{Chapter: 142: Defense Line}
Standing on a barren ridge of twisted stone and corrupted soil, Dex narrowed his glowing eyes, gazing at the distant defense line that stretched like a scar across the landscape. From his elevated position, he could make out the faint silhouettes of towering white fortresses dotting the horizon—each a bastion of order against the chaos of the abyss. The very air around the fortifications seemed different, cleaner, as though repelled by the filth of the abyssal territory surrounding Dex.
He took a half-step forward, but the dull throb in his temples sharpened into a piercing sting.
His innate ability was warning him—violently. A low hum vibrated in the back of his skull, and an unseen force pushed against his soul like a gate slamming shut. He grimaced.
"If I move even a few kilometers closer," he muttered to himself, "they'll attack first, ask questions later..."
He could feel it—the presence of layered detection fields and ancient surveillance magic stretching out like invisible webs from each fortress. The moment he crossed the threshold, they would know. And they would strike.
The defense line was not a single wall, but a massive chain of interconnected fortresses, each linked to the next by high, rune-inscribed walls and a lattice of magical barriers that shimmered faintly when struck by moonlight. It formed a vast ring, sealing off the lands twisted by demonic corruption. Dex estimated each fortress was built a few kilometers apart, standing like teeth in a colossal maw designed to clamp shut around the abyss.
Each fortress was shaped like a medieval citadel—square towers, soaring spires, and battlements crawling with armed soldiers. However, unlike ancient castles of old, these were made of flawless white stone that shimmered like polished pearl. They radiated divine pressure, and atop each tower hovered a large crystalline core, suspended by magic and pulsing with radiant energy.
Dex's eyes flicked upward.
"The crystals," he whispered. "Anchor points. Probably tied into the domain magic maintaining the seal..."
He activated his enhanced vision. The world lost its color, replaced by energy flows. Every brick, every wall, every inch of those fortresses was etched with dense, ancient runes. The power embedded in them was immense—greater than anything mortals could craft alone.
His eyes drifted to the walls, where countless soldiers stood ready. Though not overwhelmingly strong individually, many of them radiated disciplined magical and martial energy. They were not just guards—they were elite defenders of the realm, selected and trained to stand against monsters from the abyss.
"Most of them are at the entry-level or intermediate combat tiers, but even so..." Dex muttered, his tail flicking with agitation. "They're seasoned. Battle-hardened. It would be unwise to approach casually."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, calculating.
"It seems I'll have to wait until a monster wave approaches," he murmured, "and use the chaos to my advantage... That's when we'll probe the fortress defenses."
He crouched, scooping up a clump of corrupted soil. It hissed in his palm before he scattered it to the wind. These lands were teeming with infernal pollution. The ground was blackened and brittle, the air thick with the cries of lost souls and the lingering echoes of battles long past.
He looked up again.
To think these fortresses could hold back [Higher Demons]... That meant more than just walls and men. There was coordination. Strategy. Divine interference.
"There's no way to bypass them conventionally," Dex muttered. "No flying overhead. No tunneling beneath. No long-range teleportation... Not with those crystals locking down dimensional fluctuations."
He let out a low, sardonic laugh. "A complete seal. Perfectly designed to cage monsters like me."
But he wasn't angry. In fact, there was something admirable about it. He'd been thrown into this region by abyssal entities with barely a farewell, like a stray dog locked in a yard. That was fine. If anything, he preferred it this way. The outside world—beyond the corrupted zone—had long since prepared for war. If he had reappeared in one of the purer zones of the continent, he likely would've been met with holy light, divine chains, and judgmental swords before he had a chance to open his mouth.
No, here was better. Here, he could move without being immediately erased.
In the wider world, the ambient suppression against abyssal creatures was far stronger. Their power would drop significantly—perhaps only ten or twenty percent of their true strength could be manifested under the constant weight of World will. And once their aura was detected, armies would form, inquisitors would rally, and their names would be added to a divine execution list. No... wandering freely outside was a quick way to get erased from existence.
Dex took a long breath, his eyes burning faintly with hellfire. "This world isn't just high-tier. It's organized. Structured. Watched."
He looked up toward the stars, feeling their distant pressure. He had no doubt—some of those stars were eyes. Watching. Judging. Waiting to descend their wrath upon any uninvited guests that broke the rules.
To survive here, he couldn't just rely on brute force. He needed cunning. Precision. Leverage.
His hand brushed over the runic tattoo on his forearm—a contract seal, glowing faintly with abyssal power. A reminder of the deal he had made.
[Help the demons on Carto's side expand the space channel.]
It sounded simple. But contracts forged in the abyss were never straightforward.
Luckily, "help" was a flexible word.
He didn't need to directly tear open a space gate to fulfill the contract. It was enough to support the effort indirectly—assist with a breakthrough of the defense line, disrupt the magic suppressing the region, or gather enough sacrificial fuel to spark a dimensional instability. Any of those would qualify.
He sneered. "Being an honest worker isn't exactly my style anyway..."
If he could tip the balance when the demons finally launched an all-out assault on this fortress ring—if he could sow just enough chaos for a space breach to begin—then the contract would be fulfilled. He'd be debt-free. No further obligations to those twisted overlords in the depths of the abyss.
Freedom. Sweet and dangerous.
And it wasn't going to come easy.
According to the fragmented memories he had peeled from the skulls of the dead not long ago, the gods of this world had begun reincarnating holy spirits decades earlier. These were not ordinary mortals—they were chosen souls, re-forged within the divine realms, and sent back into the world with purpose, power, and prophecy. They had been placed among the mortal races as champions, saints, oracles... and warriors.
Most importantly: many of them had converged here, at this defense line.
Dex narrowed his eyes, something cold and hungry flashing within them.
"Reincarnated saints," he whispered. "So the gods are playing their hand already..."
Those saints would not be ordinary soldiers. They were threats—walking conduits of divine will. Even a single one could cripple a demonic warband if left unchecked.
But they were also opportunities.
To someone like Dex…
It's not going to be easy to get rid of them.
It was never easy to shake off a persistent trail—especially not in a place like this. Dex knew that from experience.
From the fractured memory remnants he had forcefully extracted from a now-dead demon, he pieced together a rough understanding of his current standing in this unfamiliar yet deeply hostile world.
*****
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