Hero of Darkness



Mors proudly watched as his summoned being in the Realm of Carnage revealed its true form.

The rest of this Demon's form was nothing but a writhing mass of fire, coursing and pulsing underneath the armor like a living entity. This ancient demonic being, now unleashed upon the world, seemed to radiate a palpable sense of dread and unease.

Yet, despite the sheer terror that emanated from the creature, Mors remained unfazed.

He regarded the demonic form before him with a sense of satisfaction; that his choice wasn't wrong.

Despite its immense size, the monstrous being stood no chance against the true form of Mors, who revealed himself as a Deity.

In an instant, with a resounding thud, the colossal monster was swatted down as if it were a mere insect, crashing onto the platform constructed from the bones of godbeasts and elder dragons.

Mors, in his true form, exuded an overwhelming presence that surpassed even the terrifying power of the defeated creature. The sheer magnitude of his presence was enough to render the monster insignificant in comparison.

With a hint of apology in his tone, Mors explained the reason behind his dominance.

"Oh, sorry about that. It's just my bloodline." he said, retracting the tyrannical and absolute pressure that could have annihilated millions in a single second.

"Since you possess only minute traces of my bloodline, you naturally feel overwhelmed in the presence of the main source of your origin."

He paused for a moment, a hint of pride evident in his voice.

"Aside from being the Deity of Slaughter..." Mors continued, "I can also be called the founder of the entire True Demon species.

Allow me to share with you my title from those times." his words resonated with an air of authority and reverence. 

The deity in golden armor declared, his title echoing with power and significance. It was a name that carried weight, symbolizing his status and his dominion over death and destruction in ancient times and eons ago.

"Mors, the Vajrayaksa." 

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Following the revelation of his true identity, Mors cast his gaze down upon the defeated monstrous being, asserting his authority with unwavering confidence. Without even seeking the being's opinion, he announced his decision with a tone that brooked no dissent.

"I have decided to choose you as my second Apostle." Mors declared, his voice firm and resolute.

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving no room for argument or refusal. It was a command, a proclamation that bore the weight of his power and position as a deity.

The being, still reeling from its defeat and awestruck by Mors' overwhelming presence, could do nothing but remain silent in response. The significance of being chosen as an Apostle by the powerful deity was not lost on it, and a mix of emotions swirled within its being—awe, apprehension, and perhaps even a glimmer of excitement for the path that lay ahead.

In the presence of Mors, the being understood that it had been singled out for a purpose, one that aligned with the deity's grand design.

What role it would play as an Apostle, what tasks and responsibilities would be bestowed upon it, remained to be seen. But one thing was certain—it had become entangled in the machinations of a being of immense power, and its fate was now irrevocably tied to Mors' plans for the future.

The silence continued, each passing moment filled with anticipation and uncertainty, as the being awaited further instruction from the deity, knowing that its life had taken a monumental turn, forever changed by the words that had just been spoken.

Mors, the Deity of Slaughter, continued to assert his dominance and control over the situation.

With his blood divine weapon in hand, he made a deliberate cut on his forefinger, causing a single drop of his blood to fall. As the drop descended towards the creature shrouded in blistering hellfire, its true size was revealed to be more than 100 meters.

The moment the drop of blood approached the summoned entity, it underwent a profound transformation.

The blood was ensnared by ancient runes, which danced and intertwined around it, infusing it with an insurmountable aura. The pressure emanating from this small drop alone was capable of obliterating dozens of kilometers.

Eventually, it halted right in front of the summoned being, radiating a power that seemed to defy comprehension.

Mors, his voice carrying the weight of his authority, commanded the being before him.

"Drink it." he decreed, his words leaving no room for negotiation.

"Within it, contains not only my bloodline and my power but also a Pseudo-soul and all of my blessings.

I will also teach you the ways of cultivation and guide you in establishing the Law of Slaughter."

He paused for a moment, his tone taking on a domineering edge.

"In return..." Mors continued, his words laced with expectation.

"When the inevitable great war arrives and the world is filled with chaos, I demand that you provide an enjoyable show for me."

The monstrous being stood in awe and trepidation, fully aware of the magnitude of what was being offered to it. It understood that by accepting Mors' blood, it would be able to ascend to higher rank and evolve into a new being while breaking his own past limitations.

The weight of this responsibility was both thrilling and daunting, for it knew that its path would be one of unceasing slaughter and destruction.

As the silence settled once again, the creature contemplated the choice before it.

The allure of power, guidance, and purpose clashed with the uncertainty and potential consequences. Ultimately, it knew that there was no other option but to comply with the deity's irrefutable decision.

The figure standing before Mors bore a striking resemblance to a malevolent demon, hailing from the depths of Hell itself.

Despite currently being at the level of a 3rd-stage saint, in a life-or-death confrontation, he possessed formidable power and strength, rivaling even that of an intermediate 5th-stage saint.

Even Kahn would be surprised to see this individual in the Realm of Carnage.

The name of the individual who stood before Mors was none other than… Jugram.

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