Warlock of War: My Ares System



"Tsk… I guess I need to evolve," I clicked my tongue before glancing over at my status. 

[Level: 0/100] (241/250) XP Needed

Each demon provided about eight experience points. The amount has severely decreased the stronger I became, but at least there won't be a shortage anytime soon. I could use these incoming wars to feed myself experience points until I can evolve. Only when I can take down that bastard is when I make a move… as everything must be perfect. 

"Keeping spying on him for now. Also, incorporate your troops into the rebellious side. It would be best if you could hold complete control over them, but if that's out of reach, then so be it…" 

"Yes sir!" 

I soon exited my [Quasi World] and returned to hell where I was sitting on my bed. With velvet silk woven into a thick blanket and a mattress made from what seemed to be a cloud, you would have thought I was royalty at first glance. My black satin robes mixed with the god marks gracefully etched onto my face didn't help either. 

"How was your beauty sleep, dick head…"

"Shut the hell up," I groaned, shuffling out of bed while Wu continued to bask in the silky soft sheets. 

"So, what's next?" She rolled over, kicking her feet with the rhythm of the crackling fireplace just perpendicular to our bed. 

"Nothing really. For now, it's just a repeat of winning battles and such… of course, I also have my eyes on every single factor of this war."

"So… you should be the sole victor soon right?" 

"That's the plan. I just need more information… more and more and more and more and more until I can't think of anything but information. Relationships are down to the last-minute detail. Features on a single character down to their very blood type. I need everything…" 

"That's cool and all, but how about you let me help? I'm not really doing much but fighting these useless battles… if the general was here, he would have already figured out a way to end this war by now." 

"I don't need to just end it. I need to benefit from it."

"*sigh*... Whatever you say, man." 

…

Amidst the chaos of battle, a demonic figure emerged, a stark contrast to the pandemonium around him. He was a man with short, jet-black hair that seemed to absorb light itself. Two rigid, obsidian horns jutted from his forehead, their sinister curves adding to his menacing countenance. But it was his eyes that truly captured the essence of his malevolence — swirling voids of darkness that held the promise of oblivion.

As he strode forward, the very ground seemed to wither beneath his feet. Blades of already burnt grass turned to ash, and the soil cracked and crumbled in response to the aura of darkness and death that emanated from him. The air itself grew heavy and oppressive as if choked by the weight of his malicious presence.

In his hands, he wielded a wickedly sharp obsidian spear, its edges glistening with an unnatural darkness. With each swing, the blade cleaved through the ranks of his adversaries with uncanny ease, leaving a trail of twisted and contorted bodies in its wake.

The demonic man fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness, his movements a frenzied dance of death. His horns glistened with the blood of his foes, and his swirling void eyes never wavered from their singular purpose… the annihilation of his enemies.

As the opposing army closed in, their ranks seemed to quiver and falter in the face of his malevolent aura. Those who drew near him felt their strength drain away, their limbs growing heavy and sluggish. The very life force of the soldiers withered and faded in the presence of this embodiment of darkness and death.

But the demonic man pressed on, an unrelenting force of destruction. He fought bravely, standing alone against the tide of his adversaries, a solitary figure bathed in the sickly glow of his own deathly hostility. Each swing of his obsidian blade was a testament to his indomitable will, and each step forward was a challenge to the very forces of life and death.

In the end, it was a battle of attrition, a test of endurance and willpower. The demonic man, with his aura of darkness and death, fought valiantly against the army that sought to overwhelm him. He was a nightmarish figure of terror and despair, and his bravery in the face of insurmountable odds was a testament to the depths of his malevolent power.

"Huff… huff… huff… I leveled up quite a lot…" Cy muttered, sprawled atop his throne of corpses. 

"You asshole… I had to kill the general all by myself…" Findir sighed, throwing a woman's head with long vanta black horns atop the already large pile of flesh and blood. "Seriously, how many generals does one man have?" 

"A lot, but he'll switch up his strategy soon. News of us taking on his armies alone will disturb his thoughts and plan as I'm sure he wanted to dwindle away our forces and supplies…" I explained. 

"HAH! WHAT AN IDIOT! Everybody is just relaxing while he sends this fodder for us to level up! I hope this doesn't end anytime soon!" Cy laughed while the spear of darkness in his hand faded into nothingness. 

"Luna, have you prepared everything you need?" I asked the woman with long pastel-pink hair sitting atop the castle wall. She may have been many miles away, but we spoke effortlessly with one another due to our freakish senses. 

"Don't try and confirm things with me. I can handle this myself. There is no need for you to get involved," Luna scoffed before dissipating into thin air, her projection instantly fading back into her real body. It was stored deep within the walls of Belphegor's castle, just in case somebody was out there and strong enough to threaten her. 

"So petty…" I rolled my eyes.