Round 38: Great Wings from Hell

No, it wasn’t just one ship. The second one was probably hidden by the first; it wasn’t until Moriel and her crew moved a little forward that the dark hull of the second ship suddenly appeared in the distance—only for a spatial distortion portal vortex to blur it out. A few seconds later, as if a corner of the gray curtain covering heaven and earth was torn aside, a third ship broke through the waves, appearing in the sorceress’s line of sight. Moriel could even make out the rusty buckles on the armor of its passengers… Then came the fourth ship.

This wasn’t the Main Material Plane, nor Deep Current City—there were simply too many ships coming and going.

“Hmph, what the hell is going on?” The succubus’s fair face also lost its luster in the dim light, as if covered in dust. “I hate these gray ruins—I need to lift my spirits. In my eyes, they’re second only to Bato Hell, almost on par with the Seven Heavens… Hey, wait! You really are bold, you know.”

She pointed at the shipman, a sly smile appearing on her face as she thought of tormenting him by exploiting his weakness. “Wasn’t that idiot ship earlier someone you tricked into thinking they could leave Kasseli, only to drag them to these gray ruins as cannon fodder? I knew it—you Yugros demons won’t rest until you sell everyone who does business with you, body and soul… But understand this: we’re not some inexperienced bunch of novices. You’ve already seen our strength. In the name of the Bottomless Abyss, do you really think you can just sit back and watch us suffer? After you send us to the front lines of battle, how can you guarantee you’ll get away unscathed?”

“They say Slag Toads have no necks and Tanali demons have no brains—there’s some truth to that.” The river dweller seemed to have anticipated this situation and continued rowing in his peculiar manner, unhurried. “I have no need to explain anything to you. If you don’t want to ride my ship, swim then. Can’t you even try to control your ridiculous chaotic nature? No wonder Miss Euryes of Bato can easily lure an entire city, even a whole nation, into corruption—while you bloodsuckers can only follow some deranged bandit leader and mess things up.”

The fastest and most effective way to anger a Tanali is to say it’s inferior to Batoz; the fastest and most effective way to anger a woman is to say she’s worse than another woman—when both conditions are met, the anger unleashed could dry up the River of Death.

“Absolute nonsense!” The succubus leaped to her feet, her eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Those traitors who escaped from the upper realms, those wretched feathered creatures? Do you think they’re wonderful? Are there ducks on the River of Darkness? How did you develop such a disgusting interest? Fine, then explain to me—what’s with those entropy ships over there? And those armies on board? Did they come to the Gray Wastes just for a one-day trip to experience ‘triple depression’? They’re… damn it! They’re soldiers from Bartzu’s hell! You want to kill me—do you think this will make me cry? That you can just stand by and laugh at it? Dream on!”
The boatman thrust the oar hard into the water, stopping the boat sideways. “Sit down! You’re making the boat shake! Do you want everyone to fall into the river?”
“Stop arguing,” Morriel interjected, ending the dispute between the two demons, her gaze shifting away from the devilish fleet. “Captain, please forgive my boldness—but I believe you understand that we can continue our journey as long as we follow your instructions. But personally, I simply can’t accept walking around with my eyes covered.”
“Hmph.” The boatman gritted his teeth and started rowing. “Of course I understand, mighty mage lady. Yes, the Gray Wastes are the lowest point of the lower realms—a desolate wasteland, a battlefield of bloodshed, one of the worst places in the multiverse. But I’m not going to abandon you here… Well, I admit, it’s different with those passengers who died at your hands—after all, they only paid enough to leave Kasseli. But you’re different; you’ve been paid double, and I’m very satisfied.”
“But that doesn’t mean I can take you along a scenic route. The River of Darkness in Kasseli flows toward the Gray Wastes—can I change its course? Bartzu and Tanali hate each other—can I stop them from fighting? So what if we happen to be traveling with a group heading to the Bottomless Abyss? Pretty faces are never as important as wise minds—don’t be so nervous. Think carefully, Miss Succubus.”
“They’re marching, and it has nothing to do with us. Their business is their own. Even if they find you, what can they do? Will they go to such lengths to capture you? That’s Bartzu’s army—disciplined and focused. They won’t waste time on trivial matters and risk ending up in a military court. Just stay away from them. I promise I won’t drag you into this war. To put it bluntly: even if I don’t care about you, I care about my boat.”
“On the other hand, you should actually feel lucky.” He suddenly chuckled. “Do you think it’s easy to see such strange sights in the Gray Wastes? Black, white, gray—endless dullness and indifference. It won’t take long to break you. By then, you’ll probably not even have the energy to speak… Now, with so many people around, good or bad, at least it’s a bit more lively.”

“You really talk a lot of nonsense,” the succubus said, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, let’s both step back and stop this pointless racial discrimination. I’m just trying to help my friend… Don’t forget, it was I who suggested paying more for your advice.”
“That’s right. Talk things over properly so business can go smoothly,” the now-advantaged boatman laughed, his ghostly eyes meeting the steel elf’s red ones, his tone filled with an unsettling pride: “Excuses lead to suspicion, and suspicion leads to betrayal.”
The light boat drifted on the nearly sea-like gray River of Darkness—accompanied by more and more ships of entropy. Only a small portion of Batzu’s fleet consisted of wooden boats manned by river dwellers; most were packed troop ships, with lower-class demons and weaker mercenaries forced to act as oarsmen, shouting as they rowed through the silent waters. Their tattered sails, half-rolled up, resembled shrouds under the ominous sky of the Gray Wastes.
There were over 150 ships… and they kept coming. Although the nature of this realm made the senses dull, it was still possible to clearly feel the pressure of them occupying miles of water—like a frayed rope tied around the neck of a giant destroyer demon.
Yet the four ladies seemed remarkably calm, with only a small Quasemag fluttering nervously, its eyes darting around. If, as the succubus said, the boatman was deliberately tormenting the passengers to derive pleasure from their pain and fear, then he was clearly not very successful.
“A force like this could rule most of the Material Realms, right?” the succubus murmured to herself. “It’s a shame there are thousands of them in the Gray Wastes. Once they lay their eggs, it’s over.”
“That’s enough to deal with us,” Phelgas interjected coldly.
The boatman’s yellow eyes flashed sharply.
“Don’t worry, beautiful ladies,” he said, his gaze flickering as he pushed hard on the oars. “I promised I’d ensure your safety…”
“Some things in this world don’t change just because of our will, Captain,” Morriel said, having been watching the massive fleet behind them. She stood up now.
“Please sit down, Mage Lady. What are you doing… Hey! Stop it!”
This time, no one listened to him. The female mage stretched her arms upward, her robe moving as if in a breeze, her eyes glowing as she gazed at the sky.
At the bow of a medium-sized sailboat deep in Batzu’s fleet, Dagulas stopped fiddling with the strange artifact in his hands and looked up in shock.
“Weren’t we told not to act rashly? I almost did… Damn it! It’s a peak-level spell!”
Every soldier who participated in a blood battle had to understand one fundamental truth: blood battles were everywhere. Once you grasped that, you realized there was no such thing as a “soldier who participates in a blood battle”—everyone was one: regardless of status, race, location, or time—living itself was a blood battle.
So those who grew complacent because they were facing just a wooden boat and a few women had no reason to complain when they were reduced to rubble.

A disturbance appeared in the gloomy sky, as if some creature lurking beneath the dead water wanted to rise and move about. In an instant, a rare sight over the fleet emerged from the gray ruins: clouds gathered and dispersed, swirling like dragons—then the vast gray clouds twisted and condensed together, as if an invisible giant hand had grabbed the sky and torn off a large piece. The gray mist rolled downward, almost brushing against the masts.

A flash of lightning occurred, yet there was no thunder. The lightning instantly illuminated the supernatural clouds, revealing the true nature of this astonishing spell. A huge, vaguely shaped female figure, formed entirely of a swirling energy storm wrapped in gray clouds, bore a faint resemblance to Morriel—she raised her arms, her fingers stretched out into the lightning-filled clouds, merging with them, while countless serpentine bolts of lightning fell as she descended.

A strike like divine punishment shattered a large ship on the spot, reducing the demons aboard to ashes. The Storm Goddess reappeared amidst the boiling River of Darkness, spreading her arms to attack the surrounding warships. A mist filled with destructive energy spread out, and a web of lightning enveloped ships of all sizes like a cloak. The demons, already vulnerable to electrical energy, had nowhere to escape, resembling a nest of flaming wasps.

“Ale! Ale!” Dracula watched as a small boat nearby capsized under the impact of lightning, with beams of energy nearly reaching her own ship. “I can’t leave now—go hold her off for a while! What a madwoman! To dare fight an army of demons!”

“Is this what you call ‘everything going smoothly’?” Ale appeared, surrounded by flames. “What waiting for the right moment? There are no portals in this area—”

“Shut up! There are no portals here that would let them escape easily!” Dracula shouted angrily. “If they chose such a route, isn’t it the perfect moment? Stop arguing with me and go organize a counterattack! Morriel can’t maintain her storm form for long!”

“What lucky girl. She even has Yatu’s signature skill…”

Watching Ale dart forward like a flaming projectile, Dracula clenched what she was holding and muttered a curse under her breath.

Ale moved swiftly, with flames and lightning colliding around him, producing constant crackling sounds. Wherever he passed, everything ignited instantly, displaying a fierce and violent aura, much like a demon god in control of fire.

He landed on the lead ship, whose captain was a hornet demon with eerie orange stripes. It was smaller than its terrifying counterparts and had more human-like features. “Sss—Honorable lady, our crew has suffered light casualties, the ship is intact, and we’re ready to fight at any time—Sssss—What are your orders?”

“Notify both wings to advance at full speed. We must catch up to and surround them in the shortest time possible!” Ale’s mechanical lenses seemed to turn red from the heat. “Order all flying soldiers to attack!”

Go to hell, Dracula! Your absurd plans can never succeed! I’ve tolerated you for far too long… If not for your usefulness in holding off Morriel… I don’t care about your stupid missions! I have only one goal… Morriel… Morriel!

A loud crash came from nearby—a cargo ship overloaded with supplies finally gave way to the raging elemental storm, splitting in two. Its bow and stern rose simultaneously, almost colliding before sinking into the River of Darkness.

The commander’s orders were swiftly conveyed, and the winged demons spread their wings and took to the air, diving toward their fleeing prey. One of the supreme rules of surviving in hell was to execute superior orders quickly; moreover, from another perspective, it might be a good thing not to have to fight against a storm giant created by a legendary spell…

A series of fireballs erupted among the flying troops, like a necklace of death. Pieces of flesh and limbs fell like hail, shattering the demons’ formation. A second wave of attacks followed—at least twenty sharp arrows flew forth, exploding upon hitting anything. Masts as thick as bowls broke like dry branches, and burning sails collapsed onto the surface of the River of Darkness, raising a wave of scorching gray mist that quickly died out.

Aley roared and unleashed a column of fire—a blazing inferno circled in the air for a moment before plunging downward like a living serpent, hitting a giant ice blade that suddenly emerged from the water ahead of the warship. The collision of extreme heat and cold created a terrifying visible shockwave; flaming ice crystals flew everywhere, scarring everything in their path and reducing it to dust under the dual effects of rapid melting and freezing.

Aley had to switch to another command ship. The higher-ranked hornet demons who had narrowly escaped continued to hiss orders, but given their opponent’s formidable strength, the Batzu fleet was like a group of angry bulls chasing a well-armed knight, with a bleak future ahead.

With two sharp cracks, Aley’s goggles exploded. A pair of empty eyes stared angrily, filled with magma-like black-red flames. Something that resembled tears or pus slowly flowed down from the corners of his eyes, burning the flesh, yet he felt nothing.

A suffocating, anxious atmosphere evaporated in the tasteless air of the gray ruins. Though invisible for now, it was clear it was spreading rapidly—suddenly, the first things to catch fire were the broken or intact sails.

Sensitive to this, Dracula stomped his foot in anger and frustration: “Idiot! Idiot! What are you doing? Bastard! Why did you assign such a crazy paranoid man to work with me?”

Centered around the burning Aley, fireworks filled the sky. The towering flames and black smoke greedily consumed every piece of fuel and every victim, swirling around the woman-shaped figure formed from lightning. After a brief struggle, the storm entity, exhausted of energy, collapsed and dissipated, leaving the fire tornado even more intense and wild as it swept across the fleet’s skies—through the distorted air, it resembled a pair of enormous, hellish wings.