The First Generation Demons still swarmed toward the God Eater like a flood, like all sorts of debris and filth in a kitchen sink being carried by the water toward the drain.
Did they believe Chthon or Set?
Deathstroke believed that even if Great Shadow had resurrected them and brought them back to the Main Dimension, not a single one of those monsters believed what either of them said.
These pitiful and loathsome creatures were attacking now merely to fight for their own futures. Though their hopes were slim, wasn't the God Eater the biggest slab of meat in their eyes?
Whoever devoured the God Eater might become the strongest ancient god, perhaps even surpassing Oshtur and Chthon, gaining the right to participate in the future of the universe.
Of course, they were also filled with hatred for the God Eater. That made them screech and charge suicidally, but it was not the fundamental reason driving their attacks.
At their core, these ancient gods and Ancient Demons of old sought evolution—endless possibilities.
Over a hundred thousand different monsters, large and small, with wildly varied abilities, surged forward. Some even came with exaggerated light effects, perhaps from glowing creatures of the deep sea.
From high above, their colors blended into a tide that was neither black nor red, flowing through a human city that had already become ruins.
Strangle snared several monsters from among the countless enemies without any demon noticing. Or perhaps some had noticed, but they had long grown accustomed to attacks from behind.
To them, the weak being eaten was perfectly normal. If one comrade devoured another nearby comrade, its energy and abilities had not been lost; it was merely like moving something from the left hand to the right.
Of course, that was only if the gigantic