Chapter 12.5: Third time’s the Charm (5)

  Lucifer, Kane, the Demon Lords, Wrath, Pride, and Greed watched the exchange with identical expressions—

  The kind one reserved for a married couple arguing in public.

  Gluttony slowly turned his head toward Sloth after hearing his complaint about “gentleness.”

  There was a pause.

  Then—without warning—Gluttony grabbed Sloth by the collar and hurled him with monstrous force toward the elven army.

  He turned immediately, bowed respectfully toward Lucifer, and leapt into the battlefield himself without another word.

  Lucifer brought a hand to his face and sighed.

  The company I keep…

  Sloth crashed into the centre of the elven formation like a falling boulder.

  The ground shattered on impact.

  Dust and debris exploded outward, knocking nearby elves off balance.

  When the smoke cleared, Sloth lay half-embedded in a shallow crater.

  He groaned.

  “…Ow.”

  As he lazily pushed himself up, he realized he was completely surrounded.

  Dozens of elven warriors stood in a perfect ring around him, bows drawn, arrows already infused with mana and aimed directly at his head.

  For a brief moment, no one moved.

  Sloth raised both hands slightly.

  “Hold on… this is clearly a misunderstanding.”

  He brushed dust off his shoulder casually.

  “I really shouldn’t be here right now. So I’ll just… take my leave.”

  He turned as if to walk away.

  Every bowstring tightened simultaneously.

  Before anyone could loose their arrows—

  A massive presence descended.

  Gluttony slammed down beside Sloth, the ground cracking again beneath his weight.

  The elves nearest to them staggered backward from the shockwave.

  Gluttony glanced sideways at Sloth.

  “Could you stop trying to escape your responsibilities?” he rumbled. “We have direct orders from the Demon King to eliminate these elves.”

  Sloth sighed deeply, shoulders slumping.

  “Direct orders… huh…”

  He looked around at the hundreds of elven soldiers aiming at them with disciplined resolve.

  “This is going to be troublesome.”

  An elven commander stepped forward, blade drawn.

  “Loose!”

  The sky above Sloth and Gluttony darkened as a storm of arrows was released at once.

  Sloth looked up lazily.

  “…How exhausting.”

  And the arrows never reached them.

  “Well… since it’s a direct order, it can’t be helped,” Sloth said lazily, scratching his cheek.

  “I’d rather face a thousand of you alone than deal with our King when he’s annoyed.”

  He yawned mid-sentence.

  “So unfortunately for you… that means you have to die.”

  A faint crimson mist began to seep from his body.

  At first, it looked harmless—thin, almost translucent.

  Then it spread.

  The elves closest to him staggered. Their grips on their bows weakened. Knees buckled. Vision blurred.

  One by one, they began to sway as though their bodies had suddenly grown unbearably heavy.

  “What is—?!” one commander shouted before dropping to a knee.

  The mist wasn’t poison.

  It wasn’t magic in the conventional sense.

  It was exhaustion made manifest.

  An oppressive lethargy that invaded muscle, bone, and even mana flow itself.

  The elves reacted quickly despite the effect.

  “Fire!”

  Another storm of arrows shot forward—this time aimed at both Sloth and Gluttony.

  Gluttony stepped ahead slightly.

  His jaw widened unnaturally.

  The incoming arrows bent mid-air as though dragged by invisible force—and were swallowed whole in a single motion. Wood, mana, iron—devoured completely.

  Gluttony chewed once.

  “Too light,” he muttered.

  From that moment on—

  The slaughter began.

  Elven formations crumbled under Sloth’s spreading mist. Warriors collapsed before even being struck. Those who resisted found Gluttony upon them instantly, crushing, devouring, tearing through ranks without slowing.

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  Sloth walked forward casually, hands in his sleeves, the red haze expanding with each step.

  Entire squads fell unconscious before they could even scream.

  Gluttony handled the rest.

  From the distant hilltop, Kane observed the devastation.

  “They argue constantly… but they are an effective pair.”

  Wrath folded his arms.

  “Don’t let Gluttony hear you say that.”

  Kane tilted his head. “Why?”

  “He’ll deny it for hours,” Wrath replied flatly. “Then give you a long lecture about how he works better alone.”

  Despite the humour in the words, their eyes remained fixed on the battlefield.

  Where two Sins were systematically erasing an army.

  And the night was still far from over.

  Most of the elven warriors shifted their focus toward Sloth and Gluttony, recognizing them as the greatest immediate threats.

  Arrows rained relentlessly toward the two Sins.

  But divided attention was costly.

  They could not concentrate solely on them—not while demonic soldiers continued pressing from the front.

  Caught between the advancing demons and the oppressive presence of Sloth’s crimson mist, the elven formation began to falter. Lines broke. Commands overlapped. Precision gave way to survival.

  Even so…

  The Demonic army’s numbers were still dropping faster than those of the combined human and elven forces.

  They were holding their ground—

  But just barely.

  “My lord,” Kane said calmly, though his eyes remained sharp, “it seems we are still at a slight disadvantage.”

  Lucifer watched silently for a moment.

  “Hmmm… yes.”

  His gaze shifted slightly to his side.

  “Mephistopheles. I trust you prepared something for this scenario?”

  Mephistopheles smiled faintly, as if he had been waiting for that very question.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  He raised his hand, which slowly became enveloped in a deep violet aura—dense, refined, calculated power.

  Then—

  He snapped his fingers.

  A pulse rippled across the entire battlefield.

  Every remaining member of the Demonic army was suddenly coated in a shimmering purple aura. It clung to their bodies like a second skin, sinking into muscle and bone.

  Their eyes flared.

  Their veins darkened.

  The effect was immediate.

  Demonic soldiers who had been struggling began moving with explosive speed. Blades cut faster. Claws struck harder. Their durability increased drastically.

  Even those who had been on the brink of death—limbs broken, bodies pierced—rose back to their feet, wounds knitting just enough for movement.

  Then they roared.

  And charged.

  What followed was less of a counterattack and more of a rampage.

  Elven archers who had previously maintained flawless distance suddenly found demons closing the gap in heartbeats. Human knights bracing behind shields were smashed backward by raw, overwhelming strength.

  The battlefield tilted violently.

  Though the combined human and elven armies still outnumbered the demons—

  For the first time that night…

  The balance of power no longer favoured numbers.

  The transformation was absolute.

  The demons’ skin hardened, turning nearly metallic beneath the purple aura. Elven arrows shattered on impact. Even when they struck cleanly, they failed to pierce deeply.

  Human knights braced behind enchanted armour blessed with holy inscriptions—but the violet aura wrapped around the demons like a barrier, neutralizing the holy element on contact.

  Steel clashed.

  Holy light flickered.

  And then was swallowed.

  The battlefield descended into slaughter.

  Elven formations collapsed under brute force. Human shield walls were ripped apart. The Demonic army, once pressured, now advanced like an unstoppable tide.

  And just as the advantage tilted fully—

  The ground began to shake again.

  From the eastern ridge, war drums thundered.

  An entire army poured into the battlefield—scaled bodies glinting beneath moonlight, reptilian eyes burning with primal aggression.

  More than ten thousand lizard men charged forward in a unified roar, curved blades and jagged spears raised high.

  Kane exhaled slowly.

  “…How many more armies intend to join this war?”

  Even Lucifer’s eyes held a faint glimmer of interest now.

  “In merely six months… humanity has orchestrated alliances on this scale.”

  His gaze shifted lazily to one of the Sins standing nearby.

  “Greed.”

  Greed’s lips curled upward instinctively.

  “You’ve often complained about being restrained. You wished for a battlefield where you could run wild… did you not?”

  Greed’s grin widened.

  “Of course, my lord. I would relish nothing more than fighting to my heart’s content.”

  Lucifer gestured toward the charging reptilian army.

  “You see that army of lizards over there?”

  Greed followed his gaze.

  “Yes…”

  “Go enjoy yourself. No restrictions.”

  For a brief second, Greed hesitated—not from fear, but from calculation.

  “My lord… there are over ten thousand of them. Isn’t that somewhat—”

  Lucifer slowly turned his head toward him.

  “Greed.”

  The single word carried quiet weight.

  “You are one of the three most powerful Sins.”

  A faint, knowing smile touched Lucifer’s lips.

  “I assumed ten thousand would be… insignificant.”

  He tilted his head slightly.

  “Was I mistaken?”

  There was no hostility in his tone.

  Only expectation.

  Greed’s eyes sharpened immediately. His aura flared subtly, gold and crimson energy dancing around his frame.

  A slow grin spread across his face—wider than before.

  “…Heh.”

  He rolled his shoulders.

  “My lord…”

  He stepped forward, cracking his neck as he stared at the advancing sea of scales and steel.

  “You insult me.”

  The ground beneath his feet fractured.

  And in the next instant—

  Greed vanished.

  Reappearing directly in the path of the charging lizard men army.

  Alone.

  Facing ten thousand.

  His grin did not fade.

  “No, my lord,” Greed said quickly, raising his hands slightly. “It’s just… the number itself is absurd for one person.”

  Lucifer’s eyes sharpened.

  “One person?”

  The air grew heavier.

  “Well then, it is fortunate that you are not a person.”

  His voice echoed with authority.

  “You are Greed—one of the most powerful demons in all of Hell.”

  Greed straightened unconsciously.

  Lucifer continued, his tone almost casual—almost.

  “And do remember… neither Wrath nor Pride has ever personally brought down an army of that size.”

  A deliberate pause.

  “Imagine the achievement. A feat so overwhelming that it overshadows even theirs.”

  Silence lingered for half a heartbeat.

  Then Greed’s grin slowly widened.

  “…When you phrase it like that, my lord…”

  His aura flared, gold and crimson energy rippling outward.

  “How could I possibly refuse?”

  He bowed slightly in exaggerated courtesy, then excused himself. Vast demonic wings burst from his back, tearing the air with their force as he launched toward the sea of charging lizard men.

  Below, more than ten thousand reptilian warriors roared in unison—

  Unaware that they were about to become an opportunity.

  Behind him, the remaining Demon Lords stared in disbelief.

  Pride face palmed openly.

  “I cannot believe he fell for that.”

  Wrath folded his arms.

  “My lord… do you believe Greed might lose?”

  Lucifer’s gaze never wavered from the battlefield.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  Wrath exhaled.

  “I didn’t think so either. Still… he could have at least requested support. He may not fall, but ten thousand is not a trivial figure. And I doubt you would have refused him assistance.”

  Lucifer’s lips curved faintly.

  “That is true.”

  A brief pause.

  “But he is the incarnation of Greed for a reason.”

  Greed did not want help.

  He wanted ownership.

  Ownership of the victory.

  Ownership of the glory.

  Ownership of the achievement.

  And Lucifer understood that perfectly.

  At that moment, two familiar presences reappeared behind them.

  Envy and Lust landed gracefully, wings retracting as they bowed.

  “The archers have been eliminated, my King,” Envy reported.

  “Every last one,” Lust added with a satisfied smile.

  Lucifer nodded.

  “Well done.”

  The simple praise was enough.

  Both Sins visibly brightened.

  Meanwhile—

  Gluttony and Sloth continued their devastation among the elven forces. The crimson mist of exhaustion spread wider with each passing minute, and Gluttony’s endless consumption ensured no projectile or soldier that approached survived long.

  They were not struggling.

  Not even close.

  Far off in the distance—

  A golden-red explosion erupted as Greed collided head-on with the advancing lizard men army.

  The war had expanded.

  And yet, for Lucifer…

  It was all unfolding exactly as intended.

  The battlefield had become unrecognizable.

  Mountains of corpses rose like grotesque monuments—humans in shattered armour, elves pierced through their own fallen comrades, demons torn apart in vicious retaliation.

  The air was thick with iron and smoke.

  Screams overlapped with roars.

  Steel ground against bone.

  Magic detonated against hardened flesh.

  This war dwarfed any conflict before it.

  And yet—

  The Demons were prevailing.

  Despite their heavy losses, the purple aura still coursed through them, pushing them beyond their limits. The human and elven lines were buckling. Victory was within reach.

  Then—

  The eastern horizon trembled.

  A pressure descended that did not feel magical.

  It felt primal.

  Raw.

  Bloodlust—dense and suffocating—flooded the battlefield like a rising tide.

  Even seasoned demon soldiers faltered under its weight.

  Kane’s eyes narrowed.

  “No…”

  From the east, dust clouds split open.

  Towering figures emerged—fur, scales, claws, horns. Standards bearing the crest of the Beast Men Kingdom rose high above their ranks.