Leila stood before Bell, her long silver hair flying in the violent currents of air.
She looked up, killing intent boiling in her crimson eyes.
The threads in Elizabeth’s hands shook violently in the air, emitting a sharp, slicing sound.
“Leila, are you really going to attack me for the sake of this lowly human?”
Elizabeth shrieked, her arms spreading wide as more threads erupted from her fingertips.
Leila did not answer. She raised her right hand, palm aimed at the void in front of her.
An extremely oppressive vibration emanated from deep underground.
The light inside the hall dimmed instantly.
“Desolate Realm.”
As Leila spoke those two words, the surrounding space visibly buckled and wrinkled.
Elizabeth’s expression instantly collapsed, and her body recoiled involuntarily.
“You’re crazy! You’re activating a World-class skill for such a trivial matter?”
Panic laced Elizabeth’s voice as she tried to retract her threads.
But it was already too late.
Bell stood behind Leila, his gaze peering over her shoulder.
The originally magnificent black obsidian floor tiles began to peel away, turning into fine gray dust.
The rose reliefs on the walls weathered rapidly, falling away as parched fragments.
The massive crystal chandelier overhead went dark, then vanished along with the ceiling.
A heavy scent of earth and rust permeated the air.
Bell looked down at his feet.
The ground was no longer level.
Vast stretches of land displayed deep brown cracks that spiderwebbed in every direction.
The sky turned a heavy lead-gray, devoid of a sun, filled only with rolling dark clouds.
Several withered tree trunks thrust abruptly from the surface, their bark dry and peeling.
“Caw—”
A few pitch-black crows landed on the dead branches, tilting their heads to stare at the people in the hall.
This was the first time Bell had intuitively experienced a World-class skill.
It was no longer a simple magical attack.
It was a forced tampering with the laws of reality.
Within this range, the original physical rules were replaced by Leila’s will.
Bell tried to mobilize the mana within his body, only to find that its flow had become extremely sluggish.
Every inch of air here was repelling external power.
A sense of shock surged from the soles of his feet straight to his head.
This was an ancestor’s true trump card.
“Enough!”
Lilian stood up abruptly, her scepter striking the base of the throne with a heavy thud.
The dull impact echoed across the desolate plain.
Though her face was pale, her back was ramrod straight, and the Crown of Thorns glinted coldly under the dark clouds.
“Leila, retract your domain.”
Lilian’s voice echoed through the hall, carrying an undeniable authority.
She was the Queen.
Even when facing the strongest ancestor, she had to maintain this dignity.
Leila turned her head and shot Lilian a look.
That frantic killing intent slowly subsided under the suppression of authority.
The surrounding scenery distorted once more.
The cracked earth vanished; the withered trees and crows were nowhere to be found.
The dilapidated hall was restored to its original luxurious state.
Only the residual chill in the air reminded everyone that what had just happened was no hallucination.
Elizabeth slumped back into her chair. The plush bear fell to the floor, yet she didn't even reach for it.
Grant sat at the end of the long table, twirling a silver fork in his hand.
He let out a cold laugh, his gaze bypassing Leila to land on Bell.
“A man who only knows how to hide behind a woman... is he even worthy of talking about truth?”
Grant stood up. Though he wasn't tall, the pressure he radiated was heavy.
He brushed the dust off his suit, his eyes full of contempt.
“Bell Lucas, is this the extent of your ability?”
Bell stepped out from behind Leila, patting her shoulder to signal her to step back.
He looked at Grant, his tone calm.
“What do you mean, Ancestor Grant?”
Grant walked to the open space in the center of the hall and pointed at Bell.
“The meaning is simple.”
“The Blood Race reveres the strong, not big talkers.”
“If you have the ability, fight me like a man.”
“Win, and I will acknowledge your status. Lose, and you get out of the Night Rose Palace.”
Bell stood his ground, his mind racing.
Currently, his chances of winning against someone of an ancestor’s caliber were practically zero.
But he had to fight.
Lilian had just ascended. If her Chief Advisor was a coward who didn't even dare to accept a challenge...
Then her royal authority would collapse in an instant.
Moreover, Grant had issued a challenge but hadn't specified a fight to the death.
This was more of a test.
A test to see how much substance this human actually had.
“Fine.”
Bell accepted and stepped toward the center of the hall.
The surrounding ancestors all showed expressions of interest.
Ed leaned against a pillar, raising his wine glass in a toast.
Betty simply crouched on the table, her eyes wide as she watched.
Bell stopped five meters opposite Grant.
He took a deep breath and slowly raised his right hand.
“Creation.”
The earth elements in the air became restless instantly.
Countless tiny brown particles converged and compressed in Bell’s hand.
A stone longsword, entirely pitch-black and emitting a metallic luster, took shape.
The blade had no patterns, only a sense of extreme weight.
Grant’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Condensing earth magic into a physical entity of this density?”
This usage exceeded his understanding.
Typical earth mages only created stone walls or earth spikes.
No one used such a clunky element as a melee weapon.
Bell did not stop his movements.
His left hand grasped at the air again.
A massive earth element shield appeared on his left arm.
The shield’s surface was covered in layered, scale-like structures to increase the surface area for impact absorption.
He settled into a standard defensive posture.
Without knowing the opponent’s limits in speed and strength, defense was the only choice.
Grant gave a soft snort and leaned forward slightly.
“Are you ready, human?”
As soon as the words left his mouth...
Grant’s figure vanished from where he stood.
Bell’s vision could not track the other’s movement trajectory.
Too fast.
It had already surpassed the limits of the naked eye.
The hair on his neck stood on end—an instinctive warning.
The left!
Relying on his gut, Bell violently swung the heavy shield on his left hand to the side.
Clang!
A deafening metallic collision exploded within the hall.
Grant’s small fist slammed into the shield, kicking up a large spray of sparks.
The immense force caused Bell’s feet to skid two meters across the marble floor.
The tiles were crushed, leaving two deep furrows behind.
Such heavy power.
Bell felt a wave of numbness in his left arm; more than half of the scale structures on the shield had shattered.
But he did not fall.
Grant showed a hint of surprise. He flipped in mid-air and landed steadily.
“Nice reaction.”
Grant launched another attack.
This time, he threw several punches in rapid succession, each carrying the sound of breaking air.
Bell constantly adjusted the angle of his shield, using deflection techniques to neutralize the impact.
He was calculating.
Calculating Grant’s attack frequency and points of exertion.
This kind of battle didn't require a clash of mana, but rather a game of physics.
Crack.
The earth element shield finally reached its limit, a massive fissure splitting it open.
Grant seized the opportunity, delivering a heavy sidekick to the edge of the shield.
The shield disintegrated into a flurry of flying stones.
Bell was exposed to the opponent’s range of attack.
Grant did not pause. He flattened his right hand into a blade and thrust it directly toward Bell’s chest.
Bell’s eyes narrowed. He did not pull back his stone longsword.
Instead, he stepped back and turned, utilizing the sword’s length advantage to sweep it toward Grant’s waist.
It was a life-for-a-life tactic.
If Grant continued his attack, he would be cut in half by the heavy sword.
He had no choice but to retract his move, tap his toes on the ground, and leap backward.
Bell gripped the stone sword, his chest heaving violently.
That brief exchange of a few seconds had drained a massive amount of his physical and mental energy.
The speed of an ancestor truly made him feel despair.
But he could see it.
Grant wasn't using blood magic; he was simply using physical strength to toy with him.
“You’re a bit tougher than I imagined.”
Grant cracked his neck, a cloud of red mist rising from his palm.
“Now, I’m going to get a little serious.”
Bell tightened his grip on the hilt, feeling the stony texture in his palm.
He knew the real test was only just beginning.
Leila watched from the side, her fingers digging into her palms as the aftershocks of the Desolate Realm flickered beneath her feet.
Lilian stared fixedly at the center of the field, her grip on her scepter making it creak.
Grant’s palm slammed onto the ground.
“Blood Thorn Jungle.”
Countless spikes solidified from blood erupted frantically from the floor.
As if they were alive, they wove into a massive net, closing in on Bell.
Bell did not retreat.
He slammed the stone sword into the floor tiles.
“Earth Core Strike.”
Earth element energy poured into the ground through the sword blade.
With Bell at the center, the ground within a three-meter radius bulged violently.
Walls made of rock rose from the earth, blocking the blood spikes on the outside.
The sounds of impact merged into a single roar.
Bell hid behind the stone walls, listening to the sound of the blood spikes snapping outside.
He was waiting.
Waiting for a chance to counterattack.
Even if there was only one.
The onslaught of the blood spikes ceased.
Bell violently pushed the stone wall aside, his stone sword tracing a black arc through the air.
Grant stood just outside the wall, a smile of certain victory on his face.
He raised his right hand and easily caught Bell’s descending blade.
“Too slow.”
Grant exerted force with his fingers.
The stone sword, capable of slicing through steel, let out a groan of agony in the ancestor’s hand.
Cracks spread rapidly along the blade.
But at that moment, Bell let go of the hilt.
His right hand slid down with the momentum, pressing against Grant’s chest.
“Flying Sand.”
Extremely compressed earth element dust exploded instantly between the two of them.
This dust carried immense friction and impact force.
Grant was jolted back several steps by this sudden power.
Several holes were ground into his suit, and a faint red mark appeared on his face.
Though he wasn't injured, he had been pushed back by a human.
The entire hall fell into a pin-drop silence.
The mockery in the ancestors’ eyes vanished.
In its place was a sense of scrutiny.
This human not only had a brain, but also a ruthless streak.
Grant touched the mark on his face, his gaze locking onto Bell.
He lunged again.
His speed was twice as fast as before.
Bell saw only a red blur before a sharp pain exploded in his chest.
He was sent flying backward, slamming heavily into a distant stone pillar.
“Pfft.”
A mouthful of blood sprayed out.
Bell slid down the pillar to the ground, his stone sword completely shattered.
Grant stopped and looked down at him from above.
“It’s over.”
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