The Flesh-and-Blood Battlefield was no longer as intense as it had been at first. Many of the powerful Demons had already left. Aside from a few fools lost within it, or fools who had transformed through this slaughter, the current conditions were entirely worth attempting. Moreover, the lords seemed to have run into trouble as well. The four lords were rushing this way, removing the greatest threat from the Flesh-and-Blood Battlefield—though, of course, that trouble might prove to be enormous.
The Abyss was always like this, just like Demons: destroying one moment, being born the next.
Beneath an unchanging sky, destruction and birth revolved without end, as though they were the unique melody beneath this sky—the reason Demons existed here.
"Let's begin! My dear mount, please show us those excellent legs of yours."
With a hard slap, Ruger leaped onto Mahama's shoulder again.
Mahama's body swelled another size. In one step, he sprang out of the cave where they had been hiding and jumped high into the air.
Boom! He landed on the ground outside the cave.
"If there is danger, Lord Ruger, please leave immediately. Of course, you will be the one to judge that danger."
Mahama spoke in a muffled voice. His feet moved, and his thick, sturdy body shot down the slope.
Seated on those broad shoulders, Ruger felt the bloody stench blowing into his face along with the refreshing gale. He watched four lords of wildly different forms fly overhead.
Mahama burst forth with astonishing speed, charging straight toward the mire of flesh and blood formed by countless Demons, living and dead alike.
Plans could never keep up with change, but people still had to struggle to see them through. Such was often the way of the world. Following each step in order and letting things