novelzi Chapter 423 The Real Chaos
Chapter 423 The Real Chaos
The atmosphere was oppressive, charged with a dark, pulsating energy that seemed to vibrate through the ground. Mary Rose stood at the center of a vast, desolate field, where the skies were painted red and black, as though the world itself bore witness to the harbinger of an impending apocalypse. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes gleamed with a sinister determination. The wind howled around her, carrying an acrid scent of death and decay.
Before her lay the massive remains of Tiamat, resting in a deep crater—a grotesque mixture of enormous bones and decaying flesh. The majesty that once defined the great dragon had been replaced by a hideous sight, but Mary Rose wasn't fazed. On the contrary, she smiled—a grin that was equal parts triumph and madness.
She raised her hands, her slender fingers tracing circles in the air as she chanted words in an ancient tongue, a lost language that sounded like thunder and whispers intertwined. The words carried power, each syllable laden with a dark energy that caused the air around her to shimmer with hues of violet and deep green. A massive rune appeared on the ground, encircling Tiamat's remains with a pulsating light.
"Oh, great sovereign of dragons, queen of the skies and the abyss," Mary Rose intoned, her voice reverberating across the empty field. "By my will, I command you: rise! Return from oblivion and reclaim your place as the harbinger of the end!"
The rune glowed intensely, and the air seemed to compress, as though the very world held its breath. Tiamat's bones began to shift, creaking and cracking as fragments of decayed flesh adhered to them. Dark magic coiled around the dragon's corpse like smoky serpents, reconstructing what had long been destroyed. Every piece of tissue, every rotting scale that regenerated, was a testament to Mary Rose's unparalleled power.
A storm formed overhead, lightning tearing through the skies and thunder roaring like the cry of an ancient beast. Mary Rose stood firm, her eyes fixed on the colossal form rising before her. Tiamat's wings, enormous and tattered, spread open with a deafening sound as her draconic head slowly lifted, revealing empty, glowing eyes filled with a sickly light.
"Faster..." Mary Rose muttered impatiently. She intensified the magic, her hands moving frantically. Again, she uttered the forbidden words, and Tiamat's body shuddered, releasing a roar that shook the earth itself. The sound wasn't merely one of fury—it was as if death itself was being summoned.
The dragon's scales, now a pale green tinged with patches of rot, shimmered with dark energy. Her teeth, sharp as blades, glinted under the ghostly light. She was an abomination—a gigantic undead beast that embodied both the power of the past and the horror of the present.
"Rise fully, queen of dragons!" Mary Rose shouted, her words imbued with relentless authority. "The world must bow before you once again!"
Tiamat's colossal body took a step forward, crushing the ground beneath her massive claws. Every movement caused the air to tremble, as though the planet itself recoiled at the return of such a monstrous being. Mary Rose felt the heat of victory as she watched her creation rise completely.
But something unexpected happened. A voice echoed in her mind—deep, ancient, and resonant.
Astaroth's gaze swept across the now-silent hall. The walls, once adorned with trophies of past battles, stood as helpless witnesses to the carnage. Each demon king had been handpicked to represent an aspect of infernal power, but against Astaroth, they had all fallen like leaves in a storm.
She walked through the hall with deliberate steps, each one echoing through the vast chamber. At the end of the corridor stood a massive door of black iron, engraved with sealing runes. Beyond it lay the final obstacle to her ultimate ascension: Lucifer's Throne.
The door seemed almost alive, pulsing with demonic energy as if trying to resist her approach. Astaroth raised her hand and whispered a forbidden word, one that made Hell itself tremble. The runes on the door flared brightly for a moment before fading into darkness, and the door creaked open with a deep groan, revealing the path to the final confrontation.
Lucifer's chamber was an anomaly within Hell. While the rest of the realm was chaotic and brutal, this space exuded a dangerous calm. The floor was polished onyx, reflecting the eternal flames that encircled the central throne. There he sat, the Fallen Archangel, on a throne carved from bones and iron, his presence dominating the room. His eyes, once radiant with divine light, were now deep voids of darkness.
"Astaroth," Lucifer said, his voice calm but brimming with authority. "I see you haven't changed. Always hungry for power, always willing to destroy anyone in your path."
Astaroth stopped a few meters from Lucifer, gripping her sword tightly. "And you, Lucifer? Sitting on that throne for eons, letting Hell decay. You're no longer the king this realm needs. Seems your isolated training amounted to nothing."
Lucifer rose slowly, his imposing figure radiating an aura of power that made the very air vibrate. "You think you can dethrone me? That you can bear the weight of Hell on your shoulders?" He spread his massive black wings, vast and majestic, as if to remind Astaroth of who she was facing. "Then come, rebel. Show me how much you've grown."
Astaroth didn't hesitate. She surged forward with superhuman speed, her sword cutting through the air toward Lucifer. The impact of her strike was titanic, sending a shockwave that shattered the floor around them. Lucifer blocked with his own sword, a blade glowing with a dark, ominous light, and the two locked in a clash of colossal forces.
The ensuing battle was nothing short of cataclysmic. Each blow exchanged obliterated parts of the chamber, sending shards of onyx and iron flying in every direction. The flames around the throne flared and flickered wildly, reacting to the energy unleashed by the combatants. Lucifer fought with the grace and experience of an eternal ruler, while Astaroth was pure aggression and cunning, every movement calculated to exploit a weakness in her opponent's defense.
Far in the distance, a figure floated silently, gazing out from the castle window. He was muscular, his body adorned with intricate dragon tattoos that coiled across his skin. His arms were bound in bandages, and he wore loose, flowing pants. His crimson hair drifted weightlessly in the air as he observed the ridiculous scene unfolding below.
"So, it's finally begun... It seems my time is nearing its end," Alter-Dante murmured, his piercing gaze shifting to the Demonic World Tree.
"This fight will drag on for years..." he said, then added with a faint smirk, "The damage to the tree has completely healed. Yes... We've got thirty years in Hell before the true chaos begins."