Chapter 102: Courting Death on the Way to the Underworld
Boom!
The silver-white car's engine roared to life.
Relief spread across the faces of the Lizard Demon tribe.
At the same time, they were still worried that Allen might go back on his word and wipe them out completely.
Allen stepped out of the car, and the lizard demons immediately tensed up again.
"No need to see me off. If fate allows, we'll meet again," Allen waved to them and got back in the car.
Hurry up and scram. Never come back.
Inside the car, Allen gripped the steering wheel with a serious look.
"Boss, we can go now," Skullhead urged, eager to return to the Underworld.
Staying in Hell with no death-element energy to replenish himself, he risked burning out his soul flame if he stayed too long.
"Quiet. Let me figure out how to drive this thing." Allen glanced around, touching and poking the interior, clearly exploring.
"…"
You built this car and don't even know how to drive it?
How did you even manage to build it in the first place?
Allen really didn't know how to drive. He had no license, had never touched a car before.
But that didn't stop him from building one after studying its structure.
"Step on the brake, shift gears, release the brake, then hit the gas," Skullhead patiently instructed.
"You can drive? That's amazing," Allen said with admiration.
Sigh...
"I was a truck driver before I died. Got killed in an accident," Skullhead said with a long sigh.
"Hahaha! That's hilarious!"
Allen burst into uncontrollable laughter. His sense of humor was embarrassingly low—despite the sad backstory, he was nearly rolling on the floor laughing.
"Brake, shift gears, release brake, gas…"
Crash!
The car immediately slammed into a ruined wall, blasting a huge hole through it—and sped off unscathed.
Dangling from the rearview mirror, Skullhead watched as the car rammed straight through obstacles without even trying to avoid them.
One word: Crash.
Crash a path forward.
"What kind of car is this?!"
Skullhead was in awe at the car's build. A head-on collision with reinforced concrete, and it didn't even get scratched?
"Just a bit of alchemy," Allen boasted.
"The chassis uses kinetic-absorption polymorph engineering, and the power system absorbs and converts fire-element energy using enchantment techniques. Too bad it only works here in Hell."
"Why?" Skullhead asked, playing along.
"It can only absorb Hellfire and convert it into kinetic energy. In any other world, it's just a pile of scrap."
There's no gasoline in Hell, after all.
Allen simply tapped into the fire-element energy floating in the air.
But it was far too violent—any non-native trying to absorb it would explode on the spot.
When used in alchemical constructs, though, there's no risk of explosion. After all, explosions do produce kinetic energy.
From the outside, the car racing across Hell was wrapped in a layer of crimson flame—evidence of its constant fire-element absorption.
"I'm gonna floor it now. Ghost Rider, move out!"
Allen slammed the gas pedal, triggering a sonic boom.
Jagged rocks along the path shattered instantly—it was like a cannonball skimming the ground.
Was this thing really made with alchemy?!
Skullhead started to have doubts. He'd lived in the Underworld for over a century and seen plenty of Liches and Bone Mages who were proficient in alchemy.
But none had ever crafted something so absurdly powerful.
Could it be that the alchemy in Allen's world had evolved this far?
Of course, Skullhead's previous world was not the same as Allen's.
Going by the 1973 timeline, a hundred years earlier, America had just ended the Civil War, and oil was mainly used for lamps.
So, the world Skullhead came from was over a century behind in technological development.
Not surprising at all. In a multiverse, it's common for some human worlds to be incredibly advanced.
Who says all human worlds have to progress at the same rate? Some of them have already set sail among the stars.
"Hey, Skullhead, I've got a question," Allen asked while driving, chatting to kill time.
"So, with all these universes out there… all the alternate versions of the same person—do they all go to the same Underworld when they die?"
"No way. It wouldn't fit them all," Skullhead replied bluntly.
There are as many universes as grains of sand in the Ganges, countless duplicates of every person.
If they all ended up in the same Underworld, Purgatory, or Hell, it'd be chaos.
Step out your door and meet a hundred alternate versions of yourself.
One person becomes a whole race. Total mess.
Skullhead explained, "The human world is reflected in the Three Realms, which in turn are reflected across the myriad worlds. Each universe has its own version of the Three Realms. They usually don't overlap with the main dimension."
"Of course, there are souls that descend into the Three Realms. Once they die there, resurrection becomes impossible."
"So, powerful beings capable of crossing dimensions will sometimes come to the Underworld to hunt their alternate selves or enter the Three Realms to become the sole version."
"In particular, if a god from the myriad worlds locks onto the Three Realms' coordinates, they'll establish their domain there and create an anchor point. Once they do, all alternate versions that die will have their power flow to the lord of that domain."
"My lord is one of those unique gods," Skullhead added with pride.
After that explanation, Allen finally understood just how terrifying the Hidden One would become in the future.
As long as they survive long enough to outlive all their alternate selves, their power would grow unimaginably.
Of course, there's a limit. If growth were truly infinite, the myriad worlds would've been conquered by just three lords by now.
Some ancient gods, millions of years old, could kill off alternate versions to strengthen themselves in various ways.
Allen wasn't wrong—Lords have caps, and every multiverse has rules embodied in physical forms, not something a Lord can mess with casually.
And becoming powerful doesn't necessarily mean becoming a Lord.
"No wonder you're so smug whenever you mention your lord. You really landed a good boss."
Allen didn't dig too deeply. It was impressive enough that a mere skull soldier knew this much.
"Of course. My lord isn't just the One True God, but also a death-type deity. She's perfectly compatible with the Death Lord's divinity. She'll definitely become one of the greatest in the Underworld," Skullhead declared confidently.
"…You like her, don't you?"
Allen gave him a wicked grin. "Every time you talk about her, you won't shut up. Sounds like someone showing off his girlfriend."
"Don't be ridiculous. I don't! I really don't…" The more Skullhead denied it, the quieter he got.
"Hmm…"
Allen stared at him without a word, silently applying pressure.
Skullhead felt like his skull was about to split open. Finally, he snapped, "Fine, fine! I do like my lord! So what? It's not like I'm the only one—plenty of undead admire her!"
"Hmm…"
Allen squinted again, silently demanding more truth.
"What do you want?! Is it wrong to like someone?"
"Hmm…"
"I've admired her from afar, loved her deeply—"
"Hmm…"
"Okay! I once had another undead dress up like her and… y'know, did it!"
"Hmm…"
"I mean—fine! It was me who dressed up like her and got… y'know, by another undead…"
"HMMM!!!"
Allen gave a look of pure disgust. "Wow. I did not expect that from you."
"Please don't tell anyone. I'll die of shame."
"You're already dead."
"…Touché."
After racing across a thousand kilometers of Hell, the car finally reached the boundary zone.
Above them, winged demons, fallen angels with black feathers, and bone-winged undead were locked in aerial battle.
It was the demon army versus the undead army, clashing head-on.
The sky and ground were black with troops—uncountable in number.
"Boss, should we go around?" Skullhead suggested.
Driving straight through a battlefield would definitely draw fire from both sides—not the smartest idea.
"Did you forget? I like courting death," Allen said gleefully.
"EXP monsters, here I come! Yihah—!"
The warring factions above quickly noticed the intruder.
One glance—a car.
They were all lords here—demon lords and death gods in the mortal world—so naturally they had followers.
Sometimes, out of boredom, they'd possess a follower to experience mortal life.
But… a car? In Hell?
The car didn't slow down. It plowed straight into the battlefield, sending demon soldiers flying in pieces.
It was like a knife driving into their ranks, carving a deep scar into the earth.
The trail it left was filled with demon blood and shattered limbs—undead had no blood or flesh, unless they were foreign lords with physical forms.
The commanding demons and undead stared in stunned silence.
Whose soldier is this?
So aggressive—mowing down both sides alike.
"Could it be a rogue Ghost Rider?" a demon commander muttered.
"No heavenly power in him," a fallen angel said.
Ghost Riders get their power from a Spirit of Vengeance that originates from Heaven.
Fallen angels who once served Heaven are sensitive to that power.
"No matter who he is—kill him," the demon commander snarled.
Suddenly, before he could act, a pitch-black sword streaked through the air and stabbed into the ground in front of the car.
The next instant, the car lifted off, flew dozens of meters, then crashed hard onto the ground.
Allen crawled out, covered in dust, dragging Skullhead with him.
He looked at the car, then at the sword, full of regret.
He hadn't gotten enough EXP—only made it to level 52. With a little more time, he might've maxed out.
"Looks familiar… can't remember whose sword that is," Allen muttered.
Skullhead gave him the answer: "That's from my lord."
"When I see her, she's paying me at least three to five billion in damages."
Right now, the real concern was how to escape.
Demons and undead were closing in from all sides, cautiously preparing to attack.
"Back off!"
A commanding voice rang out, and everyone froze.
A new figure had appeared in the sky—a woman in a black-and-green battle suit, exuding divine power.
"Hela?!"
Allen was stunned. "She's the lord you mentioned?"
"Yes! That's Her Majesty, the Goddess of Death!" Skullhead said excitedly.
In the sky, Hela summoned a giant black hand with her deathly power and lifted Allen into the air to face her.
"Sis, we're family, remember? Thor's been chasing me, he even enchanted Mjolnir so I could lift it!" Allen said submissively, trying to play friendly.
No point fighting a goddess. Allen wasn't that dumb.
Hela rolled her eyes. "I cast that spell on the hammer."
"Ah!"
Allen looked shocked—then bashful. "So you're the one who has a crush on me! Why didn't you say so earlier? I love mooching off powerful women. Sugar Mommy~"
"Screw you, psycho. Who the hell likes you?" Hela snapped, clearly annoyed.
But in her heart, she understood—Allen hadn't lived through the longer timelines yet.
That's why… he didn't remember her.