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Abyssal Chronicles

In the northern part of the world, a long-standing battle between various races and the demon race has finally reached its end. The Demon Lord, a figure with black hair, red eyes, rules from her obsidian palace, having repeatedly defeated the Goddess, the strongest being in the world. However, she refrains from killing her, knowing she will only be reborn to lead another attack. As the goddess kneels before her, badly injured and helpless, the sounds of explosions echo outside, signaling the imminent victory of the alliance. Despite her immense power, the demon lord acknowledges the demon's overall weakness compared to humans and the Alliance. The development of fighting energy and mana has allowed ordinary humans to fight demons, leading to the demon army's defeat. Aware of the Alliance's intent to enslave the abyssal demon, the Demon Lord decides to cast a forbidden spell that will cost her life. As the Alliance forces storm the palace, they hesitate upon sensing the spell's energy. The Demon Lord vows to resist and be reborn to save her people. Meanwhile, the goddess reflects on the demon lord's past treatment of her and acknowledges her respect and dedication to her people. As the demon lord prepares to cast the spell, the goddess asks if she can abandon her plan and live freely. However, demon lords are duty-bound to restore the demon race's glory and protect her people. Understanding the demon lord's resolve, the goddess readies her sword, intending to clash with the demo lord's forbidden spell. The resulting explosion creates a mushroom cloud, marking the end of the conflict and the start of a new era. The Demon Lord and the Goddess become historical figures, their stories occasionally told.

Hail_The_loli · Fantasía
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1025 Chs

[Bonus chapter] - Chapter 355: The Action of Black Rose [2/2]

Within a mansion in Molok City,

 

Marquis Soros Bieberloo, who had originally supported Duke Dexas as the new Emperor, was trembling in fear, kneeling in the living room of his own office.

 

Chilled to the bone, his spirit felt on the brink of shattering under an invisible yet crushing weight.

 

As he knelt there, Soros' gaze was locked onto the floor, his body quaking and sweat trickling down his face in rivulets. The commanding aura of the West's leading nobleman had faded into nothingness.

 

Within such a suffocating atmosphere, Soros waited anxiously for a response from the figure seated before him,

 

Finally,

 

After an excruciating five minutes of dead silence, a booming laugh shattered the tension, causing a surge of relief to flood through the distraught Marquis,