Chapter 21
Hell is a chaotic wasteland. Devils—born from humanity—built this realm and live within it.
Hell's existence is numb, mad, disordered.
Devils here have no real concept of time or death—only the instinct to fight and kill.
No purpose. Just the one thing they can call "entertainment."
Not every moment is combat, but there's always fighting somewhere in Hell. That's the general feeling~
Day after day, year after year, cycling through reincarnation between the human world and Hell.
Overall, a devil's life in Hell is profoundly boring.
Beyond that, the only things worth noticing in Hell are the mysterious "legends."
One group of legends points to "Hell's rulers"—the Primal Devils, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse…
The other group points to "the devil feared by devils," "Hell's hero"—the Chainsaw Devil.
Of course, from the perspective of the Blood Devil in her previous life, these distant "legends" were nothing more than background characters meant to be surpassed by her own legend.
The Blood Devil wasn't strong at first. Quite the opposite—when she first appeared in Hell, her juvenile form was extremely weak.
The reason was simple: her body was far too human-like.
Compared to other devils—monsters towering meters high—she looked downright "petite."
From the way other devils spoke of it, this form symbolized weakness and vulnerability.
Because of her "beautiful human shape," she was even mocked as "cute."
"Heh, look at this 'cute' little thing. At first glance, you'd think some human accidentally fell into Hell! Hahahahaha…"
She didn't hate the word "cute." She hated the contempt behind it.
Did they think she was weak and easy to bully?
Driven by rage, blood coalesced into blades—stabbing toward her foe at her will!
At first the devil didn't take her seriously—thought it could crush her easily.
Only after being pierced by blood blades did it realize the Blood Devil's sharpness.
But so what?
How could I lose to such a "runt"?
My power is so much greater—how could I possibly lose?
Soon that devil understood its mistake—and paid in blood.
The Blood Devil's weapons sliced fatal wounds effortlessly.
Her blood body was nearly unaffected by injury—as long as there was enough blood, she regenerated fully in moments.
And unlike other devils in Hell—who could only slowly digest blood as food to accelerate healing—the Blood Devil's blood absorption efficiency was absurdly high, utilization rate ridiculous.
Most crucially, under the Primals' monopoly, most devils could only gain fear (and thus power) by battling and consuming other devils.
But the Blood Devil was different. She could grow stronger directly from blood—the more blood, the stronger she became!
One side weakened, the other strengthened—victory became inevitable. Total domination!
That was the Blood Devil's first battle in Hell.
In the exhilaration of combat she refined her killing intent, savored the fight—until that foolish devil died in despair under prolonged torment.
When it ended, she lay amid the shredded corpse and pooling blood. The first thought in her mind wasn't how thrilling the fight had been,
nor how strong her enemy had been,
nor how much stronger she'd become after drinking its blood.
It was:
"Ugh… what a hassle! Sure, I'm cute—but a devil as strong as me still needs more presence!"
Countless ages passed. In this corner of Hell, rumors of the Blood Devil's "infamy" began to spread—describing a powerful devil who loved calling herself "this great one."
Through the terrified accounts of survivors who crawled away, devils began to see vivid, bloody scenes unfold before their eyes.
Blood hammers crashing from above—crushing! Exploding! Pulverizing bones and flesh into unrecognizable paste, like bursting blood bags—screams and all turned to nameless sludge on the ground.
Blood blades tearing through air—slashing! Shredding! Razor edges dismembering foes in elegant arcs, countless crimson lines bursting outward—this splattered scarlet was both the executioner's epitaph and the blood-drinker's banquet.
Blood lances shooting forth—piercing! Impaling! Unstoppable crimson tips skewering chains of devils like candied fruit on a stick—hoisted aloft, thorns sprouting along the shaft to lock the "skewers" in midair. Gushing blood painted a flourishing crimson tree in the sky—its garish branches existing only for an instant before withering with the loss of life.
Blood scythes slicing through void—reaping! Silencing! Tiny struggles of life were laughable before final extinction. Crimson arcs flashed—even too swift to leave proper blood flowers—leaving only wind-scattered dust and endless silence.
Under the judgment of the death god called the Blood Devil, big or small, many or few—all perished in a single thought, a single swing.
"Hahahaha! This great one really is Hell's strongest devil!"
From humble beginnings to now—unbeaten, unstoppable—she had approached the level of "King."
What did that mean?
Unclear. No suitable reference point existed.
None?
The Blood Devil suddenly remembered those legends.
"Well… they should at least be worthy enough to measure this great one's current limits~"
…
What is a "Primal"?
In the ancient era when life first emerged—when the concept of fear had not yet crystallized—Hell already existed in embryonic form.
Back then Hell had no name, no concept—only "depth" and "condensed void."
The Primal Devils were the embodiment of that "depth" and "condensed void."
They were byproducts of the world—awakened alongside the birth of living beings.
The essence of Primals is the rules of the world. The essence of fear's origin is also rules…
When humanity first trembled in darkness, when souls first quaked at the unknown—
When "condensed void" merged with "fear," when "depth" embraced and nurtured it all—
"Condensed void casts reality, inverting the world—thus the Abyss is born."
From that moment onward, the true shadow of fear flowed endlessly from the human world into the Abyss.
Time turned. Fear became devil shapes.
Devils named after all things and thoughts of the world gradually came into being. Fear thoughts flowed along "true names" into the Abyss—filtered and refined by Primals—transformed into nourishment for devils.
Devils called this world that contained them Hell…
The human world was separated from Hell by gate-like barriers. Beneath those gates—beyond the human world—the endless Abyss—
That was the so-called Primal!
It is the first origin. It is the final destination. An ultimate existence humans cannot comprehend and devils cannot imagine.
It is They.
They are the Primal Devils.
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