Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 823  Hey There, Death!

The tension between Lenny and Governor Momoa reached a climax as both warriors prepared for what could be the final clash. Momoa, recognizing the palpable shift in the battle's dynamics, refused to concede defeat. His experience in countless skirmishes had honed his instincts, and the surge in Lenny's power was an unmistakable harbinger of his potential downfall. Yet, the governor was not without his own desperate gambit.

In a moment of reckless determination, Momoa invoked a forbidden technique from the depths of his bloodline's legacy. With a shout that pierced the charged silence, he plunged his hand into his chest, his flesh illuminating with a sinister glow of red and black light. The act of crushing his own heart, a sacrifice for a fleeting resurgence of power, was a testament to his resolve. The immediate aftermath of this self-inflicted ordeal was miraculous; Momoa's shattered wings mended before Lenny's eyes, and his missing limb regrew, a display of his bloodline's formidable, albeit self-destructive, power.

For a brief moment, Governor Momoa was reborn in the zenith of his strength, his aura crackling with the untamed force of a Great Demon. The intensity of his power was such that the very fabric of the city began to disintegrate, the distant walls liquefying under the oppressive might radiating from his being. Despite the grave toll this technique would exact on his already compromised health, Momoa deemed the sacrifice necessary. Failure to defeat Lenny would spell his doom, a fate he was unwilling to accept without a fight.

The air thrummed with anticipation as the two combatants locked eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the imminent confrontation. Then, as if by an unspoken signal, they launched themselves at each other with ferocious speed. Lenny, empowered by *BERSERKER* and *WILL*, his sword enveloped in white flames and Earthen Lightning, epitomized the fury of the storm. In contrast, Governor Momoa, wielding an axe formed from cosmic energy, was the embodiment of a celestial wrath reborn.

Their collision was monumental, a cataclysmic meeting of forces that transcended the mere physical. *Boom*—the sound of their impact resonated not just through the city but through the very essence of the realm, a shockwave that carried the weight of their destinies. This was not just a battle for supremacy or survival; it was a clash of wills, a confrontation between two beings who had transcended their limits in pursuit of victory.

The epicenter of their conflict became a vortex of elemental fury and cosmic power, a spectacle that would be etched in the annals of lore. As Lenny and Governor Momoa exchanged blows, each strike imbued with the sum total of their power and resolve, the outcome of this battle would not only determine the victor but also reshape the balance of power within the earth. In this moment, frozen in the annals of time, the fate of two of its most formidable warriors hung in the balance, their legacy defined by the ferocity and desperation of their final stand.

The climactic confrontation between Lenny and Governor Momoa reached its zenith in a final, earth-shattering clash that carved the battlefield into a chasm and sent clouds of dust swirling into the sky. In that suspended moment, as if time itself had held its breath, the tumultuous energy that had crackled with ferocious intensity between them faded, extinguishing like a snuffed flame. Silence, heavy and profound, settled over the devastated landscape, a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before.

As the dust began to settle, a stark line of crimson marred Lenny's chest, a testament to the ferocity of Momoa's final strike. The sword in Lenny's hand, its purpose served and its strength expended in the battle, crumbled to dust, a symbol of the sacrifice and loss endured in the heat of combat. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Turning to face Governor Momoa, Lenny's expression was a complex tapestry of emotions, reflecting the intensity of their battle and the weight of the moment at hand. Momoa, facing Lenny, bore a resigned smile, a gesture that belied the depth of his final words. "My daughters, Vine and Gar. They love you. Be good to them. And please kill Cuban..." His voice, laden with a mixture of regret, hope, and a plea for vengeance, marked the end of his journey. This surprised Lenny. After all, Lady Vinegar had said that her father was not aware that she was two souls in one body. Apparently, the father knew a lot more about his daughter than she knew.

With those words, the governor's body succumbed to the injuries that had been held at bay by sheer will and the desperate power of his final technique.

As Momoa's form disintegrated, his body breaking apart in a visceral cascade of blood, the magnitude of his final stand became apparent. The Great Demon Momoa, a warrior who had defied the odds and pushed beyond the limits of his own bloodline, pain and sacrifice, met his end not with a whisper but with a declaration—a final wish entrusted to Lenny, a testament to the complex web of relationships, loyalties, and enmities that defined their world.

....

Meanwhile, every person of great power and significance in the Eighth earth felt it at the same time. The sudden end and absence of a great Demon existence. Baroness Everbee on her throne shot up to her feet in surprise. After all, Governor Momoa was not such a Demon that would be easily taken down, and in a short time from their last battle too. This was alarming for the entire world. Even the undead commander, as his army marched forth for assaulting Glenn's territory paused and turned about in surprise as to what happened. And for a split second, he had actually thought of stopping the progress of his actions. After all, a big part of his reason for attacking the Witch's territory was to get lady vinegar so that he could get her father. Then again, he could not stop now. After all, there were a lot of souls and powerful people that he could take to join his army in that territory.

........

In the aftermath, the silence that enveloped the battlefield was a solemn witness to the conclusion of a saga that had spanned rivalries, battles, and the unyielding pursuit of power.

 Lenny, standing amidst the remnants of the confrontation, was left to contemplate the legacy of Governor Momoa, the implications of his final request, and the path that lay ahead.

The death of Governor Momoa, a figure of immense power and influence, marked a turning point in the intricate dance of dominion and dissent within the Eighth earth. For Lenny, this victory was not merely a triumph over a formidable foe but a pivotal moment that would shape his journey, burdened with the governor's last wishes and the responsibility they entailed.

As the dust continued to settle, Lenny's gaze lingered on the spot where Momoa had made his final stand, a silent homage to a worthy adversary. In the aftermath of the battle, Lenny approached the remnants of Governor Momoa with a somber resolve. Amidst the debris of conflict, he found the governor's half-severed head and, more importantly, his core—a diminutive orb pulsing with waning energy. Despite its small size, the core was a reservoir of immense power, now dwindling due to the governor's last desperate act. Without hesitation, Lenny consumed the core, hoping for a significant surge in power. Yet, the increase was marginal, insufficient to propel him to the fifth rank of the Great Demon realm. The act was a grim reminder of the forbidden technique's cost, not just on the user but also on the potential for power transfer.

With a practical sense of finality, Lenny stored Governor Momoa's remains in his storage, a silent acknowledgment of the governor's defeat and death. His next action was deliberate and charged with anticipation; he summoned a rough sheet of paper, its appearance unassuming yet laden with cosmic significance. This was no ordinary page but a fragment from the Book of Death, an artifact whose mastery could alter the very fabric of existence. With Governor Momoa's demise, the page was now masterless, a situation Lenny sought to rectify.

By anointing the page with his blood, Lenny initiated a ritual of binding, calling forth the dark energies that lay dormant within. A dark miasma, cold and foreboding, emerged, enveloping him in its embrace. This act summoned the avatar of Lady Death, a manifestation of the page's power, her bony touch as cold as the void between stars. Yet, Lenny's intentions diverged from the expected surrender to the trance; this encounter would unfold on his terms.

In a move that was as audacious as it was swift, Lenny countered the avatar's approach with unprecedented aggression. Seizing her by the neck, he anchored her presence firmly to the ground, a physical assertion of dominance and control. This bold act was more than a struggle for power; it was a declaration of Lenny's refusal to be subjugated by the forces that sought to claim dominion over him...

"Hey there, Death!"