For a single, fatal second, his confidence wavered, his certainty faltered.
The fire law fragment was still burning within Kaelgor, a beacon that drew every greedy eye in the region. Though the devil containing it was not a helpless victim.
Kaelgor's blurred forward as his halberd swept through the air, a flash of black and red, aimed directly at Malgrim's throat.
Malgrim devil barely had time to raise his four arms in a desperate, cross-guard defense.
"Boom!"
The impact was thunderous, a shockwave that sent Malgrim skidding backward, his multiple feet carving deep furrows in the scorched earth.
Malgrim glanced at his arms, his gaze unsteady and a thumping in his head. His hands trembled from pain and shock.
Peeling his gaze from himself, he looked up to see several dozen of his horde being mowed down by Kaelgor as they tried to intercept him.
Those lucky enough escaped with their souls, while those unlucky ones were snuffed out in an instant by Kaelgor.
The distance between the two was once again shortened, and all Malgrim could do was prepare himself for a hard fought battle.
His unsteady hands each manifested a dark blade: four in total.
Roars and screams filled the air as a light-show of flames, poison, demonic mana, and various other elements filled the air.
"Hmmm~"
A low, rumbling hum of amusement escaped Vorlag's throat as he stood in the distance, his massive stone-like body a dark silhouette against the hellish glow.
His gaze narrowed with a mixture of satisfaction and calculation as he watched Malgrim being pushed back further and further with every clash against Kaelgor.
The multi-armed devil was struggling, his insectoid grace and sharpness no match for Kaelgor's overwhelming, rage-fueled power.
The abyssal black halberd swept through the air in a blur of lethal arcs, each strike driving Malgrim back a step, his four arms trembling under the relentless assault.
The glimmering demonic runes on the halberd spoke of magic enhancements that Malgrim lacked.
This was because Kaelgor chose the path of magic forging: allowing to not only forge stronger alloys, but also blend in the properties of magical items into his creations.
Like the collar that restricted Saphira; being made of abyssal steel, black gold, and the horns of a peak-tier devil.
Vorlag's gaze shifted, taking in the larger battlefield.
The completely armored berserker demons, their muscular bodies clad in sleek, dark plates of abyssal steel, were a stark contrast to Malgrim's drone-like horde.
They moved with a brutal, yet efficient grace; their shields and weapons a wall of unyielding steel. The demonic mana attacks of the insectoid demons and wraith-like mages turned into harmless puffs of energy as they struck the abyssal steel, the armor absorbing and dissipating the force with contemptuous ease.
Every slash of an insectoid limb, every burst of shadowy magic, only caused the berserkers to stumble back for a moment before they surged forward again, their resolve unbroken, their fury undimmed.
Vorlag observed, his mind working with a slow, deliberate cunning that belied his brutish appearance.
Unlike Malgrim, who sought to be free and untied to any force, a wandering devil content to carve his own path through the chaos, Vorlag wanted something different.
He wanted a faction, a backer.
A power that could shield him from the endless, grinding struggle of hell's politics.
Being a wandering devil had its advantages: freedom, autonomy, the ability to choose one's own battles.
But it also had its disadvantages.
The constant threat of stronger devils, the endless struggle for resources, the knowledge that at any moment, some ancient, powerful entity could decide to crush you like an insect.
By pledging his allegiance to a faction, Vorlag knew that no random devils could threaten him.
The weight of his lord's name would be a shield, a deterrent that would make lesser beings think twice before challenging him.
Yes, he would be more restricted, more confined, his movements and actions subject to the whims of his superiors.
But he was okay with that.
After all, he had already done the same thing with Lord Gorael, had stayed in the first layer much longer than needed, content to serve and wait for his opportunity.
His old race, before becoming a devil, had been accustomed to a long lifespan. Therefore, unlike most new devils, he knew how to properly make use of their time, how to patiently wait and accumulate strength.
One doesn't feel patient knowing they have a long life ahead of them, as it is only when they experienced a long life themselves that patience is grown.
Back to the main topic.
Vorlag, like Malgrim, had noticed everything suspicious.
The subtle thefts, the quiet preparations, the strange, almost desperate energy that had radiated from Kaelgor since the very beginning.
He had come to a similar conclusion: this section of the first layer was becoming unstable, a powder keg waiting to explode.
And when it did, Vorlag did not want to be caught in the blast.
Thus, he had made the decision to leave Lord Gorael's faction.
But unlike Malgrim, who planned to go rogue and carve his own path, Vorlag had prepared a different escape route.
He had long, secretly contacted another Arch Devil faction that was adjacent to this territory: a long-time rival of Lord Gorael, an entity of immense power that had been looking for an opportunity to expand its influence.
Countless Arch Devils had to fight for their piece of flesh that is the first layer.
The negotiations had been simple, a straightforward exchange of information.
Vorlag had stated that he wanted to defect because he thought that there was something suspicious going on at Lord Gorael's territory. He had even mentioned that there was most likely a possibility to take over this region, to seize control of the valuable resources and strategic position.
The faction had taken him with open arms, eager to gain a foothold in Lord Gorael's territory.
But Vorlag was not naive.
He knew that their trust in him was still at zero.
They would watch him, test him, and wait for any sign of betrayal. Only by proving that it all wasn't a ploy, by delivering on his promises and demonstrating his loyalty, could he finally merge with them and claim the protection and stability he sought.
Thus, he had stayed at Adam's basin this entire time, only prodding on the surface, his actions carefully measured to avoid drawing suspicion.
His army, meanwhile, had been positioned at a location for best retreat, a strategic placement that would allow him to slip away at a moment's notice.
The enemy faction had been ready, and he knew that several devils, with at least one peak-tier devil among them, were even now rushing to Kaelgor's side, drawn by the chaos and the promise of plunder.
For the law fragment!
His eyes, too, gleamed with avarice as he saw the law fragment flaring within Kaelgor's body.
Its rarity in the first layer was similar to that of a naturally formed nexus: a treasure of incalculable value, a prize that could change the balance of power for the one who obtains it.
For a moment, Vorlag allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to possess such a thing: the power, the knowledge, and the endless potential.
It was a temptation that resonated with his deepest desires.
But he was not a fool.
"Alas…"
He grumbled something incoherently under his breath, of frustrated resignation, and began to move his massive body slowly, deliberately, following the battle from a safe distance.
He wanted the law fragment, but he would not risk his life for it.
Already, in his mind, he had accepted that it would end up in the hands of another.
Some greater power, some more fortunate devil, or some being whose ambition and ruthlessness outstripped his own…
Better to survive and retreat than to die grasping at a prize that was never meant to be his.
Better to serve a new master, to build a new life, than to be consumed by the flames of his own greed.