Celestial Bloodline

Chapter 960: Do you regret it II

While Kyle was panicking, a hoarse voice echoed from the heart of the darkness. It was strained and ragged, yet carried a cruel, twisted amusement, as if the speaker were mocking himself as much as his victim.

“Hehehe… scream, beg me! Ask this monster to spare your worthless life!”

It was Azazeal’s voice.

His words were immediately followed by a piercing, painful scream that echoed in all directions, sending chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. Even the empty space within the darkness began to distort.

Kyle looked back. In the dark, his gaze taking in what no one else could see.

Far off, amidst the swirling darkness, one of the seven identical figures surrounding the seven-headed snake—now reduced by four of its heads—was slowly, inexorably, mercilessly crushing someone’s heart.

It seems that after siphoning more power from outside the Ancient Realm, Azazeal had devoured four of the snake’s heads in an instant. So much of Nathaniel’s energy was drained abruptly that he failed to give more energy to the Celestial symbol protecting him in time.

Kyle watched as Azazeal completely crushed the beating heart in his hand.

Even then, he didn’t withdraw his hand, his obsidian eyes wild with ecstatic madness, blood dripping like molten crimson from his grip. Around him, his other six bodies easily tore through the remaining three heads of the struggling, thrashing colossal snake, devouring them with relentless precision.

Azazeal leaned close to the ear of the tormented figure, his voice hoarse:

“It’s just mortal pain… and yet you are already losing hope? Then… what of the pain, the agony I endured for so long!”

He screamed, violently yanking his hand back, sending droplets of blood spraying through the air, watching with satisfaction as the floating figure opposite him clutched his bleeding chest, wailing in raw agony.

The seven-headed snake’s body scattered completely, dissolving into nothingness.

The breached barrier created by the clock symbol around Nathaniel’s body shattered completely, little fragments scattering like shards into the void before disappearing.

Even the darkness surrounding Azazeal’s body seemed to pulse with delight, as if resonating with its master’s satisfaction.

Nathaniel’s face was drained of color, his red eyes bloodshot, and his hair a tangled, sweat-drenched mess. His once-pristine celestial form that could enthrall all those weaker than him now looked battered, every step backward betraying the pain ripping through the gaping wound in his chest.

If not for his powerful soul painstakingly and quickly forming a new heart within his body, already growing cold, he would have long since collapsed from the unrelenting pain and the sheer exhaustion of fighting at full power for so many days under the relentless onslaught.

“You… you…!”

He gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of rage, shock, and a long-forgotten emotion—fear—trembling as he struggled to stay upright in mid-air amidst the darkness.

Azazeal’s lips curled into a smirk. The black robe he wore, though intact, could not hide the malevolent aura radiating from him. His once-handsome face was filled with jagged cracks, pulsating with shadowy energy.

Every inch of his exposed skin was etched with these fractures, as if even the vessel containing such immense power was beginning to suffer under its own might.

“You… you… what?”

He mocked coldly, then laughed. Nathaniel retreated further, frantically summoning his power to fight back, his panicked red eyes darting around in search of an escape. He had gravely underestimated this insane bastard—Azazeal was far stronger than he had imagined!

Though Nathaniel could still use his soul’s power to fight, he dared not risk damaging the core of his existence. For now, his mind told him the only sensible choice was to flee.

But the humiliation and torment he had suffered under Azazeal would never be forgotten.

He would heal, rebuild his strength, and gather forces. Then, he would return to strike back at this madman—brand him a devil for all—and make him beg for death!

Every shred of pain and suffering he had endured would be repaid a thousandfold!

Azazeal’s eyes glinted as he watched Nathaniel retreat, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. How could he think of escaping when he was completely surrounded by Azazeal’s bodies in every direction?

Did he truly believe he possessed the fortune—or the skill—to slip past him?

The thought alone was laughable!

Azazeal waved his hand, and the darkness from the surroundings surged forward, engulfing Nathaniel, who tried to run, but the shadows dragged him back mercilessly.

A sickening, wet sound of flesh tearing echoed through the void, followed by the agonized screams of a struggling soul being crushed in the black maw. The scene was a vision ripped straight from hell itself. The devil behind it—Azazeal—seemed utterly unfazed, his eyes wild, his movements erratic, and radiating pure cruelty.

Kyle’s brows knitted together, his hands clenching tightly. Thoughts raced through his mind—he would be the next person to face Azazeal. With the vast power before him, would he be able to defeat him…?

For the very first time since reaching the End, he felt a flicker of uncertainty—uncertainty about the future that awaited him.

He was powerful.

Very powerful. He knew it.

He was confident in it.

But Azazeal seemed no weaker than he was. And unlike him, the power surrounding Azazeal was alive, consuming everything around it and growing with each passing moment.

Kyle lost the mood to watch and looked away, his mind easily forming countless intricate arrays to confine the darkness as he pondered his next course of action. In the end, his indifferent eyes hardened.

“If worst comes to worst…”

“…I will take you down with me.”

Suddenly, his body recoiled instinctively as an extremely soft voice whispered through the wails emanating from the center of the darkness, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Do you… do you… regret it?”

The words hung in the air strangely, as if the dazed speaker were speaking more to himself than to question another. It was as though the last remnants of reason within him were in agony, questioning why he had come so far, why he had gone through such hell, and why the path he had chosen had led to this endless pain and torment.

Just for this…?

The speaker didn’t get an answer. Amidst the silence, he replied to his own question.

“I don’t.”

With that, the noise amidst the darkness vanished. The silence was followed by loud, furious screams shouting, ’Not enough! Not enough! How dare you! How dare you!!!’

Hearing the screams, Kyle knew—the soul being tormented had broken so easily that Azazeal had lost control, wondering how it could break so easily when Nathaniel hadn’t endured even a fraction of what he had.