Chapter 3

Alright, in the end, the protagonist Quemo still failed. The Abyss was a very sinister place. The larvae corpses on the ground disappeared all of a sudden. At the same time, Quemo heard the pit burp. He believed it was definitely not an illusion.

This was very unfortunate. Because Quemo knew that eating larvae was likely to be the only pleasure he could get for a very long time.

And now, this pleasure had been easily taken away.

The only good news was that larvae were a luxury, not a necessity. So from a practical point of view, Quemo didn't need them—

After solving this problem, Quemo moved his arms and legs. Then he started walking forward—following the route the red fat guy had taken.

This didn't mean Quemo liked the red fat guy. It wasn't that he wanted to follow him as a leader. Rather, it was the safest path.

The terrifying aura of the Balor could intimidate most of the dangerous creatures in the Abyss. As the red fat guy walked, he repelled all the evil. A peaceful and safe path was invaluable for a weak Quemo.

If possible, Quemo thought he could even scavenge some meat left by the red fat guy, like a hyena. Although it was just something the red fat guy didn't care about, it was enough for the current Quemo.

From this, one could see the difference between a Quemo with an intelligence of 10 and a group of Quemos with an intelligence ranging from 2 to 3. The latter would be repelled by the red fat guy's aura and die in the dangerous Abyss. Quemo, however, could make the right judgment, overcome his instinctive fear, and safely follow the red fat guy to scavenge. It was safe, and he could gain good things, increasing the possibility of advancing in rank. Truly imba.

"So, I'm a genius," Quemo thought, feeling very pleased with himself. He continued walking forward, finding the flowers and plants more beautiful—despite the giant pitcher plant-like flower bubbling and a half-arm sticking out.

"Ah, that thing eats meat, right? But it doesn't matter," Quemo thought as he continued to walk cautiously. He vaguely heard a system notification: Your Knowledge (Planes) +1. But it might have been an auditory hallucination, so he didn't pay much attention.

...

Thus, Quemo followed the red fat guy.

Because the red fat guy was thinking, his pace wasn't too fast. Additionally, when he couldn't see the red fat guy, Quemo just followed the trail of his oppressive aura. So he didn't get lost or fall behind. Walking along, he saw various flowers and plants in the Abyss, which broadened his horizons.

However, over these three days, Quemo gradually changed his mind about "following this fat guy is safe."

On the first day, it was still okay. The fat guy just used a big stick to beat a few idiots who blocked his way. Quemo felt a bit of schadenfreude and tried to eat some demon meat.

Among the dead demons, a group were Quasits, which tasted terrible, like rotten meat. The red fat guy killed a lot of them with a wave of his hand. A few were Mania Demons—what the hell, is this shit? Is this what demons eat?—and one was a Succubus.

The Succubus looked very human and very beautiful. Except for the wings, horns, hooves, and tail, and the reddish skin, there wasn't much difference from a beautiful woman. Quemo felt it was a waste. Such a beautiful girl, killed like that, what a pity.

But upon further thought, Quemo was relieved. If it weren't "a waste," only the red fat guy could have his way with her, not Quemo. So, dead is dead. As for necrophilia, that was too high-level for Quemo. He was of the Chaotic Good alignment and couldn't accept it.

After that, Quemo tore off a small piece of the Succubus's wing, placed it over a steaming hole by the road, and started eating.

"Tastes good, a bit like chicken wings. It would be even better with some cumin and salt," Quemo thought as he chewed.

He wasn't eating the demon meat because he had a strong taste for it or because he was hungry. He was conducting an experiment—when he was a larva, eating larvae helped him advance. When he was a Quemo, eating larvae didn't help him. But he hadn't given up on this path. Not until now.

The experiment failed. Eating the meat of high-level demons didn't increase his strength or provide any benefits. It seemed he needed to use other methods to advance and become stronger.

Then came the second day.

On the second day, the red fat guy just muttered to himself. Quemo thought he was being crazy and didn't pay much attention.

However, the red fat guy's other actions were a bit worrying. He was clearly agitated, angry, and becoming aggressive. As he walked, he swung his big stick, smashing strange large mushrooms, carnivorous pitcher plants, rocks, demons, and other things. At this point, Quemo felt a bit uneasy.

By the third day, the red fat guy started to go crazy. He laughed maniacally, swinging his big stick and smashing all the Tanar'ri demons in front of him.

The carnage was immense—Quemo was excited, I mean, scared—when he saw the red fat guy stepping on a Flaming Skull with half its head gone, twitching and half-dead. He grabbed the remaining two hands of a six-armed snake demon—more like pinched them—and, ignoring the demon's screams and roars, lifted her up and slammed her down. Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack...

A Balor, about five meters tall, and a six-armed snake demon, about three meters tall without the tail, engaging in a violent act... The scene was too intense for most people to handle. But it seemed both parties were enjoying it. At least Quemo thought so, seeing the six-armed snake demon's eyes roll back?

Or was it because she was losing too much blood and about to die?

In the end, the red fat guy, after climaxing, twisted off the six-armed snake demon's head like opening a bottle cap, turning it around a few times, and then detached it from the cervical vertebrae.

Quemo thought his worldview had been corrected enough. But it turned out it was far from enough.

Then, Quemo felt he should leave—regretting that he had stood too close.

In the center of the battlefield was the red fat guy, who was incredibly powerful. In his left hand, he held the head of the six-armed snake demon, and in his right hand, her body, which was missing four arms and a head.

Around him were a large number of Mania Demons, Quemos, Flaming Skulls, and other miscellaneous demons. Most had half their heads or bodies smashed into pulp. Some had all their muscles torn off, looking like emaciated African refugees. They were either dead or on the brink of death.

"Damn, that's too brutal, truly a demon!" Quemo commented—being of the Good alignment, he couldn't stand such wanton killing.

But soon, Quemo realized the red fat guy wasn't killing randomly—very rare for a demon. The red fat guy had a purpose.

He muttered some magic words, and the slaughterhouse was filled with negative energy, making Quemo's skin crawl. Then, he saw a large number of white, semi-transparent spirits fly out from the corpses and near-corpses on the ground.

These spirits screamed, shrinking until they formed a single, semi-solid white ball in the red fat guy's hand. It was the soul aggregate of dozens of high, middle, and low-level demons.

If the mages of the main plane, especially those specializing in necromancy, saw this magic, they would likely kneel and call for their father.

But even if the demon father was willing to teach them, they probably couldn't learn it. This was a special skill. As you know, demons and devils, these lower plane beings, are very adept at manipulating souls. And as a Balor, the red fat guy was naturally one of the best. Quemo was surprised but not shocked.

After the negative energy storm and the soul extraction, the red fat guy waved his hand, and the soulless corpses stood up, moving stiffly, twitching, and expressionless. They had become zombies. The scene, with the zombies and the cold wind, made Quemo feel that shooting a horror movie here wouldn't require any special effects.

Quemo, watching this, felt his scalp tingle. He realized a truth:

Following a powerful demon like the red fat guy could indeed avoid most of the dangers of the Abyss. But the problem was that the demon himself was the biggest danger. Following this bastard meant either nothing would happen, or if something did, it would be a big deal—something a small Quemo couldn't handle.

"This situation is not good. I should leave," Quemo thought, slowly moving backward, using the rocks for cover. He moved very carefully, afraid that the red fat guy would notice and take care of him.

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