Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1296: A Beautiful Rebellion

The thirty Devils, their inverted eyes glowing with chaotic energy, stood in a loose semicircle around Moranda. Their smug chuckles echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the walls with a sinister resonance. Each bore a unique aura, their chaos magic crackling in a kaleidoscope of dark hues around them.

"You may have been given authority over us once, Moranda," one of them, a tall, gaunt Devil named Varex, sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "But we were all born of the same power. You are no better than us, and you stand alone. Thirty against one—do you really think you can win?"

Another, a shorter Devil with bulging veins and jagged claws named Rynak, laughed cruelly. "Why don’t you give up now? Save yourself the humiliation. Or better yet, join us. We could use a traitor like you."

Moranda’s smirk deepened, his blade resting loosely in his hand, gleaming faintly under the ambient glow of the core. He tilted his head, his gaze cold and unyielding. "If you truly believe that thirty weaklings make up for one competent warrior, then by all means... try me."

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The Devils didn’t need further provocation. With a roar, the first wave of them surged forward, chaos magic erupting from their hands in swirling tendrils. Moranda moved like a shadow, weaving through their attacks with fluid precision. His blade flashed, cutting through the air and striking true.

Rynak lunged, his claws aiming for Moranda’s throat, but the Devil twisted away, countering with a strike that tore through Rynak’s shoulder.

"You’ll have to do better than that," Moranda said, his voice calm despite the storm of chaos surrounding him.

Varex unleashed a torrent of chaotic flames, forcing Moranda to leap back. Another Devil, a hulking brute named Kivar, appeared from behind, his fists glowing with destructive energy as he swung at Moranda. The blade met fist, and the impact sent shockwaves through the ground, shattering the stone beneath their feet.

"You’re quick," Kivar growled, his inverted eyes narrowing. "But speed alone won’t save you."

"Neither will brute strength," Moranda retorted, pivoting and delivering a punishing kick to Kivar’s knee, forcing the giant Devil to stagger.

The battle raged on, a symphony of chaos and steel. Spells exploded in bursts of light and shadow, tearing through the chamber and leaving craters in their wake. Moranda danced between them, his blade an extension of himself, parrying, slashing, and countering with deadly efficiency.

But the Devils were relentless. Their coordination improved, their chaos magic entwining to create devastating attacks that Moranda struggled to evade. A beam of raw energy grazed his arm, leaving a deep gash. Another blast struck his side, sending him skidding across the floor.

"Still think you can win?" Varex taunted, his hands glowing with chaotic fire.

Moranda wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his breathing heavy but his smirk unwavering. "Win?" he said, chuckling. "I’m just getting warmed up."

Two Devils rushed him simultaneously, one unleashing a barrage of chaos spears while the other tried to flank him with a glowing whip of energy. Moranda ducked, his blade cleaving through the whip before driving into the chest of the spear-wielder.

Rynak snarled, his wounds partially healed, and attacked with renewed fury. His claws raked across Moranda’s back, drawing blood. Another Devil struck his leg with a blast of force, causing him to stumble.

"Look at you," Rynak sneered, standing over him. "You’re bleeding. You’re breaking. You should’ve joined us when you had the chance."

Moranda spat blood onto the floor but laughed, low and menacing. "You think this is me losing?"

The Devils hesitated as his smirk grew wider. His voice dripped with a dark satisfaction.

"I’ve got you right where I want you."

Athena, still standing at a distance, remained silent and motionless, her glowing empty eyes fixed on the chaos unfolding before her.

The Devils stared at Moranda in confusion, unable to grasp the meaning of his words. But Athena, standing still with her warm glow, understood perfectly. Her expression remained unreadable, but the faintest twitch of her lips hinted at her recognition of what was about to unfold.

The Devils, no longer scattered across the battlefield, had unwittingly closed in, forming a tight group as they prepared to deliver the final blow to Moranda. He staggered, clutching his chest, as if in immense pain. The suddenness of his action caught the Devils off guard. They paused, watching in horrified fascination as he gripped his skin and tore it open.

From within his chest emerged an inverted eye unlike any they had ever seen—its sclera glowed a deep crimson, its pupil a swirling void of chaos. Its presence was suffocating, an artifact of pure bedlam that radiated a primal, irresistible dread.

One of the Devils, Rynak, realized the gravity of the situation. His eyes widened in terror as he shouted, "Fall back! FALL BACK NOW!"

But it was already too late.

Moranda’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Voice of Bedlam."

The eye in his chest pulsated, and then the world shattered.

A scream erupted from Moranda’s chest—not his own voice, but a sound so primal and chaotic it defied comprehension. It reverberated in all directions, like a tidal wave of despair and rage, crashing into everything in its path. The air seemed to ripple, the ground shook, and the very fabric of reality trembled under its weight.

At first, there was silence. The Devils froze, their chaotic energy flickering uncertainly around them. Then, one by one, their eyes glazed over, and the frenzy began.

Rynak turned on Varex, claws slashing through his comrade’s chest in a savage arc. Varex roared in fury and retaliated, chaos fire engulfing them both in a deadly inferno. The others followed suit, their minds consumed by the uncontrollable urge to destroy. Fists collided, spells erupted, and the once-coordinated group dissolved into a maelstrom of violence.

Moranda stepped back, his chest slowly closing over the eye, his breathing heavy. He observed the carnage with a mix of satisfaction and grim resolve. "The Voice of Bedlam doesn’t discriminate," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "It’s a fitting end for traitors like you."

But then a thought struck him. He turned sharply toward Athena, concern flashing across his face. The Voice of Bedlam affected all who could hear it.

"Athena!" he called, his voice tinged with worry.

She stood exactly as she had before, her expression serene despite the blood streaming from her ears. It was then that Moranda realized what she had done. She had destroyed her own eardrums, rendering herself immune to the Voice’s maddening effects.

Relief washed over him, though he tried to mask it with a smirk. "Always one step ahead, aren’t you?"

Athena tilted her head slightly, her glowing eyes fixed on him. Despite the deafness, her body radiated an unshakable calm, as though she had been prepared for this outcome all along.

But there was more. In outer space...