The blood threads, like living snakes, bound Hannah tightly.
Her arms were forced behind her back, her bat wings were pinned shut, and she couldn’t even move her fingertips.
Bill walked ahead with unhurried steps.
The hem of his suit swept over the rubble of the ruins without a single pause.
Two corpse knights silently supported Hannah.
Their steps were in unison, their movements stiff.
It was as if they were dragging a body that no longer possessed life.
They passed through half-collapsed corridors and over toppled statues.
Deep within Mirror-Shadow City, the remains of a temple faintly emerged.
The altar was still there.
The stone surface was covered in cracks, but it hadn't completely collapsed.
Modo stood before the altar.
His form was thin, and his eyes were hollow.
It was as if nothing in this world could leave a mark in his gaze.
Beside him was Hugh.
Hugh was kneeling on one knee, his arms pinned behind his back by corpse knights.
His shirt was wide open, exposing his chest.
Grey-black wounds crisscrossed his body.
The deepest one slashed diagonally from his left shoulder to his right ribs.
The edges were curled, showing no signs of healing.
His blood had long since run dry, leaving only parched black stains.
Yet he still held his head up.
His gaze passed Modo and fixed firmly on the captured Hannah being brought in.
His eyes were bloodshot, but his pupils were strikingly bright.
Like the last cluster of fire before death.
Hannah looked away.
She didn't dare look at him.
Bill walked to the side of the altar and leaned casually against a broken pillar.
He glanced at Hugh and then looked at Modo.
"Why not kill him?"
His tone was airy, like asking what was for dinner.
Modo did not answer immediately.
His hollow gaze slowly fell upon Hugh's face.
After lingering for a long time, he finally spoke.
"He is a blood relative of the Grand Instructor of the Assassin's Court."
His voice was as flat as if he were stating the weather.
"Keep him; he will be useful later."
Bill raised an eyebrow.
A playful curve hooked the corner of his mouth.
"That hot-tempered Legendary assassin?"
He gave a light chuckle.
"Would he… pay any price for a son who betrayed him?"
Betrayal.
Hugh's eyelids twitched slightly, yet he offered no defense.
Modo turned his head and looked at Bill.
His eyes remained hollow, but his tone was terrifyingly certain.
"The relationship between them…"
"Is not what it appears to be on the surface."
He paused.
"Do not be deceived by them."
Bill's smile deepened.
He drawled his words as if he had discovered something interesting.
"Oh?"
"Are you saying that the assassination several decades ago…"
"The one that shocked all of Dawn City."
"Might have been a play staged by the father and son working together?"
Modo did not answer.
He simply withdrew his gaze and stopped looking at Hugh.
Silence was the best answer.
Bill shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"You people who play with assassins sure have a lot of schemes."
He stopped dwelling on it and turned to Hannah.
"Alright, let's get down to business."
He walked a few steps closer, looking down at the bound demoness.
"Where is the Demon King Pillar?"
Hannah looked up.
Her red eyes looked at him calmly.
She said not a word.
Bill waited for a few seconds. After the blood threads finished their inspection, he shrugged.
"It isn't on her."
He looked toward Modo.
"I've searched her."
Modo's eyes moved slightly.
"Then in whose hands is it?"
Bill waved a hand.
A touch of arrogance entered his smile.
"It doesn't matter."
"As long as I become the Eleventh Pillar Demon King…"
"The Demon King Pillar will come to me on its own."
Modo looked at him.
In his hollow eyes, a rare sliver of interest flickered.
"Are you certain…"
"That you can completely transplant the Demon King's blood?"
He paused.
"This is not something that can be achieved through conventional means."
Demon King's blood.
The source of power for the Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Kings.
Only a successor personally 'acknowledged' by a Demon King could naturally inherit it upon the Demon King's fall.
A forced transplant?
In the history of the Demon Race, there had never been a successful precedent.
This was common knowledge engraved in the bloodline of every member of the Demon Race.
Yet Bill laughed.
There was conceit in that smile.
There was also a kind of fanatical zeal that bordered on the sacred.
"I can,"
He said softly.
"But the price is very expensive."
He raised his hand.
His palm faced up, his fingers curling as if holding nothing.
As if he were cradling some invisible treasure.
The air suddenly became viscous.
It wasn't cold, nor was it hot.
Instead, it was an ancient, decaying, yet strangely vital…
Pulsation.
It was as if something were slowly opening its eyes after thousands of years of slumber.
Above Bill's palm, a cluster of dark red light emerged.
The light was like a living thing, squirming slowly.
Every pulsation sounded like the beating of a massive heart.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
"This is the Soul of the Blood God."
Bill's voice was gentle, as if he were introducing a beloved object.
"A sacred relic of the Vampires."
"The foremost of the three great sacred relics."
He held that cluster of dark red light, a satiated smile in his eyes.
"Those old fogies…"
"They guarded it for thousands of years."
"They would rather let it gather dust than use it to take a risk."
He paused.
His smile deepened.
"Fortunately, I am the only Vampire in a thousand years…"
"To have completed the Blood God's Trial."
"My soul was long ago connected to the Blood God."
He looked at Modo, his tone lighthearted, as if discussing the fine weather.
"So, they had no choice but to…"
"Hand it over to me."
The Soul of the Blood God.
Before the first Blood Ancestor died, he stripped away half of his own soul.
It was sealed within a special crystal and passed down to this day.
Its power could reshape bloodlines.
It could break the boundaries of race and lineage.
It could even forcibly brand blood that did not belong to the host into the depths of their soul.
The price was that with every use…
The soul itself would be permanently worn away.
That was an irreversible loss, like chipping away fragments from the remains of a god.
For two thousand years, no one among the Vampires had dared to use it.
This was the authority that allowed the Vampires to hold their place among the 72 pillars of the Demon Race.
They would not allow such a precious soul to be depleted.
But Bill didn't care.
What he wanted was power.
He wanted to become a Demon King and instantly promote to the Epic rank.
The Soul of the Blood God drifted slowly toward Hannah.
The dark red light hovered above her chest.
Hannah's pupils constricted abruptly.
Her body instinctively leaned back.
Yet she was held down firmly by the corpse knights, unable to move a muscle.
The dark red light touched her heart.
There was no wound.
No tearing.
Not a single drop of blood flowed out.
However, something from the depths of her soul was being forcibly 'awakened.'
Hannah's body gave a violent jolt.
Her red eyes flew wide open.
Her lips were clamped shut tight.
Pain.
It wasn't the pain of flesh.
It wasn't the pain of bone.
It came from the absolute depths of her bloodline.
From the very ends of her bone marrow.
From every blood vessel and the source of every wisp of demon energy.
It was like ten thousand ants devouring her heart.
It was like being scorched by a raging fire.
It was as if countless fine needles were being simultaneously driven into the softest part of her soul.
Her body began to convulse uncontrollably.
Her spine arched, then fell back heavily.
Her fingertips dug into her palms, her nails snapping.
Blood seeped from between her fingers, soaking the stone slabs in dark stains.
Yet she made no sound.
Only her teeth bit through her lower lip until it was a bloody mess.
The radiance of the Soul of the Blood God grew stronger and stronger.
Within the dark red halo, a wisp of…
Pure, nearly transparent gold gradually emerged.
That gold was like a strand of hair.
Extremely fine.
Extremely faint.
Yet it carried a heart-palpitating pressure.
It was as if a sleeping god had opened a sliver of an eye.
One drop.
Two drops.
Golden blood threads seeped from Hannah's heart.
One by one, they were drawn out like silk from a cocoon.
They flowed slowly toward the Soul of the Blood God.
With every strand extracted…
Hannah's body gave a violent shudder.
The veins on her forehead bulged, winding like earthworms beneath her pale skin.
Sweat poured down like rain, soaking her hair and gathering into streams along her jaw.
Her nails were completely gone, her palms a mess of flesh and blood, where one could no longer distinguish between the two.
Yet she never made a sound.
Her red eyes glared fixedly ahead.
Her vision had already blurred into a hazy play of light and shadow.
Her lips were bitten through, blood dripping down her chin and blossoming into small flowers upon her shirt.
But not even a muffled groan escaped from between her teeth.
Bill watched this scene quietly.
There was a look of almost sacred appreciation in his eyes.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
He spoke softly, as if comforting a wounded animal.
"The pain of having one's bloodline stripped away…"
"Is a hundred times more painful than having one's heart gouged out."
Hannah did not answer.
She was already unable to speak.
Her body continued to tremble, but it was no longer a struggle.
It was simply…
Pain.
Pain to the depths of her marrow, pain so great her soul nearly departed from her body.
Yet she did not hide.
Nor did she make a sound.
Bill continued to speak, as if to himself.
It was also as if he were providing a grand commentary for this ceremony.
"However, this is only the beginning."
"What you are feeling now is merely the 'induction.'"
He reached out his hand, his fingertips hovering near those floating golden blood threads.
"When the Soul of the Blood God takes all the Demon King's blood within your body…"
"One strand by one, one wisp by one."
"And strips it all from the depths of your soul."
He paused.
He smiled.
"They will reform within the Soul."
"Then…"
His gaze fell upon that small, gathering cluster of golden light.
His eyes were burning.
"It will enter my body."
"And become my power."
He leaned down, moving close to Hannah's ear.
His voice was gentle, like the whisper of a lover.
"This process…"
"Will take an entire day."
"You will remain conscious the entire time."
"Feeling every drop of blood leave your body."
"And finally, you will die."
He straightened up and looked around.
His smile was composed.
Moonlight fell through the cracks in the vaulted ceiling, illuminating his pale face.
It also illuminated Hannah's profile, which was soaked in blood.
Her eyes were lowered.
Her eyelashes cast fine shadows upon her cheekbones.
There was still no sound.
Only her chest was still rising and falling with extreme slowness.
It proved she was still alive.
Still conscious.
Still enduring.
Hugh knelt not far away.
He glared fixedly at Hannah.
His eyes were so red they almost dripped blood.
His lips moved slightly.
But no sound came out.
...
Time passed slowly in the midst of agony.
Inside the temple, only the pulsating sound of the Soul of the Blood God echoed.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Like the heartbeat of the dying.
Hannah could no longer feel her own body.
Her consciousness had blurred into a dark red haze.
Only that tearing pain continuously reminded her that she was still alive.
Thirteen golden blood threads had already been extracted.
Every thread was as thin as a hair, yet each left a permanent crack within her soul.
Bill leaned against a pillar, his eyes closed as he rested.
A faint smile hung on his pale face, as if he were already becoming a Demon King in his dreams.
Modo stood silently before the altar, motionless.
Like a statue that had died long ago, even his breathing was difficult to detect.
Suddenly.
Modo's hollow eyes shifted slightly.
He raised his head, looking toward the night sky outside the temple.
"…Someone is here."
His voice was flat, yet it made the air freeze for an instant.
Bill opened his eyes.
A flash of displeasure crossed his pupils, which was immediately replaced by playfulness.
"Reinforcements from Avalon?"
Modo shook his head.
"No."
He paused.
"They should be bounty hunters."
"Two of them."
"One Low-tier Transcendent, one High-tier High Rank."
There was no rise or fall in his voice.
However, his hollow eyes unusually focused for an instant.
Like a slumbering snake sensing a prey's body temperature.
"They are approaching this place."
Bill raised an eyebrow.
"A Low-tier Transcendent? A High-tier High Rank?"
He gave a laugh.
"In this day and age, people with that kind of strength dare to come here to die?"
Modo ignored his mockery.
He stared into the void, sensing that soul fluctuation that was growing clearer but always remained shrouded in a layer of mist.
Then he sent out scouts to check. Through the eyes of a scout, he saw the other party's face and was momentarily stunned.
"…It is him."
The air went quiet for a second.
Bill's smile diminished slightly.
"Who?"
Modo turned his head to look at him.
"That High Rank mage Jesse told us to be wary of."
Bill narrowed his eyes.
"Ah…"
He drawled the sound, as if recalling a warning he had long forgotten.
"That strange fellow whose concealment ability and Levitation…"
"Made Jesse claim to be 'far inferior.'"
He smiled and cracked his neck.
His joints made light snapping sounds.
"It just so happens I'm bored to death. I'll go have some fun."
He began to walk toward the exit of the temple.
Modo's voice came from behind him:
"Don't be careless."
Bill did not stop.
"He's just a High-tier High Rank; can he possibly kill me?"
He turned his head slightly, his tone dismissive.
"If my guess is correct, the Transcendent beside him is nothing more than a Priest."
"A High Rank mage and a Transcendent Priest… I have never considered them a threat to me."
"Even if they were, can they kill me? Even Gusion cannot kill me."
Modo paused.
"Your immortality is not without weakness."
His tone was flat, yet every word was clear.
"Especially at the Wall of Sighs…"
"A place teeming with spectral demons."
Bill stopped.
He turned back to look at Modo.
A mocking smile curved his lips.
"But the opponent is a living person."
He tilted his head.
"Surely they wouldn't possess…"
"An ability to attack souls that only dead people possess?"
Modo did not answer.
His silence made the atmosphere turn subtle for an instant.
Yet Bill didn't care.
He laughed and shook his head.
"You are just like Jesse; you are both too cautious, so much so that you remind me of those stubborn old fogies."
"A mage who's supposedly full of oddities…"
He paused, his tone as light as if they were discussing tonight's dessert.
"Ultimately, he is only a High Rank."
"With his meager Mana Reserve, he can't even sustain a decent attack spell."
"Even if he could, would the power of his magic surpass that of Miss Hannah, a High-tier Transcendent?"
He glanced at Hannah, who hung her head by the altar.
"Those claws of hers tore me apart quite a few times."
He gave a light laugh.
"Unfortunately, for me, it was all meaningless."
Hannah did not open her eyes.
It was unclear if she lacked the strength or simply did not wish to look at him.
Bill withdrew his gaze and walked toward the door.
"Once I capture him and bring him before Jesse…"
There was an anticipation in his voice, like a child showing off a toy.
"The expression on Jesse's face will surely be interesting."
His footsteps gradually faded into the depths of the ruins.
Inside the temple, silence returned once more.
Only the pulsating sound of the Soul of the Blood God remained.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
After Bill left, Hannah painfully raised her eyes.
Her eyelashes were stuck together by sweat, and her field of vision was only a blurred dark red.
She strained to turn her neck, looking toward the other side.
Hugh was still kneeling on the ground.
His arms were forced back, and he was covered in blood.
But he was also holding his head up.
He was looking at her.
Their gazes met in the dim temple.
Hannah's lips moved slightly.
There was no sound.
But Hugh understood.
Hannah was saying, it's him.
That little mage, he's come.
Rate on N.U.
