Demons had always been difficult to fathom. They could keep slaughtering one another even with disaster looming over them. Or, like now, when the devils' target was clearly Miska and had nothing to do with the other demons, they could still bring their own provisions and rush over to lend a hand.
Though that was not entirely accurate. The demons had gathered for all sorts of bizarre reasons, and few genuinely wanted to help Miska. Yet the actual effect was indeed to aid him. They were just that willful.
This situation was difficult to explain in just a few words. If it had to be described, then somehow, the devils' massive offensive had struck a nerve among the demons.
Solam had not expected this. Miska had not expected it. Neither had Baalzebul, one of the Eight Devil Generals on the other side.
But it did not matter. Solam naturally welcomed it, and Miska would not refuse it. As for Baalzebul, he simply did not care. This time, he had brought three million elite troops. Judging by the battle records between demons and devils, he would not fear even thirty million demons, much less the far smaller number that had actually appeared. To Baalzebul, this bout of madness from the demons was, at most, a minor inconvenience. It might even be considered a small favor.
With so many demons gathered in one place, if Baalzebul could crush them in one stroke, he could ride the momentum into demon-occupied territory and continue expanding the devils' holdings in the Blood War. Although Baalzebul had already risen to become one of the Eight Devil Generals and had little room left for advancement—above them stood the nine Hell Lords of Baator—given the rate at which Hell Lords were replaced, no one knew how long he