Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 753 cuban's newest breed

?Luca, after peeping at Lenny hold Allison affectionately, it had excited a certain degree of dread in his heart, arousing the curse from Anguis that had stained his soul. This curse moved like it was many snakes, red and dangerous, enveloping the rune on his soul and exciting their properties.

Instantly, a rush of many bad and negative things rushed his mind, many if them terrible things he would like to do yo Lenny for stealing the woman he loved.

Many of these thoughts included violence and killing Lenny in the most brutal way possible.

His breathing became hard and he held one hand to his chest. Instantly, he rushed out of the corridors to his room, even hitting a lab attendant in the way. He rushed to his room as he tried to calm down the raging negativity in his soul. The moment he got in the room, he slammed the door shut as he rushed to look at the mirror. He could see as one of his eyes change turned into the color of red. "What is happening with me?" He asked, however, as he looked into the mirror, his mind was drawn into a hellish illusion.

In this illusion, Luca found himself standing in the midst of a battlefield, a desolate landscape where the sky was painted with streaks of red and black, mirroring the turmoil within him. The ground beneath his feet was cracked and barren, littered with the remnants of what seemed like a recent conflict. The air was thick with the scent of decay and the echoes of distant screams.

If Lenny had seen this, he would understood that this was nearly the same vision he had.

As Luca moved through this nightmarish scene, the curse from Anguis pulsed more fiercely, its influence growing stronger with each step he took. The red serpentine curse slithered around his soul, whispering dark thoughts and desires, urging him towards a path of destruction and vengeance.

In the distance, he saw a figure that resembled Lenny, standing with his back turned, oblivious to Luca's presence. The sight of Lenny ignited a fierce rage in Luca, fueled by the curse's power. The thoughts of violence and retribution that had been plaguing his mind began to take shape, transforming into shadowy figures that whispered encouragements of betrayal and murder.

Luca's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled against the overwhelming desire to act on these dark impulses. He knew deep down that these thoughts were not truly his own, but the distinction blurred under the curse's influence.

The illusion grew more intense, with scenes of Luca confronting Lenny, each encounter ending in violence. These visions were so vivid and detailed that Luca could almost feel the weight of the weapon in his hand, the resistance of flesh against steel.

But amidst the chaos and the urging of the curse, a part of Luca's consciousness fought back, desperate to hold on to his true self. He knew that giving in to the curse would mean losing himself completely, becoming a puppet to its will.

With a monumental effort, Luca screamed out in defiance against the illusion, against the curse that sought to control him. His voice echoed through the desolate battlefield, a lone cry of resistance in the face of overwhelming darkness.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the illusion shattered, leaving Luca gasping for breath in the solitude of his room, his reflection in the mirror now showing only his own face, albeit with one eye still tainted red. The battle within him was far from over, but for now, he had managed to push back against the curse's influence.

Luca sank to his knees, exhausted and shaken by the experience. He knew that he couldn't face this alone; he needed help. But who could he trust with such a dangerous secret? The curse of Anguis was a powerful and malevolent force, one that could not be easily overcome.

But for now, Luca was alone with his torment, the curse lurking within, waiting for the next opportunity to seize control. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger both from within and without. Yet, Luca knew that he must find a way to overcome this curse, not just for his own sake, but for the sake of all those he cared about.

Meanwhile, Lenny facing Allison received a report that made him frown.

Initially, the werewolves that had come from Imperilment were a total of hundred.

They had separated fifty fifty. Fifty had followed lenny and the other fifty had followed Victor.

Lenny had given orders to the fifty with him. They were to go and kill demons in any town they found.

Naturally, this was not supposed to be a problem since they were all in the deep demon realm.

However, something unforseen had happened.

With the chaos at the land of the undead, many things had happened.

Including the death of a couple of werewolves. About 15 of them had died in battle.

A majority of that number had been death due to Angus's power.

However, from the Werewolves that Lenny had sent into the world, only thirty of them came back.

This was the important news that Allison had to report.

Lenny looked at yhe formation of werewolves and he frowned hard.

The last time he was in this world, being a Deep level demon existence was a very big deal. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ N(o)vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.nᴇt

But now, a good twenty of them with incredible killing experience and battle capabilities had died.

Lenny was not a fool.

It was obvious that these ten years had also not been wasted for the demon kind.

Surely, the opposition he faced was one like never before.

.....

At the moment, Cuban stood in front of the corpses of nine werewolves.

Cuban was a really intimidating demon. His skin was as red as blood and his aura literally escaped his body from time to time in little wips of red smoke.

His thick heavy armor was an expression of his darkness and the taste of blood was in the air. There were eleven other werewolves fighting with demons and he watched the fight with a kind of detachment.

After all, he knew that the efforts of these werewolves was going to go in vain. They were strong but nothing compared to these breed of demons sent over by his cousin, Baroness Everbee.

They were the latest of her creations, demons used not just darkline magic but chaos magic too. They were an abomination that shouldn't exist in this world.

Cuban watched with an air of disinterest as the werewolves clashed with the baroness's demonic creations.

The demons that Baroness Everbee had sent were unlike anything the werewolves had faced before. These creatures stood tall, their bodies a grotesque tapestry of darkness and chaos, skin the color of midnight, and eyes that glowed with a malevolent red light, casting eerie shadows on the ground. Their forms shifted unpredictably, as if the very essence of chaos coursed through their veins, making them appear as nightmares given form.

The air around them crackled with dark energy, a visible aura of chaos magic that twisted the space around them. This magic was anathema to the natural order, a perversion of the laws that governed reality. It allowed them to warp, bend, and even break the rules of physics to their will, making them unpredictable and terrifying opponents.

The werewolves, fierce, launched themselves at these abominations with a ferocity born of desperation. Their obsidian claws and teeth, usually formidable weapons against their enemies, seemed inadequate against the demonic horde. The werewolves moved with a grace and power that spoke of their lineage, but each attack was met with the chaos magic's unpredictable nature, turning what should have been fatal blows into mere grazes or, worse, leaving the werewolves exposed to brutal counterattacks.

One by one, the werewolves fell, their bodies brutally torn apart by the demons' enhanced strength and chaotic abilities. The ground quickly became littered with the remnants of these noble creatures, a testament to the dark power they faced. The air was filled with the sound of snarls, growls, and the wet sound of flesh being rended. Blood soaked the earth, painting the scene in shades of crimson and despair.

Cuban's demons didn't just kill; they reveled in the destruction they wrought, taking perverse pleasure in the chaos and suffering. Each werewolf that fell was not just defeated but desecrated, their bodies left in pieces as a grim display of the power of chaos magic.

As the last of the werewolves fell, the demons turned their glowing red eyes towards Cuban, waiting for their next command. Cuban, his interest barely piqued by the massacre, turned away from the carnage. To him, this was just another step towards his ultimate goal, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of his plans. The loss of life, the destruction, it was all just part of the game he played—a game he intended to win, no matter the cost.

"Now, Lenny, hurry and come home, papa is waiting!" he muttered to himself.