The Primordial Record novel Chapter 873

?The Axe blade was more than fourteen feet in length and carried enough force to split a continent in two parting the fog with a loud whooshing sound that could be heard for miles.

Slamming into the body of the old man, it vaporized the entirety of his body leaving tiny quivering flesh behind that soon froze into black ashes, the Demon King sneered and continued brushing the black ice off his body as he tried to penetrate the despicable fog in this place with his perception, and then he stumbled.

He looked around confused, he was still in midair and there was no obstruction anywhere around him, it was impossible for him to even know the ground from the sky and he was just selecting a direction and pushing forward until he found something to kill, and then he yawned.

The urge to sleep overwhelmed him and he fell to one knee, dropping his massive axes that disappeared into the gloom, his large cat-like eyes began to droop, and he noticed a few meters ahead, one of his Demon Knights, a Dulahan, a headless horseman riding a decaying horse had been reduced to bones, an old woman was hugging him to her breast.

"No, this is not right," he growled and tried to return to his feet, but everything was so much harder to do, even lifting his fingers was nearly impossible, and when even breathing felt like the most difficult thing he had ever done, he dimly noticed that the old man holding his legs had returned, and he was no longer tiny.

His figure had filled up, and he stood straighter, now filled with vitality, his eyes which were previously dull embers had begun to glow. The Demon General released a small groan as he noticed that his legs had been reduced to dry bones and the destruction was moving up his body, before his life faded away, he saw that perching on his once magnificent body were six other figures, the last one had been hugging his neck.

The last thing he heard was his neck snapping like a dried branch. He idly wondered why he had felt no pain.

The Akashic Trell was a silent assassin, and except for enemies like Demon Generals with enormous amounts of essence, any Demon usually fell within a second, unable to even scream, and even if they did, there was no one here to hear their cries except darkness and the endless cold.

Nyrroth the Mind Flayer was the first Demon Prince who noticed their presence. He was in the midst of the demonic horde pushing away the fog for miles, he cursed when he looked behind him and noticed that the path he had opened had become filled once more with fog.

Like a blanket surrounding him, Nyrroth could feel the presence of his demons around him and then the blanket began to grow holes. A bit of cold touched his senses where there should have been warmth.

His eyes tracked through the fog trying to find out what was happening but he could only see dim flashes of red, whatever was happening outside his perception, the perpetrators chose to remain far from him, but since they were hunting so close to him, it meant they did not really fear him. They were fools.

Nyrroth continued forward, moving faster and pushing the fog aside in an erratic manner, hoping he could catch the ones who were stealing his warmth, but after a while, the Demon Price thought he could hear the cheeky laughter of a child. He knew when he was being mocked. In the last few minutes, he had not counted but he must have lost hundreds of millions of demons, indeed he was being mocked.

With a roar of anger he dispelled the fog around him for hundreds of miles, "Show yourself!"

That turned out to be a mistake as a blurry figure that was moving so fast it was impossible to accurately see his form slammed into Nyrroth and took him into the fog, he never emerged.