The Clones' Onslaught
“M-monster!”
The two massive serpents bearing the heads of black jaguars were torn apart in an instant. Behind them, a grotesque bird with a monkey-like body and a bizarre mask was ripped in half before it could even swing its talons, tumbling lifelessly to the floor.
“Don’t stop summoning!”
“Fight for Lord Urshus!”
At the Dark Priests’ gestures and the countless summoning circles etched before them, summoned beasts materialized one after another. Yet none of them could even buy time against the intruders. Two-headed black bears spewing flames, enormous black leeches with two arms, rotting giant spiders birthing countless young—none could halt the advance. Even the lesser monsters hastily summoned to swell their numbers froze in terror despite their summoners’ direct control.
Even the Battle Ents, bound to absolute obedience, and the lowest creatures like the mindless Giant Snails or the Isamuna anemones, failed to show the slightest hostility toward the enemies before them, despite their summoners’ attempts at mental synchronization.
“Why…?”
Rather, it was the Dark Priests themselves—linked in soul to their summons—who were overwhelmed by the creatures’ fear, unable to continue the summoning at all.
“If this keeps up—!”
One Dark Priest traced a sigil in the air. The summoning circles prepared in advance had already been exhausted, leaving no choice. But before the pair of sharp tusks could fully emerge from the circle, the intruders’ black shadows stood before them.
“D-damn—!”
There was no time even to feel the fear of death. The Dark Priests’ bodies were torn apart. When the one-sided slaughter ended, a man wrapped head to toe in bandages slowly emerged from behind the black shadows.
“…To think they tried to stop us with only this much. Urshus must hold us in far too little regard.”
Behind them stretched the corpses of countless summoned beasts and the ruined remains of what had once been beautiful El Nergavil. The walls that had stood in their way awaited the same fate.
Though not every Dark Priest had gathered in this direction, the sheer number of summoning circles drawn across the floor and walls made this outcome unthinkable under normal circumstances. Yet anyone who knew the intruders’ true identities would not have been surprised.
“Or perhaps this place is no longer needed.”
They were Ryban’s clones. Even if they could not match the original, they were still clones of a Demon Commander. From the start, they were never opponents that mere summoned beasts could handle.
The jackal-headed clone clad in a ruby cloak flicked his hand, sending crimson orbs hurtling toward the walls of El Nergavil.
A thunderous explosion followed. The temple walls collapsed, carving out an entirely new path unrelated to the original structure.
Among Ryban’s many forms, this one was almost uniquely specialized in spellcraft and mana manipulation. In the past, this form had once evaporated an entire lake in a single strike.
“Well, there’s no need to rush. We haven’t finished our meal over here yet.”
When the bandaged clone turned his head, a massive beast—black tiger body with a scorpion’s pincers and tail, fangs stretching down to its chest—was devouring the corpses of summoned beasts and Dark Priests one by one.
“You killed them all, but eat in moderation. There should still be plenty of prey left.”
“Grr.”
The beast, large enough to swallow a deer whole, was a fusion of tiger and scorpion. Among Ryban’s forms, its raw combat power was relatively low, but its speed and ability to slaughter large forces made it exceptional in its own way.
The problem was the same as with the first clone that had encountered the Hero: created during the early, unstable phase of the cloning technique, it required constant “meals” after battle to replenish its energy quickly.
…?
The jackal-headed clone, who had been watching the others, suddenly raised his head toward the upper levels of El Nergavil.
“What is it? Are they sending out a welcoming party?”
“Urshus’s presence?”
During their previous visit to El Nergavil, Ryban’s clones had used Alsh Unak’s portal for direct transport, so they had never learned the exact location of the chamber where Urshus’s flames burned.
That was precisely why the clone specialized in mana manipulation and detection had accompanied them. Yet the faint presences he had been sensing had now vanished completely.
“Surely the Demon God isn’t playing some petty trick?”
The bandaged man muttered playfully, but the caution beneath his words was heavy and cold.
Whether god or demon god, higher deities generally remained in the highest realms and showed little interest in the material world, let alone the celestial, demonic, or nether realms above it. They were beings who transcended all things. The highest gods could shake the very cycle of existence or annihilate an entire realm with a single thought.
Only mid- and lower-tier deities exerted direct influence over the celestial, demonic, and nether realms.
The knights’ god Melvahe, the god of medicine and travelers Tpeatyn, and even Nyx—who had nearly destroyed the world—and Urshus, the god of the Dark Priests, were all lower deities.
Yet precisely because of this, those with direct influence over the celestial, demonic, and nether realms were the lower gods. Even the demon gods who had appointed Demon Kings were all lower beings like Nyx or Urshus.
Among the lower demon gods, Urshus possessed an especially strong desire for domination and ambition. Naturally, countless demons followed him.
As long as the Demon King’s throne remained vacant, Urshus could not freely command the demon realm’s armies or the highest-ranking demons due to interference from other demon gods. However, he could still mobilize smaller forces and his most loyal followers at will.
“Even if the Demon King’s army was defeated, there must still be many powerful figures left in the demon realm. Some may even surpass us and the original. But until a Demon King is appointed, those highest-ranking demons won’t rashly obey any single god’s orders.”
The condition for becoming Demon King was simple: one chosen by a demon god who had obtained the right of appointment through the agreement of multiple demon gods. That chosen one would become the Demon King.
Yet reaching such agreement among demon gods was never easy. Several lower demon gods sought influence over the demon realm. The stronger demons who aspired to the throne refused to align themselves with any single god under such circumstances, and the demon gods themselves could not force their will upon them without provoking the others.
“Grr!”
As if agreeing with the jackal-headed clone’s words, the beast-formed clone stopped eating and slowly began to move. The fact that only the three of them had come was a choice made to minimize losses in the worst-case scenario—an operation that had anticipated failure from the beginning. Yet they carried their own conviction and pride in this mission.
“Of course… that’s right.”
But the bandaged clone’s voice carried something more than mere agreement.
“Oh?”
Before the other two clones could ponder his tone, countless summoned beasts—drawn by the hole they had created—came charging toward them.
“More of these pathetic summoned beasts?”
They came not only from the ground. The sky was filled with slimy green creatures bearing countless bat wings and insects wrapped in black chains with multiple long arms descending upon them. Behind them flew grotesque red sack-like monsters the size of houses, their eyes and mouths reversed, emitting unsettling cries.
The ruby cloak billowed as four hands emerged. At the same moment, countless crimson mana bullets materialized in the air around him.
The countless mana bullets streaked through the air. The insects and creatures filling the sky were erased before them. Yet the red sack-like monster floating behind them opened its mouth.
This creature, known as the Arcrutus’s Stomach, was a high-ranking monster capable of absorbing mana itself and returning attacks to their source. Most ordinary mages would have to flee on sight.
Moreover, these were not complex spells but simple mana bullets. Under normal circumstances, it would have absorbed them effortlessly and reflected them back. However…
“Kuh, kuoo…!”
The crimson mana bullets pierced straight through the monster’s grotesque face without being absorbed. Just as the wounded creature—now resembling a torn cloth sack—let out a groan, a massive explosion and flames engulfed the air.
The blast was powerful enough to bring down the entire cave and bury El Nergavil, yet not a single crack appeared in the ceiling or walls.
It was a matter of mana density. Even with the same mana bullets, those with higher concentration required far more time for the Arcrutus’s Stomach to disperse their structure for absorption. By the time absorption could begin, the bullets had already struck, retaining their full power.
Yet even after clearing the sky, summoned beasts continued to pour in endlessly. Both in number and quality, they were a step above the previous wave, surging toward the clones. As the beast-formed and bandaged clones prepared to move, the jackal-headed clone raised a hand to stop them.
One of his hands traced a simple sigil in the air—the most basic magical formula for imbuing mana with a property. That property was fire.
“W-wait!”
The bandaged clone tried to speak too late. The moment the jackal-headed clone snapped his fingers, an explosion far greater than before engulfed them and everything around.