Chapter 59: Not Enough
As the deep black fog finally faded, the "Demon Prince Fabudi" was reborn.
But this time, his form was no longer the same.
His four arms shrunk to two. His lower limbs were now wrapped in thick black and red scales and the horns on his head grew long and twisted, coiling upward like the bed of a crown.
"This..." Fabudi muttered, touching the muscles on his arms, trembling with excitement.
Every part of his body pulsed with violent power. It was intoxicating, the surge of strength flooded his nerves and soul until it became difficult to think of anything but the ecstasy of it.
"Hahahaha!" Fabudi roared, his scarlet eyes burning with madness and joy. "Such power! I can feel my desire growing... expanding as my strength rises!"
Across the blackened plains, as the mist cleared, Cillian’s figure appeared once more.
Fabudi immediately fell to one knee before him, head bowed low, waiting for his master’s word. But Cillian said nothing. He simply watched the demon in silence, his expression calm and unreadable.
Minutes passed.
Cillian’s eyes, glowing faintly with red and black rings, never left Fabudi. He studied every trace of the demon’s form, every flicker of power within him, until he finally understood.
It’s... not what I expected.
This creature, formed from the essence of the Endless Abyss itself, did hold a spark of true authority. But something was missing.
Too weak, Cillian thought.
In his divine sight, Fabudi was no mighty prince.
Before him his strength was clear. If Cillian had to measure it, the demon’s power level hovered around 5,000. Impressive compared to the demons at the peak of legendary, whose values ranged between 2,000 and 3,000, but far below beings like Mirethane, whose strength would easily exceed 10,000.
The gap was staggering.
"Why?" Cillian murmured inwardly. "Is it because he lacks his own independent power? By rank, his status should place him above even beings like Mirethane. Then why this limitation? Did the Abyss itself restrain him...?"
Fabudi’s strength was deceptive. Though he wielded over a dozen forms of abyssal magic, they were borrowed, not his own. While Mirethane held true authorities, powers that were both part of their souls and the foundation of their existence.
In contrast, Fabudi was little more than a vessel, a puppet carrying borrowed strength.
Cillian’s silence grew heavier. And under that crushing gaze, Fabudi felt his mind unravel. For the first time, he understood what it truly meant to stand before a god.
It wasn’t fear. It was an awareness so vast it stripped all thought away. Just meeting Cillian’s eyes made his soul tremble, his consciousness bend. The weight of that presence alone could destroy him.
When Cillian finally spoke, it was like ice breaking across the abyss.
"You may leave," he said softly.
Fabudi looked up, trembling.
"Return to the forty-fifth layer. It is yours now."
"My lord, I—"
"But prepare yourself," Cillian continued, his tone cold as iron. "Your time of rest will be brief. You can feel it, can’t you? That authority pulsing inside you."
Fabudi’s claws dug into the floor as Cillian’s words sank in.
"That power drives you to offer more land, more souls to the Abyss," Cillian said. "You made your promise when you accepted it. Now, you will fulfill it."
He paused, and his gaze sharpened.
"A new invasion will begin soon. You and your demons will lead the vanguard."
Cillian’s decision was final.
He wanted to see what a being like Fabudi could truly become. Theories meant little, the Abyss would reveal all.
Fabudi pressed his forehead to the ground, voice trembling with devotion. "My lord, I will use everything I have to bring you more land and more souls. I swear, everything will return to the Abyss."
A dark portal opened beside him, its edge flickering with crimson light.
Without hesitation, the newly crowned Demon Prince stepped through. His form disappeared into the swirling darkness, returning to the 45th layer.
There, storms were already brewing, twisting the sky into a spiral of red flame and shadow.
From afar, Cillian watched through the fabric of the Abyss, silent once more.
In truth, Fabudi was more than just an experiment.
He was a reflection of the Abyss’s powerful but unstable authority. His success or failure would reveal something deeper about the world Cillian had built.
The Abyss was alive. It devoured, evolved, and whispered through its creations. And even now, Cillian could feel it watching him back, as if the world itself was growing conscious of its master.
He exhaled slowly. "Let’s see how far you’ll go, Fabudi."
The shadows shifted, and Cillian vanished, his presence folding back into the layers of darkness he commanded.
Far below, thunder echoed through the 45th layer. The new Demon Prince raised his arms to the storm, laughter mingling with the roar of the wind.
——————x——————
In the days that followed, Cillian waited patiently as the Endless Abyss consumed every trace of the thirty or so worlds that once belonged to Hayes’ home realm.
Only once it was finished did Cillian begin the second phase of his work: the creation of new Demon Princes.
The first attempt with Fabudi had given him valuable insight. This time, the process was smoother. He understood better how to shape the essence of the Abyss into living vessels. The results came faster, the strain on his will was also lighter.
He discovered that any demon whose strength reached the legendary stage, no matter how crude or refined, was qualified to become a Demon Prince. Strength, bloodline, or heritage didn’t matter. Once chosen and remade by the Abyss, they would all rise as its puppets, bound to its will.
But there was something strange about it all. No matter the difference in the chosen demons’ original power, once transformed, their strength became eerily uniform. Their forms and minds remained distinct, yet the force radiating from each one felt identical, balanced to the same measure.
It was somewhat unsettling.
Cillian studied them closely, searching for the reason. Eventually, he stopped questioning it. After all, these princes were not born of nature but of the Abyss itself. Their equality might simply reflect its instinct, to balance what it created, why now of all times the abyss showed order, Cillian did not know. Perhaps as the Endless Abyss continued to grow stronger, the power of these Demon Princes would rise with it.
That was only a theory for now. He would need time, and war, to test it.
When the last of the new princes had been forged, Cillian withdrew his consciousness from the divine heart of the Abyss and returned to the mist-shrouded realm where his physical form resided. A deep exhale escaped his lips as he began counting his gains.
In just over a dozen days by the measure of the outside world, he had achieved more than most gods could dream of. The Endless Abyss had devoured more than thirty divine worlds and the natural realm the Hayes had sought to invade.
The wealth this brought him was staggering. Not only had he gained countless rules of high value, but the total mass of his divine world had also grown by nearly half.
It was a tremendous leap in power. Yet such rapid expansion came with a cost. The Abyss needed time to stabilize, to breed new demons and repopulate the layers stripped bare by war. For now, even it was too unstable to continue invading other worlds.
So, Cillian decided to make use of this rare moment of rest. He would visit the trading zone and exchange the surplus rules he’d collected for resources that could feed the Abyss’s recovery.
He prepared to leave through the marks of divine fire he’d left across the misty realm, but as he turned, his steps froze.
"...."
Half the Divine Fire Marks he had set earlier were gone.
Not just a few, most of them.
His eyes narrowed, that wasn’t all. As he extended his senses outward, he noticed something else, the number of secret worlds floating in this realm had sharply decreased since his last visit.
It was happening again.
The last time he’d come here, the same thing had occurred. Whole secret worlds had vanished without a trace, as if something had devoured them. And now, once more, the misty realm looked the same as before, dense with fog and scattered lights, but the reality beneath that illusion was hollowing out.
It was as though a hidden predator was feeding within the fog, quietly consuming worlds and even the divine symbols left behind by gods.
Something was deeply wrong.
But Cillian had no answers yet. He could only trust the few remaining fire marks he’d left to guide him out. Fortunately, they held strong enough to let him escape the realm.
When he finally emerged, he turned to look back. The fog swirled gently across the void, unchanged and serene, exactly as it had been before. If not for what he’d seen within, he might have doubted anything was amiss at all.
He paused for a moment longer, then shook his head. "Once I finish this next trade, I’m done here. Better to stay away from a place that hides too much."
For all his curiosity about the unknown, Cillian was no fool. Curiosity without caution was just suicide by another name.
——————x——————
He pushed open the door to the Exchange.
Inside, light and fragrance filled the air. Dozens of traders, each sculpted into near-perfect beauty, turned toward him with welcoming smiles.
"Honored god," one of them said softly, bowing her head. "Will you be buying or selling today?"
Cillian didn’t waste time. He had already learned how this place operated. Without a word, he summoned several dozen world rules and laid them on the counter before her.
"Appraise these and sell them," he said, his tone calm but firm.
The trader blinked, momentarily stunned. Then her eyes widened slightly as she looked him over, the worn cloak, aura of authority, and the faint flicker of divine flame that marked his rank.
There was no mistaking it. He was the same lower god who had stunned the exchange last time by selling rules in bulk.
Recovering quickly, she bowed deeply. "Of course, my lord."
Cillian accepted the trade manual from her and began reading through the current listings while she assessed his items. His voice was steady when he spoke again.
"I’ll be purchasing resource continents," he said. "Fifty of them, delivered as soon as possible."
He didn’t bother explaining the reason. The Abyssal Hatching Pool would need to feed soon, and this time, it would have more than enough to consume.
As he flipped through the pages of the manual, a new listing caught his attention.
It was an offer to sell the coordinates of a secret world.
Normally, this sort of trade wasn’t unusual. Many gods made a living by exploring the void, locating secret worlds too powerful to conquer on their own, and then selling their coordinates for profit. After all, even discovering such worlds required skill, and only a few dared to challenge them directly.
But the details of this listing made Cillian pause.
[Selling rare secret world coordinates!]
[World Introduction: This realm was recently born from the wreckage of a mid-god-level secret world. Its current strength lies below the mid-god class but above the lower-god tier. Within it are several rare rules rumored to allow creatures of the Divine Realm to evolve beyond known limits.]
Cillian’s eyes lingered on the text. The wording was careful, a newborn world, born from a dead one.
Something about it called to him.
He closed the manual slowly, the faintest spark of curiosity flickering behind his calm expression.