"So you’re doing this for no reason? Just because you enjoy it?" the scarred hunter spat, his voice full of disbelief. "What did we ever do to you to deserve this?"

    Reign let out a bored sigh.

    ’Oh nice, here it comes—the classic ’why are you doing this? speech.’

    As if they expected him to break down and share some tragic backstory, complete with sad violin music.

    But, honestly, was that even his story?

    Sure, he’d been experimented and tortured, but the humans here were not related to his past world. So it means that none of them deserve this.

    "Yeah, I’m totally just doing this for fun," Reign answered with a lazy shrug.

    It was not like their fate would change if he told them he was doing it to rack up experience points. They would still end up dead, so why bother with the details?

    With that out of the way, Reign turned his attention back to the corpses.

    The remaining survivors could only watch, their hearts sinking as they realized what fate awaited them.

    SWOOOOSH!

    SWOOOOSH!

    SWOOOOSH!

    Tendrils shot out from him, moving through the air like shadows.

    They reached down, touching the ground and absorbing the bodies scattered across the streets, feeding his experience bar.

    [Level Up+1]

    [Level Up+1]

    When he was done, he turned to face the dead demons. With a simple gesture, the tendrils extended once again, and began the process.

    [Level Up +1]

    [Level Up +1]

    [Level Up +1]

    [Level Up +1]

    In their hands, they carried massive war hammers, their heads the size of boulder, capable of crushing anything unfortunate enough to block their way.

    But these weren’t the only creatures to emerge.

    As the portal expanded, more followed, stepping through the swirling vortex from the depths of Hell.

    They were organized, forming neat rows as they poured out from the dark rift, each group awaiting their orders, silent and disciplined.

    It was clear now: Hell was not just opening a door—it was preparing for an invasion.

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    As the last wave of Hell’s creatures poured through the portal, three more figures emerged, and landed in front of the gathered army.

    The first of them look very charming and handsome.

    He stood tall and elegant, with a presence that seemed to pull the spotlight toward him.

    His skin was smooth and pale, like marble, and his eyes were a deep crimson.

    His long, dark hair fell in waves down his back, shimmering as if it held some kind of dark magic.

    This devil general was Asmodeus.

    Next to him stood another general, equally imposing but with a completely different aura and demeanor.

    This one was Belphegor. His expression was one of boredom, as though he was forced to be here and was just waiting for it to be over.

    Belphegor was tall and lean, with a lazy, almost languid posture that made him appear relaxed despite his immense power.

    His skin was a pale, ashen gray, with dark tattoos swirling around his arms and neck, giving him a mysterious, ancient appearance.

    Lastly, standing a few steps behind Belphegor, was Aamon, the strongest devil among the trio.

    Tall and broad-shouldered, Aamon had a powerful presence. His deep bronze skin seemed to shine faintly under the glow of the portal, and his amber eyes burned with a sharp intensity, as if they could see right through anyone who looked at him.

    He wore a regal, dark armor that was less ornate than Asmodeus’s but far more practical, allowing him to move fast.

    As he surveyed the hell’s army, a dark knowing smile slowly spread across his face.

    "Prepare for War !"

    he ordered.