Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 304: War again?

"Chasing them?" Duke Argent, the liquid-metal shapeshifter, scoffed, though his voice lacked its usual arrogant bite.

"Preposterous. The beasts of the Primordial Wilds fear nothing. They eat each other for sport. What could possibly chase a Layer 7 Apex Predator?"

The Platinum Prince didn’t answer immediately. He kept his glowing white eyes fixed on the holographic projection hovering above the silver table.

The three-dimensional map of the Abyss was a terrifying sight.

The 7th Layer, a massive expanse of primordial jungles and petrified bone forests, was completely saturated with churning, frantic red dots.

And they were all moving up. Toward the chasm that connected to Layer 6.

"You underestimate the scale of this, Argent," the Prince said softly, his 9th-Order pressure suppressing the room to a deathly stillness. "Look closer."

He waved a pale hand. The hologram zoomed in on the vanguard of the red tide.

"The creature you saw at the bottom of the chasm, Zero," the Prince looked at Damien. "The Ancient Void-Crawler. A Tier 8 equivalent beast, correct?"

"Yes," Damien nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. "It was frantic, back then It didn’t even try to attack us; it just wanted to climb."

"That is because, in this stampede, a Tier 8 Void-Crawler is nothing but cannon fodder," the Prince stated coldly.

He tapped the hologram. The image enhanced, pulling data from the Prince’s divine senses.

The Dukes leaned in, and the color drained from their respective faces.

Ziriork the Ferro-Ogre, still sitting on the floor with ink staining his tailored suit, let out a choked whimper.

The horde wasn’t just mindless bugs.

Riding on the backs of colossal, rotting centipedes were entire tribes of ancient, intelligent demons. Multi-armed Asuras wielding weapons forged from black stars. Behemoths made of shifting tectonic plates.

"The weakest entities in that tide are 6th Order," the Platinum Prince narrated, his voice tolling like a funeral bell. "The vanguard is led by 8th-Order Warlords. Ancient Demon Kings who have ruled their respective territories in Layer 7 and Layer 8 for millennia."

The Prince leaned forward, his hands steepled.

"And behind them... I sense the presence of at least three Demigods. Primordial entities that predate my own existence."

Duke Aurum, the golden-plated demon, stumbled backward, his bloated chair groaning under his shifting weight. "! Three of them?! Why would Demigods run?!"

"Because of Layer 9," Damien whispered.

The entire room turned to look at the human.

Damien’s twilight-purple eyes, split by the cross-shaped pupils of his Eclipse Core, stared unblinkingly at the bottom-most section of the holographic map.

Layer 9. The Frozen Hell. The domain of the Rotting King.

Damien’s heart hammered against his ribs. It had been his singular goal since he entered the Abyss. His parents, Theron and Elizabeth Voss, were trapped down there.

"The Rotting King," Damien said, looking up at the Prince.

"He is the Lord of the 9th Layer. Did he start a war with the 8th and 7th?"

"It is not a war, human," the Platinum Prince said, his flawless face tightening into a rare expression of revulsion.

The Prince reached out and tried to magnify the image of Layer 9.

VZZZT—CRACK.

The moment the hologram tried to render the 9th Layer, the projection glitched violently.

A suffocating, putrid aura leaked out of the hologram itself. the magical feedback carried the actual malice of what was happening below.

The smell of rotting flesh, ozone, and absolute, erased existence flooded the pristine meeting room.

The silver table beneath the projection began to rust and decay in seconds.

"Guh!" Duke Ferro, the construct of iron and steam, dropped to his knees as the rust instantly attacked his gears.

Damien’s Eclipse Aura flared automatically, a seamless blend of Gold and Black that pushed the rotting pressure away from him and Isabelle.

The Platinum Prince slammed his fist onto the table, his divine light purging the corrupted projection and shutting the map down.

The room plunged back into normal lighting, though the stench of death lingered.

"The Rotting King has gone insane," the Prince breathed heavily, staring at the rusted burn mark on his table. "He is consuming everything in his path."

The Prince looked at Damien, recognizing the boy’s strength.

"The intelligence I gathered before the sensors burned out suggests a ritual. A massive, apocalyptic sacrifice. T

he Rotting King is using the foundation of Layer 9 to tear a permanent hole into the Void. He is burning the leylines of the Abyss itself to widen a Gate."

Damien’s blood ran cold.

He remembered the words of the crazed Twilight Cultist he had killed back on the surface, just before the time skip.

"The Void has tasted your strength... The First Pillar stirs. Azazel answers the call."

"He’s summoning the Heavenly Demon Lord," Damien realized, his voice dangerously quiet.

"He is sacrificing the lower ecosystem to bring Azazel’s true body into this dimension."

"Whatever he is doing," the Prince interrupted,

"it has triggered an extinction-level panic. The apex predators of Layer 7 and 8 are not invading us, Zero. They are fleeing the apocalypse."

"Then let them pass!" Duke Aurum shouted, his golden skin flashing with panic.

"Open the gates to Layer 5! Let the stampede run upward! We can evacuate to the upper layers!"

"Fool," the Platinum Prince sneered, his white eyes flashing with lethal intent.

"Do you think a panicked herd of billions will politely walk down the street? If that stampede breaches the chasm, they will trample Argentum into dust. They will devour every core, every citizen, and every ounce of wealth we have built over ten thousand years out of sheer, starving desperation."

The Prince stood up. He wasn’t bored anymore, right now he was a King defending his castle.

He looked directly at Damien.

"You...."

The Demigod pointed a pale finger at Damien’s chest.

"If you want to keep your casinos, your cinemas, and your cores... you will help me defend the gates."

Damien stood in silence.

His mind raced. His parents were at the epicenter of the apocalypse in Layer 9. If Azazel descended fully, Theron and Elizabeth would be erased. He needed to get down there.

But the path down was currently clogged by a tsunami of 8th and 9th Order monsters rushing up.

If he jumped into the chasm now, he would be swimming upstream against a meat-grinder.

He couldn’t dive. He had to hold the line, thin the herd, and wait for an opening.

’Fine,’ Damien thought, his eyes hardening into the cold, calculating gaze.

Damien turned to the Ferro-Ogre, who was still trembling on the floor.

"Ziriork," Damien commanded, his voice shifting from the tone of an adventurer to the absolute authority of a CEO.

"B-Boss?" the Ogre stammered.

"Get up. We are pivoting the business model."

Damien looked at the Platinum Prince, then at the terrified Dukes.

"Close the casinos. Evacuate the non-combatants to the upper tiers. Liquidate the liquid-metal reserves and buy out every mercenary company, every defense array, and every cannon in Layer 6."

Damien drew the Pantheon Sword. The white blade hummed, hungry for the approaching slaughter.

"It’s time to prepare for war!"