Chapter 295: Ch 295 : Ticking Bomb

Eastern District Auction House.

Vorr stood before the pedestal. He had broken free from his cage. He was now tangible once again.

His hand trembled as he reached for the red silk cloth covering Item Number 4. The greed in his eyes was maniacal, blinding him to the stillness of the room.

“Mine,” he hissed, his fingers brushing the fabric.

But he never grabbed it.

Before his skin could make contact with the silk, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The body of Vorr stopped mid-air, as time stretched towards infinity.

From the shadows of the corners, from the ceiling, and from the floor itself, eleven figures materialized.

Shhhing.

In a fraction of a second, Vorr found himself immobilized.

Eleven daggers, forged from solidified Mana, were pressed against every vital point of his body. One at his throat. One at his heart. One at his spine. Two at his eyes.

Vorr froze. His eyes widened, reflecting the terrifying sight of eleven identical masked figures surrounding him.

Their eyes bore into him with zero emotion. As if following a mundane order.

“Oh, f*ck,” Vorr thought, his mind paralyzed by the scale of the trap.

He opened his mouth to scream, to beg, to offer information in exchange for his life.

He prepared to sell out Kairos, Lom, and the entire Demon Realm if it meant surviving the next five seconds.

But he never got the chance to speak. Deep inside his soul, a dormant rune awakened.

It sensed the overwhelming divine pressure of the eleven clones, an aura unmistakably belonging to a hostile God.

Vorr’s eyes bulged. He didn’t feel the daggers pointing towards him. He felt a burning heat erupt from the core of his soul.

“No-”

BOOM!

Vorr’s body, his soul, and his very existence detonated from the inside out.

A shockwave of black, cursed energy rippled through the vault, vaporizing him instantly.

The eleven clones didn’t flinch. They simply raised their energy shields, deflecting the gore and the cursed residue.

A second later, the room was silent again. The artifacts remained untouched on their pedestals.

The only evidence that Vorr had ever existed was a faint smear on the floor and the lingering scent of blood.

The Demon Capital

A few minutes prior to the explosion.

Lom, the Demon God who played both sides, was walking away from the Spire of Sin. He kept his head lowered, his mind racing with calculations.

“These Demon Lords,” he thought, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “They ask questions like they own me and I am their slave. One slip of the tongue, and Belial would have flayed me.”

“Wait, Lom.”

Suddenly a voice rolled over him with a suffocating pressure that defied the very logic of existence, it made everyone question that how can one person have such a powerful aura?.

Lom froze. He knew that voice. He turned around slowly, bowing deeply, “Greetings once again, Lord Belial.”

Belial, the Demon Lord of Lies, stood some distance away from Lom.

“I am going to attack the City of Gods,” Belial stated, his voice devoid of deception for once. “Tell me everything about this Cosmos. I want to kill him efficiently. I do not wish to waste my time on insects.”

Lom suppressed a sigh of relief.

It was an order, not a question.

If Belial had asked, “Tell me everything about the city of Gods?” Lom would have been forced to talk about everything that Cosmos possess.

But an order to “Tell me about him” gave Lom the freedom to curate the narrative. He could select specific truths that painted a misleading picture.

“My Lord,” Lom began, keeping his voice steady. “That Cosmos, is a mystery even to us. I have sent the slaves of Lord Ichor into their city, but… they are very weak.”

He paused, letting Belial absorb that.

“They aren’t capable of withstanding even a single attack of his. Thus, my direct knowledge of his combat power is limited.”

Belial nodded slowly, his shifting eyes narrowing. Truth.

“However,” Lom continued, dropping his next crumb of manipulation. “There is a crucial detail regarding the Time Dilation of his territory.”

“Speak,” Belial commanded.

“Their City of Gods… it operates on a dilated timescale,” Lom lied smoothly or rather, twisted the truth. “It is slowed down by a factor of ten thousand. Meaning, three and a half days in that realm is equivalent to one century for us in the demonic realm.”

It was a brilliant fabrication. By telling Belial that time moved slower there, Lom painted a picture of vulnerability.

It suggested that while the Demon Lords had spent eons gathering strength, Sunny and his Pantheon had only experienced a few days of development.

It suggested weakness, and at the same time it also told about their potential.

“I see,” Belial mused, a cruel smile forming in the smoke of his face. “So while we prepare for war, they are stuck in slow motion. They haven’t had time to consolidate their power. Adam… Adam would still be recovering from his diminished state.”

Lom nodded. “Precisely, My Lord.”

“Good. Good,” Belial chuckled, the sound coming deep from his soul. “I forgot to ask this sooner. Have your spies encountered Adam?”

This was the most dangerous question. Belial feared Adam. If Adam was guarding the gate, Belial might hesitate.

“My spies did not encounter Adam within the city,” Lom answered truthfully. “My analysis suggests he is not in the City of Gods. It is likely he has left the stronghold to search of his old world, or perhaps to find a cure for his weakened state.”

Belial’s form seemed to expand, his aura flaring with sudden confidence.

“That’s goo… too bad,” Belial laughed, though the relief in his voice was palpable. “I wanted to kill him myself. But if he is not home… I suppose I will have to slaughter his army of weaklings first to draw him out.”

Belial waved his hand. “You are dismissed, Lom.”

Lom bowed one final time and turned away. He walked calmly until he turned the corner of a massive fortress wall. Only then did he allow a small, sharp smirk to grace his lips.

“Go Belial Go ,” Lom whispered to the shadows. “I wish to see who is stronger, the Lord of Lies or the Emperor of the Cosmos. Either way, the throne will be empty for me.”

Just as he finished his thought, a sharp, piercing pain stabbed into his mind.

Lom stumbled, clutching his head.

“What?!”

He sensed a connection snapping. A soul contract burning to ash.

“What did those fools do? How did the curse get awakened?”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the connection to the Pearl of Calamity. He replayed the last few minutes captured in the pearl.

He saw the vault. He saw Vorr breaking the containment, and the memory ended with Vorr becoming free from the shackles.

“Greedy fool,” Lom hissed, shaking his head in disgust.

He had placed a Soul-Combustion Curse on all four of his pawns during their first meeting.

It was a failsafe, designed to trigger if they were ever captured or cornered by a God without Lom’s direct supervision.

It was a Dead Man’s Switch.

“Since he died instantly,” Lom analyzed coldly, “it means he was caught.”

“It is fortunate I placed that curse,” Lom muttered, straightening his robes. “If Cosmos possessed a Mind-Reading talent, or if he had tortured Vorr… everything would have been revealed”

He didn’t mourn Vorr. He only mourned the loss of a pair of eyes.

He activated the Pearl’s communication channel, reaching out to the remaining survivers.

The City of Gods, The Sky above the Eastern District.

Kairos and Mongo were flying towards the auction house, hidden within the Pearl’s dimension.

“Kairos,” Lom’s voice echoed from the Pearl, cold and unbothered.

“Vorr is dead.”

Kairos flinched as if struck. “Dead? How? We just…”

“He was caught,” Lom interrupted. “Just continue whatever you were doing. Do not run back to protect him; there is nothing left to protect. And do not worry… he told them nothing. He died before he could even scream.”

The transmission cut off.

Kairos stared at the black sphere in his hands. He felt a chill gracing his spine.

He died before he could even scream.

That wasn’t reassurance. That was a threat. It meant Lom had killed Vorr remotely to silence him. It meant the same bomb was ticking inside Kairos’s own chest.

“Kairos?” Mongo asked seeing Kairos stop mid way, his voice trembling uncontrollably. “What about Vorr? What happened?”

Kairos looked at the Eastern District below. The festive lights of the auction were still shining, unaware of the execution that had just taken place in the vault.

“He is… gone,” Kairos replied, his voice hollow.

He looked at Mongo. Now, only the two of them remained. Two rats trapped in a cage with a sleeping lion, held on a leash by a distant devil.

“We need to move,” Kairos said, snapping out of his daze. “The Eastern District is now heavily guarded.”

“Where do we go?” Mongo whimpered.

“North,” Kairos commanded, steering the Pearl away from the trap. “There are fewer Gods there. We will hide until the situation calms down.

He accelerated the sphere, fleeing into the night, terrified of the silence that followed them.

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