The Rise of the Black Plain

Chapter 2912  The Heart of a Entitled Deity

Flapping his enormous wings, Minos launched a barrage of wing-shaped energy attacks toward Omus.

Each swing of his wings sent arcs of raw, destructive power streaking through the battlefield, their forms mimicking sharp, celestial blades. The sheer magnitude of the strike reverberated through the air as his massive dragon body twisted in agile movements, orchestrating a relentless assault on his opponent.

Omus, already pressured by the coalition of forces surrounding him, found himself increasingly cornered. The undead minions raised earlier by Abby were dwindling rapidly; nearly half of them had already succumbed, disintegrated by the devastating clash of energies between Minos and Omus. Yet, their sacrifice was far from in vain. Each fallen undead entity had forced him to divert part of his energy to defend or strike them down, momentarily relieving some pressure on Minos. This tactic, though costly, steadily ate away at Omus' stamina, forcing him further into the defensive.

As Minos executed another sweeping motion of his wings, sending more long-range energy slices tearing through the cloudy sky, Omus's weariness showed. His breath became shallow, beads of cold sweat trickled down his temples, and his movements began to lack the same sharpness they had at the start of the battle. Knowing the stakes, every dodge he made carried a desperation that betrayed his growing annoyance.

Just as he managed to narrowly evade another set of fiery attacks, a chilling sensation suddenly washed over him—alien and unsettling.

His instincts screamed at him to act. Jerking his head around, Omus caught sight of an unnatural dark blue energy anchoring itself to his foot like an ethereal chain.

The tendril of energy trailed back to a distant figure below: Abby.

She stood grounded yet steadfast, encircled protectively by Gloria's domain.

Omus' eyes widened in shock and irritation at the realization. Abby—a being he had dismissed as "weak" at the start of this battle—was now proving to be an unexpected threat.

Her power, subtle but insidious, seeped into his body. He could feel its influence distorting his control over his own movements, as though shackles had begun to weigh down his limbs.

Discomfort and disbelief coursed through him. 'How could someone so far beneath me disrupt my control? This shouldn't be happening!'

But it was. Abby's interference cost him more than just composure. In the brief instant it took him to refocus his mind and dispel the restrictive energy invading his body, his reaction time slowed—milliseconds lost, but milliseconds that were crucial against a foe like Minos.

In a flash, Minos appeared directly within Omus' influence range, his gigantic presence overwhelming. To Omus, it was as if the dragon had teleported, his immense form materializing impossibly quickly in the space he had once held as his own.

From Minos' colossal maw erupted a torrent of silvery fire, the blistering flames radiating a mix of destructive heat and mystical energy that warped the air as they surged toward the Entitled Deity.

Omus reacted instinctively, summoning every ounce of his energy to dispel Abby's restrictive hold as the firestorm loomed closer.

Finally expelling the dark blue mist from his surroundings in a spectacular burst of destructive force, he regained fleeting control of his body. Yet, as he moved to defend himself, a sudden coldness seized him once more—this time from an entirely different source.

Ribbons of silvery mercury formed out of nowhere, coiling around his wrists, ankles, and even around his neck like predatory tendrils.

Gloria's domain had taken hold, her power manifesting in a tangible, mercurial prison that slowed Omus further, keeping him rooted as flames consumed the surrounding area. He growled in frustration, unable to shake off the restrictive bonds in time.

Minos' relentless onslaught didn't let up. While the dragon's silver flames blazed against Omus, the remaining undead minions rallied under Abby's control. Though their numbers were few, their tireless, unyielding strikes added further pressure, converging on the True Celestial from multiple directions.

Unfazed, Minos continued circling Omus in midair. Along with spewing flames, he activated other abilities within his vast arsenal, layering one attack after another to peel away at Omus' defenses piece by piece.

Minos' strategy was deliberate: weaken Omus to the point of no return!

He knew that a being of Omus's stature—a highly experienced Entitled Deity—could recover from attacks that might spell instant death for lesser beings. Attempting a final blow while Omus was still brimming with energy would not only fail, but might also allow the deity the opportunity to retaliate with devastating power.

No, Minos wouldn't take that risk. His plan was methodical. The True Celestial had to be worn down, his reserves drained, and his movements restricted before any decisive strike could end this battle. Only then could he ensure that Omus wouldn't escape—or survive.

Despite the overwhelming assault, Omus's resilience was nothing short of extraordinary. Even surrounded, battered by fire, undead, and mercury chains, the Entitled Deity refused to fall. His counters came with ferocious precision, bursting forth like explosions that sent shockwaves through the battlefield.

Minos, however, skillfully evaded each of Omus's frenzied attempts, his focus unwavering. He shouted warnings to his companions, ensuring they wouldn't fall victim to the unpredictable swings of his enemy's desperate but dangerous strikes.

Meanwhile, Forfex had recovered enough to move on his own. Aided by the women who had rescued him, he stayed close to them while the Divine Dragon shielded their group from the worst influences of the battlefield. The dragon's radiant aura flickered with occasional instability, but for the moment, it held firm.

Yet Minos knew that their time was running out. Even the Divine Dragon and Abby—whose temporary boosts had elevated them to level 125—were beginning to falter. Both were showing the first signs of returning to their true cultivations, their auras dimming imperceptibly at first, then growing weaker with each passing second.

This shift in power didn't escape Omus' notice, either. The flare of hope in his weary eyes mirrored the urgent realization in Minos's mind: the battle could not continue much longer.

'It's time for you to end this, Minos!' Forfex thought, his expression betraying his helplessness. All he could do was silently cheer on his friend. 'As long as we leave this place in one piece, you'll have your chance to complete Devdar's inheritance!'

Almost as if responding to Forfex's unspoken plea, Minos made his move. His golden eyes glinted as he shifted strategy.

He left his dragon form and dived headfirst into the chaos, moving as a blurred, humanoid figure against the storm of destruction erupting from all sides. His black-gold sword shone brilliantly in his hand, flames spiraling along the blade. Around him, the familiar image of a golden hourglass rotated, casting shifting rays of luminous light that seemed almost ethereal amidst the chaotic battlefield.

Omus's face darkened in fury as he realized Minos was preparing for a last strike. He cursed, the sound almost lost amid the maelstrom.

Omus gritted his teeth, ignoring the restrictive powers clawing at him from Gloria, Abby, and even the fragmentary forces of the undead. Needing to focus every shred of his power, he accepted the pain and fatigue from the prolonged battle, redoubling his efforts to force Minos into defeat.

Even so, the weariness seeped into his very bones.

Omus cursed himself silently as he prepared for one last desperate counterattack. 'This is why I hate fighting seers,' he thought bitterly, sweat dripping from his brow as his aura flared violently.

Minos' clairvoyance made every move an exercise in futility. What use was strength, experience, or dominance if your opponent predicted your every attack and adjusted accordingly?

His mind raced as he recalled their battle. His side had been stronger, pushing Minos back. But Omus' power had meant nothing if he couldn't hit his target. Minos' ability to weave through the strands of time and future sight had even nullified advantages Omus should have had as an Entitled Deity. And now, nearing the end of this exhausting battle, Omus felt the full weight of his mistakes.

'You tricked me, Devdar!' he raged internally. 'That bastard's powers of clairvoyance surpass yours!'

He seethed in frustration. But before he could finish his thought, it happened.

In a breath—no, two entire breaths—Minos vanished from sight. Completely. His aura disappeared from Omus's senses, leaving the Entitled Deity standing in an eerie void of confusion.

Time seemed to pause around him, as though the battlefield itself had momentarily ceased to exist.

Omus hesitated, his instinct screaming at him to stop mid-attack and defensively brace. But as he moved to shift his position, a strange sensation gripped him—a dreadful, unnatural pull.

His body jerked backward, violently and unbidden, as if time itself had momentarily reversed. The pull clamped onto him relentlessly, dragging him into a frozen moment of fate.

'Shit!' he thought wildly, his eyes flickering with horror.

But his expression never had time to fully reflect the sheer terror coursing through his mind. His movements slowed, his limbs locked in place by an invisible force.

A golden hourglass appeared in the middle of Omus' chest, its sands flowing forward and backward in a mesmerizing dance.

An instant later, Minos materialized behind Omus!

The sharp edge of Minos' flaming weapon sank smoothly into Omus' back. The blade pierced through his divine musculature with no resistance, exiting cleanly between his ribs at the front, just below the sternum.

Divine blood, glowing faintly with celestial energy, flowed down Omus' torso like molten liquid, staining the battlefield below.

Omus' consciousness screamed at him to retaliate, yet his body refused to move. Paralyzed, he could do nothing but feel the frosty edge of inevitability. Minos' mastery over this encounter overwhelmed even the quasi-immortal defenses of a Entitled Deity.

In those decisive moments, Minos took no time to gloat or revel. His movements were fluid, deliberate, merciless. Reaching forward with clawed fingers, their golden glow radiating malice and finality, Minos ripped into the sternum of his adversary. With a sickening pull, he tore Omus's divine heart from his chest in one calculated motion.

Minos held the pulsing organ aloft, glaring down at Omus with cold, indifferent eyes. "You fought well," he said softly, his voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut through stone.

"But I told you," Minos continued saying into Omus' ear. "You should have fled when you had the chance. Now there's no going back."

As Minos spoke, the air in front of them grew thick and oppressive. From the dense shadows, a black figure began to materialize, its presence drenched in raw negativity—an incarnation of hatred, bloodlust, and despair. Every ounce of malice in the battlefield seemed to coalesce into the form now taking shape.

Omus' gaze, already tight with horror, widened further as the infernal guardian fully emerged before him. The three-headed hellhound stood tall and menacing, its twisted, nightmarish form pulsating with dark energy. Its crimson eyes gleamed like molten orbs, merciless and hungry, while jagged obsidian teeth glistened within the slavering jaws of its heads. The beast's black, sinewy body emanated a malevolence that made the very fabric of reality tremble in its vicinity.

For Omus, there was no mistaking what he was facing. Devils and Entitled Deities—particularly Entitled Deities like himself—were sworn enemies by nature, their enmity spanning the very fabric of existence. Omus knew the sheer intensity of this hatred, having lived through the instinctual contempt their worlds shared. Devils, their allies, and their forces—be they undead or the notorious guardians of Hell—prowled as hostile predators to Entitled Deities like himself. Just the sight of the infernal guardian was enough to deepen the pit of dread swelling in Omus's chest.

The three-headed guardian advanced, ravenous intent bleeding from its every step as its unnaturally sharp claws scraped against the trembling earth. Its obsidian teeth gleamed, thirsting for the divine essence it had been summoned to feast upon.

In these last moments, Minos used everything he had, tightening his control over the restrained Omus and amplifying his hold to ensure his prey stayed immobilized for just a bit longer.

The hellhound snarled violently, its three jaws snapping open to reveal pits of glowing red hellfire within. Then, with a terrifying lunge, it sank its teeth deep into the heart Minos had just ripped from Omus' chest.

The dark guardian devoured the pulsing core—divine blood oozing and steaming as its once-radiant energy was consumed by the infernal jaws.

As the beast consumed the heart, the very laws governing the area shifted. The battlefield, already ravaged by the exhaustive clash of titans, bent under the immense pressure of Hell's influence.

The air grew suffocatingly heavy and cold, saturated with a dark, oppressive energy that seemed to swallow the light. Wailing cries echoed faintly, as if from an untold distance, and the blood-lusted laughter of unseen devils reverberated through the surrounding void. The balance of power and reality altered in that instant, irrevocably.

Minos wasted no time. As soon as the infernal guardian began its grisly feast, he released his hold on Omus and spun away, his wings propelling him into the air with urgent speed. He flew straight toward his group, not daring to look back at the spectacle unfolding behind him.

By this point, Omus was beyond acknowledging the one who had incapacitated him. His strength was draining rapidly, his divine essence spilling away in waves of radiant energy as the hellhound viciously tore through the heart that bound so much of his power and life force. Any semblance of resistance was stripped from him as he became ensnared in the consequences of the infernal summoning.

As Minos sped toward his companions, Omus felt the final nails sealing his fate. From the devouring of his heart, an overwhelming sensation surged through his being—a dark, encroaching energy that defied even his quasi-immortal nature. A dome of absolute darkness formed around him, black thorns and spectral chains swirling and locking him further into confinement.

Their textures burned with malevolent power, tearing at his divine essence and severing his spirit from reality. It wasn't the death of the body—this was far more horrifying. This was cosmic reckoning, an obliteration so complete that it struck terror into the core of even the most exalted beings.

'Shit,' Omus thought bitterly, but he could no longer express his horror. His body stiffened, his expression frozen eerily like a statue. Everything around him collapsed inward as he faced the inevitability of death.

In the distance, not far from where Minos had summoned the infernal guardian, the darkness contorted violently as a portal tore open.

A death chariot, pulled by grotesque beasts of shadow and fire, emerged from the rip in reality. Its spiked wheels churned against fiery voids as the full annihilation of Omus was prepared to unfold. Riding atop the hellish vehicle stood a Devil—a towering figure cloaked in shrouds of fire and smoke.

For Minos, there was no hesitation as he reached his companions. The group had already regrouped, prepared to follow him. Without explaining—or so much as glance at the unfolding chaos behind them—Minos urged them onward.

"This isn't our fight anymore. Let's move!" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The group hurried to escape, Minos guiding them at high speed away from the growing influence of Hell that consumed the battlefield. Yet, as they fled, the members of the group couldn't resist glancing back.

Forfex caught a glimpse of the scene playing out far behind them. The Divine Dragon, flying steadily despite its waning strength, also turned its gaze briefly in awe and dread. Both watched as the Devil approached Omus' frozen form, the death chariot blazing through the void, leaving destruction in its wake. The entity's presence radiated finality, a judgment so absolute that even an Entitled Deity like Omus could not hope to survive.

"That..." Forfex watched the scene unfold as he opened his mouth in shock.

The Divine Dragon said, "Hell and the Upper Realm... Entitled Deities and Devils... Life and death. They are eternal enemies. One seeks infinite life, the other the mortality of all beings. I just didn't expect Minos to use that today."

"You could have killed him," Ruth said as Segiel looked at how the Devil summoned by Minos was murdering Omus.

Minos answered his companions' questions. "Yes, perhaps. But I'll be entering the Upper Realm soon. I'd rather not have the blood of Entitled Deities on my hands myself."

"That makes sense... But what about that Devil? Won't he notice you?" Segiel asked.

Minos smiled and said, "No. My aura is essentially different now that I no longer have the Infernal Crown in my soul. Unless he looked directly at me and recognized me physically, it would be impossible for him to recognize me. Fortunately, I could attract someone who didn't know me and was more interested in that guy."

Minos finally looked back, spotting the figure of a human-looking man with silver hair, surrounded by colorful devilish armor, at the front of the infernal chariot.

Behind this man were dark shapes, capable of corroding space and the surrounding laws, so strong that Minos doubted they were just representations of abilities.

In his line of sight at that moment was the strongest being he had ever seen on his journey so far!

'Devil Lothur Ritter, level 129. Impressive. Fortunately, you're not my enemy!'

"Let's go. We'll talk when we're far away from here!" Minos said as he finally used Devdar's device, immediately gaining the attention of his companions.

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