The Blood Curse Altar and the Awakened Demon God

Nestled within a desolate, uninhabited valley stood a structure resembling a crumbling cathedral. Its exterior suggested ancient origins, yet within, it opened into a vast, cavernous hall. Intricate, eerie patterns adorned the walls and ceiling, while a colossal altar dominated the chamber’s heart.

Around the altar, the ground was filled with figures clad in pitch-black robes, kneeling in devotion. Dark red runes, through which a blood-like liquid seemed to flow, were etched across their faces, shimmering with an unsettling light within the cavernous darkness of the hall.

These prostrate figures directed gazes of fervent, almost incomprehensible fanaticism towards the towering silhouette standing upon the rune-inscribed holy altar.

Five individuals stood upon the altar, one notably taller than the rest, whose face was obscured by the vast hood of a ceremonial robe. Spreading his arms wide, he began to chant in a booming voice:

“Aronda, Doron, Dora, Doda, Aromda, Aronda, Doron, Dora, Doda. In the world created by the Mother Goddess, only you are the true ruler! Master of the world’s darkness! Emperor of plagues and war! Eternal monarch of the departed! Hear our call and descend upon this world, let war, darkness, and death reign over this land! Aronda, Doron, Dora, Doda, Aromda, Aronda, Doron, Dora, Doda.”

As the incantation flowed from the towering figure’s lips, the kneeling multitude seemed to fall under an irresistible spell. They prostrated themselves relentlessly, their movements bordering on madness, until the vast, empty hall echoed with the deafening clang of skulls striking the stone floor.

The cacophony intensified. The devotees, heedless of their blood-streaked faces, prostrated themselves with even greater ferocity. One by one, they succumbed, their skulls fracturing from the ceaseless impact. Yet, the delirious throng paid no mind to the demise of their comrades, their faces contorted in fanatical zeal as they pounded their heads against the ground with increasing madness.

As the final syllables of the incantation faded, the kneeling figures surrounding the altar lay utterly lifeless. Their spilled blood stained the entire cathedral crimson. Bizarrely, this crimson tide began to flow sluggishly towards the altar’s center, where it gradually congealed into the distinct silhouette of a human form.

“My Lord! Could it be… success!”

“Sacrificing the blood of a thousand zealots, each bearing the Spirit Gathering Array, truly succeeded in summoning the Demon God! Behold this trembling aura of darkness! And these endless malevolent thoughts, capable of melting ordinary mortals! Hahahahaha!”

From the blood-soaked altar, waves of dark, malevolent energy pulsed outwards. The sudden surge of this dark aura swept back the hoods of the five figures standing beside the altar. The leader, a towering individual, revealed skin covered in black runes. Curved ram horns sprouted near his temples, and his eyes blazed with a sanguine glow. The four figures beside him, their faces now visible beneath their own robes, were similarly etched with bizarre runes, and each bore two short, stubby horns protruding from their foreheads.

These five beings—no, to call them ‘people’ would be a grave mistake—were clearly demons.

A colossal pillar of blood surged upwards, and within its viscous depths, a figure sheathed in pure black armor slowly materialized, rising up from the altar. Despite being engulfed, not a single drop of blood adhered to its surface, as if an unseen, ethereal barrier shielded it. The entity within the blood pillar was cloaked head-to-toe in this obsidian armor, not a sliver of skin visible, even its face concealed. Forged from an unknown metal, the armor’s dazzling black luster, reflecting the sanguine glow, sent a shiver down one’s spine. Every intricate line and etching on its surface appeared either born of nature or the divine craft of a god. With a soft ‘whoosh,’ the armor unfurled a pair of wings that had been hidden behind its back. These wings, composed of segmented steel, revealed only their skeletal framework, connected by a thin, almost translucent membrane that, paradoxically, conveyed immense weight. A profound silence enveloped the scene, accentuating the hellish tableau. Far from appearing cumbersome, the armor flawlessly accentuated the wearer’s physique, and the subtle rise and fall of its chest silently proclaimed that beneath this skin-like steel carapace lay a vibrant, living being—one merely ensnared by the flowing blood, seemingly yet to awaken.

Soron gazed with rapacious intensity at the terrifying form before him. Even his heart, which had lain dormant for a thousand years, began to thrum with an uncontrollable agitation, spurred by the immense joy of impending triumph.

Under Soron’s gaze, brimming with joyous anticipation and avarice, the Demon God, ensnared by the flowing blood, slowly opened its eyes. From the terrifying, obsidian faceplate, two searing blue flames ignited where pupils should have been. Under the unwavering scrutiny of those cerulean infernos, even Soron, the Lord of Demons, found himself unable to master his fear; his trembling legs involuntarily threatened to buckle and force him to his knees before the Demon God on the altar.

“Gr-great Sovereign, embodiment of death, Demon of all Demons, Lord of all Lords! I… I am the Archdemon Soron Nemost, and it is my immense honor to behold you, Demon God!”

Soron struggled to quell the surging fear within him, placing his right hand over his chest and offering a shallow bow to the Demon God upon the altar. With his head lowered, his mind raced, ‘Such power… this unknown Demon God is even mightier than those chronicled in ancient legends! It’s astonishing that even with its demonic energy suppressed by the blood curse, it can still emanate such overwhelming presence.’

The Demon God, ensnared within its sanguine prison, seemed to register Soron’s words. It slowly lowered its head, its gaze sweeping over the bowing Soron and the four other demons already trembling and prostrate on the ground beside him. As Soron felt that chilling gaze upon him, his body instantly felt as though it had plunged into a frigid abyss, as if an invisible accusation demanded to know why he dared stand in its presence.

The Demon God’s gaze then drifted to the surrounding corpses of the zealots strewn across the floor. The Demon God started to raise an arm, only to find it halted abruptly, bound by an unseen force. It lowered its head, perceiving its form entwined by innumerable chains woven from blood. Its limbs struggled, yet found no release from the blood curse’s tenacious grip. Suddenly, the pale flames within the Demon God’s eyes surged and burned with furious intensity!

Soron, still bowing his head, suddenly felt those imperious eyes bore into him with chilling intensity. He knew the Demon God had perceived the blood curse seal upon its form, yet it remained powerless to break it! At last, the ambition within Soron’s heart eclipsed his fear. He swiftly raised his head, straightened his posture, and flung his arms wide. With his gaze fixed immovably upon the Demon God’s eyes, he declared with an air of absolute triumph:

“I have prepared for a millennium! Finally, this flawless Blood Curse Altar is complete! No matter how powerful a deity, once summoned into this world through the Spirit Gathering Seal and blood sacrifice, its strength will be suppressed below the Saint rank by the power of this Blood Curse Altar! And I, Soron, the noble and wise Lord of Demons, shall seal your soul within this hall, inscribed with soul runes! Then, I can claim your Demon God’s body, possessing perfect divinity, for my own! At that time! I shall rule the entire world! Hahahahaha~”

The Demon God continued to fix its gaze, burning with pale flames, upon Soron, observing the demon’s increasingly agitated and gesticulating form as his words grew more fervent.

“After a millennium of preparation, this Demon God is nothing more than a mere plaything in my grasp! Now!!! Surrender your body! Give it to me!! Give it to me!!!” Soron roared, yet the Demon God’s gaze remained utterly impassive, as if Soron’s grand pronouncements were nothing more than a jest, unworthy of notice. A tidal wave of fury surged within Soron. He flung his hands wide, unleashing immense magical fluctuations that rippled through the air, causing the entire grand hall to shudder violently. In an instant, the surrounding corpses of the zealots disintegrated into dust, which rapidly converged between Soron’s outstretched hands, solidifying into a blood-red crystal the size of a football. Soron distended his maw, wide enough to engulf the crystal, and swallowed it whole. Immediately, the runes etched upon his face blazed crimson, as if his very skin was about to tear open. With each flicker of the glowing runes, Soron’s body swelled with terrifying speed. His ceremonial robe was instantly ripped to shreds by his expanding form. His lower body transmuted into powerful, beast-like hindquarters, his feet ending in three thick, barbed toes. A massive, scaled tail, tipped like a colossal blade, lashed out from behind him, while countless bony spikes, four of which were monstrously large, erupted from his back. His hands had become wicked claws, their joints covered in thick, horny barbs. The curved ram horns on his head grew thicker and more grotesquely twisted, and two upward-pointing bony spires, like a dark crown, burst forth from his forehead. His face, now a visage of pure terror, glowed with blood-red eyes, his nose a pair of empty cavities, and his lips completely vanished, revealing only colossal fangs that spewed forth searing flames.

“Within this seal, your soul shall be devoured by me! Your flesh occupied! I shall become an existence beyond the gods! I shall achieve immortality! And you, unknown Demon God! Vanish!” The now-demonic Soron channeled his immense magic into the altar. Driven by the colossal power, the Blood Curse Altar began to accelerate its function, emitting a dazzling crimson glow.

The obsidian Demon God remained utterly serene, observing the now gargantuan demon. In the vast, empty hall, a sharp ‘crack’ echoed. In that very instant, the sanguine chains binding the Demon God shattered completely, and the Blood Curse Altar beneath its feet disintegrated into dust. The liberated Demon God now hovered effortlessly above the pulverized remnants of the altar.

“No… this… this cannot be…” Soron stared in utter disbelief at the shattered altar beneath the Demon God. His Blood Curse Altar, a creation painstakingly prepared over a millennium, had been reduced to dust. The fear that his ambition had momentarily suppressed now crept back into Soron’s heart, growing as he watched the unbound Demon God. A flicker of incredulity marred the demonic visage of Soron. “This is impossible… the Blood Curse Altar can suppress even a god to the level of a Saint! You couldn’t possibly have broken the blood curse chains, unless you are an existence beyond the gods! Beyond the gods? Hahahaha!! Impossible!! You must have expended an enormous amount of magic to break free. Yes, you are now as fragile as a rat! Moreover, I have devoured the souls and flesh of a thousand zealots; now, even a god would find me a formidable opponent! You foul rat!! Be a good meal and let me devour you!!”

Soron’s heart, now a maelstrom of fear and ambition, propelled his colossal fist, imbued with world-shattering power, towards the Demon God’s form. The ensuing clash of immense magical energies utterly obliterated the entire cathedral. The four demon retainers, who had long since collapsed unconscious near the altar, were instantly torn to shreds by the sheer force of this cataclysmic impact.

The instant his blow connected with the Demon God, a terrifying smile stretched across the demon’s face. The magical impact confirmed his belief: the opponent’s power was indeed inferior to his own. ‘I can defeat him!’ Soron exulted in his mind.

From the swirling dust and smoke of the annihilated cathedral, a voice spoke in a language Soron had never encountered: [Seven Deadly Sins Armament – Glutton’s Offering]. Before Soron could fully comprehend the mysterious utterance, a searing agony erupted from his wrist.

“Aaaahhh!!! My hand!!! You!!! You actually harmed me, the noble Lord of Demons!! You! Damned…” Soron shrieked in agony from the excruciating pain in his arm. When the smoke cleared, Soron saw the Demon God’s unharmed figure and realized with horror that his own right hand was gone. In front of him, the Demon God held a massive scythe, over three meters long, with four eyeballs on each side of its blade, all staring at him with greedy, living intensity. The scythe’s blade was a monstrous maw formed by two rows of colossal teeth, and these teeth were rapidly growing larger. Suddenly, the two rows of teeth parted, and Soron glimpsed his vanished arm, swallowed by an abyss of endless darkness.

“You worm…”

Lowering the massive scythe, Liu Mu felt a strange sensation from within. He had clearly fallen asleep yesterday, so why hadn’t he been forcibly disconnected after the maintenance? Instead, he’d woken up to a boss cinematic he’d never seen before in the game. He just hadn’t expected the boss to be so weak, which explained why it didn’t drop any equipment.

“This dungeon is so strange; it speaks in a language I can’t understand. Even after analyzing it with the system for ages, all I caught was the final boss saying something like, ‘I!! Lord of Demons!!! You worm…’ The intro CG was pretty good, but the boss’s name is just too casual.”

Liu Mu put away Glutton and clicked the logout button. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been disconnected after maintenance, but he still had to go to work today. Oh, and he hadn’t seen the results of the [Egg of Eden] yet, but no matter what, the outcome was probably already decided. He’d check next time he logged in!

“Eh?? Eh??? Why can’t I log out? What’s going on?!”