Crimson Scythes flashed, intercepting Blademourn's sword strike. The Blood Monarch's hard, metallic spider legs slammed into ground, lunching him backward just as massive fireball roared down from the sky.
He spun midair as more scythes molded from his blood, lashing out around him—not random strikes, but precise, rapid, and deadly, targeting the shifting shadows that surrounded him.
The Blood Monarch grinned, pride swelling in his chest. Thirty Phase-3 Talent users had come to hunt him—and they were failing.
He had already slain four of them, their blood bsorbed into his spider legs, being refine to be reshaped into weapons to wield against the rest.
"Don't give him a moment's rest! Overwhelm him!" the hunter captain roared, his body vanishing into a streak of black shadow as he lunged at the Blood Monarch.
A flash of red erupted as the Monarch recalled his constructs, narrowly avoiding the captain's strike. Silver armor formed around him, and a curved blade shimmered in his hands as he slashed at the black shadow.
'This accursed man,' the Blood Monarch thought, 'he's the only true threat.'
The shadow twisted, reforming into a human who parried with an iron blade. Their duel was swift, honed by decades of experience, each maneuver deadly.
Then a fiery-haired warrior descended behind the Blood Monarch, hurling a searing fireball. Blood tendrils spilled from the Monarch's neck, forming a rune-inscribed shield that snuffed it out.
To the left, a man in silver robes struck with surgical precision, his blade glowing with pale energy—but a blood-forged warrior intercepted him.
The blood warrior was cleaved in two—but it exploded, birthing ten more. They boiled and burst, charging at the robed man who fled, only to find the creatures multiplying again.
Venomous spikes jutted from the ground. Platforms molded from blood doused them.
The Blood Monarch danced through the chaos, a vile smile never leaving his face.
To him, these people were nothing more than blood banks. They just didn't know it yet.
Spear constructs rained from one corner; blood spears met them mid-air. Steel beasts lunged toward him—melted instantly by his acidic blood spray.
The terrain shifted—a domain of raging acidic liquid unfurled. The world turned red. The air reeked of rotting blood. Everything decayed.
The hunters roared, releasing their aura to survive—but it was being eroded, fast.
Fear crept in. They realized—he was toying with them. He match every attack with a deadlier attack.
"REMOVE YOUR BINDINGS!" the captain commanded.
Even the Blood Monarch frowned—not from fear, but from the devastation that would follow. It would attract... attention.
But there was no choice. He removed his restrictions. Then he noticed a hunter holding a Space Folder Device—and smiled.
They came prepared.
Auras erupted skyward. The Space Folder activated, isolating the battlefield within a two-kilometer dome—no energy would escape.
They blurred into motion, colors streaking through the space. Blood-red was dominant. The Monarch moved as if he had multiple minds, matching their pace, outclassing them. Many fell.
Within the isolation, only destruction remained—abilities, blood, weapons. The Blood Monarch's laughter echoed, twisted with glee.
Suddenly, his body convulsed. He stretched second to grasped what happened..
Purple marks spread across his skin—the captain's venom. "How?" he muttered. He'd avoided the captain at all costs.
His eyes darted to the eleven corpses he'd slain.
They were laced with the venom. A trap.
"You die here!" the captain roared, descending with fury.
But the Blood Monarch surged forward, faster than ever. His body shifted into a crimson's scythe-limbed spider, impaling the captain mid-attack.
"I didn't want to show you this," he snarled. "But you pushed my hand. Your venom? It tickled."
"Impossible!" the captain gasped.
"No—it's not."
A hush fell. If even the Black Shadow captain had failed… what chance did the rest have?
"You entertained me," the Blood Monarch said. "I needed this to wake up."
His angular face, blood-red hair, and crimson eyes radiated cruelty. "Old friend… you'll make a perfect blood bank."
"Run!" the captain shouted, grinning with bloodied teeth. "You don't know me. You'll never know me. I don't know myself either… but I know this: they want your death. And you will die."
The Blood Monarch faltered.
Something was changing.
The shadow was just a veil—something ancient and terrible stirred beneath.
When a fraction of what was beneath the veil emerged, the Space Folder collapsed.
The Blood Monarch shrieked and hurled the captain away.
Madness and terror gripped him.
He summoned his true power—a blood orb above his head. The decaying purple poison stopped. He siphoned endless blood from the orb and unleashed it all.
The hunters had long fled. Behind them, the battlefield warped.
One half corrupted and red—the other, indescribable.
BANG.
The impact shook the world.
A forest of blood corals bloomed across fifty kilometers, pulsing with power. Soldiers rose and fell in a cycle. The coral regrew endlessly.
Another clash bent reality.
Most of the hunters could no longer comprehend what they were witnessing. They are all at Phase-3 where was the disparity this large.
***
"This is madness! Just because I'm SSS-rank, why the hell am I here?" a young man limped through the coral ruins, bloodied and half-dead.
His chest was pierced, his throat half-slit, and one eye was gone.
Four minutes ago, another explosion—then silence. The coral soldiers stopped moving.
He stumbled into a chamber of blood coral. A sound stirred inside.
His blade floated into his hand. He lunged—expecting another monster—but froze.
A baby.
His heart skipped.
He stepped closer, then recoiled. The baby was hideous—wrinkled, sunken-eyed, limbs severed at the elbows and knees.
A blood bank. Still alive.
He turned to leave.
Cough.
A dry, desperate rasp.
"Poor thing, still hanging to straw of life," he muttered.
He picked up the child and stumbled to the coral edge. A cool wind greeted them.
He set the baby down and sighed, exhausted. He poured a few drops of water into the child's mouth.
"You're one tenacious baby."
The baby's lips twitched. His tongue moved. He swallowed.
The hunter smiled. "Strong little thing."
Then—
"What are those?" a hoarse voice rasped.
He looked down.
The baby was speaking.
"You can talk?" he croaked.
"Is that wrong?" the baby replied, voice odd—more vibration than sound. It appeared aged, but young, also like a chirping of a baby chicken. Strange but made the hunter relax, he is not alone.
The hunter relaxed. "You mean the stars?"
"The glowing ones. And that big one."
"They're stars... they're always... here... at night..." His voice trailed off. His consciousness faded.
"Give me a name," the baby whispered. He'd always wanted one. His "father" never gave him one.
The hunter, half-dead, barely mumbled, "Eiran... Th...orne…"
His body went still.
The baby—Eiran Thorne—smiled. "Thank you."
"**
The sun scorched the rubble. A man snapped awake, drenched in sweat.
"Ugh... what happened?"
He looked around.
There were no injuries. He felt stronger. But the baby—
Was gone.