Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 1138: Things Escalated Fast

In Are’s hand, he held a small jar, ancient and cracked, from which a faint, ominous smoke curled. "In this jar are the grievances—the prayers of mortals, twisted and perverted. Prayers for death, for greed, for suffering. Curses and wishes for evil disguised as devotion. We call it the Jar of Abominable Prayers. It is molten poison, the essence of everything vile whispered in the name of gods."

He sneered in disgust, his voice filled with contempt for the humans below.

Ares gave a curt nod, and the gods moved swiftly to hold Perseus in place. Struggling against their divine strength was futile, his powers were being suppressed by their chains; Perseus was pinned with ease, arms forced still as Ares approached with the jar of vile liquid in hand. The stench alone was sickening, a putrid mix that made the air heavy with dread.

Without a word, Ares dipped his hand, fetching some of it with a special cup, and let the foul substance drip, slowly, deliberately, onto Perseus’s exposed arm. The moment it touched his skin, angry red boils began to form almost instantly, bubbling and swelling grotesquely.

Then came the burning.

The skin on Perseus’s arm sizzled, charred black in patches, and the liquid seeped deeper, corroding muscle and gnawing its way into bone. Despite everything Perseus had endured over his lifetime, this pain was beyond anything he had experienced. His body trembled under the agony, but still, he refused to scream. Instead, he groaned deeply, his teeth clenched tight, his face flushed red from the strain as sweat poured down his brow.

Crusher, kneeling helplessly beside him, cursed at Ares, fury etched on his face. "You gods are nothing but backstabbing idiots!" he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. His eyes burned with defiance, but it was tinged with helplessness as he watched Perseus suffer.

Ares, unbothered, chuckled darkly at the insult. "Oh, Crusher," he said with mock sympathy, "if you’re feeling left out, I’d be more than happy to share the experience."

Without hesitation, Ares turned and poured the sickening contents of the jar onto Crusher’s arm as well.

The torment of Perseus and Crusher was on display for the entire world to witness. Morgana and Insect-B, watching from the skies, saw it unfold. Despite Morgana’s usual indifference toward Perseus, the sight of him being tortured by Ares still vexed her deeply. Insect-B, on the other hand, was consumed by rage—Crusher was her mate, and seeing him suffer ignited a primal fury in her.

For a moment, it seemed as though nothing would change. The gods had the upper hand, and their cruelty seemed boundless. But then, from the heart of the Regent’s city, a massive holographic image was projected into the sky. It was Father Black.

Ares, noticing the projection, paused, a twisted smirk forming on his face. "It would seem a little convincing was all that was needed," he sneered, anticipating a plea for surrender.

But instead of begging, Father Black stood there, calm and casual. For a brief moment, it appeared as though he might ask for mercy, and then his expression changed. He grinned mischievously, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hand and rolled his finger into a mocking "FUCK YOU!"

The insult echoed in the skies like a thunderclap. The gods roared in fury, their dignified facades shattered by the audacity of the gesture. Cries of outrage rang out from the divine assembly. Many of them, their faces contorted in anger, turned to Ares and demanded, "Kill them! End them both! Now!"

Ares, his expression darkened by rage, clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the jar of abominable prayers. The gods, incensed by Father Black’s defiance, wanted blood. The atmosphere tensed as the stakes of the battle climbed ever higher.

As the gods clamored for blood, one among them could no longer remain silent. Demeter, goddess of the Virgin flame and closest in her ties to humanity, felt a surge of emotion. The sight of Perseus and Crusher suffering was too much for her, but it wasn’t just sympathy for mortals that moved her—it was her complicated, unspoken relationship with Father Black. She had watched him defy Ares with that mocking gesture, but knew that he deeply cared for Crusher and Perseus, but was one to always make the difficult decison for the overall good.

Nevertheless, her midnight entangles with him had made her develop very deep feelings for him.

In an instant, Demeter sprang into action, her once calm demeanor shattering. With a swift kick, she launched herself toward Ares, flames igniting from her body in a sudden eruption of power. The fiery wave crashed into Ares, forcing him back and knocking the cursed jar from his hands. The jar flew across the battlefield, its contents spilling into the air, but the flames prevented it from doing further harm.

Just as Ares was thrown off balance, another figure joined the fray—Hera.

Normally she was reserved and indifferent to such conflicts, Hera had been waiting for the right moment. She too had a debt to the Lenny family, ever since they had helped her defeat the treacherous Loki. Now, that debt weighed on her. With calculated grace, she rushed to Demeter’s side, her regal presence undeniable.

Ares, stunned by the unexpected rebellion, rose to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. "You dare interfere!" he bellowed, but Hera stood firm, her eyes locked onto his with cold determination.

"The Lenny family spared us from Loki’s madness," Hera said, her voice calm yet commanding. "We owe them this much."

Demeter’s flames roared around them, a protective barrier forming as she cast a glance back at Perseus and Crusher, who were still reeling from their torment. "I won’t stand by while innocent lives are wasted for the gods’ petty schemes," she said fiercely.

The gods watching from above were stunned. Two of their own of high standing had broken rank. What had started as a brutal display of dominance was quickly unraveling into a civil war among the gods themselves.

Ares’ face twisted in disbelief, his disgust evident as he glared at Demeter and Hera, who stood defiant before him. "How dare you do this?" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very air around them. "Our kind is on the brink of annihilation! This is the only way!"

But Hera and Demeter remained unwavering, exchanging a solemn glance before speaking as one. "No."

Their refusal hung in the air like a dark cloud, the quiet defiance amplifying the tension. Ares’ frown deepened, and he turned to the gods behind him, searching for support among their ranks. His voice hardened as he turned back to the traitors. "Then know you leave us no choice but to declare your death."

The moment he raised his hand, pointing toward them, calling for the gods to strike, the sky darkened—not from storms but from something far more ominous. Suddenly, a disturbance rippled through the heavens, and all eyes turned upward.

High above, in the vastness of space just outside Earth, the forces of the Royal Demon families appeared. One by one, colossal ships materialized from the void, an entire armada descending upon the realm. Massive in scale and sinister in design, the fleet was a terrifying display of power, each vessel bearing the insignia of a demon Powers such as Baaldrith, Malachor, and even Lustrinia’s banner among them.

The gods, who had been moments away from attacking Hera and Demeter, now faltered, their attention drawn to the overwhelming force gathering above Earth.

Ares’ hand, still raised, trembled for a moment before he lowered it. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as the ships continued to emerge from the void, filling the space above like a sea of darkness blotting out the stars....