Deep within Blood Moon City, inside the fathomless, warped void.
A slender figure transformed into an invisible gust of wind, darting and spiraling through scattered ruins.
She stepped across twisted, tilted stairs, lightly vaulting off her toes to spring from one crumbling masonry wall to another.
"Hyperion, be careful. This is a distorted void zone, and the mechanical messenger's field of view is severely limited. We've lost track of Marquis Ulysses's coordinates."
Abigail's voice came through the comms.
"Understood."
Hyperion replied tersely, vaulting forward once more.
She had to rely almost entirely on Abigail's map to navigate.
In the other battlefields, the enemies were at least pinned down by powerful allies on their side, allowing the mechanical messengers to observe from safe vantage points.
As for the Tenth Progenitor, Marquis Ulysses—an uncontained, high-speed, tier-8 combatant—a messenger would be demolished the moment it got anywhere near him.
In the spatial sector Hyperion traversed, broken walls and pulverized masonry swirled upward into the crimson abyss. Debris danced and chased itself midair, clustering together one second and scattering the next. Walls and cracked pavement were bent and inverted by an unseen giant hand, twisting what should have been straight vertical lines into uncanny curves and warping horizontal planes into impossible inclines, defying every spatial law she had ever known.
The unruly gravity wove an invisible net. Hyperion felt as if she had stepped into a bizarre temporal-spatial corridor, each step an active rebellion against the physical laws of the world.
Fortunately, at higher tiers, flight spells became exceptionally convenient; a quick adjustment to her spell card loadout was all it took to deploy high-speed wind or telekinetic magic.
"Almost four o'clock..."
Hyperion glanced at the time before plunging into the boundless crimson haze.
From three o'clock in the afternoon, when the second half of the Creti National Day celebration began with Emperor Saint Bardo delivering his address, to the War Gods taking the stage and the Protection Ceremony officially commencing, followed by their breach into City Hall and plummet into this place, nearly an hour of nonstop combat had elapsed.
The battle was going terribly, and time was running out.
If they failed to accomplish their objective within the allotted time, once the War Gods' protection concluded, the gods under Rasheal's control would inevitably march upon Blood Moon City. Every single one of her companions would meet certain death.
The urgency spurred Hyperion to accelerate further. The fractured walls retreated in a blur, flickering into illusory afterimages in the crimson abyss. As she pushed her speed to its limit, they were left far behind.
"Abigail, how are things on your end?"
Hyperion's agile silhouette carved a sleek, powerful arc through the air, piercing the dense smog of Blood Moon City like an unsheathed blade.
"Holding up for now. The worst situation is in the Hall of Annihilation where Antanas's group is. Almis in the Hall of Fading and Iphatia in the Hall of Souls aren't doing well either. Toriado is heavily slowed in the Hall of Glacial Stagnation; he can't activate his teleportation magic at all, as Farmer immediately interrupts and disables him. He's barely keeping Farmer occupied to prevent him from heading to the Hall of Fading to quickly finish off the Ice Snow Witch."
Abigail relayed the tactical situation.
The battle between the Ice Snow Witch and Wither Cardinal Netochka was an attrition war between two healers. Even if Toriado managed to break away, he wouldn't be able to help the Ice Snow Witch kill Netochka, who possessed absurd vitality. But if Decay Cardinal Farmer got over there, his damage output would easily allow him to team up with Netochka and dispatch the Ice Snow Witch in short order.
"Understood. I'll reach the Hall of the Abyss as fast as I can."
Hyperion bounded over crumbling walls, moving so fast that even the mechanical messenger could hardly register her footholds. Speaking, she dove sideways, skimming along a collapsing wall, narrowly missing an inverted spire, and nimbly adjusting her trajectory to evade incoming masonry.
"About ten-odd minutes more, and you'll clear this crimson mist void and spot the Hall of the Abyss in the lowest southern basin."
Abigail's instructions continued to guide her.
The real challenge would be relying on Hyperion's traits to lure away the tier-8 summon, the Blood Serpent, guarding the Hall of the Abyss, and finding a way to chip it down around the crystal.
As Hyperion sped through the void of Blood Moon City, she suddenly sensed something amiss. Her figure halted abruptly, freezing in mid-motion like a cheetah that had caught the scent of a predator.
Her sharp gaze swept the surroundings, her pupils contracting slightly.
"..."
Hyperion quickly adjusted her direction, leaping lightly behind a floating building and sinking seamlessly into the shadow it cast.
Her back pressed against the stone wall, she remained utterly motionless.
A moment passed.
At the far reaches of the crimson abyss, a tall, slender figure slowly emerged against the skyline.
The silhouette grew larger and clearer in the red haze.
It was a young Blood Clan male with silver-white short hair swept back on one side, the hem of his deep-blue formal attire fluttering behind him.
His red eyes were gentle and mild. At first glance, he seemed devoid of malice, carrying an approachable warmth that felt almost like a spring breeze.
Yet warning bells clanged in Hyperion's mind.
She keenly perceived an awe-inspiring, suffocating power descending from the high air far away—a reaction driven purely by instinct.
Even without peeking out, Hyperion could guess who it was: Tenth Progenitor Ulysses.
She had encountered this vampire marquis once before, back in the Demon Realm's royal capital, Necalis, within the Blood Moon Ruined World shadow realm.
As an elite among the Blood Clan, Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses wielded immense power; only a few Great Demon generals could face him head-on.
"..."
Abigail cut off the transmission, remaining silent.
She had deduced Hyperion's situation.
Hyperion and Ulysses had crossed paths after all.
Abigail silently offered thanks that Hyperion had sensed the danger early enough to evade Ulysses's sight before any warning was needed.
Hyperion held her breath, reining in her mana to the absolute limit. Even her breathing slowed to a faint crawl, terrified of leaking the slightest trace of her presence.
"..."
Hyperion was confident in her stealth techniques; she could erase her presence entirely even before Great Demons. Under normal circumstances, not even a tier-8 should have been able to detect her so easily.
Up in the distant sky...
Ulysses's flight path shifted subtly.
He paused, his toes tapping lightly on the empty air, and slowly turned around to cast his gaze toward the bottom of the crimson abyss.
Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses's mesmerizing red eyes pierced straight through layers of buildings and obstacles, landing precisely on Hyperion's position.
"If I am not mistaken, you must be Lady Duchess Hyperion?"
Ulysses hovered motionlessly in midair. His voice cut through the labyrinthine void of Blood Moon City, falling directly onto the shelter shielding Hyperion.
"..."
Hyperion, who had thought she could slip past Marquis Ulysses in a moment, felt her blood run cold. An unprecedented sensation of weightlessness washed over her.
She couldn't fathom how Marquis Ulysses had seen through her concealment.
If he could identify her from such a distance, she must have fallen under the Tenth Progenitor's mental perception long ago, leaving her nowhere to hide.
"My dear lady, why hide away? Why not step forth and let me properly admire your visage?"
Marquis Ulysses remained where he was, the curl of his lips growing more relaxed, seemingly waiting for the young woman to reveal herself.
No hostile mana radiated from him; he was merely extending a polite invitation.
Hyperion pressed against the stone wall, fighting to steady her nerves. Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out.
After a long silence...
She drew a deep breath.
Weighing her options once more, she emerged from behind the building and looked directly at Tenth Progenitor Ulysses.
In Hyperion's impression, Ulysses was not particularly combative compared to other vampires and possessed immense pride. When not pressed for time, he would often indulge in conversation.
Being discovered meant her plan to infiltrate the Hall of the Abyss and rescue Mikhail was effectively foiled; he wouldn't foolishly let her pass.
However, if she could stall Ulysses here and keep him from reinforcing other battlefields, it would serve as an effective containment.
"Good day, Lady Hyperion. You are even lovelier than in the portraits I have seen."
Seeing Hyperion step out, the Blood Clan Progenitor met her gaze and offered a warm, polite smile.
Unlike other Progenitors, he radiated no overt danger; his very presence resembled a masterfully crafted work of art.
"What you saw was probably just the bounty placed on my head to have me assassinated," Hyperion retorted coldly.
Since Ulysses wasn't rushing forward to capture her, she held fast to the principle of buying every second she could.
"No, I am quite different from the others."
Tenth Progenitor Ulysses gazed at Hyperion, his eyes already framing a composition.
Looking across the void of Blood Moon City, he had captured a splendid angle—
The sky behind her was shrouded in a peculiar haze, casting a faint glow that was neither the dimness of night nor the brightness of dawn, but a luminescence unique to Blood Moon City.
The contradictory yet harmonious interplay of light and shadow rendered the broken architecture in delicate detail. A floating colonnade wound through the air, terminating at the slender young woman standing at the edge of the abyss.
She looked as though she would never walk out of this Blood Moon City, trapped forever in the eternal night, her soul fated to plummet into its depths.
"How exactly did you spot me?"
Hyperion felt an instinctive aversion to Ulysses's gaze.
Back in the Demon King's palace, she had detested his paintings.
At the time, there had been no need to hide, so she hadn't realized Ulysses possessed a way to track her so precisely.
"...It is true that you can erase your scent and mana almost entirely; an ordinary tier-8 would never find you."
Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses smiled with keen interest, pulling himself back from his mental sketch.
"However, affection is a matter of feeling. Through inspiration and intuition, I can sense when you are near."
He offered his explanation unhurriedly.
"?"
Hearing Ulysses's words sent a shudder down Hyperion's spine.
This vampire wasn't joking.
Talia had once mentioned that through rational metrics like mana and presence, finding Hyperion was practically impossible.
Therefore, whatever had located her had to be something transcending reason.
Thinking back, Lanqi had always managed to find her inexplicably too.
Except Lanqi was her ally.
Ulysses was her natural enemy.
"Did we perhaps meet tens of thousands of years ago?"
Ulysses pondered for a moment, as though searching his memory for why he felt so drawn to this girl.
Though impossible, the young woman before him reminded him of a flower from ages past, one that had withered before he could ever claim it.
Had she not died, perhaps during his visit to Necalis over ten years ago, he would have focused his sights entirely on her.
"No, you're overthinking it,"
Hyperion answered firmly, on high alert and ready to flee at a moment's notice.
For her, the best outcome right now was wasting Ulysses's time.
Perhaps tens of thousands of years ago during the Blood Moon Ruined World, before the Demon Princess had perished, Ulysses had caught a glimpse of her. But back then, neither she nor Lancrosse possessed the strength to contend with a Blood Clan marquis like Ulysses; at most, it had been a fleeting encounter where they slipped away.
Given her identity as the Demon Realm's princess during the era of the North-South Treaty, Ulysses wouldn't have been able to make a move against them within the Demon Realm anyway.
"My lady, allow me to guess what is on your mind."
Ulysses studied Hyperion's expression, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"You wish to stall me, keeping me from reinforcing the Hall of Annihilation or attacking the command camp you secretly established to the west, correct?"
He read her thoughts with eerie precision.
"Why not do yourself a favor, step aside, and pretend you never saw me?"
Hyperion knew Ulysses was the type to excel at psychological warfare, much like Lanqi. When facing an opponent like that, showing weakness was the worst thing one could do.
Whether Ulysses headed to the Hall of Annihilation or the command camp, the outcome would be catastrophic.
With multiple fronts already losing ground, if Ulysses severed their communications and then reinforced the Hall of Annihilation, everything would be lost.
Even if Sigrid achieved a breakthrough on her side, it wouldn't be enough to salvage the greater battle.
"Have you considered the possibility that I can attend to both?"
Standing above the vast gloom, Ulysses raised his hand and sliced through the shadow. Droplets of crimson blood linked midair to form a totem, materializing into physical reality.
It fused darkness and light—an embodiment of art and a herald of ruin.
The piercing shriek of a giant blood eagle echoed through the sky, its feathers gleaming with a sanguine sheen, while a colossal blood bear appeared with eyes burning like fiery jewels, unleashing the full, suffocating pressure of tier-8 blood kin.
Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses lowered his arm. The blood eagle beat its wings, surging westward like a tempest of crimson lightning, while the blood bear streaked toward the Hall of Annihilation like a falling meteor.
Hyperion's eyes shook as she witnessed Ulysses's power.
As the supreme artist of the Blood Clan, the Tenth Progenitor's authority, Blood Creation, allowed his painted creations to materialize temporarily. He could rapidly divide his power into formidable summons depending on the situation, making him an exceptionally versatile summoner.
Not only had he stationed a tier-8 giant serpent in the Hall of the Abyss, but he had now dispatched both a tier-8 blood eagle and a tier-8 giant bear to separate fronts based on the flow of the battle.
"It is quite simple: I have sent a tier-8 summon to your western camp, and another to the Hall of Annihilation to assist Somerset. What harm is there in me lingering here to chat with you?"
Ulysses spoke with the leisure of a man enjoying afternoon tea.
He remained as courteous as ever.
If Hyperion wished to converse with him a while longer, he saw no reason to refuse.
The amusement in his gaze seemed to convey a silent message: *Whatever you fear, I shall naturally bring to pass.*
He thoroughly relished refining his subjects on a spiritual level.
Even her tears would surely look far lovelier than crystal.
"..."
Hyperion dug her fingernails deep into her palms, using the pain to maintain her composure.
Even if the tier-8 summons Ulysses created were only at the baseline of tier-8, for Abigail and Barton to the west, and for the three Great Demons facing Marquis Somerset, they represented a lethal assault!
"Now then, come closer. Let me have a proper look at you."
The smile in Marquis Ulysses's eyes deepened.
He drifted toward the young woman at an unhurried pace, every movement resembling a man savoring a magnificent play.
At this critical juncture, Hyperion made up her mind.
Her knees bent slightly as mana surged through her body, reinforcing her muscles. In the next instant, her silhouette traced an arc through the air, plunging into rapid flight toward the depths of the southern void.
All she could do now was continue to draw Ulysses's true body away, pushing closer toward the enemy crystal while looking for an opening.
Even if Ulysses had split his power across three tier-8 summons—the eagle, the bear, and the serpent—and was significantly weakened as a result, his main body still retained tier-8 strength. She could not allow this highly mobile Progenitor to personally reach another battlefield.
"Give up, Lady Hyperion. Holding hope in one's heart is a wonderful feeling, but when that hope is shattered, the despair is all the greater."
Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses accelerated with measured grace, a hint of melancholy in his gaze.
"Yet that is precisely why destroying you is an exalted form of art. It has been a long time since I found such a splendid human."
He had seen it from the very first moment his eyes fell upon Hyperion.
This young lady was as pure as fallen snow. If life was a journey, she felt despair and loneliness yet managed to dispel them, carrying herself with dignity, courage, and kindness. Possessing a beauty worthy of being cupped gently in one's hands, she was a flawless canvas.
To tear her apart, body and soul, would be an unrivaled tragedy—one capable of leaving an indelible impression upon him.
***
The western camp.
The cold wind howled outside the camp's barrier, where Barton engaged a vampire count.
He needed to intercept the attacking vampire so Abigail could continue reinforcing the camp.
The vampire count struck first, transforming into a streak of black lightning that lunged at Barton in an instant.
Sharp claws gleamed with chilling frost beneath the moonlight, tearing viciously toward Barton's throat.
At the razor's edge of death, Barton ducked, drawing his longsword in a sweeping arc aimed straight for the count's heart.
The count twisted aside, his black cape billowing, though the blade still sliced a gash across his chest.
Enraged, the count roared, his fists erupting into twin balls of black fire as he hammered them toward Barton.
Barton raised his short blade to parry. The blade vibrated fiercely, spraying sparks.
Not far away, Abigail's camp remained under siege.
The deteriorating situation cast a grim look over Abigail's face, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
The vampire count battering the barrier was manageable.
The real threat was the cardinal-tier combatant they hadn't anticipated: Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses.
"Antanas, be on guard! A new tier-8 unit is heading your way!"
Abigail urgently broadcasted the warning to her companions.
Just then, a piercing shriek split the sky as a colossal blood-red eagle swept through the air, spreading wings as wide as the heavens and blotting out the sky.
It plunged in a steep dive, hurtling straight toward Barton, who was locked in combat outside the barrier.
In a flash, Barton swung his sword at the blood eagle, but the beast's power far exceeded his own. Paying no heed to the blade, it slammed directly into him, hurling him violently into the nearby buildings.
Several adjoining structures in western Blood Moon City collapsed under the impact, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air.
Barton struggled out of the rubble, coughing up a mouthful of blood, yet his grip on his short blade remained unyielding.
A single flap of the blood eagle's wings stirred up a savage gale, sweeping through the smoke and dust of the ruins with thunderous reverberations.
The eagle circled around, descending toward Abigail's position.
On this side of the battlefield, Abigail's mechanical defenses and the camp barrier were operating at their peak, countless components hovering and locking together within blue light to weave a sturdy protective lattice.
A deafening screech of colliding metal rang out.
Under the impact of Marquis Ulysses's blood eagle, the barrier's light splintered and scattered in all directions. Sparks arced through the air as the barrier began to buckle and crumble.
***
The southern misty void of Blood Moon City.
Marquis Ulysses hovered in the empty air, watching the direction where Hyperion had concealed herself.
"Playing hide-and-seek with you is quite entertaining, and keeping you from wandering about is my duty."
He raised his right hand gracefully and gave a light flick toward the girl's direction, his voice smooth as silk.
Invisible telekinetic force enveloped the floating architecture. In an instant, the structures shattered into dust. Hyperion broke out once more as a phantom, turning translucent in the blink of an eye.
"As for your desire to reach the Hall of the Abyss, you are asking for the impossible, my lady,"
Marquis Ulysses's voice resonated like celestial music, yet his casual gestures carried an undeniable authority.
Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the collapsing space, Hyperion leaped toward a cluster of crumbling floating buildings in the distance.
"You have only your own weakness to blame. Even with so much of my power divided among my summons, you cannot contend with me."
Ulysses pursued relentlessly, the black tails of his coat billowing like the wings of a reaper.
He looked down upon the fleeing girl.
To him, this was nothing more than an amusing game.
He had all the patience in the world to pin Hyperion here, rendering her entirely powerless.
The void within Blood Moon City warped and shifted incessantly, shattered masonry falling like meteors. Hyperion darted through the broken rubble, using the erratic gravity and terrain as cover to weave around the Progenitor behind her.
Her heart pounded faster with every inch Ulysses gained, threatening to burst from her chest.
She could feel death closing in step by step, yet she gritted her teeth, resolved to fight until her final breath.
"..."
From the fragmented updates reaching Hyperion's ears, the assault on the western camp had completely disrupted their chain of command.
The front in the best shape was Lanqi and Sigrid's.
Lanqi faced no pressure, but he and Rasheal were locked in mutual attrition, neither able to move.
Sigrid couldn't break through Seventh Progenitor Heriteer in the short term, growing increasingly desperate as the fight dragged on.
Of the remaining battlefields, only Toriado faced slightly less pressure, barely holding his own against Decay Cardinal Farmer while keeping himself alive.
The Ice Snow Witch and Iphatia could fall into dire peril at any moment.
And worst of all were Antanas, Sinora, and Pranay in the Hall of Annihilation. Facing Marquis Somerset on vampire home turf had already put the three Great Demons at a severe disadvantage; now, with the tier-8 summon dispatched by Marquis Ulysses joining the fray, the precarious balance would shatter in an instant.
"Hyperion, run toward Sigrid or Lanqi..."
Abigail's transmission was breaking up, punctuated by the roaring crash of wind and collapsing stone.
She and Barton were on the verge of death.
Hyperion understood what Abigail's sudden, desperate order meant.
With the western camp about to fall, Abigail wanted Hyperion to at least survive. As long as she reached Lanqi and Sigrid, even if everyone else perished, Hyperion would still have a chance to live.
The weight of guilt nearly crushed Hyperion. Not only had she failed to help, but she had fled the camp alone.
Clearly, Ulysses's tier-8 summon had already reached the western strike team's camp.
Even Barton, who stood at the absolute pinnacle of tier-7, couldn't hold out against a tier-8 summon for long.
"Melogas, lend me your strength!"
Hyperion stared intently at the most dangerous magic card in her grasp.
The only possible way to save Abigail's side was for her to injure Tenth Progenitor Ulysses here—forcing him to redirect his focus back to his main body!
That way, Ulysses wouldn't be able to control the blood eagle attacking Abigail and the others!
Yet at this very moment...
No matter how she tried to activate it, the card erupted with a cocoon of purple lightning, repelling her.
Perhaps due to the adverse reaction after her previous misuse, antibodies had formed in her body; merely attempting to use it caused her flesh and the Lord of Blasphemy's toxins to violently clash.
"Damn it, Lord of Blasphemy!"
Hyperion felt as though her hand were being seared in boiling oil.
Or perhaps the ancient Demon King's will residing within the card had decided she was incompatible, refusing to permit her to wield his power.
Abigail and Barton would die soon.
The moment they fell, all intelligence and command would be severed, and Ulysses would recall his summons to restore his full strength.
No matter which battlefield he moved to next, a tier-8 ally would be crushed.
Her mother, Iphatia; her mentor, Almis; her dear friends Antanas, Sinora, and Pranay—every single one of them would be systematically slain by the vampires. Not a soul would escape Blood Moon City alive.
Now she couldn't even hear Abigail's voice; the destruction of the camp's infrastructure had clearly progressed beyond recovery.
"...Hyperion! Can you hear me?"
A new voice patched through the comms.
"Antanas! How are things on your side?"
Hyperion cried out urgently.
With communications to the western camp severed, she could only reach the Hall of Annihilation to the south, which was closest to her.
"...Use that card! Master its power!"
Antanas pleaded through the static.
Having lost contact with Abigail, Antanas had to find a way to salvage the situation herself!
Beyond the western camp, the Hall of Annihilation was also on the brink of collapse.
The only solution Antanas could envision was for Hyperion to pin down Ulysses.
The west, the southwest, the south—within moments, their entire line would be routed!
Antanas and Sinora had personally witnessed Hyperion's terrifying violence in her fully frenzied state; it granted her raw power capable of contending with a tier-8 for a short period.
"Please, Lord of Blasphemy!"
Hyperion gritted her teeth, ignoring the searing pain in her hand and the violent rejection tearing through her body as she tried to trigger the card. Never had she imagined the day would come when she needed the Lord of Blasphemy's aid.
Yet her forced attempt only provoked the card's volatile mana to erupt, blasting her backward. Her body slammed into a floating island to the side, tumbling several times before coming to a halt. In that same instant, Ulysses's gaze locked onto her once more.
***
Inside the Hall of Annihilation, blood gems glowed crimson, inscribed with the bones and blood of those who had fallen to Eighth Progenitor Marquis Somerset.
A suffocating stench of blood hung heavy in the air.
The vast floor in the center of the hall was webbed with sprawling fissures, oozing bright red magma that trickled across the ground as the earth trembled beneath the fury of the battle.
"Too weak! All three of you!"
Every punch from Marquis Somerset carried destructive force, crashing against Sinora's scythe like a thousand-pound hammer.
Pranay attempted to use his demonic eye to predict Somerset's attack patterns and direct Sinora, but Somerset was simply too fast, outstripping the speed of thought. Before Pranay's warning could even register, Marquis Somerset unleashed a lightning-fast kick that sent Sinora flying. She crashed into the hall's stone wall, rock shattering in all directions.
Sinora gritted her teeth, using her scythe to haul her bloodied body upright. She poured all her mana into cutting spells, using offense as defense to halt Marquis Somerset's second charge.
Countless razor-sharp slashes cleaved through the air toward Marquis Somerset, but against him, the strikes were as fragile as paper, disintegrating into dust in an instant.
Somerset followed up with a thunderous punch against the barrier shielding Sinora, the shockwave shaking her internal organs.
Antanas desperately cast support spells from the rear, pale golden light washing over Sinora and Pranay to mend their wounds.
Even with the three of them joining forces, they were barely holding on against Marquis Somerset.
"All you know is how to gang up on your betters,"
Marquis Somerset sneered, cold mockery surfacing on his face.
He knew victory was within his grasp; a little more pressure, and these three Great Demons would be crushed to powder.
"And when you gang up on others, do you feel even a shred of shame?"
Pranay wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, glaring at Somerset.
He knew full well that if Marquis Somerset ever encountered the Holy Polant Pope, he wouldn't hesitate to muster an entire swarm to overwhelm him.
"What is that to you?"
Somerset's gaze darkened, and he lunged toward Pranay with terrifying speed.
Sinora flashed in front of Pranay, crossing weapons with Marquis Somerset once more. Her scythe carved a heavy arc through the air, attempting to parry his assault.
Yet Eighth Progenitor Marquis Somerset's brute force was far beyond what she could endure. With every clash and block, she felt as if the bones in her arms were fracturing.
He shattered Antanas's protective barrier with ease, sending Sinora hurtling backward yet again.
Immediately after, Marquis Somerset casually sidestepped Pranay's abyssal black smoke, whipping a backhand punch that smashed Pranay into the solid rock wall. Stone pulverized on impact, sending shards flying.
Before Somerset could turn his attention to Antanas, Sinora threw herself in front of him once more.
They couldn't afford a single mistake, whereas Marquis Somerset could make countless.
Antanas watched the scene in helpless agony. She was doing everything in her power to protect Sinora and Pranay, but seeing her friends wounded felt like a blade twisting in her own heart.
As Sinora struggled to hold her ground, an earth-shattering roar echoed from the sky.
The shadow cast over the ground expanded rapidly.
A gigantic blood bear descended from the heavens, crashing into the center of the Hall of Annihilation.
The earth shook beneath the beast's landing.
The three Great Demons stared in shock at the towering crimson monster.
"Ulysses, your summon arrived just in time. Now I can quickly dispose of these insolent demon remnants,"
Marquis Somerset smirked at the sight of Ulysses's blood bear.
The blood bear roared at the heavens, its massive frame charging directly toward Antanas.
"Antanas, run! Find Lanqi or Sigrid!"
Sinora and Pranay felt the suffocating pressure spike, the situation turning desperate.
The worst-case scenario was for them to hold off Marquis Somerset and the blood bear so Antanas could survive.
"No..."
Tears welled in the corners of Antanas's eyes.
Both Sinora and Pranay were gravely injured; her healing could no longer keep up.
If she fled, Sinora and Pranay would certainly die.
Even standing protected in the rear, she was already covered in bruises and blood.
The power of the Demon King of Blasphemy was the last hope Antanas could see.
Yet Hyperion could not control the Lord of Blasphemy's power.
Antanas didn't know if Hyperion would still recognize Ulysses as an enemy after transforming, or if she could threaten him in a mindless state.
She had seen Lanqi drive opponents into madness to secure easy victories far too many times.
Even setting that aside, the Lord of Blasphemy's power seemed fundamentally incompatible with Hyperion's body, locked in mutual rejection.
All Antanas could do was watch as the wounds on Sinora and Pranay multiplied past the point of recovery.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side...
"You certainly have quite a few life-saving spells, but each one you spend is one fewer life you have."
Seeing Hyperion vanish once more behind a delaying frost wall, Ulysses paused leisurely, his senses sweeping through the void as if dissecting every inch of the surroundings.
Hyperion held her breath, her nerves stretched to their breaking point.
"It is time for the game to end, my lady."
Ulysses's deep, magnetic voice echoed through the void, drawing suddenly closer and sending a chill down Hyperion's spine.
Her heart felt ready to leap from her chest.
She had already heard the state of things in the Hall of Annihilation through Antanas.
Ever since the blood bear joined the fray, the sounds of Sinora and Pranay being brutally battered bled intermittently through Antanas's comms.
"Pranay...!"
Antanas's cry was cut short, followed by the thunderous crash of collapsing stone.
"Antanas, what happened?!"
Hyperion's heart beat so violently it felt as though it would shatter.
No matter how desperately she called out...
*Bzz... bzz...*
Static washed over the channel; she could no longer hear anything from the Hall of Annihilation.
As Antanas's voice faded into silence, Hyperion's pupils contracted violently.
The moment felt both instantaneous and agonizingly long.
The entire world seemed to freeze.
Anxious tears streamed down Hyperion's cheeks,
falling into the bottomless void and stirring imperceptible ripples.
"Oh? You are no longer hiding? Have you given up, just like your friends?"
Ulysses looked upon Hyperion, who stood completely exposed behind the shattered building, finally catching sight of her tear-streaked face.
Her broken appearance filled him with immense satisfaction.
Indeed, that fragile, kind heart of hers was the finest material to work with.
"It seems they didn't give up willingly, though."
Ulysses chuckled with relief.
"..."
The veins on Hyperion's forehead throbbed.
The blood moon, the dark night, her missing father, the endless hunt for her life...
Everything felt like history repeating itself.
Her consciousness drifted, tumbling backward until it fell into a suffocating, crimson ocean, drowning in memories.
It had always been her friends—Antanas, Sinora—protecting her day after day.
Yet now, when they needed her help, she was completely powerless.
"How dare you hurt my friends..."
The thought of the Great Demons falling in battle haunted her mind.
It suffocated her, driving her to the brink of madness.
"Ulysses... you must die!!"
Fury, agony, and hatred—the demonic nature suppressed within her bloodline since childhood—finally erupted beyond all restraint.
With a furious shriek, Hyperion recklessly poured her mana into the Melogas magic card, gritting her teeth in a savage struggle against the Lord of Blasphemy, forcing the translucent scorpion crest overflowing with violent mana to fuse completely into her body.
The mocking laughter of the ancient Demon King of Blasphemy seemed to reverberate through the weightless void.
A sky-shattering blast of purple lightning illuminated the pitch-black night of the void.
Even Tenth Progenitor Ulysses raised his arm to shield himself against the terrifying surge of spreading poison mist.
When the deep-purple lightning and ethereal white vapor slowly dispersed...
"..."
A slender figure rose from within the toxic haze.
Black hair, sharp demonic horns, and a scorpion tail dragging across the ground.
Beneath the fair skin of her neck, purple veins branched and pulsed like creeping roots; her body was being simultaneously empowered and eaten away by virulent toxins.
The scorpion tail's segmented plates flared, anchoring into the building's masonry and allowing her to maintain absolute balance at any angle, across any terrain.
"You are...?"
Ulysses furrowed his brows, his gaze turning solemn for the first time.
Though her facial features remained the same,
she had become entirely different from the young lady of a moment ago.
To Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses, the duchess and this scorpion-tailed demoness felt like two entirely separate beings.
The demoness snapped her head sideways.
Those ferocious eyes were primed to slice the Blood Clan Progenitor into ribbons piece by piece.
In a flash, the scorpion-tailed demoness lunged at Tenth Progenitor Ulysses.
His attention divided across multiple summons, Ulysses failed to react in time. Hyperion's dagger drove straight into his skull, and her clawed hand ripped a chunk of flesh cleanly off his face.
"Aaargh! You!"
Ulysses screamed in agony, retreating with all his might.
For a moment, he forgot entirely about the summons sent to the Hall of Annihilation and the western camp.
The young lady's original strength should never have posed a threat to him.
Yet now, she possessed terrifying offensive power capable of threatening a tier-8 lifeform.
"Heh... heh..."
The scorpion-tailed demoness crushed the eyeball she had torn from Ulysses's head. With a flick of her chitin-clad claw, she flung it aside, the blood vanishing into the night.
"Having lost your sanity, what threat could you possibly pose to me?"
Ulysses clutched his bleeding cheek, glaring with his remaining eye at the fully transformed Hyperion.
His voice betrayed utter disbelief.
So hideous, so foul.
This was nothing like the duchess he had admired.
She had become the wildest, foulest, most wicked of demon royalty.
"..."
The whites of Hyperion's eyes had turned pitch-black, leaking tears that glistened like liquid corrosive poison.
As toxic mist drifted from her breath, she embraced her demonic form entirely, the slender, ominous scorpion tail curling behind her waist, while uncontrollable chaos swirled within her amber demon eyes.
She was no longer the pure, untainted light of spring, but an unholy creature dwelling in the cold, filthy depths of a blood pool, beyond redemption.
Ulysses, who hadn't expected a response, heard a light, airy laugh in the very next second.
"I feel wonderful. It's just that my father never allowed me to do this growing up."
Hyperion raised her clean hand, brushing a fingertip against the toxic black tear at the corner of her eye, a manic smile touching her lips as though a set of shackles had been broken.
To her surprise, she had retained her consciousness.
She simply felt excessively excited—euphoric, even.
"That kind, gentle, upright demeanor of yours... was it all an act?!"
Tenth Progenitor Marquis Ulysses demanded, a look of revulsion surfacing as he glared at the demon before him.
Looking at this scorpion-tailed demon, not a trace of affection remained—only utter disgust!
"That was real too. People always carry a bit of duality,"
Hyperion raised a hand to lightly stroke the mechanical messenger on her shoulder. Gazing into its polished silver surface, she no longer shrank from her true appearance.
"Has it ever crossed your mind that this black-haired half-demon form might actually be who I truly am?"
she stated candidly.
Growing up, she had adopted the appearance of a silver-haired girl just like her mother to blend into Ikerite.
Ever since childhood, being different from the other children had made her feel inferior, like an outcast.
Even when forced to reveal her true demonic form during the exam at Purgatory Corridor Academy, she had instinctively burned with shame.
Yet now, she could face her true self without reservation.
She wasn't an ugly duckling. Even in her demon form, Lanqi had told her back in the Demon King's palace that she was beautiful.
"You filthy thing... how dare you deceive me!"
Tenth Progenitor Ulysses had never encountered a 'prop' that mocked him and desecrated art in such a manner. He clenched his fist tightly against his chest.
His fingers trembled, his breathing turning ragged. As a proud artist, he had never misjudged someone so terribly.
He could not tolerate having his feelings manipulated.
Soon, however, he regained his composure.
Since she possessed no artistic value, such a worthless woman wasn't worth his anger.
"Hmph. A cheap woman who knows only how to hide her true self will never earn anyone's love. All your efforts are an illusion. You are so pathetic that killing you feels like a waste of my time, a stain on my hands,"
Ulysses sneered, waving his hand as the flesh on his cheek slowly regenerated.
He found Hyperion utterly pitiable.
Changing herself since childhood just to please others, constantly compromising, constantly flattering, until she became someone even she didn't recognize—and all she had gained was hollow, illusory affection.
So grotesque, so wretched.
"Haha."
Hearing Ulysses's words, Hyperion didn't feel hurt in the slightest.
Perhaps in the past, she might have agreed with him.
"Even looking like this, there is someone who treats me the exact same as always. He thinks my original appearance is breathtakingly beautiful. He finds it amusing when I speak clumsily or say the wrong things. I know he understands me, so I can let my guard down."
If one day that person saw her no longer bearing the face of an angel, but transformed into a fierce, bloodthirsty demon, would he still treat her well?
She knew he would. She knew it with absolute certainty.
The first time she met Lanqi, she had been just as gloomy, filled with negativity and hostility.
The first time she revealed her demon form in front of Lanqi...
The first time Lanqi learned she was a genuine demon...
Lanqi's kindness toward her had remained constant, never wavering in the slightest.
"...What in the world are you rambling about?"
Seeing Hyperion's eyes brim with warmth and conviction only stoked Ulysses's fury.
The breakdown and madness he had expected to see from Hyperion hadn't occurred at all.
Instead, she stood there boasting to him of her own accord.
Where could such a man possibly exist?
No such man—no such saint—could ever exist! Someone who would genuinely accept every flaw of this wretched duchess and fill the emptiness in her heart?!
Chapter 838