with determination, and his claws flexed in readiness. He knew that the fight against these nether creatures would be a battle like no other. With a deep breath, he braced himself, his heart pounding with the adrenaline of imminent combat. 

"I don't know how the fuck you can pull such an abomination, but I'm not letting you fucktards have your way," He waved his hands and then his body followed. 

His legs curved through the sand as he made a symbol of beneath him, taking a stance.

The moment he did this, his hands glowed with an otherworldly light as profound cosmic energy was pulled his way. 

The ground beneath him shook as he released his aura, the brazen force of a powerhouse that was only half a step into the Great Demon rank. 

The very atmosphere seemed to shake in his wake, and the moment his aura was released fully, even the Nether creatures recoiled a bit in acknowledgment of his power.

If Lenny was here, he would have immediately recognized this fighting stance that Clawed used.

After all, he was quite fond of it. It was the O Gasume Stance. 

 Clawed's eyes glowed with cosmic energy, illuminating the darkness around him like distant stars in the night sky. The air crackled with velvety energy as he conjured his cosmic sword, its blade shimmering with iridescent hues.

The battle began with a deafening clash as Clawed's sword met the obsidian claws of the first nether creature. The sound echoed across the barren landscape, sending tremors through the ground. Cosmic energy swirled around Clawed, forming a protective barrier that glowed like a halo, shielding him from the malevolent aura of the nether creatures.

With a swift motion, Clawed lunged forward, his cosmic sword cutting through the air with a sound akin to a comet streaking through the heavens. The blade met the grotesque form of the nether creature, slicing through its shadowy figure. Dark energy dispersed into the night, leaving behind a lingering scent of sulfur and decay.

As more nether creatures approached, Clawed spun, his cosmic sword becoming a whirlwind of near-celestial power. Each strike was met with a burst of stardust, illuminating the battlefield in fleeting bursts of brilliance. The clash of metal against shadow reverberated through the air, accompanied by the low growls of the nether creatures and the occasional roar of triumph from Clawed.

By now, the Werewolves had made it back to the safety of the walls. They watched the happenings of the battlefield from their positions, filled with awe at what they saw...

The ground beneath Clawed's feet vibrated with the intensity of the battle. His movements were a dance of deadly grace, his swordsmanship a testament to years of training and unwavering resolve. The scent of burnt ozone filled the air as cosmic energy crackled around him, forming a protective barrier that repelled the onslaught of the nether creatures.

With each swing of his cosmic sword, Clawed carved through the enemy ranks. The hiss of dissipating nether energy and the shattering of shadowy forms filled the night. The battlefield was bathed in a surreal glow, the cosmic energy casting long, wavering shadows that danced like specters in the moonlight.

As the battle raged on, Clawed's movements became a blur of cosmic light and swift strikes. His cosmic sword became an extension of himself.

The battle seemed to stretch into eternity, a clash of cosmic forces and nether energies that echoed through the wasteland. Clawed fought on, his every movement a testament to his unwavering determination. With a final, resounding strike, he cleaved through the last of the nether creatures, their forms dissolving into nothingness.

Breathing heavily, Clawed lowered his cosmic sword, its glow fading like a dying star. The wasteland, once a battleground, was now silent, save for the soft rustling of the wind. Clawed stood victorious amidst the remnants of the nether creatures, his eyes still glowing with cosmic energy.

He had dealt with all the nether creatures. Now, it was time to do the same for the undead army. 

However, the most unbelievable thing happened. The mutated undead creatures pushed forward large boxes. 

These boxes were opened to reveal magic stones filled up to the brine. 

Magic stones were used for a lot of things, making armor, runes, potions, and even mark human skin as currency. They were gotten from the nests of very old mutated beasts that had started to draw upon cosmic energy into their bodies.

Although these things had very useful energy, the power in them was too raw and potent, and as such, were considered to be very dangerous. 

However, before Clawed's very eyes, The Magi dug into the pile of magic stones and...