"Boom!"
His bloodline awakening was towards the path of insects and horde-like uses.
It was a path of numbers, of sacrifice, of the many serving the one.
Of one controlling all.
Although not as experienced as Kaelgor, who had already delved into the intricacies of not only his bloodline, but also his path of sin, that didn't mean that Malgrim had wasted those tens of years doing nothing!
He had honed his abilities, refined his techniques, and carefully prepared for the day when he would need to call upon the full extent of his power.
His insect-like demons and demonic beasts were more like mindless drones as half sped towards him like moths to a flame.
They came in a wave, their chitinous limbs clicking, their mandibles clacking, their bodies pulsating with chaotic demonic energy.
"Boom!"
The other half suicided as they charged towards Kaelgor, their bodies swelling with demonic mana before exploding in a cascade of flesh and energy.
The explosions were deafening, a series of violent blasts that rocked the ground and sent shockwaves rippling through the air.
Kaelgor was forced to use his own armored demons to withstand the onslaught, his progress slowing as he inched forward even as the explosions rang out.
His raging, malevolent body moved forward like a black flame through the fog of destruction, his halberd sweeping aside any who dared to stand in his path.
On the other side, as the insect-like fiends converged onto Malgrim, they actually started to melt and merge with him!
It was a grotesque, yet almost beautiful sight.
Their forms dissolved into a viscous, shimmering fluid that flowed into his body; becoming one with his flesh and his essence.
Some completely broke down into energy that helped his supernatural regeneration, growing his lost limb at speeds naked to the visible eye.
What would have taken a week or two normally was accomplished in seconds.
His stamina and strength also swelled as his demonic mana reserves were filled to the brim. The energy of his sacrificed subordinates surged through him like a tidal wave.
Then, the other part of his subordinates, those that didn't completely dissolve into demonic energy, actually merged with his body as extra chitin and limbs!
His weirdly handsome and skinny face was soon replaced with a much larger helmet-like head, looking something like an armored hornet mask.
His body extended, growing into a ten-meter-long, centipede-like amalgamation of limbs, scythes, and blades.
Flesh and chitin squirmed as demons screeched and squealed.
It was horrifying and beautiful at the same time.
The birth, the creation of a perfect being; one that was made for slaughter!
Malgrim was no longer a single, skinny devil.
He was a swarm given form.
A hive made flesh.
A living construction of destruction that gleamed with blades and malice.
He sacrificed his army, the one he had painstakingly grown over years of careful cultivation.
All that they were, was of him to start with.
All of his branding, his nurturing, became one with him, returning to its origin once more.
It was a desperate act, a final gambit.
It was the only answer to this dilemma.
His body was pushed to the absolute limits, every fiber of his being screaming with the strain of the transformation.
He felt like his body was being remade and torn apart at the same time, a sensation of profound agony and exultation that blurred the line between pain and pleasure.
But those eyes, transformed into the blackness of a hornet's eyes, were utterly calm and cold.
They held no fear, no hesitation, no doubt.
Only a burning, unyielding will to survive.
He would not die in vain.
He would not die without a fight.
He will not die easily!
"BOOOM!"
"RAGHHHH!"
A deafening explosion, a deafening roar, shook the air and the observers to their core.
The sound was felt, like a tremor that vibrated through flesh and bone, through the very essence of those who witnessed it.
The ground beneath their feet cracked and split, sending fissures racing across the scorched earth like the veins of some giant beast.
The miasma was torn apart by the force of the impact, revealing a sky that seemed to weep with bloody light.
Malgrim turned into a streak of black and green.
His transformed body, the demonic centipede of chitin and blades, charged forward like a dragon or a bull, a living tsunami of fury.
It tore through the demons that stood before it, its massive, segmented body a chaotic blur of blades and violence.
The demonic brutes, armored in their abyssal steel, were launched away like toys, their blades deflecting off the demonic chitin with showers of sparks.
Their armors were crushed in and left with tears as they landed with heavy thuds; their bodies broken, their mana shattered.
His own mindless horde, the very demons that had been his loyal servants, was mashed into pulp beneath his relentless, reckless advance.
Their lives, their purpose, no longer had any meaning.
"You fool!" Kaelgor saw the demonic centipede rush toward him and roared.
His roar was not just a battle cry: it was a declaration, a challenge, a statement to his strength, and Malgrim's lack of.
His body grew in demonic radiance, a silhouette of darkness manifesting around his form.
It appeared as a manifestation of himself; only larger, stronger, more intimidating!
It was a projection of his power, a reflection of his soul, a monument to his century of struggle and survival.
The onlookers, the hidden devils watching from the shadows, grew somber.
They were not just witnessing Kaelgor's immense strength; they were also witnessing Malgrim's desperation, his refusal to surrender.
His unyielding will.
Devils were never easy opponents, especially those at the higher realms.
The battle that had seemed so one-sided was now a clash of titans, a struggle that would be remembered to all those who lay witness.
"Boom!"
A black, winding torrent crashed into Kaelgor's body, who was hidden in a thick aura of black and red.
The impact was cataclysmic, a shockwave that sent ripples through the mana filled miasma that surrounded them all.
"Crack!"
"Snap!"
"Crunch!"
The continuous sound of snapping and cracking rang out; a ringing of destruction that echoed across the battlefield.
Within the maelstrom, Malgrim roared with rage; his bloodlust and pride fueling him, driving him forward even as his body was torn inch by inch. Even as flesh was severed, bones crushed, and chitin shattered.
But he did not hesitate.
He did not pull back in the slightest.
He kept surging forward with every ounce of his strength, every drop of energy, every iota of his being.
Even as his body was being torn through, even as his physical state could no longer sustain, he still willed his soul to coalesce into a seemingly physical state.
His focus was absolute.
No greed, no fear, no acknowledgement of his decimation.
Only a singular, burning purpose: to kill, to destroy, to take his enemy down with him!
Eyes, not physical, yet bearing an undeniable presence in front of Kaelgor, bore into him like a wild animal, no, like a monster of the abyss.
They held no trace of the cunning strategist, nor deeper thoughts of a schemer.
Only the raw, primal fury of a dying beast.
"Kill, Kill, KILL!"
No other thoughts entered his mind, even as his world shattered and broke apart.
He was beyond reason, beyond fear, beyond pain.
He was a force of nature, a storm of violence, and he would not be stopped until his last breath.
"Swoosh~"
Regret or hesitation was never born.
Fear ceased to exist.
The pain was never acknowledged.
Even in the final moments, Kaelgor could still feel Malgrim's killing intent, his sole focus, locked onto him.
His goal never wavered…
The long centipede-like body was cut with a serrated edge down the middle.
It was a messy, brutal cut; a final blow that ended the struggle in a single, terrifying slash.
The bloodied, torn body of chitin and blood carved a path in the rough dirt; its momentum carrying it forward even as it split apart.
The miasma swirled vigorously, disturbed by the violent clash of energies.
Hell's red light was dim, gentle, as it sparkled on the specks of dust and debris that hung in the air; like a frozen moment of chaos.
Shimmering, blob-like fog scattered in the winds: a slain soul.
The remnants of Malgrim, the fragmented pieces of his being, were quickly fading into hell's atmosphere.
Like a mother taking back the remnants of her child into her embrace, the realm absorbed his essence, reclaiming the energy that had been lent to him for his brief, burning existence.
Kaelgor quickly, instinctively waved his arm and took in some of Malgrim's soul, saving them for when he had the time.
It was a reflex, a habit born of centuries of survival.
He would not let such a powerful essence go to waste.
After, he raised his black-steel clad hand and gently wiped off the blood that was dripping off his helm's mouth and chin piece.
The gesture was calm; stark contrast to the violence that had just transpired.
'A true devil indeed.'
The thought of Malgrim lingered in Kaelgor's mind.
He felt the pride that made devils the pinnacle beings of the endless realms.
Malgrim had fought with rage, without hesitation, with an unyielding will that could not be broken.
He met his end without fear.
Even his anger for Malgrim faded.
His death was honorable, a fitting end for a being of his stature.
He brought no shame to their name, to their kind.
Like that, the existence of a devil ended.
The echoes of his battle faded into the endless, churning chaos of hell.
His name, his deeds, his struggles: all of it was absorbed into endless noise of hell.
A memory that would slowly fade, a moment that would eventually be forgotten.
But for a moment, in the eyes of those who had witnessed his final act, this unknown devil, this background character, had been noticed.