Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1297: Jar Of Eternal Dread

In the cold expanse of space surrounding the contested plane that once belonged to the gluttony demon royal family, the fallen heavens and the undead abyss collided in an apocalyptic clash.

Swarms of fallen angels, their pristine white wings glowing with unholy radiance, descended in precise formations, their ranks led by a fearsome figure: Commander Serathion.

Serathion was no ordinary fallen angel. His six wings spanned an enormous breadth, their feathers shimmering like molten silver against the void. His eyes glowed with a pale, ethereal light, and his armor, inscribed with ancient glyphs, pulsed with holy energy twisted for destruction. Clutching a celestial spear that hummed with power, he surveyed the battlefield with an icy calm.

"Warriors of the broken light," Serathion bellowed, his voice resonating across the ether like a cathedral bell, "strike them down! Their filth taints this plane. Leave nothing standing!"

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The angelic hosts surged forward, their white wings slicing through the dark void as they unleashed torrents of radiant magic. Lances of light and celestial fire carved through the darkness, illuminating the battlefield in bursts of brilliance. Against this divine assault, the demonic forces charged headlong, their forms grotesque and fearsome.

But these were no ordinary demons.

Emerging from cracks in space and shadows of the plane, the Leviathan undead demon family surged forth in an endless tide.

Their forms were monstrous, a blend of skeletal and serpentine horrors. Their twisted bodies writhed with unholy energy, and their eyes burned with an oceanic blue, the mark of the abyssal sea. Even as they fell, obliterated by the holy powers of the angels, they reassembled themselves in horrific displays, rising again with terrifying shrieks.

One of the fallen angels, a lieutenant named Cassiel, struck down a towering Leviathan warrior with a blast of radiant light, his blade cleaving its grotesque head from its shoulders. Yet, even as its body crumbled to ash, the demonic essence coalesced once more, and the warrior rose again, now fiercer than before.

"Commander Serathion!" Cassiel cried, his voice tinged with alarm. "These wretches are unending! Every strike seems to make them stronger!"

Serathion narrowed his glowing eyes. "Then strike harder! Burn their souls until there’s nothing left to rise!"

The angels redoubled their efforts. Serathion led the charge, his spear a blur of light and devastation as it pierced through dozens of Leviathan demons in a single thrust. Waves of holy fire erupted from his wings, incinerating scores of enemies. Around him, angelic chants echoed, invoking ancient powers to smite their foes.

But the Leviathan demons were relentless.

From the void, a colossal creature emerged—a Leviathan general, its body a mass of twisting, skeletal tendrils and armored scales. Its maw was an endless pit, and with a deafening roar, it unleashed a tidal wave of abyssal energy that swallowed entire angelic battalions.

Serathion dodged the attack, his wings propelling him upward in a streak of light. He hurled his spear, and it struck true, impaling the creature’s massive form. It let out a guttural screech, its body disintegrating into black mist. But even as its remains scattered, the mist began to reform, coalescing into something even more monstrous.

From the ranks of the Leviathan family came their warriors, wielding ancient abyssal weapons forged in the depths of forgotten seas. One demon, a hulking figure with a coral-crusted trident, speared a fallen angel through the chest, tossing the corpse aside as if it were nothing. Another released waves of necrotic energy that corroded even the celestial armor of their opponents.

Still, the angels fought valiantly. One by one, the demons fell, their bodies torn apart by radiant arrows and blasts of divine light. But it was not enough. For every Leviathan demon destroyed, three more seemed to rise, their forms growing stronger and more grotesque with each resurrection.

The tide of battle began to shift.

Serathion could see it, even as he struck down another wave of enemies. The Leviathan demons were adapting, their tactics growing more cunning, their attacks more precise. FALLEN Angelic forces dwindled as more and more of their soldiers were overwhelmed by the unending horde.

One of his captains, Rhael, landed beside him, bloodied but still fighting. "Commander, we’re losing ground! Their accursed regeneration is outpacing our strikes!"

Serathion gritted his teeth, his glowing eyes flaring. "Hold the line! We cannot falter now. They are but vermin! We are the hand of judgment!"

But even as he spoke, he could see the Leviathan demons closing in, their numbers overwhelming. The angels’ once-dazzling formations were in disarray, their light dimming as the tide of darkness pressed forward.

The Leviathan general laughed, its voice like the crashing of waves against cliffs. "Your holy power falters, Serathion. This plane is ours, as it has always been! Your light is but a flicker against the eternal abyss!"

Serathion’s grip on his spear tightened as he prepared for one final, desperate push. The heavens and the abyss trembled, the battle reaching a fever pitch.

Amidst the chaotic battle, as angels and demons clashed in an endless frenzy, a sudden shift in the atmosphere drew all eyes to the sky. From the higher ranks of the angelic host descended a figure that radiated an aura of authority and malice. Her eight shimmering wings were far larger than Serathion’s, their brilliant white a stark contrast to the vile gaze she cast over the battlefield.

Her beauty was otherworldly—her ample chest barely concealed by thin, flowing strips of celestial silk that seemed more for ornament than modesty. Her face, though stunning, bore a fanatic intensity, her lips twisted into a grin that promised destruction. Her violet eyes glowed with a dangerous light, and a silver circlet adorned her brow, etched with symbols of devotion to Lucifer.

This was none other than the fallen angel known as Sarkina. The same one responsible for the destruction of Imperilment.

"All glory to the Morning Star, the Ever-Glorious Lucifer!" she declared, her voice carrying an almost musical tone. Yet beneath the melody was a venomous edge that sent chills through even the angels closest to her. The battlefield seemed to pause, both sides momentarily captivated by her presence.

She descended gracefully, her feet like touching the ground, though in deep space. She addressed Serathion with thinly veiled contempt.

"Serathion, your incompetence precedes you," she hissed, her smile never faltering. "What a pitiful display of leadership, to falter against these lesser creatures. Were it not for the gracious love of the Morningstar, your head would already be on a pike for this failure."

Serathion lowered his spear, his jaw tightening in frustration, but he said nothing. He knew better than to challenge her.

"No matter," Sarkina continued, her grin widening. "Lucifer, in his boundless wisdom, sends his regards... and a gift to remedy your disgrace."

From the folds of her flowing robes, she produced an enormous jar, its surface covered in glowing, shifting runes that seemed to writhe as though alive. The object emanated an oppressive energy, and even the Leviathan demons paused, their instincts warning them of the danger it posed.

"This," she said, caressing the jar lovingly, "is one of the forbidden treasures of our Lord. A cursed artifact forged from the dreams of the damned souls, ever suffering in hell. It is the Jar of Eternal Dread, and it will bring torment to those who dare oppose us."

She held the jar high above her head, the runes on its surface flaring with a sinister light. Then, with a deliberate motion, she twisted the lid, releasing the jar’s contents.

From the jar spilled a swirling, ethereal mist, shimmering with dark, hypnotic hues of black, violet, and crimson. It spread rapidly across the battlefield, seeping into the Leviathan demons like a plague.

At first, they roared in defiance, their hulking forms seeming to resist. But then, the curse took hold. Their movements became erratic, and their eyes glazed over as if pulled into a waking nightmare.

The mist whispered to them, inaudible to the angels but deafening to the demons. It was a tormenting chorus of their worst fears and memories, amplified a thousandfold. The Leviathan warriors began to stumble, clawing at their heads, their shrieks piercing the battlefield.

One demon fell to its knees, its claws ripping into its chest as it screamed, "No! Get out of my head!" Another writhed on the ground, convulsing as its soul was torn apart from within.

The curse was merciless, dragging their consciousness into a perpetual state of terror, a dreamscape where they were hunted, tormented, and consumed over and over again. Worse still, the mist began to unravel the very essence of their beings, their souls disintegrating like sand caught in a storm.

Even the resilient Leviathan generals, those who had shrugged off the angels’ holy power, were not immune. One, wielding a coral-encrusted blade, roared in fury as it tried to rise, only to collapse, its massive frame twitching as the mist devoured its essence.

The battlefield transformed into a grotesque masterpiece. The mist moved like an artist’s brush, painting the ground with the collapsing bodies of demons, their disintegrating forms glowing faintly before fading into nothingness.

The fallen angel with the jar watched the chaos with a rapturous smile, her chest heaving as though intoxicated by the destruction. "A beautiful mess," she murmured, her voice dripping with reverence. "This is the will of Lucifer made manifest. His enemies reduced to nothing but whispers in the void."

The Leviathan forces were in complete disarray. Their seemingly endless ranks dwindled as more and more succumbed to the curse. The angels, emboldened by this devastating turn, regrouped and began to press forward, striking down the remaining demons with renewed vigor.

In the midst of the carnage, Serathion cast a wary glance at the woman. Her power was undeniable, but there was something unsettling about the fervor in her eyes. For now, however, he knew better than to question her methods.

The battle was far from over, but for the first time, it seemed the tide had turned in favor of the fallen...