Prophetic Sacrifice

After waiting a while longer without seeing the ritual vessel appear, the Barbarian King knew why they had returned.

He could not blame them. If they left with the tribe, there was no telling whether they could even escape before the Abyss erupted.

And with the Orc race's current strength, the Human race behind the Great Wall would never allow them to cross it.

Only if every one of their powerful fighters died in battle would the clanspeople carrying the ritual vessel have a glimmer of hope of heading south and surviving.

The Barbarian King clenched his fists, then ordered:

"All of you, use everything you've got. Unleash your Demon God Bodies."

The Barbarian King's figure shot upward. A dragon-headed, human-bodied demon god bearing the unmistakable form of a classical Eastern dragon stood high in the sky.

A dragon's roar shook a thousand miles. A massive arm of knotted muscle and blue-green scales reached out, its dragon claws seeming to hold the power to destroy everything as they seized the Abyssal tentacles.

The air burst beneath the claws. Space, already unstable from the power leaking out as the Abyss awakened, could bear no more and shattered.

The tentacles formed from Abyssal power were severed in an instant.

The broken tentacles dissolved into nothing. The Barbarian King struck faster and faster, charging straight into the Abyss.

The other royal clan chiefs who could unleash their Demon God Bodies did so as well. With their Divine Power briefly surging, they followed the Barbarian King, dragging the Abyssal tentacles into the Abyss.

They went in resolved to die. Since ancient times, there had been no record of anyone entering the depths of the Abyss and returning alive.

Though they now possessed Demon God Bodies and boundless strength, they could not maintain that state