The Demon King's Guide To Not Getting Defeated By A Paladin-Chapter 44 - 43: Gate Of Hell

The air shimmered as Verel snapped his fingers, and Mikhail’s senses immediately flared, anticipating something massive. The space around them began to tear, splitting open with a sound like fabric being rent in half. A portal rippled into existence, stretching wide and wide, its edges crackling with energy.

Verel stepped forward without hesitation, his dark eyes gleaming with purpose, while Medusa followed closely behind, her expression unreadable. Mikhail, a step behind, looked into the gaping portal, his thoughts swirling.

"What now?" Mikhail murmured, his voice low as he took a step into the swirling darkness that lay beyond the tear.

"Now, we walk through," Verel said, a slight grin tugging at his lips. Without a word more, he stepped into the abyss, vanishing into the swirling void.

Mikhail glanced at Medusa, who gave him a knowing look, before they both followed. The world around them stretched and distorted, colors bleeding together, the sensation of floating through endless space making Mikhail’s stomach tighten. For a brief moment, he thought he might be lost, but then, with a jolt, everything snapped back into focus.

They found themselves standing on the edge of a massive bridge, the ground beneath them an endless stretch of stone, leading to a towering structure in the distance. The air was thick with silence. The landscape surrounding them was barren, empty—just miles of stone and nothing else.

The bridge seemed to float in the middle of nothing, ending in a large marble opening. Beyond it, statues stood tall, positioned in a circle, their eyes fixed outward as if forever watching the horizon for something. The stillness of the place unsettled Mikhail, and his senses screamed that something wasn’t right.

He exhaled slowly, taking in the desolate surroundings before finally speaking, his voice tinged with curiosity. "So, what happens once these angels or whatever they are, are summoned? Will they sprout wings and fly off to heaven?"

Verel’s laughter was sudden, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder. He turned to Mikhail, his grin as sharp as a blade. "Heaven?" he said with a smirk. "You think they’ll just sprout wings and ascend to heaven? You honestly think that’s where they belong?"

Mikhail shrugged, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "Well, that’s only if heaven even exists."

The two shared a brief smirk, each of them feeling the weight of the unspoken challenge in the air. Mikhail’s unease grew. There was something about this place that didn’t sit right with him. The statues. The silence. The feeling that they were being watched. Finally, he broke the silence again. "What exactly is this place?"

Verel’s gaze drifted toward the towering statues, his eyes cold. "This? A little dimension I stumbled upon during my research. Not much to look at, but it serves its purpose."

A soft, mocking chuckle escaped Medusa’s lips. She spoke under her breath, but her words carried clearly through the still air. "Next level bullshit. How does someone who’s blind manage to find a place like this? How can someone who can’t see anything even comprehend what’s around them?"

Verel turned his head toward her, a smirk crossing his face. "Ah, Medusa, that’s where you’re wrong," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "I made a deal with a devil. In exchange for my sight, I can see everything. I can see it all."

Mikhail’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Demons don’t make deals with humans."

Verel’s smirk deepened, and he looked at Mikhail, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of arrogance and amusement. "Maybe not all demons hate humans," he said, his voice dripping with a mockery of sweetness. "Otherwise, you wouldn’t be tolerating me right now, would you?"

The words hit Mikhail like a slap, and he took a step forward, his expression hardening. "I’m not tolerating you. I’m just... putting up with you. For now."

Verel’s eyes glinted dangerously, a challenge flashing between them. Mikhail’s hands twitched at his sides, and for a moment, it seemed as though they might tear into each other right here on the bridge.

But Verel only laughed, the sound dark and unsettling. "You have great potential, Mikhail. But you don’t know how to use it." He said it with such casual finality that Mikhail’s teeth ground together in irritation.

"You think you can just tell me what I can and can’t do?" Mikhail spat, his voice low, challenging.

Verel raised a brow, his amusement lingering, but then his face became stone cold. "You’ll learn," he said. "And soon enough, we’ll get to work. I’ll control them. I’ll make them do my bidding."

Mikhail stared at him, his mind reeling. "What bidding is that?"

Medusa spoke then, her voice soft but cutting. "What bidding can that be, really? You’re talking about angels. I’m sure they’re ridiculously powerful entities. What could you possibly want from them?"

Verel’s lips twisted into a wicked grin. "To bring down this stupid kingdom. Damn it!" The words came out like a curse, a venomous declaration of intent that hung heavy in the air.

A silence followed, thick with the weight of Verel’s ambition. It was clear now that this was no longer a casual venture. This was personal. This was about destruction. And Mikhail wasn’t sure if he could stomach it.

*

As the silence settled, a strange and sadistic edge seemed to form in Verel’s demeanor. It was something new. Something darker. Mikhail could feel it crawling beneath his skin, a deep sense of unease unfurling in his chest.

Verel reached for his side, and before Mikhail could react, the air around them shimmered, and a blade of blinding light flickered into existence, cutting through the space with ease. It moved as if it had a life of its own, the light flashing like a thunderclap. Mikhail barely had time to react.

The blade cut across his hand with a sickening accuracy, and blood immediately gushed from the wound, splattering across the stone floor. Mikhail hissed through his teeth, the pain momentarily making him dizzy. His eyes flicked toward Verel, who remained unimpressed, his expression one of cold satisfaction.

"What the hell?" Mikhail gritted out, his blood staining the stone.

Verel’s voice was casual, as if he had done nothing more than swat away a fly. "All I need is your blood," he said, almost as if it were an afterthought.

Before Mikhail could respond, Verel turned to Medusa, and with the same effortless motion, summoned another blade of light, this one cutting across her arm. Blood splattered in all directions, the crimson droplets painting the air with their sudden, violent appearance.

Medusa gritted her teeth, but her expression remained steady. "What’s the point of this?" she muttered, her eyes narrowing.

"The point?" Verel laughed, his voice dripping with a twisted glee. "The point is to make the impossible happen. And you will both help me do that."

Mikhail felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He had expected cruelty from Verel, but this? This was something different. Something deeper. And now, he found himself caught in the middle of a plan far more insidious than he had imagined.

The portal behind them rippled once again, and Mikhail realized—this was just the beginning.

*

Mikhail’s head tipped back as laughter erupted from him, a low, unsettling sound that rang through the empty space. It was raw, unrestrained, and laced with a manic edge that sent a chill down Medusa’s spine.

"This just got interesting," he said, his grin widening, eyes glittering dangerously.

Verel only smirked, lifting a hand with a casual grace that belied the madness beneath. The blood splattered across the marble floor began to quiver, each droplet trembling as though alive. Slowly, they floated upward, crimson spheres that hovered in the air like tiny stars.

Mikhail’s laughter died in his throat as he watched. The droplets converged, merging together until they formed a pulsing, writhing orb of blood that hung between Verel’s hands. The air around them thickened, the stench of iron growing stronger.

Medusa’s eyes widened, her face draining of color. "Blood magic," she breathed, her voice a strained whisper. "You’re... you’re using blood magic."

Verel chuckled, the sound deep and dark, echoing through the void like a church bell. "Long ago," he began, his eyes fixed on the orb of blood as it shifted and twisted in his hands, "the Demon King had an army of his own. Humans that he turned into demons through rough, violent experiments."

Mikhail’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as Verel continued.

"In doing so," Verel said, his gaze still fixed on the orb, "he created something far worse than himself. These creatures — these... angels, as he called them — were his messengers, his enforcers. Insane, bloodthirsty, vicious. They were monsters beyond imagining, each one more depraved than the last." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

His smirk widened, his teeth flashing white as his fingers curled around the blood orb, squeezing it until it quivered and pulsed. "Some were destroyed. But some? They were sealed away... right here, in this very place."

Medusa’s breathing quickened, and she took a cautious step back, her hand tightening around her rod. "This is insane," she muttered, sweat forming at her temples.

Verel’s grin stretched wider, his eyes gleaming with manic glee. "And to bring them back, all I needed was the blood of someone who descended from the Demon King. And lucky me, the Fates have delivered you right to me."

Mikhail’s fists clenched at his sides, his blood pounding in his ears. "You’re insane," he growled, teeth bared.

"Insane?" Verel laughed, his head thrown back, eyes wild. "Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet."

Then, without warning, he began to chant — words that were dark and guttural, twisting through the air like a swarm of locusts. The orb of blood pulsed, its surface roiling like a stormy sea.

Medusa flinched, her grip on her rod tightening. "This is a really, really bad idea!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "Mikhail, do something!"

Mikhail didn’t move, a dark grin spreading across his face. "Wait for him to finish," he said, his tone almost lazy, almost taunting.

"Are you crazy?!" Medusa snapped, her panic reaching a fever pitch. Magic flared in her eyes, and without another word, she raised her rod. Fire burst forth, a bolt of flame shooting toward Verel — but it never reached him.

The blood orb exploded outward, a blinding flash of crimson that erupted like a tidal wave, intercepting the flames mid-air. The blood and fire collided, and the resulting explosion sent shockwaves through the air, a concussive blast that knocked Medusa back a step.