Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 1185: Belakor Of Abaddon

Perseus’s hand traced the blade, a knife at his side.

He had carried it just in case of emergency, and it seemed like it was about to be useful.

His magic was locked away thanks to the null field Tomato had cast, but his instincts and combat skills were sharp.

He had to rely on them now, more than ever.

The shadow demons swarmed him in the flickering chaos of the Non-Zone’s core, their ethereal forms undulating like living shadows.

Their movements were swift, and deliberate, their attacks meant to distract him while one figure loomed in the distance. The elder demon. Perseus recognized him immediately.

The demon emerged from the darkness, his eyes glowing a deep, venomous red. "It’s been a while, Perseus," the elder’s voice slithered through the air, thick with malice. "I had hoped we wouldn’t cross paths again."

Perseus narrowed his eyes, gripping his knife tighter as he wiped the blood from his face. "Belakor," he spat, the name tasting bitter in his mouth. "Still playing the same games after all these years? This time you won’t walk away."

Belakor was an elder of the Abaddon family of destruction who had clashed with Perseus before.

Their battles were legendary in the demon world, and Perseus knew exactly what he was up against. This shadow demon wasn’t just dangerous—he was cunning, always a step ahead. And now, with the orb in play, Perseus felt the stakes had never been higher.

Belakor smirked. "You’ve grown stronger, but I see you’ve still not mastered restraint. Besides, Without magic...." he chuckled, "you’re barely a threat."

Perseus grinned despite himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I don’t need magic to beat you."

The demons closed in, forcing Perseus into hand-to-hand combat.

He sidestepped a clawed swipe, delivering a sharp elbow into one of the demon’s necks before spinning and driving his knife into its ribcage. The null field kicked in, making the demon temporarily tangible, just long enough for the blade to sink in and dissipate the shadow form with a sickening hiss.

Perseus fought with practised precision, his movements a fluid dance of lethal strikes and dodges. He’d spent years honing his skills, but these were not just his techniques. He had learned, adapted, after watching Lenny, the true demon hunter that had become legend.

Lenny’s moves had been fast, brutal, and unrelenting, gifts bestowed upon him by the Satan system.

Perseus had emulated those same moves, and now, with nothing but his strength and a knife, he used them to devastating effect.

He spun low, slashing at the legs of another demon before flipping the blade in his hand and driving it into the chest of the next. His muscles burned, but his mind was sharp, focused. Each strike was calculated, each breath measured. Perseus knew he couldn’t afford to slow down.

"Impressive," Belakor’s voice oozed from the shadows, "But your efforts are in vain. The orb will be ours."

"Not if I can help it!" Perseus roared, lunging at the head demon with ferocity. He swung his blade, aiming to end this once and for all, but Belakor caught his wrist with a single hand, twisting it painfully.

"You always were too predictable," Belakor said, his smile widening as his shadowy form twisted around Perseus like a snake. "This time, my Abaddon family wins."

Perseus struggled, driving a knee into Belakor’s ribs, freeing himself momentarily. But then he saw it—two shadow demons slipping past him, heading straight for the orb. "No!" Perseus growled, shoving Belakor aside.

He sprinted, his heart pounding in his chest as the demons reached the orb, now glowing at 90%. He was close—so close. He threw his knife, the blade spinning through the air and striking one of the demons in the back. The null field worked, forcing the demon to become solid, and for a moment, Perseus thought he had won.

But it was too late. The other shadow demon grabbed the orb, its form flickering as it melded with the darkness.

"Perseus!" Belakor’s voice echoed with triumph as the demon holding the orb disappeared into the void, vanishing with the essence of creation.

Perseus could do nothing but watch as the orb was taken. His fists clenched, blood dripping from his cuts. He had fought as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough. They had taken it.

Belakor chuckled, his form dissolving into shadow as he taunted Perseus one last time. "Better luck next time, Perseus... if there is a next time."

The demon elder faded into the chaos of the Non-Zone, leaving Perseus standing alone, breathing heavily, his body battered but his resolve unbroken. They had the orb now, but Perseus knew this wasn’t the end.

Perseus rushed back to the ship with all the strength he could muster, his body aching from the brutal fight. As he approached, he saw that the shadow demons were already retreating into the void, fading into the dark chaos of the Non-Zone.

The pressure on Tomato had finally eased. She stood at the helm, her hands trembling just a bit from exhaustion, but her eyes still sharp as she surveyed the surroundings.

"Perseus!" Tomato called out, her voice a mixture of concern and frustration. "What about the orb?"

Perseus approached her calmly, wiping the blood from his brow. "Don’t worry about it," he said, his voice steady. He turned to Branch, who had been gripping the ship’s control with white-knuckled fear. "Set a course out of the Non-Zone. Full speed."

Branch blinked in confusion but quickly followed the order, punching in coordinates and adjusting the ship’s trajectory. Tomato, however, wasn’t so easily convinced.

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at Perseus. "What do you mean, ’don’t worry about it’? You lost it, didn’t you?"

Perseus didn’t answer immediately, but instead reached into his jacket and pulled out a fine bottle, wrapped in a intricate castling device. The same one victor had given him. Tomato’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"Oh, no," she muttered under her breath. "I don’t mind a good drink, Perseus, but even I know this isn’t the time to be indulging in alcohol."

Perseus ignored her protests, his focus entirely on the castling device. He began making a series of hand signs, movements swift and precise. He finished with a sharp clap, and the casting glowed with a soft, low light.

In an instant, the stolen orb reappeared in front of them, hovering in the air, while the wine bottle disappeared.

Tomato gasped, her jaw dropping. "What—how?"

Just then, a roar of pure, furious anger echoed from the void, the elder demon’s voice reverberating through the ship’s hull. The scream of rage was unmistakable—Belakor had realized what had happened.

Perseus turned to Tomato with a wry smile, though there was a seriousness in his eyes. "I let them take it," he explained. "I knew they would retreat the moment they had the orb, thinking they’d won. It gave me a chance to get back to the ship, regroup, and survive. The castling device Victor gave me was my ace. I just swapped the orb with the bottle."

Tomato blinked, still processing what had just happened. "You... tricked them?"

Perseus nodded. "Exactly. Sometimes, winning isn’t about fighting harder, it’s about making them think they’ve already won."

A mixture of relief and admiration crossed Tomato’s face, though she tried to hide it behind a smirk. "I guess you’re not as reckless as you look."

Perseus laughed softly, his eyes drifting toward the retreating shadow demons in the void. "I wouldn’t count on that just yet."