Chapter 1194
Another day, another battle for survival. Leon Merlin, archmage turned Abyssal Maggot, wonders—how many more times can he cheat death in this forsaken pit? The throne of power here is built not on glory, but on the bones of the desperate.
Behind the small volcano, a hulking Evil Baboon—over three meters tall—lumbered into view. Level 26, the local tyrant. Leon sized him up, cataloging strengths and weaknesses as only a reincarnated archmage could. In the Abyss, rulers change as quickly as the weather.
The brute straightened, pounding its chest with savage force. Flames whirled around it, radiating dominance. For now, this was the most powerful beast in sight—but Leon knew better than to trust appearances. Power in the Abyss was always one flaming heartbeat away from disaster.
Dozens of meters away, Leon scratched his long ears—an Abyssal Bear Goblin's habit he'd never quite gotten used to—and chanted swiftly in Abyssal Demon tongue. With a flicker of power, a half-meter-wide flaming meteor materialized above the Evil Baboon's head, a testament to Leon's mastery of abyssal magic and strategic ruthlessness.
With a thunderous crash, the meteor slammed the baboon to the ground. Before it could stagger upright, another flaming meteor—trailing a long ribbon of black smoke—hurtled down. Leon didn't bother with mercy; in the Abyss, hesitation was a luxury for the dead.
Screams echoed, sharp and desperate, but the meteors kept falling—one every second, relentless as Leon's will to survive. After eight, the Evil Baboon King was nothing but shattered fragments: legs and arms intact, but the head and torso erased from existence. Octavius, his loyal Abyssal Bear Goblin commander, watched with grim satisfaction. In the Abyss, leadership was won by brutality.
With their king obliterated, the Evil Baboons broke ranks in panic. But fleeing before the Abyssal Bear Goblins—those bullies who worship strength and prey on weakness—was like serving up a buffet of power-ups. Leon, ever the benefactor of chaos, let them feast.
Within minutes, every Evil Baboon lay dead, skulls smashed for good measure by red-eyed idiots afraid of undead baboons. Leon couldn't help but marvel at the Abyssal Bear Goblins' bloodline limitations; even brutality had its evolutionary price. Survival here meant crushing hope, one skull at a time.
After seizing the small volcano and confiscating all the energy crystals, a swarm of Abyssal Bear Goblins tunneled into the Abyssal Magisteel mine, swinging weapons with manic glee. The landscape around Red Sun Lake simmered with danger—every resource a curse, every victory a warning.
The stronger Abyssal Bear Goblins eagerly volunteered to round up every stray within ten kilometers, dragging them under the banner of the great Little Demon Lord. Leon watched the region's harshness shape his forces—here, only the cunning and the cruel survived.
Watching chunk after chunk of Abyssal Magisteel hauled out, Leon could only cover his eyes in exasperation. Resource management in the Abyss was a cruel joke—one he seemed destined to lose, no matter how clever his plans.
Damn it, I knew it—Abyssal Magisteel is supposed to be common down here, so why is it still worth a king's ransom? And why does so little make it to the human world? The Abyss specializes in scarcity, even for things that should be abundant.
These idiots—calling this ore is generous. It's a heap of slag, half stone. Refining it will cost me half its value in sweat and curses. The Abyssal Bear Goblins' mining skills are a dark comedy, and I'm the punchline.
Damn fools... If only stupidity could be mined, I'd be richer than the Demon King.
Leon stormed over for a closer look, his temper flaring. He kicked over several Abyssal Bear Goblins in rapid succession. Their mining technique? Swing clubs like madmen, smashing the vein into boulders. Efficiency was a foreign concept here.
In less than half a day, a cave-in crushed four Abyssal Bear Goblins. Leon shook his head—natural selection at work, courtesy of incompetence. The Abyss didn't need monsters to kill you; stupidity was lethal enough.
After sending all the Abyssal Bear Goblins out to recruit more hands, Leon slipped into the mine alone and opened his demi-plane, releasing a squad of Alchemical Golems. Sometimes, only precision and cold metal could salvage a disaster.
Here, Leon dared not let anyone from his natural demi-plane out to help. Humans, elves, or beastmen—none carried the taint of Abyssal aura. Dropping them here would be like tossing a prime steak into a starving goblin mob. Survival demanded paranoia.
Even Alchemical Golems couldn't be unleashed carelessly. This Abyssal layer mirrored the structure of the Northend World—hierarchy, politics, and predators all alike. The golems' materials weren't native to the Abyss; one glimpse and every demon would know an outsider was meddling. Leon weighed danger with every move.
And it wasn't just demons lurking here—humans and beastmen reincarnated at Sky Rank prowled the shadows. These Alchemical Golems were Leon's signature; anyone who saw them would know he'd been here. Paranoia was survival, and anonymity a luxury long lost.