Chapter 287: We Fight for the Emperor of Humanity
Ordinary people might not care much about grander matters. Most were concerned with their own lives.
Would their wages increase? After paying utilities and covering daily necessities, how much money could they still save?
They cared about attractive women, relationships, and when they might finally stop being single.
For those at the bottom, a stable life was often enough.
In the past, perhaps simply surviving like that would have been acceptable.
But the appearance of demons shattered that illusion.
Even poorer and less developed countries had always suffered from poverty and food shortages, yet people still somehow managed to survive. Humanity often praised the resilience of cockroaches, but humans themselves were remarkably resilient as well.
People always found some way to keep living.
And if survival became impossible, death at least brought an end to suffering.
Demons were different.
Their existence destroyed every sense of peace people once had. In the minds of ordinary people, demons and hell represented absolute evil.
Just as Reacher had said, no one wanted to wake up one day and discover that demons had attacked them, their families, or their homes.
It would not end with their bodies being devoured—their souls could be tormented as well.
Even hearing it described was enough to inspire fear and despair.
And when fear and despair reached their limit, they often transformed into anger and madness.
Rich or poor, everyone was the same in the eyes of demons.
If anything, the wealthy might simply look more appetizing.
That was why Reacher’s speech struck directly at the deepest insecurity shared by both ordinary citizens and the extremely wealthy.
Of course, some people were simply excited to watch something dramatic unfold.
This entire event was also a carefully designed public spectacle.
And clearly, Reacher had succeeded.
Most people around the world had been swept up by his words.
“We march in the Emperor’s name!”
Reacher did not continue building the atmosphere. Instead, he ended with that single forceful declaration.
Every soldier immediately roared in response.
“We fight for the Emperor of Humanity!”
BOOM!
The next instant, brilliant golden light erupted beneath Reacher and the assembled soldiers. Radiant magic surged upward, tearing open an enormous portal in the sky amid a shower of sparks.
Beyond it lay an endless crimson hellscape. Lava and black stone stretched across a barren, corrupted world, while hellfire burned across the land. Within the flames, ugly demons stared toward the suddenly opened portal in shock.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
At Reacher’s command, golden light enveloped every soldier. One after another, they transformed into brilliant streaks of light and shot into the sky, racing through the portal.
The sight was spectacular.
For the first time in human history, a human nation was launching an expedition into hell itself.
Among those watching, some mocked them, some sneered, and some remained indifferent, but most wished Terra success.
Young people in particular were captivated. They were at the age when imagination, passion, and impulsiveness burned brightest.
They watched the Astartes in imposing power armor, the Raven Guard in red combat coats, and the Grey Knight battle-brothers march toward hell with absolute determination and fearlessness.
When every soldier became a streak of light and vanished through the portal, countless teenagers around the world jumped to their feet, shouting wildly.
“We march in the Emperor’s name!”
“We fight for the Emperor of Humanity!”
“For the Emperor!”
“That’s incredible! Kill every one of those hellspawn, Astartes!”
“Wipe out those ugly bastards!”
Young people were the easiest to inspire and the easiest to sweep up in powerful emotions.
Surrounded by imagery of courage, sacrifice, and righteous war, their excitement was driven to its peak.
And that was exactly what Reacher wanted.
He intended to plant a seed in the hearts of that generation. When that seed eventually took root and Terra’s armies turned their attention toward the rest of the world, events would unfold far more smoothly and with far less resistance.
For now, however, Reacher and the soldiers of the three warbands were no longer thinking about any of that.
They had already entered Limbo.
Dense formations of soldiers descended toward the ground under the leadership of Reacher, Bucky, Neddy, Roscoe, and the rest of Terra’s senior commanders.
The moment they landed, the war officially began.
“Humans?”
“So many humans.”
“Such strong life force… such delicious flesh and souls! Hahahaha! So much food has come straight to us!”
“Look! Someone opened a gateway to the human world!”
“Kill them! Eat them! We can finally reach the human world!”
Demons were scattered throughout the surrounding region.
When they first saw Reacher and Terra’s soldiers, they did not react with fear—they reacted with greed and excitement.
The demons roaming the wasteland did not care why humans had suddenly appeared in Limbo. All they saw was fresh, delicious prey arriving right in front of them, ready to be devoured.
They bared their sharp fangs, faces twisting with hunger as winged demons launched into the air and rushed eagerly toward the three warbands led by Reacher, while those without wings charged across the ground with weapons in hand.
By the time the portal disappeared, the three warbands were already surrounded on all sides by a chaotic but massive tide of demons.
“Hmph.”
Reacher had no desire to personally deal with such low-level rabble. He calmly put on his helmet, which locked automatically into the collar of his armor, completing the sealed power-armor system.
He extended his right hand, and with a ripple of golden light, a battle axe appeared in his grip.
Behind the helmet, his eyes glowed crimson.
Then an overwhelming surge of Conqueror’s Haki erupted from him.
Boom—!
Black-and-red lightning exploded outward in every direction, centered on Reacher, while deliberately avoiding the soldiers behind him.
The low-ranking demons charging toward them had no ability to resist such overwhelming Conqueror’s Haki. Its upper limit was determined by the strength of one’s conviction, and Reacher’s conviction was absolute.
His ambitions had long since moved beyond Earth, toward a far greater future and a vastly larger universe. His presence was no longer meant merely to dominate nations—it was meant to shake the stars themselves.
The Conqueror’s Haki he had kept restrained until now finally revealed its true scale. Even Natasha and the other warriors were impressed by its power.
The moment the surrounding demons were struck, they collapsed and died in droves, their bodies falling from the sky in a continuous rain.
There was almost no bloodshed involved, yet within dozens of kilometers, the surrounding area became a zone of death. Any demon that entered would meet only one outcome: death.
It was Terra’s declaration to all of Limbo that its armies had arrived.
That completely unrestrained eruption of Conqueror’s Haki was immediately detected by Limbo’s ruler, Belasco.
Limbo lived up to its name. Hellfire burned throughout the barren landscape, and within that wasteland stood a dark fortress personally constructed by Belasco.
It was both his city and his royal seat. The demons who had submitted to him lived there as part of his army.
The Dark Fortress had an eerie and oppressive appearance. It lacked the polished brilliance of a human metropolis, instead looking ancient and primitive. The entire settlement had been built from a type of granite unique to Limbo.
Calling it a city was almost generous. It resembled an enormous fortified settlement.
Even so, some basic systems of order had developed there naturally.
Inside the tallest and most imposing structure of the fortress was Belasco’s palace.
Belasco himself appeared as a middle-aged human man, dressed in deep crimson clothing and a matching cloak. His black hair was neatly trimmed, and two small, sharp demonic horns protruded from his forehead.
At the moment, he was in an excellent mood.
He stood on the lower level of the vast palace, inside an arena he had personally constructed for one particular girl.
He watched as the battered child fought a massive monster he had captured specifically for her.
The creature stood five or six meters tall.
Its body was grotesque, covered in twisted limbs and horrifying tentacles, while thick scales formed an almost impenetrable shell.
Compared with it, the human girl—barely over a meter tall—looked impossibly small.
She wore only a simple, lightweight sleeveless bodysuit. No armor. No weapons. She fought the creature with her bare hands.
This was the girl Belasco had abducted from Earth. He had recognized her extraordinary potential the moment he found her and had been overjoyed.
After bringing her to Limbo, he personally taught her various forms of dark magic.
However, he had never intended to train her as a true disciple. She was merely a sacrifice—a tool to be consumed.
Over the past few years, he had kept her locked in the dungeons of the Screaming Tower.
She had no freedom and could leave her cell only when Belasco summoned her. Chained and guarded round-the-clock by demons, she possessed no freedom, permitted to leave her cell only when summoned by Belasco.
Furthermore, Limbo itself was another form of torture. Lava, poisonous mist, wailing spirits, and freezing shadows constantly shifted throughout the realm.
Her young body was repeatedly burned by negative demonic energy and then frozen, leaving her skin permanently covered in scars.
The demonic corruption in the air continuously eroded her human flesh, slowly altering her body.
She was forced to slaughter captured demons alone, harvest their blood and fragments of their souls, and spend every day handling huge quantities of rotting, bleeding monster remains with her bare hands.
Any hesitation brought punishment from Belasco’s servants.
And then there was Belasco’s final ritual.
It required five Bloodstones.
Each one had to be carved directly from Illyana’s soul.
Every extraction caused irreversible agony as part of her soul was torn away.
With each Bloodstone created, another piece of her humanity was permanently erased—her emotions, her memories, her conscience.
There was no anesthesia for the process.
She remained fully conscious throughout.
The pain struck both body and mind, forcing her to repeatedly witness illusions of herself murdering the people she loved.
After each Bloodstone was created, she would temporarily lose all sense of self.
Eventually, the process was meant to reduce her to nothing more than a puppet.
It was torture in its purest form—physical and psychological.
But Belasco had not expected the human girl to be so resilient.
Over the years, she had grown rapidly.
No matter what carefully designed torment he subjected her to, she continued to endure it through sheer determination.
That had begun to make Belasco uneasy.
He seemed to have underestimated her.
Yet the more she resisted, the more his cruelty intensified.
Then suddenly, while he was enjoying the battle before him, Belasco sharply turned toward a distant direction.
“Humans!”