Chapter 636: Radiant Immortality 20
The Bottomless Abyss, layer 303, the Sulfur Lands.
Compared to the countless deeper Abyssal layers, the Sulfur Lands were relatively miniature. They were insignificant, not worth the attention of most demon princes or Demonic Dukes.
Plains of the Abyss, the Gaze Abyss, the Great Abyss, the Pit Demon Web...
Those layers were the true focus of many demon lords and even some deities, each vast beyond measure, their inhabitants seemingly endless.
But.
Calling the Sulfur Lands “miniature” only made sense next to those other vast layers.
In truth, even this unimpressive Sulfur Lands boasted a territory area that surpassed the combined lands of Bernardo, and it was home to countless demons.
And the entire Sulfur Lands, along with every demon within, crawled beneath the feet of the Lord of the Flame Prison.
The whole layer was shrouded in a sickly yellow poison smoke.
On the cracked ground flowed rivers of blazing sulfur, the air thick with an acrid burnt stench, each breath like swallowing red-hot iron sand. Ordinary mortal life from the Material Plane could not survive here for three seconds.
The Palace of Flame Demons rose in the center of this blasted land.
Where the lava rivers converged, the palace had been built from cooled magma and obsidian, its scaly spires piercing the smoke. A dark red glow flowed through the halls, the air warping like waves.
The throne was a naturally formed block of solidified lava.
A terrifying figure sat upon it.
He loomed like a silent volcano.
His eyes were two smoldering embers, faint tongues of flame licking within.
Wings spread behind him, dark red skin etched with fissured patterns, the cracks glowing orange-red. Demonic horns curled from his brow across his head, small bronze rings hanging from them.
His name was Asalia, a Barlo Flame Demon.
In the Sulfur Lands, he carried a far more famous title that made every demon bow.
Lord of the Flame Prison.
On the throne, the Lord of the Flame Prison closed his eyes in feigned sleep, embers of the eyes sinking into shadow.
Memories rose like undercurrents from the bottom of the sulfur river, boiling upward.
He had been born a Barlo Flame Demon, a high-blooded race among demons, yet he possessed a cunning beyond his kin, able to plan and think ahead.
In the Abyss, that was a rare trait.
This place was too chaotic and dangerous; demons cared about the immediate, and despised wasting time in thought.
Relentless, ever-changing slaughter filled every day. Demons lucky enough to live until tomorrow were rare; most lacked the spare breath to plan further.
They only knew devouring, destruction, annihilation.
But the Dragon Lord was different.
Knowing how to plan the future let him seek advantage and avoid harm, allowing him to slowly rise among his kind.
I learned to observe, to wait. I learned to reveal my strength at the right moment, and to hide my fangs when needed.
But that still wasn’t enough.
Before other demon lords even then, he could only bow and submit.
So, before the lord’s seat, he learned to bend, to crawl, to lick the other’s hoofprints with devout posture; he followed orders to war, delivering all spoils; he endured humiliation, lowering his horns to the lord’s laughter.
Asalia remembered those days.
Every bow, every kneel, every offering of spoils that should have been his — he remembered them all.
Not to remember the shame, but to remind himself that one day he would make them pay.
Everything was for the future.
Asalia kept his ambitions quiet, silently accumulating power to the brink.
In the shadows he hunted lone enemies and devoured their essence; he studied the lord’s weaknesses, sought every exploitable flaw; he even learned to disguise his true strength.
Then, he seized an opportunity and, beyond the lord’s expectations, broke through to Immortal.
Soon after, the Immortal Flame Demon walked into the lord’s palace.
This time, he did not kowtow.
He held his head high.
He devoured everything of the other.
Flesh, soul, potency, territory... the terrifying form of the Barlo Flame Demon became truly whole in that moment, a fire now fully his thrumming beneath charred skin.
The Abyss did not mourn the fall of an old king.
To higher beings, a new ruler in the Sulfur Lands was trivial. Demon lords were born and died daily; only the truly powerful had names remembered.
Now, a new king had risen, and the throne was his.
But how could a miniature layer bear his ambition?
Asalia slowly opened his eyes, flames burning deep in his pupils. He gazed beyond the palace at the endless smoke and scorched earth, his sight seeming to pierce plane barriers to look straight at the planet Bernardo.
“Life, souls, planets of the Material Plane.”
“They will be the finest sacrifices.”
The Lord of the Flame Prison murmured to himself, not hiding his greed or longing.
Understanding how to plan the future also means never being satisfied with the present.
He had once been unsatisfied merely to be a Barlo Flame Demon, unsatisfied to be a thug before a lord.
Now he would not settle for the throne of a miniature layer.
He wanted to become a higher lord, to ascend even to the level of a Demonic Duke or demon prince — those were the true rulers of the Abyss, their names sung or feared across countless planes.
For demons, promotion came by two main paths.
One was self-made.
Continuing war, hunting, accumulation, growing stronger, raising one’s life level and potency, taking further steps on the Path of Immortality.
This was the most direct route; every demon understood it.
Hunt stronger foes, devour more souls, amass power, break through, then hunt even stronger foes, and repeat.
But this path was long and perilous.
The other way was to rely on the Abyss itself.
Did the Abyss possess a will?
This question existed in the minds of many demons and even some gods, and different beings answered differently.
Asalia’s answer was: yes.
He believed the Abyss had not only a will, but a powerful, fiercely ambitious one.
Looking at the rise of powerful lords within the Abyss, he saw a clear pattern.
If a lord’s plan succeeded — if they could corrode and annex parts of the Material Plane or other layers, turning them into Abyssal extensions — that lord would then grow extraordinarily quickly, everything going smoothly.
It was as if the entire Abyss pushed from behind, sweeping away obstacles.
Like a gift in return from the Abyss itself.
Asalia wanted that gift.
He craved a higher tier.
Just as there were differences among the legendary, so too among gods and immortals.
Gods derived all from faith; their ranks were straightforward.
Post-demigod were simply categorized as lower, middle, upper gods. The Beast of Might worshipped by the Kantum Empire was a lower god.
Immortals differed by intent.
Those corresponding to demigods were simply called Immortals, with no extra prefix.
Above them were the Radiant Ones — Radiant Immortals.
The name said it all.
Beyond being immortal, your voice would echo across the multiverse, radiant like the Blazing Sun, vast like a decree; your name would appear in legends on countless planes, your will influencing worlds you’d never set foot on.
The Lord of the Flame Prison’s current objective was to become a Radiant Immortal.
For that, no cost would be spared; he would drag Bernardo into the Abyss and use that Material Plane world as a sacrifice to achieve his radiant grandeur.
“What should be my next breakthrough point?”
The Lord of the Flame Prison pondered inwardly.
At present, the situation on the Atlas Continent had reached a stalemate, failing to make a decisive breakthrough. But there wasn’t only one Atlas Continent on planet Bernardo.
He considered other entry points.
The problem was, the Material Plane’s barriers were not easy to tear...
Now only Atlas had any chance of forming a stable planar channel.
Asalia closed his eyes in thought.
One invasion plan after another surfaced in his mind and was crushed by his own judgment.
While he repeatedly weighed options, heavy footsteps sounded outside the hall.
A figure gradually appeared.
Its curved back stayed low, clawed feet scuffing the ground with each step producing faint hissing sounds.
It was a Vulture Demon.
One of the few lieutenants Asalia still allowed at his side to relay messages.
The demon halted before the throne, its whole body prostrating on the ground.
“O great Lord of the Flame Prison, master of the Sulfur Lands, incinerator of all things, an unfamiliar visitor waits beyond your domain, requesting an audience.”
Asalia opened his eyes, the two ember eyes flaring in his sockets.
“What sort of visitor?” he asked.
The Vulture Demon’s voice was hoarse as it said, “A Dragon Demon, a most unprecedented visage, at Great Demon rank.”
A Great Demon-rank Dragon Demon.
Appearing in his Sulfur Lands.
Asalia’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening.
A Great Demon was no ordinary figure.
In the demon hierarchy, a Great Demon was already a very high-tier existence.
And Dragon Demons were even rarer.
Dragon Demons were creations formed when a dragon’s soul fell into the Abyss and was warped and remolded by Abyssal will.
They combined ancient draconic arrogance with Abyssal filth and madness, exceedingly rare among the demon host; each birth marked an extreme fall or curse.
More importantly, there had never been a Dragon Demon in the Sulfur Lands.
Never.
That meant this Dragon Demon must have come from another Abyssal layer.
An envoy from another layer.
A rare Dragon Demon.
A faint, inscrutable smile spread across Asalia’s mouth.
“Dragon Demon... not common.”
“That is precisely why I found this matter unusual,” the Vulture Demon murmured in agreement.
Asalia reclined back on his throne. “Let it come forward. Let me see what message it bears.”
The Vulture Demon bowed and withdrew.
Moments later, the air at the palace doors began to warp.
The visitor stepped into the Palace of Flame Demons.
It walked on two feet, its scales the charred black of cooled lava, its skull bearing both dragon and demon features. Its snout was more pronounced than a demon’s, its horns bent back at a more perilous angle.
A pair of scaled wings had not fully folded, half spread and draped behind it.
Part dragon, part demon.
It stopped before the throne and dipped its huge head slightly in what passed for a salute.
“Dragon Demon from another place.”
“From which Abyssal layer do you hail?” Asalia asked directly.
He did not like beating around the bush, especially with an unknown guest.
The Dragon Demon’s voice was deep as it replied, “Honorable Lord of the Flame Prison, I come from the Ten-Thousand Abyssal Plains.”
Asalia’s pupils contracted a fraction.
The Ten-Thousand Abyssal Plains — the most renowned layer in the Abyss, bar none.
It was the Abyss’s highest echelon, a land of blood wars.
Here countless demons and devils engaged in eternal slaughter, chaos at its extreme. Lords rotated like lanterns; any demon who could survive there was no simple creature.
Asalia’s expression turned more solemn.
“Ten-Thousand Abyssal Plains.”
“That place is ever unrestful. Countless demons are born, fight, and die there in endless cycles. If you have come from that place to stand before me, it proves you are no ordinary being.”
“The lord’s praise humbles me,” the Dragon Demon said with words of modesty yet a calm voice, “but my arrival is not to boast of my prowess.”
“Oh?”
Asalia tilted his head. “Then why have you come?”
The Dragon Demon stepped half a pace forward, speaking in a low voice, “I come by command of the Lord of the Evil Dragons, to present to you, honorable Lord of the Flame Prison Asalia, a proposal of cooperation.”
On the throne, the two ember-eyes of the Lord of the Flame Prison flared to life, flames bursting from their sockets.
The hall’s temperature surged; attending demons shrank back, prostrating themselves in corners, afraid to look up.
The Lord of the Evil Dragons, the Chromatic Queen.
She dwelled in Avernus Hell, the deity of devils, not an Abyssal overlord.
This news was beyond expectation.
He had assumed the envoy came from some Abyssal lord seeking a share of Bernardo’s spoils.
But the Lord of the Evil Dragons?
“The Lord of the Evil Dragons dwells in Hell, the nest of devils.”
The Lord of the Flame Prison glowered down at the Dragon Demon, his voice low and dangerous: “One of Hell’s powerhouses now offers cooperation to an Abyssal demon lord? Why should I believe you?”
His body leaned forward slightly, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
The war between the Abyss and Hell, demons and devils, had raged for untold millennia, spanning multiversal history and consuming countless lives and souls.
A devil deity suddenly seeking cooperation smelled of strangeness no matter how one viewed it.
But the Dragon Demon showed no sign of panic.
It raised its head slightly and stared at the Lord of the Flame Prison.
“The Lord of the Evil Dragons well knows the blood feud between the Abyss and Hell, but she asked me to tell you this.”
“Speak.”
“Shared goals and interests can make mortal enemies lay down their weapons and sit at the same table.”
The Dragon Demon said, “The blood war between the Abyss and Hell is eternal, but that does not mean each individual must forever remain opposed.”
“The great Lord of the Evil Dragons frequently deals with demons; she sees no issue in such dealings.”
“Besides, the great Lord of the Evil Dragons is not a devil; she merely chose Hell as her lair.”
The flames in the Lord of the Flame Prison’s eyes contracted.
He was no fool to be swayed by a few words.
But what the Dragon Demon said was true.
The Lord of the Evil Dragons was not a devil; she had only made Hell her refuge. Over long ages her dealings with demons had likely been countless.
That did not mean he should trust her.
He considered, then asked, “Fine. What can the Lord of the Evil Dragons offer me? What does she want from my hand?”
The Dragon Demon bowed his head a little.
“The Lord of the Evil Dragons knows you have fixated your gaze on a Material Plane world called planet Bernardo.”
“She knows you have torn a rift open on the continent called Atlas, seeding it with your armies and will; she knows the campaign has stalled, and that prolonging it would introduce variables beyond control.”
The Lord of the Flame Prison narrowed his eyes.
The Dragon Demon continued.
“For that reason, the Lord of the Evil Dragons is willing to provide you with a rift.”
“A colossal Abyssal rift.”
“It has existed within planet Bernardo’s long years, embedded deep in that world’s fabric. Though it appears closed now, it still exists and goes unwatched, unguarded, without layers of seals or sentries.”
A ready-made, stable, extra-large Abyssal rift.
Asalia understood better than anyone what such a rift meant.
His breath grew heavier; he could almost smell the lure from the Material Plane.
Fresh souls, living life vibrating with hope and fear — all awaiting to be devoured by the Abyss.
And he, Asalia, Lord of the Flame Prison, could personally descend into the Material Plane.
Then every inch of Bernardo would be covered in sulfur, every river turned to lava, every soul becoming a rung on his ladder upward.
But what was the cost?
There is no free lunch.
The Lord of the Evil Dragons was no philanthropist; her price would not be small.
The Lord of the Flame Prison reined in his thoughts and asked, “What does the Lord of the Evil Dragons want from me?”
At this, the Dragon Demon grinned, baring a maw of sharp teeth.
“The Lord of the Evil Dragons’ demand is simple. She wants a Legendary who currently resides on Atlas.”
“Simple?”
Asalia did not ask who.
His mind flashed like lightning, countless pieces of information converging and colliding.
Atlas, a Legendary, one the Lord of the Evil Dragons had targeted... there was only one answer.
“The Red Emperor of Aola, Scarlet Emperor Cangxing, the Undying Dragon.”
The Lord of the Flame Prison spoke.
Only one Legendary would draw the attention of the Lord of the Evil Dragons.
The Dragon Demon emitted a low chuckle.
“You are indeed wise and exceptional, Lord of the Flame Prison. The Lord of the Evil Dragons thinks highly of you; she believes you have a chance to become one of the Demonic Dukes or princes.”
Asalia ignored the praise.
He spoke slowly: “The Red Emperor is no ordinary Legendary.”
He regarded the Red Emperor with equal seriousness.
“Honorable Lord of the Flame Prison, everything has a price. The key is whether the lord deems the price worth paying.”
The Dragon Demon said, “You are a being who understands calculation, or you would not sit upon this Sulfur Lands’ throne. The choice is yours.”
The Lord of the Flame Prison did not answer immediately.
Cooperating with the Lord of the Evil Dragons meant a cost beyond her stated request; everyone knew this evil deity could not be trusted.
Yet on the other hand, the campaign had stagnated for too long.
If things continued, unforeseeable variables might arise.
For instance, other demon lords could intervene.
Those greedy bastards, once they learned Bernardo was a feast, would swarm it; or a being could emerge on Bernardo the likes of which he could not handle alone.
A ready-made rift might be the opportunity he had waited for.
Countless thoughts roiled like boiling magma. The Lord of the Flame Prison sank into deep thought. Across from him, the Dragon Demon stood silent, patient, awaiting his decision.