Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 655 Victor Vs the Undead commander

In this desolate landscape of a world that had been ravaged by the apocalypse, the scene had unfolded with stark intensity. The air was?thick with the scent of decay and the sky a heavy canopy of brooding clouds, casting an eerie pall over the battlefield.

Victor, Alpha of the City of Milk and Honey, a formidable werewolf now renowned for his fierceness, stood alone, an unyielding figure against a horde of undead creatures. His white garment, stark against the surrounding darkness, had remained miraculously unstained – a testament to his skill, strength and swiftness in battle.

Before him, the undead commander, a sinister presence commanding his legion with malevolent will, had unleashed his formidable lieutenant, Clawed.

Clawed, armed with a long blade pulsating with black cosmic energy, had embodied the raw power of the dark forces at play. The blade, an extension of his malevolence, had seemed to hunger for destruction, ready to devour anything in its path.

In the midst of this chaos, Lady Vinegar, once a figure of elegance, now lay limbless, a victim of the relentless assault. Victor, despite his late awakening in Glenn's territory, had arrived just in time, driven by a fierce determination to save her.

As the undead commander reached to claim his prize, Victor had intervened with a bold declaration. His voice, cutting through the tension like a blade, had challenged the commander, invoking the wrath of Lenny, and offering a veiled threat – a chance for the commander to retreat with his life.

The undead commander, smirking with overconfidence, ordered Clawed to eliminate Victor. In a blur of movement, Clawed lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision, aiming to cleave Victor in two.

But in a display of power that seemed to defy the very laws of nature, Victor had reacted with impossible speed. With a single, fluid motion, he had caught the cosmic blade between his fingers, his grip unyielding, his strength unfathomable. The collision had sent a shockwave rippling through the air, the cosmic energy of the blade crackling against the indomitable force of Victor's will.

In that moment, frozen in time, Victor had locked eyes with Clawed, an unspoken challenge passing between them. Then, with a voice resonating with the power of an ancient force, Victor had spoken, his words echoing across the battlefield, "Your blade may cut through the sky, but against my strength, it is but a leaf in the wind. Like Brother Lenny, I'm an immovable mountain, unyielding and eternal."

After uttering his defiant proclamation, Victor's obsidian claws moved with a precision that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The cosmic blade, a construct of dark, ethereal energy that had seemed invincible, met its match. Victor's claws cut through it as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter, the blade dissolving into nothingness upon contact.

He raised his formidable claws, poised to bring a swift end to Clawed, but then he halted abruptly. A whisper, barely audible yet unmistakably urgent, emanated from a small earpiece he wore. It was Perseus's voice, reaching him from Glenn's territory.

The message, whatever it was, shifted Victor's intention from delivering a killing blow to a different, calculated form of incapacitation. With a swift, fluid wave of his hands, Victor sliced through Clawed's limbs. The lieutenant of the undead, once a figure of terror, now lay helplessly on the ground, defeated and disarmed, both literally and figuratively.

Victor spared Clawed no second glance. His gaze, intense and unyielding, fixed on the undead commander, who sat atop the primordial beast. This creature remained an monstrous amalgamation of nightmares, a giant blob of fish-like flesh with over a hundred unblinking eyes and writhing tentacles.

The undead commander's expression twisted into a frown, his hand pointing at Victor in a silent command of death. Instantly, over a hundred tentacles surged towards Victor with a ferocious speed, each one aiming to ensnare and destroy.

In response, Victor's movements became a blur, a dance of deadly elegance and power. His claws extended, lengthening with each sweeping motion as he parried and slashed at the onslaught of tentacles. Many of the attacks he dodged with aerial acrobatics, somersaulting through the air with a grace that belied his ferocious appearance, displaying skills honed through countless battles.

Despite his prowess, Victor could feel the tide of battle turning against him. The relentless attacks of the tentacles were slowly but surely wearing him down, their numbers overwhelming. He realized that if he did not shift his strategy, he would soon be overcome.

"You are not the only one who can wield cosmic energy!" Victor declared, his voice resounding across the battlefield with a challenge that was both a war cry and a statement of intent.

In that moment, cosmic energy surged towards him, a maelstrom of otherworldly power. It appeared as threads of light, weaving through the air, drawn irresistibly to Victor. The energy permeated his being, infusing him with a power that was both ancient and otherworldly. It was as if the very cosmos had responded to his call, imbuing him with an energy that transcended the physical realm.

Now charged with this cosmic energy, Victor turned the tide of battle. His every move was amplified, his strength magnified to a level that defied comprehension.

As the battle between Victor and the primordial beast escalated, the werewolf unleashed a new level of his formidable prowess. With a commanding wave of his hands, Victor's claws, now imbued with cosmic energy, detached from his fingers and surged forward. They moved as if alive, a swarm of deadly projectiles homing in on their target with unerring precision.

The primordial beast, a creature of nightmarish power, responded with instinctual defense. Its countless tentacles moved in a frenzied blur, attempting to intercept the relentless barrage. To an onlooker, it might have seemed a battle of equals, a clash of titanic forces, each vying for supremacy.

Victor, however, watched the beast's desperate attempts with a knowing chuckle. There was an ominous edge to his laughter, a sound that spoke of impending doom. The undead commander, perched atop his monstrous mount, watched in confusion, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher the reason behind Victor's amusement.

Then, understanding dawned in a terrifying revelation. The claws, which had been raining down like a relentless storm of arrows, began to glow an ominous red. They emitted a low, rising hum, a sound that seemed to vibrate the very air around them. It grew in intensity, reaching a crescendo that resonated with an almost palpable force.

At the peak of this sonic build-up, the claws exploded in a series of devastating detonations. Each explosion was a symphony of destruction, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. The air was filled with a cacophony of blasts, the ground shook, and a blinding light illuminated the scene.

The primordial beast's tentacles, once a formidable barrier, were engulfed in the fiery maelstrom. The explosions tore through them with ruthless efficiency, leaving the creature reeling from the unexpected onslaught.

The undead commander, who had once smirked in the face of danger, now wore an expression of annoyance. His strategic mind raced to comprehend the situation, to find a counter to this new, explosive threat. But the sheer scale of the devastation wrought by Victor's cosmic-powered claws left him struggling to formulate a response.

The explosions had not only decimated the primordial beast's defenses but had also sent a clear message: Victor was not just a formidable opponent; he was a force of nature, a warrior whose power could turn the impossible into the inevitable.

The battlefield, still echoing with the aftermath of Victor's explosive assault, momentarily fell into a stunned silence. Amidst the settling dust and dissipating energy, the undead commander's voice cut through, a mixture of grudging respect and unwavering confidence. "Not bad, Kid!" he acknowledged, his tone betraying a hint of surprise at Victor's display of power. "But it is not going to be enough," he added, his words laced with an ominous certainty.

As he spoke, the undead commander gestured with a sweeping motion of his hand, a dark command that seemed to resonate with the very essence of necromancy. The battlefield, a tableau of destruction and chaos moments before, began to transform in a manner that defied the laws of nature and life itself.

The scattered remnants of the primordial beast, which had been torn asunder by Victor's cosmic claws, started to stir. It was as if an invisible force was knitting them back together. Shredded pieces of flesh, severed tentacles, and fragments of its monstrous form began to converge, drawn together by a sinister magnetism.

The scene was both macabre and mesmerizing. The beast's flesh writhed and twisted, reconnecting and reforming with an eerie fluidity. Tentacles reattached, wounds sealed, and the once-maimed creature began to regain its grotesque form. It was as though time had been reversed, the beast reassembling itself in a grotesque parody of healing.

Victor, who had stood amidst the chaos as a triumphant figure, now watched with a mixture of disbelief and realization. His expression, usually a mask of fierce determination and confidence, faltered, revealing a rare glimpse of surprise. His eyes widened slightly, and for a fleeting moment, a shadow of uncertainty crossed his features. The sight of the beast's regeneration was not just a tactical setback; it was a challenge to the very notion of victory in this unnatural war.

This moment of regeneration was a stark reminder of the undead commander's power and the unnatural forces at his command. The battlefield had become a chessboard of dark magic and brute strength, with each player unveiling their strategies in a high-stakes game of survival and dominance.

As the primordial beast stood once again, whole and menacing, the air around the battlefield seemed to thicken with anticipation. Victor, recovering from his momentary surprise, clenched his fists, his claws gleaming with renewed energy. The battle was far from over, and in the face of this renewed threat, Victor's resolve hardened. The next move was his, and it was clear that this clash of titanic forces was escalating towards an even more epic confrontation.

At this moment, he heard a voice that had come from the ear piece in his ear. It was from Father Black, "Victor, whatever you are doing, don't stop. It is working..."

(Author's note: I'm recovering... Thank you all for your love)