Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 557 - 510 Mech-Modified Demon

Standing coolly in the middle of the road, she faced the admiring eyes around her with a cold demeanor, returning a standard Demon sneer.

Fema Black Abyss’s aura fell somewhere between a terrorist and a competent butler. Her emotions were a mix of joy and shyness, forcibly discharged in the Demon Race’s characteristic frenzy. The crowd kept a certain distance from her, and the empty area around her was like the physical range of her aura, all caused by her black and red suit.

She quite liked this new outfit.

Her black curly hair wasn’t tied up with clips and hairbands as usual but stretched out as naturally as her twisted horns.

Then, with a bit of force, she crushed the heel of her new shoes.

The dangerous state that warned others to keep away was interrupted by her losing balance, and her rising emotions deflated along with it.

With a sigh, Fema took off her new shoes and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. Facing the shop window, she tamed her rebellious hair with clips, molding it into a bun. Fema Black Abyss had returned to being that Demon who favored tidiness and cleanliness.

"I really am a Demon who enjoys chaos. Finding common ground with my kind doesn’t feel too bad," the female Demon reflected her image in the glass, her lips flat as the horizon curled in a small arc, "Thank you, Lord Lyle. If I were alone, I might not have purchased this outfit that I like. It would make me even more of an oddity among my own kind, but now, to hell with it, whoever objects will be dealt with."

Lyle didn’t feel he had done much, just handed out a few compliments.

"You’re probably the lady with the biggest reaction to buying a suit that I’ve ever met."

"Demons worship power and take pride in their strong bodies," Fema explained about her race, and from her tone, one could sense her aversion, "So most of the Demon Race exposes their bodies, and wearing thick and tight clothes means lacking confidence in one’s own body, which invites disdain. But let’s not talk about that, Lord Lyle, do you have some urgent business in this city? This is my first encounter with Liches here."

"It’s a commission from Mr. Delusion, though the specific content is unknown. We are currently touring this City of Mechanics."

"A commission from the High Priest of the Mechanical Devine Sect? It’s definitely not a trivial matter. If there’s a need, Lord Lyle, the Black Abyssal Demons await your orders."

A nerve seemed to twitch in Lyle’s head as he cocked his head, trying to connect the nickname ’Mr. Delusion’ with ’High Priest.’

"The High Priest of the Mechanical Devine Sect, Mr. Delusion?"

Fema nodded.

"The Mechanical Devine Sect is a mysterious cult organization. Its members are metal men who can manipulate lightning and possess magical techniques and strange technologies that we don’t understand. The known public leader is the High Priest of the Mechanical Devine Sect, Executor 10001, also known as Mr. Delusion. Although it’s rumored that this sect’s religion is a real deity, the Shattered Creator, there have been no eyewitnesses to affirm whether He exists. Currently, the Black Abyssal Demons have begun some cooperation with the Mechanical Devine Sect, all presided over by the High Priest."

Lyle was surprised. He had always thought that the Literary Society was a group of indolent pleasure-seekers. He hadn’t expected Mr. Delusion to actually have a family business.

"Cooperation? What kind of cooperation do you have with the Mechanical Devine Sect? Demonology? Hell Magic?"

"Demon mechanical transformation," Fema Black Abyss adjusted her collar with a formulaic smile. "I’m the lead in charge of this project. Would you like to take a tour, the folks from Andrey...?"

...

The smell of sulfur mixed with oil pervaded the area, which also had the highest concentration of cylindrical cleaning robots.

A standard roar of the Demon Race pierced through the black iron walls, the iron door opening with loud gear noises, a heatwave and terrible smell hitting them in the face, and the dusty air made them cough. Lyle put on a mask.

Add a few iron bars, and it could pass for a typical prison inside.

"Not all members of the Demon Race are born as powerful warriors; those with physical disabilities but strong wills are brought here for enhancement and transformation. The Mechanical Divine Sect just so happens to need some experimental subjects, and most are volunteers," Fema explained.

"And the non-volunteers?"

"Useless wretches who lack ambition and inferior demons such as the impish hellspawn. They’re too weak and need to be strengthened." Liches revere the strong; weakness is a sin, and the weak have no rights of citizenship. Those lowly demon minions can only become slaves or food.

Fema led the four to a guarded experimental platform, where a metal cage contained a dozen or so unruly impish creatures. Their bellies had been hollowed out to embed a yellowish-gray cylindrical gear, which clicked and clacked incessantly.

"Bomb imps," Fema elaborated. "They explode, far more effectively than they scratch. The original idea was to have higher-ranking demons command them in squads, using sheer numbers for wave-like bombardments. These kinds of imps are plentiful in hell, a resource not so precious. All the plans seemed well and good, but post-transformation, it was discovered that they all had developed a problem with their brains. They completely lost the ability to obey commands. Now they’re nothing more than hopping bombs."

"So the experiment was a failure?"

"Both sides considered solutions, of course. The Mechanical Divine Sect proposed a brain implant command solution; it’s astounding how they managed to inscribe so many runes into those walnut-sized brains—the results were good, but we declined."

"Because your solution was better?"

"More convenient and much cheaper," Fema said, snapping his fingers, and a demon guard immediately approached the cage.

He opened the cage and pulled out one of the bomb imps, gripping it so tightly that the poor creature seemed on the verge of death.

"Ha!" The demon guard’s arm muscles bulged abnormally, hurling the bomb imp out with his monstrous strength. Upon impact, the imp exploded.

"..."

"Our solution is to grab them, aim at the target, and throw," Fema declared.

"A brutally effective approach."

"And it works very well." Fema lifted the tarpaulin at the far end of the lab, motioning for Lyle and the others to follow. "Come see the main attraction, gentlemen."

Behind the black tarpaulin lay a spacious open-air space, with several large black and crimson stone pillars standing before them.

Hell’s Nail.

Behind Hell’s Nail was a group of strange demons.

Power axes, chain swords, flamethrowers, and harpoon guns—these murderous weapons replaced arms attached to the demons’ limbs, with conduits injecting red liquid into their robust muscles. Thick armor and muscle were welded together, spider-leg-like metallic joints extended from their backs, and large cannon barrels powered by fresh blood protruded. Half-metal-covered faces bore smiles pinned in place, with a mighty roar emanating from the Demon Engine within.

Observing this group of monsters spewing flames and sulfur, Lyle was somewhat bewildered.

"Mechanically augmented demons."

Shiny and his companions took a look.

"By the bones above, are they dressed for a masquerade?"