Ragehorn Saemon is the sole Archfiend among the Rage Demons.
All demons originate from Abyssal Seeds, born as nearly identical, grotesque worms. Through prolonged growth and evolution, they gradually diverge into countless seemingly distinct species. The Wrath Demon stands at one apex of the demonic evolutionary tree; those with fiery tempers and explosive natures ultimately branch into this lineage, with Ragehorn Saemon being one such example. This form—red-skinned, twin-horned, muscular, and terrifyingly grotesque—is also the most common image of a Great Demon in human perception. For in every demonic calamity, the Wrath Demons charge ahead, leading the vanguard of burning, killing, and pillaging.
These warlike and easily enraged demons actually advance more readily than other varieties.
The Abyssal Will permeates every corner of the demonic birthplaces, invisible and intangible, unpredictable yet omnipresent. The demonic evolutionary system is highly complex and unpredictable. Even during periods of deepest mutual study, scholars cannot definitively establish the laws governing demonic evolution. Those creatures more adept at thought and magic often branch toward becoming Lich Demons. Those who fear or disdain direct combat, preferring to strike from the shadows, may evolve into Shadow Demons or Mind-Binding Demons. Those with a lust for carnal desires and a talent for seduction typically develop into Succubi... The evolutionary tree branches infinitely, with each stage's sequence difficult to pinpoint. Seemingly unrelated individuals may actually share the same evolutionary path—here, no divine hand provides an evolutionary compendium for the little creatures.
Efforts to unravel the Abyss's ecology only yield despair for scholars. Yet the Abyss's preferences remain common knowledge: it favors destruction and chaos, showering favor upon those most adept at unleashing them.
Those monsters with the potential to become Wrath Demons are uniquely favored, veritable machines for generating destruction and chaos. Their killing knows no purpose—even Devouring Demons cannot match them in this regard, for at least the latter kill to satisfy their hunger. Thus, the Abyss's preference for this type is only natural.
No special mutation, no unique encounter, no extra strategy is needed. Simply slaughter relentlessly (victims abound both within and beyond the Abyss), and half of all Abyssal spawn may lean toward becoming Wrath Demons during their advancement. The evolutionary path from Abyssal spawn to a pitchfork-wielding Imp, then to a chain-wielding Horned Demon, and finally to a Wrath Demon consists of only three brief steps. Countless rage demons abruptly advance through combat—the lowest-barrier evolutionary path imaginable.
Think of rage demons as high-level warriors in the mortal realm: Lack faith? Low intelligence? No talent for spellcasting? No special bloodline, no reliable mentor or lineage, lacking skill, patience, or specialization? No problem. Pick up a blade, learn to swing it, and you're a warrior. Of course, how long they survive on adventures is another matter entirely.
Demons evolving into Wrath Demons require no cultivation during their growth. They simply need to heed their primal rage and slaughter. This comes as naturally as breathing to all Abyssal creatures—any born who survive their first weeks without being devoured by their own kind will inevitably master it. Ragefiends actually have a higher chance than any other demon to advance into a Greater Demon. From this perspective alone, they truly are the Abyss's favorite children.
However, Ragefiends also suffer a higher mortality rate than any other demon of their tier.
The probability of demonic spawn evolving toward the Wrath Demon path is the highest in the entire Abyss. The likelihood of a Wrath Demon advancing to a Greater Demon is also terrifyingly high. Yet, despite being one of the pinnacles of the evolutionary tree, the "Wrath Demon" is no different from other high-tier demon species. Greater Demons are even rarer; it's extremely unlikely to see two Wrath Demon Greater Demons coexisting within the same timeframe.
Rage Demons recklessly advance in battle yet possess no sense of knowing when to stop. They continue to rage uncontrollably, courting disaster everywhere until their fury temporarily subsides or they hit a brick wall. Archdevils among Rage Demons are always fleeting phenomena—99% die immediately after ascending, and in the days that follow, they might impulsively throw themselves into oblivion.
"Why so glum?" the book in midair asked. "I did save your life, after all."
—Simon was no different.
Some five or six hundred years ago, Simon ascended during battle and slaughtered relentlessly, clearing the entire battlefield and exterminating every Wrath Demon nearby. Unable to stop, he finally charged at Victor, who was passing by. Victor was en route to the Material Plane, too busy to bother with him. He simply reached out, grabbed Simon's right horn, and snapped it off.
Incidentally, a fiend's horn is fused to its skull—hardened shell on the outside, dense nerves within, making it extremely sensitive.
The excruciating pain snapped Simon back to his senses, helping him survive the most perilous phase after ascending to a Greater Fiend. This injury caused Simon no end of trouble (exposing a broken leg among wolves had only one outcome), but it also forged his resilience. Now, he remained just a fraction more composed than other fiends when trouble arose. In that sense, Victor hadn't been wrong.
Unfortunately, the Wrath Demon showed no sign of gratitude.
An eternal shame remained upon Simon's head. Though he had drunk the blood of countless mockers, it was never enough to quench the rage within. The bone spines along Simon's spine stood erect, razor-sharp, as if capable of slicing through the very gaze fixed upon him. The Wrath Demon's roar echoed through the subterranean chamber. Its claws dug into the earth, bulging muscles swelling like stacked spheres.
But in the end, it did not attack.
Had this been within the Abyss itself, had Victor stood before it, Simon would have charged without hesitation. But this was the Prime Material Plane, severed from the Abyss for centuries. The dungeon environment was strange, external conditions unknown, and Victor's true form remained unseen. The sacrifice made to send this avatar here had already cost dearly. If it were driven back empty-handed, the fate awaiting the original entity in the Abyss would likely be grim.
Simon was not a mindless beast.
Though all Abyssal creations could broadly be termed demons, they were actually divided into three major categories by rank: fiends, demons, and daemons.
The vast multitude of lower-tier demons were fiends—from demonic spawn to evolving, diverse forms. As long as they remained dominated by primal instincts, no matter how powerful, they were merely "fiends." Monsters may possess the cunning of jackals or the cognitive capacity of children, yet their sole purpose is survival, slaughter, and evolution. All strategy and action serve instinct; they are less individual entities than collective phenomena. Their soul flames are exceedingly faint—they might as well be soulless.
From the countless monsters, a rare few ascend to become demons.
Demons represent the middle tier of Abyssal creations. Evolving to this stage, their soul flames have coalesced into form, making them nearly indistinguishable from creatures of the Material Plane. They begin to develop individual consciousness beyond mere instinct. This process may unfold over eons or dawn in a single epiphany after a meal. Regardless, demons ascending to this rank finally escape the fate of being low-tier cannon fodder in demonic calamities, becoming high-tier cannon fodder instead.
All Abyssal creatures possessing self-awareness yet not yet reaching the rank of Greater Demon fall into this category, exhibiting a vast range of power. The weaker ones can be defeated by a few adventurers, while the stronger ones can thrive on the Material Plane as thriving soul traders. The demons who lure saints with written contracts in legends belong to this tier. Though far fewer in number than monstrous creatures, their influence and dramatic presence have made demons world-renowned, securing them the top spot as villains in legendary fiction to this day.
The Wrath Fiend is one such demon, also a subject of demonic pacts—but as the contracted party, not the one proposing the deal. Rather than weaving intricate textual traps, Wrath Fiends favor a straightforward, no-nonsense exchange: you hand over your soul, and I fulfill your murderous desires. The demons most frequently summoned by spellcasters are Wrath Demons and Succubi. The former serve as berserk combatants, while the latter are commonly employed in flanking maneuvers and... ahem. The soul payment need not come from the summoner themselves. A succubus's allure transcends gender and race, so despite warnings and prohibitions everywhere, spellcasters who overstep and get drained dry by their own summoned succubi remain a common occurrence.
The notoriety and numbers of Archdevils pale in comparison to the two preceding ranks.
The creatures of the Abyss are as numerous as drops in the ocean—including all demons—and their exact count remains unknown. Among a race vastly outnumbering the sentient beings of the Material Plane, only a handful of Archdevils have ever been born. The odds of achieving such legendary status are so astronomically low they'd bring tears of envy to your eyes. Each Archfiend possesses unique abilities. Attempting to categorize them as a single entity is nearly impossible—akin to lumping all legendary adventurers across the Material Plane together.
One thing, however, is absolutely certain.
Regardless of species, any fiend that survives and battles its way to this level possesses not only astonishing luck but undeniable strengths. Even the most simple-minded among them possess at least human-level intelligence by the time they evolve into Archdevils.
Referring to Simon as "it," much like calling a dragon "it," is pure prejudice based on appearance. This beast-like, seemingly savage monster is no mindless fool.
"You're still alive?" Simon growled, his voice rumbling like summer thunder, indistinguishable from a roar.
Fury fueled his speculation about the other's current state. This passage originated from Victor's backup plan; the key held by the one who traversed it also came from Victor. The Archfiend on the other side had long speculated about Victor's present situation. The Abyss's passage was sealed. Heaven's passage was sealed. Logically, a great demon left behind here couldn't possibly meet a good end...
"You think I must have met a bad end?" The floating book chuckled. "Oh, Simon, you haven't changed a bit. Just as 'frank' as ever."
The Wrath Demon growled in insulted fury.
"Angry again, look at you... So you're the one sent to scout." The book sighed regretfully, then quickly switched to a falsely cheerful tone. "One-horned Simon, we're old acquaintances! What a delightful reunion after five hundred years! Truth be told, I'm quite surprised we met here. I'd assumed five centuries would be enough for the Wrath Demons to produce another being with an even more unbalanced distribution of intellect, brute strength, and luck. Seems there's still a golden ratio at play—like you. Truly an unexpectedly perfect proportion."
This particular branch of Wrath Demons didn't specifically target their own kind; there was no unwritten rule that "only one Archfiend-level Wrath Demon could exist." But two Wrath Demons meant double the reckless fury, and when two Archfiend-level Wrath Demons clashed, one death and one injury was almost inevitable. Mutual destruction wasn't uncommon either.
Simon didn't immediately grasp the veiled mockery, but he recognized the sneer in its tone. The Wrath Demon's crimson skin glowed dangerously, as if molten lava flowed beneath.
The eyes in the book watched him expectantly, as if bored to tears, waiting only for a fight.
No! Simon's guard shot up. He couldn't play right into this creature's hands!
This dungeon seemed utterly defenseless. Before him lay only a strange book, no sign of traps in sight. But Victor's traps never showed their hand, and Simon had learned this lesson the hard way before.
Their first encounter had been disastrous—Victor had broken Simon's horn without a word, as easily as snapping a twig. The second time, Simon had stumbled upon one of Victor's duplicates. The power disparity was staggering; the duplicate could crush Simon to death with a single hand. Simon had intended to destroy the duplicate and avenge his humiliation, but he'd foolishly listened to the creature's lies before acting... The outcome needn't be recounted. Somehow, Simon fell into Victor's trap, plunging into the demiplane housing the Temple of Saro, nearly losing his life in the process.
Memories sliced by holy light made his vigilance outweigh his rage. The Wrath Demon shook his head violently, like a bull trying to dislodge flies buzzing around his skull.
"Enough!" it bellowed. "I have no time for your verbal gymnastics. The Abyss needs intelligence on the current state of the Material Plane, and preparations for expanding the portal!"
"You're talking to me?" the book exclaimed in surprise. "Since when did our demonic relationship become so cordial that we freely share resources? Did the laws of the Abyss shift toward those of the Celestial Realm during my absence?"
The Abyss's large-scale incursions into the Material Plane stemmed from instinct—less an organized campaign and more like "robbers swarming a neighbor's open door." Higher-tier demons naturally suppressed lower-tier beings, but when facing equals, things became uncertain. Fighting for the Abyss? Sacrificing for the greater good? That had never been the Abyss's way.
"What exactly do you want?" " Simon snapped. "Cut the pretense. Don't you want to open the Abyss portal?"
When the portal fluctuated, the Archdevils speculated about what lay beyond.
The best-case scenario was a remote, uninhabited safe haven. Despite Victor's poor demonic connections (though most Archdevils in the Abyss weren't exactly friendly with one another), his cunning was still recognized among demons. A worse scenario involved a fully armed demon-hunting army. At the very least, the Archdemons could gauge the current military strength of the Material Plane from the destruction of the Wrath Demon's avatar. But even the worst-case scenario wasn't so dire. If the portal had opened due to the ambition of surface creatures, and if the dominant sentient beings on the surface suddenly decided to launch a counterattack against the Abyss, the demons would be overjoyed and lend their full support.
Four to five centuries had passed since the archdevils' full retreat to the Abyss. Demons spent considerable time probing whether Victor still lived, then more time breaching layer upon layer of defenses—through brute force, cunning schemes, intrigue, and fierce competition—until Victor's entire fortune was divided among them. By now, the dust had settled. Everything Victor left behind in the Abyss (at least everything they could find) had found new owners, changing hands multiple times. Nearly all the Archdevils believed that "Victor, who always had a hidden hand," had finally met his end and could never stir up trouble again.
All speculation and countermeasures were overturned upon discovering Victor still lived in the Material Plane.
If he was alive, the opening of this portal and the advance force's entry must be under his control—perhaps even orchestrated by him. While being manipulated by this fellow certainly rankled the Wrath Demon, when a common goal—opening the Abyss portal—was at stake, a temporary alliance with Victor would undoubtedly yield twice the result with half the effort.
The only question was what he wanted. Had another, more cunning Archfiend arrived instead of the Wrath Demon Simon, negotiations would likely have commenced already.
The yellow eyes in the center of the page casually surveyed the Archfiend nearby, as if he were merely oversized trash placed in the wrong spot. Victor sighed, as if reproaching the other for lacking savvy.
"Paying rent to the owner before requisitioning the premises—isn't that the bare minimum courtesy?" he said.
"What do you want?" Simon snapped, losing patience with this sluggish exchange.
"Not much," the book replied nonchalantly. "Just return what's mine first."
"Everything I left in the Abyss."
"You lost them yourself!" The Wrath Demon let out a crude, mocking laugh that sounded like a bark. "Nothing in the Abyss has an owner—only the most deserving beings hold them temporarily! Want them back? That's not how the Abyss works!"
"These are my rules," Victor said patiently, as if explaining common sense to a simpleton. "And on my turf, you play by my rules."
"Your turf?" Simon roared with laughter.
Its laughter rumbled like thunder as it clawed at the stone wall, tearing a long gash. The Wrath Demon sneered coldly, "Times have changed! You're not what you used to be! Do you really think you can bargain with this dungeon that doesn't even carry the Abyss's aura?"
The book neither interrupted the Wrath Demon's mockery nor reacted to the wall's damage. It waited calmly to the side, tilting its head in feigned concern only after the demon finished scratching the wall.
"Well, that does lack a bit of persuasiveness. " said Victor. "But owning an entire city still looks better than being trapped in a frail human body, don't you think?"
The laughter abruptly ceased.
"Remember the last time we met?" Victor showed no sign of letting up. "That was truly unfortunate. Not only did I break your horn again, but trapped in the body of a human child, I couldn't even kick your knees when I jumped. And what happened? Broken-horned Simon, learn something. Haven't the demons taught you that if you're not smart, you shouldn't listen to Uncle Victor?"
Simon roared and finally lunged forward.
Even Buddha would lose his temper three times over, and the Wrath Demon was never known for its composure. His sore spot trampled repeatedly, old grudges and fresh wounds surged forth. The enraged Wrath Demon had no time left for weighing pros and cons; all caution dissolved into frenzied action.
Its bones cracked and popped as its form swelled once more, flesh and bone spurs tangled within torn skin. Its thick, reverse-jointed legs compressed and sprang like coiled springs, propelling the massive demon upward with the agility of a light ball.
Where it had stood moments before, spiderweb-like cracks spread across the floor tiles.
Debris scraped loose earlier swirled in the gale, the still air of the dungeon chamber churned by this charge. Before its claws touched down, the fierce wind arrived first. Books suspended midair rustled in the tempest. That enormous yellow eye narrowed, its expression serene, as if merely dodging a blinding gale rather than confronting a colossal demon hurtling toward it.
The distance between them was only a dozen meters. With a single kick, the Wrath Demon closed it in an instant. The claw drew nearer, closer still, mere inches away from ripping the book open.
It halted just a foot from the book.
A brilliant golden light erupted suddenly, radiating outward from the claw's center. In the blink of an eye, the magnificent radiance filled the entire room, illuminating the dungeon's late night as brightly as day. The claw's pause lasted only one ten-thousandth of a second. After that fraction of a second, Saimon flew backward, faster than it had come.
The light was truly beautiful, sparkling like jewels, brilliant as the sun. But for the Wrath Demon enveloped within it, the situation was far from poetic. Like a fool reaching for a live wire, golden light coiled around it, darting from its claws to its massive feet, causing every tendon in its body to convulse. A deafening, earth-shaking roar shook the room as Simon rolled back to the floor, black smoke rising from his body.
The bone spines it had just extended were now charred and blackened. Most of them quickly withered and retracted into its body, making it appear a full size smaller than before. Simon looked up at the motionless book, shouting in equal parts rage and terror, "Saro?"
"How dare you address a great demon by that name," Victor said with feigned disdain. "How rude."
"Saro, damn it! I'd recognize you in ashes!" The Wrath Demon scrambled to his feet, the scorched marks on his body rapidly healing. "How can you be unharmed? How can you wield Saro's power?!"
The powers of gods and demons are naturally repelled.
The corruption of demons is the greatest enemy of holy believers. The foul arts of the Abyss most effectively corrode divine magic, and countless holy sons and daughters have fallen to demonic hands; Divine purification is the natural enemy of monstrous beings. During demonic plagues, priests' Holy Light (previously used only for healing and exorcism) proved more potent than mages' offensive spells, and countless high-ranking demons perished under divine intervention.
The Celestial Realm and the Abyss have been adversaries since their inception. Their creations are as incompatible as fire and water—and this goes far beyond mere psychological opposition. When water prevails, flames are extinguished; when fire rages, water is scorched dry. Such is their absolute mutual exclusion. Higher levels mitigate this suppression, yet even when evolved into Archdevils, the divine arts of legendary priests remain more troublesome to them than any legendary caster's attacks.
That earlier spell was Light Barrier, one of the foundational protective spells guarding the Temple of Saro. It required only a bishop and a group of faithful to cast. Its power, strictly speaking, was not great—nothing like the spells that had nearly killed Simon earlier. The Archfiend's avatar possessed formidable resilience. Though the Light Barrier had left it battered and humiliated, it dissipated upon colliding with Simon, inflicting negligible damage.
But that wasn't the issue.
Saro was the quintessential celestial deity—a god of light, sun, and justice who would never tolerate any evil under his watch. Even ordinary humans aligned with the forces of darkness were forbidden from approaching, let alone demons, his most targeted foes. It was no surprise that Simon could trigger the Light Barrier spell, but how could it possibly be used to protect Victor?!
Victor had been a great demon far longer than Simon, his crimes and inner darkness matching or exceeding Simon's. Any soul from the Abyss would trigger the most violent reaction from Saros's divine magic—like cold water splashed into boiling oil. Simon's avatar couldn't avoid it, so how could Victor? His scorching scales clearly indicated his presence. Where was he? How was this possible?
"Why not?" Victor replied matter-of-factly. "That light barrier spell could reduce a minor demon to ashes, yet it only made you stumble. It's a matter of power difference. It couldn't harm me in the slightest—what's so strange about that?"
The implication left Simon speechless with horror.
"This can't be..." it murmured.
"Poor Simon, times have changed," Victor chuckled, repeating its earlier words. "This is my domain, cultivated over five centuries. Do you intend to wager this avatar and your fate in the Abyss to test whether I'm joking?"