{Chapter: 130: Weighing War and Wings}
After violently acquiring Greg's treasured technology—something Dex had no intention of giving back—he strolled down the city streets with an unbothered air, as though the world itself had bent to his desires. The residual heat of the tavern's ashes still clung to his skin, but rather than feel guilt, he basked in the aftermath like a predator licking blood from its teeth.
There was a strange sort of lightness in his steps. The brutal exertion had lifted a burden off his shoulders. With each stride, the cobbled streets of this layer of the Abyss seemed a little wider, a little cleaner—sunlit even, though no true sun hung in the bruised sky above. The illusion didn't bother him.
He spread his arms theatrically and inhaled deeply. "Ahh… Is this what joy feels like?"
His voice startled a few nearby lesser demons. They scampered off, clutching sacks of stolen fruit or ill-gotten trinkets, not daring to look back.
Dex chuckled. He felt no ache in his back, no tightness in his knees. Even the usual fiery hum of power coursing through his veins seemed more harmonious now, dancing in rhythm with his pleasure.
"This is life," he muttered. "Murder, sunshine, and walking on the skulls of the unworthy. Simple pleasures."
But that pleasure was fleeting.
As he continued down the avenue—lined with jagged towers of bone and metal, home to snarling merchants and soul-hungry mercenaries—Dex began to notice something mildly irritating. Nearly every passerby he saw only came up to his waist.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence. Maybe it was just a cluster of dwarves or stunted goblin-kind. But no—block after block, it was the same. Tiny humanoids, all bustling around in their pitiful lives, casting up wary glances at the towering figure who walked among them like a demigod.
He stared down at a particularly grubby merchant who barely reached his thigh. The urge to punt the creature down the alley struck him hard and sudden.
"I feel like a damn giant in a puppet city," he grumbled.
Out of a sense of courtesy—or perhaps pity—he decided to shrink himself a bit. He slowly compressed his body to a more socially acceptable size: just over two meters tall. Still tall, still imposing, but no longer an impossible silhouette looming above everyone else.
He admired his reflection in a grimy, soul-infused window.
"Mm. This is better. Tall, but not toweringly arrogant."
Satisfied, he continued walking with a confident swagger. His flame-etched skin shimmered in the light of phosphorescent street lamps. The tattoos of blooming, demonic flowers on his arms seemed to pulse faintly, reacting to the energies of this layer.
He hadn't gone far when he noticed clusters of people gathered around various message boards. Most were whispering in hushed tones, others scoffing or making bets. Curious, Dex approached the nearest one.
A massive, rusted iron plate had been nailed to the side of a warped tree. Posted atop it in blood-ink script was a war notice:
---
[[WAR BULLETIN: TO ALL HONORABLE WILD DEMONS OF THE ABYSS]
The Great Lord Carto, Sovereign of the Lava Wasteland and Master of the 407th Layer, has declared war upon the plane of Mi Ling. This is a sanctioned invasion, recognized by the Will of the Abyss itself.
Objective: Complete subjugation and sinking of the Mi Ling Plane into the embrace of Abyssal Corruption.
All wild demons are hereby invited to participate in the war. Rewards include unrestricted pillaging, soul absorption rights, artifact collection, and plane reputation growth.
Entry Payment Options:
30% share of all profits acquired during war.
OR 10 souls of your own rank paid up front. (Clean, unstained souls only. Refunds not permitted.)
Teleportation and coordinates provided upon payment. Opportunity valid until Carto's main force claims Mi Ling's core.]
---
Dex rubbed his chin, scanning the words with the care of someone used to fine print. The prospect of war intrigued him. It always did.
A sanctioned invasion meant no Abyssal backlash. No contracts. No summoner chains binding him to a mortal master. Just chaos, blood, and the promise of loot.
"Hmm… Thirty percent of my profits?" Dex scoffed aloud. "You'd have to be a fool or a leashed mutt for that deal."
He immediately discarded the first option. As far as he was concerned, every artifact and soul he reaped belonged to him alone. Sharing was for the weak.
But the second option—ten souls of the same rank—now that had promise. In his mind, that cost was laughable. He could crush ten demons of equal rank in his sleep and still have time to roast their skulls into drinking cups.
Still, he frowned.
A demon lord like Carto calling for wild aid? That meant something had gone wrong. Either the local defenders were stronger than expected, or Carto's army had taken massive losses. No demon lord shared war spoils unless forced to.
"Which means…" Dex muttered, "...there's a damned good fight to be had over there."
He stood in place for several long seconds, claws clicking against his chin. He was stuck between the thrill of war and the scent of a potential trap. Was it a glorious battlefield… or a graveyard for the foolish?
After a moment, he sighed.
"Screw it. I'll let fate decide."
He glanced around, spotted a random passerby, and reached out with a casual swipe.
The chosen victim was a squid-headed creature with a shimmering exoskeleton and four wings that looked like they had been plucked from technicolor chickens. The creature wore a lavender cloak and had been happily nibbling on a stick of grilled eyeballs when Dex grabbed him by the throat.
The squid-man squealed and flailed wildly, dropping his snack.
Dex examined him with idle curiosity, lifting him effortlessly into the air. "Hmm… You look like an even number."
"Wh-what?!" the squid-man croaked, kicking frantically.
Dex closed one eye in thought. "No, no. Wait. Chicken wings… two pairs. Four wings. That's definitely even."
He turned to the bystanders who had frozen in place around him.
"Guess I'm not going."
And then, just as suddenly, he grinned.
"…Unless the next one's odd."
*****
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