Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 403: Ch.402 Chaos Boils

"Why are you unbuckling your belt?"

Su Ming noticed the female sorceress wriggling in his arms, stripping off her clothes, while licking her lips impatiently.

The reason Su Ming let the sorceress hold onto him was because one of his hands needed to control the weapon, while the other held the unconscious Black Orchid.

"Hmm? Can you push it in even through pants? Sorry, I don't know much about you super soldiers."

Albera nodded, seemingly enlightened.

Su Ming gave her a light slap on the head and sighed. "What are you even thinking about? Control your desires, don't let them take over!"

The sorceress froze. After getting hit, she realized something was off.

Normally, she wouldn't be like this, but now her primal desires were boiling inside her, unstoppable.

The angels were being controlled by an unknown power, and Hell was equally affected.

Angels sought order, so they obeyed without question. Hell sought chaos, so desires were amplified manifold.

She understood now.

"Alright, I'm fine now." She took out a flask, pouring the alcohol on her face, and wiped vigorously with her trench coat sleeve. She had used the power of Hell for psychic defense, but hadn't expected that even she would be affected by the chaos.

"Seeing you like this, I'm worried about what Mazikeen must be like now."

Su Ming almost immediately deduced why the sorceress was acting this way. If every demon in Hell was influenced by primal desire, things would become a mess.

Battle-hungry demons would keep fighting, greedy demons would loot everything—demons are essentially embodiments of the seven deadly sins.

Why is it always seven?

Su Ming was beginning to hate that number.

The chaos in the demons' hearts was unleashed entirely. The angels seemed more like they were being controlled by Order itself. If Heaven and Hell clashed, the inevitable result would be mutual destruction.

"Mazikeen is the Queen of Pain. She enjoys pain—whether inflicting it or receiving it brings her pleasure." Albera responded seriously, fixing her clothing as she calmed down, looking a bit embarrassed. "But now I need to be extra careful with my magic. In this situation, it's too easy to be influenced by Hell's power."

"Your case isn't that severe. I've seen post-casting side effects hundreds of times worse than this." Su Ming continued his excavation work. With the sorceress back to normal, they could keep fighting. "By the way, you looked pretty funny when you were aroused."

"Shut. Up."

Funny? What kind of word was that?

The sorceress's face turned dark. She, a great beauty, had just lost control, ready to invite Deathstroke for some tunnel fun.

And Deathstroke stayed eerily calm—not only rejecting the invitation but also waking her up with a slap—and concluded that she was funny.

Albera despised the term "Miss Colorado" but had immense confidence in her looks. It was a beauty praised by Lucifer himself, surpassing most angels.

If beauty were one of the original sins, she would surely be destined to rule Hell as its monarch.

Just wait—when this job is over, and she gets paid, she plans to cast a powerful spell on Deathstroke, making him fall helplessly in love with her.

Then she'd tease him for a while before rejecting him coldly, telling him he was just "funny."

As suspected, Mazikeen wasn't doing too well right now.

Her guard was reduced to the lead Archdemon, who was now a berserker attacking friend and foe alike, while a few angels draped in sheets were slowly flying in from outside the throne room. "The Lord commands your obedience."

Even though Mazikeen was reveling in the wails of both her allies and enemies as they died, she instantly regained her clarity upon seeing the angels.

She straightened up on the throne, staring icily into their crimson eyes.

"Dream on."

"Non-compliance means annihilation."

The angels clearly had no intention of persuading her, nor did they have any patience.

They immediately launched an attack on Mazikeen from all directions, flapping their wings, raising their swords of Heaven high. The sound of their wings echoed through the throne room.

However, they were met by swiftly uttered incantations and roaring flames.

Su Ming, with the sorceress in his grasp, burst through the rooftop just in time.

The angels' feathered wings turned into torches almost instantly when faced with Hellfire, with only a few managing to evade the fire magic attack.

They shook off the embers clinging to them and withdrew to a safer distance.

But most had their wings burned into blackened, brittle twigs, falling to the ground.

They rolled around, desperately trying to touch their backs, but the once pure white wings from their shoulder blades were unreachable now.

They let out ear-piercing screams, akin to poultry being slaughtered, as Hell's power rapidly transformed them. It wouldn't take long before they turned into new Fallen Angels.

Of course, the angels still flying wouldn't give them that chance. As the humans and demons reunited, the angels eliminated their former brethren.

"Maz, are you okay?" Albera approached the throne, looking over the half-faced woman as if checking for any injuries.

Apart from her hands continuously bleeding, Mazikeen had no other wounds.

"I am the Queen of Hell. How could anything happen to me? These low-level angels are nothing to me."

Mazikeen's voice was calm, her face expressionless, exuding an air of aloofness, as if her words were the absolute truth.

In reality, she was nailed to the throne, effectively a mascot—a totem of Hell. In terms of combat ability, she had almost none.

While the sorceress and the Queen conversed, Su Ming tossed Black Orchid at the foot of the throne and observed the birdmen flying around.

It wasn't that he had a particular problem with Heaven—more that humans having oversized chicken wings on their backs seemed somewhat odd.

Angels could've been made to be able to fly without wings when they were created. But they aren't; instead, wings are added on them—a burden and a weakness.

These trivial bits of trivia floated through Deathstroke's mind, but his hands never paused. Swiftly, he drew the Nth Metal Gauss Rifle from his back.

This was the perfect opportunity to hit some targets.