The towering demon with dark-violet skin lunged at Mars in an instant.
Its bald, grotesque head split open into a cross-shaped maw bristling with rows of jagged fangs, unleashing a terrifying psychic wave meant to disturb and disorient the soul.
One glance at that mouth made its purpose obvious: it had evolved specifically to feed on blood.
The four lip flaps, spreading in a cross, could clamp tightly onto a victim's limb, while the tongue—mutated into a bundle of sucking tubes—could pierce straight into an artery and drain blood at maximum speed.
As the silent psychic wave struck, Mars caught sight of the tongue splitting apart into twenty-four writhing tendrils, each like a thin straw, twitching with bloodthirsty desire.
"Beast—die!"
Mars roared. His weapon, Scourge of the Progenito, thrummed violently, the trident head sparking with crimson fury like a dragon's maw, thrusting straight for the demon's hideous face.
It was clear—the god squatting here had not lingered long enough to cultivate a body of sufficient strength. Even in its strongest available vessel, it was no match for Mars, a warrior born and bred for combat.
The demon's hide, tough as it was, amounted to little more than mid-grade biometal. Against Mars's full-force strike, it was utterly inadequate.
Before the spearpoint even touched flesh, the scarlet psychic lightning crackling along its prongs had already pierced through, searing the demon's face into a blackened, peeling ruin.
Its wretched scream echoed through the cavern.
In the Warp, the demon god's spirit projection convulsed violently in response.
A strand of pure, dark-red warp energy pierced the veil between realms and flooded into the demon's body.
At once, a five-meter-wide surge of crimson energy burst outward, forming a whirling vortex of force around it—a shield and weapon both.
Mars's strike, which nearly obliterated the demon's head, faltered against the vortex. To avoid being caught in its deadly spin, he wrenched his spear back and leapt away.
Through his psychic perception, Roya observed it all, and understood: the demon god was grasping at its final straws.
This infusion of warp energy was the strongest strike it could manifest in the material world.
But bound by the vessel's limits, the vortex extended no further than five meters, and Roya's calculations assured him—it could not last more than a single minute.
Which meant the Myth Squad needed only to keep their distance for sixty seconds. After that, the demon's own body would collapse under the strain of power it could not bear.
And when that moment came, this vessel would die—slain by its own master's energy.
At Roya's psychic warning, the Myth Squad scattered into five directions at once.
Perhaps because Mars had nearly destroyed its head, the demon's hatred was locked solely on him. Abandoning the others, it charged after Mars in blind fury.
Mars only laughed, while the remaining four wasted no time—they turned their weapons on the other reserve vessels.
Blades and cannons of every hue shredded through cocoons with ruthless efficiency, destroying the bodies that had no combat capability, serving only as filters for purified energy.
The demon howled in rage, eyes bulging. Its lidless, pinhead-sized crimson orbs swelled to the size of peanuts, veins pulsing with fury, as it raged and thrashed after the squad, unable to catch them.
To the demon, that minute stretched into an eternity—until its body finally detonated, ending its torment.
Its seed of consciousness returned to the god's greater mind.
"You insects! How dare you awaken me!"
A voice of ancient, overwhelming malice reverberated through the cavern.
Failing to destroy the intruders with its prearranged stratagems, the dark god at last stirred from its deep slumber, where it had been wholly absorbed in simulating new paths of evolution.
In the Warp, its spirit projection boiled like water brought to a furious boil, seething irregularly from within.
Like a great beast roused from chaos, it awoke enraged, eager to vent its fury upon every soul in reach.
"Now you awaken? Too late."
Roya's voice was cold. His psychic threads tightened, layer upon layer weaving into an inescapable net that lashed around the demon god.
"You are stronger than any foe I've faced before. But you were arrogant. Obsessed with perfecting your evolution, you gave me the time I needed to study your essence—and weave this net tailored for you."
"So drown in regret. Begin your endless repentance for the crimes you've wrought upon humanity!"
Sensing the invisible binds outside its body, the god's projection convulsed harder, but no matter how it struggled, not a trace of energy could break free.
Like a madman bound in the strongest straitjacket, it could only waste its frenzy thrashing against unyielding restraints, unable to strike at its captors.
In the material world, as though resonating with its master's wrath and despair, the consciousness seeds planted within the cocoons all flared to life.
In an instant, tens of thousands of demons awakened across the cavern, tearing free of their shells.
Each one unleashed its most terrifying psychic wave at once, trying instinctively to frighten away the invaders.
But this human squad—who had fought their way into the very nest itself—felt no fear, and had no intention of granting them mercy.
The Myth Squad cut through them without pause, slaughtering these abominations born of stolen human blood and gene-code.
Before long, Whitebeard and the others, having finished clearing the brood chambers, followed the waves of psychic terror to this place.
The two squads joined forces, moving to annihilate the last of the demons.
In the Warp, the demon god's spirit projection thrashed helplessly, ever more tightly ensnared in Roya's psychic net.
Its fate was sealed.
Like the Star Dragon before it, it would be broken down and devoured—its essence digested into the vast library of knowledge within Roya's soul.