The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

In the sky, the once tranquil clouds were stirred up by the battle's turbulence, resembling a boiling ocean. The clouds churned, sometimes expanding into enormous mushroom shapes, sometimes tearing into thin ribbons, their colors shifting rapidly between white, gray, and dark black, as if expressing the intensity and tension of the battle.

Lightning raged through the clouds, streaks of silvery-white lightning like the claws of a dragon, weaving a net of light across the sky. The thunder roared like the war drums of a god, each strike shaking the earth and unsettling the soul.

The halo and black smoke collided in the sky, producing a dazzling light and dense smoke. Each expansion of the angel's halo was like the first ray of sunlight at sunrise, dispelling the surrounding darkness. The demon's black smoke, on the other hand, was like the falling night, attempting to devour all light.

The two supreme beings fought until even the Great Dao was obliterated... cough cough

The battle situation changed rapidly. The two great forces of light and darkness created aftershocks in the sky, and the sight made everyone present feel terrified, realizing their own insignificance in the face of those two behemoths.

"The battle is about to be decided," Gray murmured.

As if to confirm what Gray had said, a huge object in the sky fell straight down and crashed heavily to the ground.

Gray had long foreseen the angel's impending defeat. Under the frenzied attacks of Thurt, the demon of knowledge and truth, the angel gradually succumbed and retreated in defeat.

The angel's halo gradually dimmed, its once dazzling light flickering like a candle flame extinguished by the wind, until it finally lost all its luster. His wings, once pure white feathers, were now covered with cracks and charred marks, no longer flapping powerfully, but drooping limply, having lost the ability to take flight again.

However, the demon didn't seem to be in good shape either. Its body was covered with wounds left by the angel's light-attribute magic. Because it was injured by light-attribute magic, it couldn't repair its injuries in a short time and could only maintain a disheveled appearance.

Deep, bone-revealing wounds ripped open across the demon's skin, crisscrossing like ravines in a black earth, a horrifying sight. The edges of these wounds rolled back, muscle and tissue bulging outwards, presenting a nauseating spectacle. Black blood flowed slowly, thick and foul-smelling, dripping onto the ground and corroding patches of earth.

The demon's bat wings were covered in large, charred, and broken marks, as if scorched by intense flames. The skin around the wounds was unnaturally twisted, a remnant of its battle with the angels.

But comparatively speaking, the demon of knowledge and truth, Thurt, was less injured. At least he still had the strength to float in the air and laugh wickedly at the fallen defeated.

"Hehehe, what an overconfident fellow."

He slowly descended to near the ground, looking down proudly at the wounded angel.

The angel was now on the verge of death; His face had lost its former radiance and resolve. His eyes, once as bright as stars, were now dull and lifeless, like a beacon that had lost its soul. His brows were furrowed, and the corners of his mouth were downturned, revealing a deep sense of resentment.

Her eyes held both disbelief at the failure and a resigned acceptance of reality. Her gaze was unfocused, as if searching for something, yet finding nothing. Her expression conveyed a silent plea, as if appealing to some higher power, only to be met with emptiness and silence.

"Disappear, loser!"

The demon screamed, and the angel's body was gradually disintegrated.

His wings, once a symbol of purity and innocence, now resembled paper scorched by flames, their edges curling and turning black before disintegrating into countless specks of light that drifted away on the wind. Each disappearance of a speck of light seemed like a part of the angel's life lamenting.

Watching all this with cold eyes, Grace Howe had no intention of making a move. As the Demon King, he was inherently hostile to the Church of Holy Light and its faith, and a mutually destructive outcome was the scene he most desired to see.

Moreover, Gray didn't believe that the angels would be so easily killed by the demons of knowledge and truth.

Based on their previous conversation, it can be inferred that this angel had only recently advanced to the tenth rank.

There must be other angels or something of a higher order, otherwise how could the seven demons have been imprisoned in the Netherworld Prison?

But things didn't go as Gray expected.

The angel's form vanished, and a tenth-level life form fell silent.

Gray is feeling completely overwhelmed.

Why didn't a plot twist occur? Shouldn't something else have appeared to save the angel?

Is it impossible, or do those so-called high-ranking beings regard even tenth-order angels as worthless and discard them at will?

Ok?

Suddenly, Gray began to tremble uncontrollably.

This feeling of being watched...

Gray was certain that the beings watching this place were of a much higher rank than the angels, but this sense of being watched disappeared after a short while.

The sense of being watched arises suddenly at the moment the angel's life is about to end, meaning that thing can sense the angel's death...

The members of the Church of Holy Light witnessed the angel's disappearance, and a wave of shock and grief washed over them, followed by a torrent of fear and despair.

Even the legendary angels have fallen to the devil's hand; who can save them now? The path left for them has been completely blocked.

The believers knelt on the ground, hands clasped together, heads bowed, tears soaking their clothes. They couldn't accept this cruel reality; the fall of the angel was like the sudden extinguishing of a beacon of their faith. Some began to pray, hoping it was some kind of hallucination, their voices trembling with despair: "Lord, please tell us, why is this happening?"

The Pope's face was as pale as paper, and his eyes were empty, as if he had lost his soul.

In contrast, the followers of the Demonic Order were even more frenzied, cheering loudly, creating a stark contrast with the Church of Holy Light.

The archbishop raised his scepter high and proclaimed: "Witness, children! This is the victory of the forces of darkness, proof of our faith! The fall of the angels heralds the arrival of our new era!"

The demon of knowledge and truth, Thurt, feeds on the despair of the followers of the Holy Light Church, laughing raucously amidst the cheers of the heretics.

Darkness shrouded the entire secret realm, a heavy, oppressive atmosphere filling the air. Smoke swirled, dust filled the air, making visibility extremely difficult; every breath felt like inhaling the breath of death. The wind, if it could still be called wind, was icy and piercing, carrying a sharp whistling sound like the mockery of death itself.

He spread his wings and took flight again, while a dark sphere of magic coalesced between his claws!