Novel Full Chapter 434: Annihilators?
Razeal did manage to close the deal with Perfecto in the end though not quite on the terms he had originally pushed for. Still, what he walked away with was far from insignificant. Ten thousand B-4 model units, each one of them an Annihilator, just as Perfecto called all of his creations. The name fit well enough, and after understanding what these machines were capable of, Razeal found no reason to argue with it.
The B-4 model units that Razeal received were far from ordinary soldiers. Individually, each one possessed strength comparable to a peak S-rank warrior in this world, but even that comparison felt insufficient once one actually understood what they were capable of. These weren’t living beings bound by hesitation, fatigue, or imperfection. They were machines built for combat at an absolute level of precision. Their movements were sharp, calculated, and flawless, their reflexes near instantaneous, and their combat execution backed by an immense database of fighting styles, techniques, and tactical frameworks already embedded into their systems. It wasn’t just that they knew how to fight they understood combat on a level where adaptation happened in real time, where every encounter became data, and every data point refined them further. In a prolonged battle, they wouldn’t just hold their ground they could also evolve.
And that was where their real danger lay.
Because even if individually they stood at peak S-rank, in coordinated groups their effectiveness scaled exponentially. With perfect synchronization, zero communication delay, and shared processing logic, it wasn’t unrealistic to assume that multiple units operating together could pressure, overwhelm, or even eliminate Saint-level or possibly Saint King-level opponents under the right conditions. Not because they were stronger individually but because they were built to function as a system rather than as separate fighters.
Their internal construction was even more absurd.
Each B-4 unit had its skeletal structure made from Neutronium Composite a material derived from neutron star matter, compressed, stabilized, and engineered into a usable form. It served as the core of their entire body, granting them insane density, durability, and structural resilience. But it didn’t stop there. That same core wasn’t static. It could shift into a liquid-metal state when required, allowing the unit to reconstruct itself after damage, reform its structure, or even alter its physical configuration entirely depending on need. Destroying such a structure wouldn’t be easy it would require overwhelming force, and even then, there was no guarantee it would stay destroyed.
Covering that core was a layer made of Adamantine based nano structured lattice, extending from their internal wiring all the way to their external synthetic skin. This layer was programmed to dynamically adjust its properties, shifting between flexibility and extreme rigidity instantly. In its hardened state, it reached a level of toughness that could be described as tens of thousands of times harder than diamond, while in its flexible state, it allowed fluid movement and adaptive responses in combat. Combined with their self-repair systems driven by advanced nanotechnology these units could recover from damage over time, repairing structural compromise and restoring operational capacity without external assistance.
And then came the part that made them truly terrifying.
Each individual unit carried within it not just combat capability, but also technological knowledge. Given sufficient resources and materials, they were capable of constructing additional units of lower-tier models very functional and dangerous. They could also upgrade themselves over time, refining their systems, enhancing performance, and evolving beyond their original parameters. They weren’t just soldiers. They were mobile production units, adaptive systems, and evolving entities all at once.
And Razeal now had ten thousand of them.
Originally, Razeal had aimed higher. He had asked for B-6 model units the ones that stood at peak Saint King level, powered by tier-six nanotechnology and high-grade nuclear cores. Those were on an entirely different level, far beyond what the B-4 units offered. But Perfecto had refused that request without hesitation. Instead, he had offered a different deal millions of B-2 units, far weaker, barely touching B-rank levels of strength. And that was unacceptable for Razeal. Quantity without quality wasn’t what he needed.
So he negotiated.
He pushed further, proposing an exchange for ten million B-5 units, trying to find a middle ground that still gave him overwhelming strength. But Perfecto rejected that as well. In the end, the final agreement settled on ten thousand B-4 units, with a condition Perfecto would study the blood Razeal had provided, and if that research yielded results that interested him further, then future negotiations could open up access to higher-tier models.
And this time, Razeal didn’t push any further.
Because he understood something important in that moment.
Greed had its place, but so did timing. This wasn’t a loss it was a foothold. More importantly, it gave him something he hadn’t had before: a manufacturer. A source. A connection to someone capable of producing power on a scale that few in this world could even comprehend.
If this path didn’t yield what he wanted, he could always find another way or another resource, another leverage point to keep Perfecto interested. But for now, this was enough.
More than enough to begin.
It wasn’t as if Razeal lacked the ambition to demand higher-tier models like B-7 or even B-9 units if anything, the very existence of such constructs had ignited a dangerous kind of curiosity within him but unlike blind greed, his decisions were anchored in control, and that was the one line he refused to cross because no matter how valuable power was, he understood that power which stood above him, independent and superior in raw capability, was not an asset but a liability, and accepting units that individually surpassed his own strength units that could, in theory, overwhelm him if something ever went wrong was a risk he was not willing to take, not now, not when his foundation was still forming, and not when the system binding everything together, despite its assurances, still carried uncertainties he refused to ignore.
So instead, he settled for the B-4 models not as a compromise born from limitation, but as a calculated choice, one that ensured he remained the absolute authority over the forces he commanded; and yet, even within that restraint, the deal he secured went far beyond what could be considered ordinary, because the agreement with Perfecto had not ended with the immediate exchange, it had merely begun its next phase, evolving into something far more valuable than a simple transaction.
There was a clause one that Razeal himself had carefully negotiated and embedded into the foundation of their agreement.
If the single drop of vampiric blood he had provided proved valuable.. if it yielded results, insights, or advancements that aligned with Perfecto’s endless pursuit of refinement then Perfecto would provide him with one million B-6 model units. Not borrowed, not partial, not degraded versions but complete, perfect, freshly constructed units, each standing at peak Saint King-level strength, each a weapon capable of reshaping battlefields on its own.
And that alone was already an absurd outcome.
But the true depth of the deal lay beyond even that.
Because if, by some exception some anomaly beyond Perfecto’s already near-limitless calculations that same blood provided results that pushed beyond expected parameters, if it introduced variables that could enhance what Perfecto defined as “perfection,” then the terms would escalate further. In that scenario, Perfecto himself had acknowledged the possibility however small of granting access to B-9 model units also..
Millions of them.
And B-9… was not a level that could be treated lightly.
Those were Emperor-rank constructs.
Each individual unit standing at a level where, in Razeal’s world, they would be considered apex entities beings capable of overwhelming nations, bending entire battlefields to their will, and existing as forces of absolute dominance. And the idea that such entities could be manufactured.. not born, not trained, not evolved, but produced was something that even now, Razeal found difficult to fully accept.
And yet… the possibility existed.
That alone was enough.
Because for Razeal, this wasn’t about immediate gain anymore. It was about potential. About scaling. About access to something that could, over time, surpass any conventional limitation.
Perfecto wasn’t just a source of soldiers it have other many kinds of super dangerous stuff also.
He was a ultimate producer and manufacturer.
Weapons, vehicles, high-tier artillery, orbital-level destructive capabilities, nuclear-class weaponry, and even constructs beyond that mobile, fully armed futuristic cities capable of independent operation all of it existed within Perfecto’s domain. None of that had been included in their current agreement, but that didn’t matter. Deals could always be made. Exchanges could always be negotiated. And now that the connection existed, Razeal knew he could return, again and again, each time with something new to offer, something more to trade.
And when he thought about it in the larger picture when he aligned this with his long-term goal of conquering kingdoms, reshaping the world, and eventually standing against the gods themselves this… this might have been one of the most critical steps he had taken so far.
Because power alone wasn’t enough.
Sustainable power… was. And Perfecto represented exactly that.
What made the entire exchange even more surprising, however, was how smooth it had been. There had been no hostility, no unnecessary resistance, no attempts to manipulate or dominate the interaction. Perfecto, despite being the creator of something as overwhelming as the Annihilators, had conducted himself with pure logical calm, precise, and direct. There was no ego in the way humans understood it, no emotional volatility, just an unshakable confidence rooted in absolute capability.
A perfect being, in its own definition. And his system reflected that perfection.
From B-1 to B-X.
Yeah.. That was the full range.
The B-1 units, the lowest tier, were not designed for combat at all primarily used for surveillance, maintenance, construction, and domestic-level functions but even those carried physical and technological strength equivalent to a C-rank warrior in Razeal’s world, which alone spoke volumes about the baseline of Perfecto’s technology.
B-2 units scaled up to peak B-rank strength.
And from there, the hierarchy continued each level representing a massive leap, not just in raw power, but in processing capability, adaptability, and system integration until reaching B-9, the Emperor-tier constructs.
And then…
There was B-X.
The final designation.
Perfecto had not explained it.
But logic alone made it clear.
If B-9 represented Emperor-rank… Then B-X… had to exist beyond that scale.
A level that, by all reasoning, would align with something far closer to Cosmic-tier existence entities like Riven, beings who stood beyond conventional hierarchy, beyond mortal and divine classification alike.
And that was where Razeal stopped himself.
Because even for him, even with everything he had seen… that idea was difficult to accept.
Manufacturing Emperor-tier constructs was already absurd.
Manufacturing something beyond that?
That bordered should be impossible.
So he made a conclusion.
If B-X truly existed, then maybe there wouldn’t be many if any at all. And more likely… Perfecto himself might represent that level. Not as a unit, but as the origin point. The peak of his own system.
Because otherwise… if such power could be mass-produced…
Then the balance of everything gods, universe and even systems would already be broken beyond repair… Magical or technological system or whatver.
And Razeal knew one thing for certain.
No system would allowed that… Right?
Still…
Even without reaching that level…
What he had gained today
Was already enough to change everything.
****
Outside the system space~
Inside the moving carriage
The atmosphere inside stood in complete contrast to the silent yet monumental negotiations Razeal had just concluded within his mind, because while his consciousness operated elsewhere making deals that could reshape kingdoms and perhaps even the balance of the world his physical body remained seated exactly where it had been placed, unmoving, composed, and with eyes gently closed as if he had simply chosen to rest, and yet that stillness, that unnatural detachment from everything around him, was precisely what made the environment inside the carriage so unbearably tense.
Razeal sat in the middle of the cushioned seat, his posture relaxed, back resting lightly, hands settled without stiffness, and his expression calm to the point of indifference, as though nothing in the outside world demanded even the slightest fraction of his attention, and surrounding him close enough to feel his presence.
Just around hum enough to not disturb him sat four women, each carrying her own thoughts, her own tension, and her own interpretation of the situation unfolding in that confined space.
Across from them, occupying the opposite seat alone, sat Aveline the captain of the citywatch her back straight her shoulders firm, and posture disciplined as expected of someone in her position, but despite that outward composure, the tension in her body was unmistakable, subtle yet persistent, visible in the way her fingers occasionally tightened over the edge of her gloves, in the controlled rhythm of her breathing that she was actively trying to steady, and in the slight stiffness of her neck whenever her gaze unintentionally drifted toward Razeal before quickly pulling back, as if even looking at him for too long felt like crossing an invisible boundary she could not define.
It had been roughly ten minutes since the carriage had departed from Golden Horn Street, ten minutes since she had taken responsibility for escorting these unknown and dangerous individuals toward the military encampment, and in those ten minutes, not a single word had been spoken by the one person who mattered most in that confined space.
And that silence was not peaceful.
It was extremely oppressive now.
Because even though Aveline had dealt with powerful individuals before, nobles, commanders, even high-ranking warriors whose presence alone could dominate a room but there was always something to read in them, some sign of intent, arrogance, impatience, or even hostility.. with Razeal, there was nothing. No aura, no expression, no movement, no indication of thought or emotion. It was as if he existed and didn’t exist at the same time, sitting right in front of her yet completely detached from the world around him, and that unknown that absence of any readable signal was far more unsettling than any visible threat could have been.
Like did he slept? Because if he did this is too weird.
She had chosen to sit in this carriage deliberately.
That decision now felt like a mistake.
At the time, she had reasoned that remaining close to him might allow her to observe, to understand, to perhaps gather even the smallest hint of his intentions before they reached the higher command, but now, sitting directly across from him in this suffocating quiet, she began to question that judgment, because instead of clarity, all she had gained was an increasing sense of unease, a creeping awareness that she was sitting inches away from someone who could end her life without effort, without warning, and without consequence and worse, someone who might not even acknowledge doing so.
Her thoughts moved in careful loops.
The message had already been sent.
The warning about Great Saint entering the kingdom mustve already been delivered by now, the higher-ups would have mobilized, strategized, and prepared whatever response they deemed necessary. The military camp ahead would not be unguarded. It would be ready at least as ready as it could be when facing something like this.
And yet… that knowledge did nothing to ease the tension sitting in her chest.
Because preparation meant nothing if the opponent was unpredictable.
And Razeal… was exactly that.
Her gaze shifted, almost unconsciously, toward the others seated beside him.
Maria, Sofia and Nancy.
Three young women, all sitting in relative silence, none of them showing visible concern, none of them speaking unnecessarily, and none of them reacting to the tension the way any normal person would. That alone was enough to raise alarms in Aveline’s mind, because even untrained civilians would feel the weight of a Great Saint’s presence, would show signs of discomfort, fear, or at the very least awareness.
But these three…
They were calm almost looking bored.
Their appearances only made things more complicated.
Maria and Sofia she couldn’t sense anything from them And then towards Nancy… her appearance alone drew attention, her ice-white hair and crystalline eyes giving off a natural, almost instinctive sense of pressure that Aveline couldn’t quite explain, something that made her instincts sharpen without understanding why.
And then there was Maria again her blue hair, her clear eyes, her calm tone.
Something about Maria and Nancys figure felt… familiar to her but she couldn’t pin point as to why.
Just enough to linger in Aveline’s mind. But again didn’t dare to guess if she was right.. Because guessing wrong, in a situation like this, could be dangerous.
“You don’t need to be so tense,” Maria’s voice finally broke the silence, calm and steady, her gaze briefly shifting toward Razeal before returning to Aveline, “ignore him… he’s always like this.”
The words were simple, almost casual, but in the context of the situation, they carried an unexpected weight.
Aveline blinked once, caught slightly off guard not by the words themselves, but by the ease with which they were spoken, as if the presence of a Great Saint sitting inches away was something at be end of what be called normal or routine.
“Yes… ma’am,” Aveline responded after a brief pause, her tone respectful, controlled, though a hint of awkwardness slipped through despite her efforts, and she gave a small nod, drawing in a quiet breath as if trying to ground herself again.
Maria simply shook her head slightly at that response, a faint expression of resignation crossing her face as she leaned back just a fraction, as if acknowledging that no matter what she said, the tension in this carriage wasn’t something that would disappear so easily.
And she wasn’t wrong.
Because even with that brief exchange, the silence returned almost immediately, heavier than before, settling back into the space between them like something tangible, something pressing down on everyone inside.
Aveline’s gaze shifted again subtle, careful this time lingering just a moment longer on Nancy, then on Maria, then back again, as if trying to connect something in her mind that refused to fully form.
Recognition Or the edge of it.
She didn’t know.. but It was there.
Just beyond certainty. But again she did not speak it or question it.
Because in a situation like this, assumptions were dangerous… not to say the assumptions which she had.
And silence… felt safer. But even that silence itself was slowly becoming unbearable.
Maria and Nancy had both noticed it long before Aveline realized how obvious she was being the repeated glances, the careful observations disguised as discipline, the way her eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary before snapping back into place as if nothing had happened but neither of them reacted to it, neither questioned it nor acknowledged it aloud, because to them it wasn’t anything unusual
They had just grown up under eyes like these, under scrutiny, curiosity, and silent recognition, so instead of discomfort, what they felt was closer to mild boredom, a quiet patience as they sat there waiting for something or anything to break the suffocating stillness that had settled inside the carriage, while Razeal remained as he was, unmoving, silent, detached, as if he had stepped out of the world entirely and left only his body behind.
Aveline, on the other hand, was reaching her limit.
Five more minutes passed like that each second stretching longer than it should have, each moment amplifying the tension instead of easing it and by the end of it, she found that she could no longer hold the question back.. it had been forming in her mind since the very beginning, ever since she had first properly looked at Maria’s features, her hair, her eyes, the composure she carried so naturally, and the more she tried to suppress it, the stronger it became, until finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, she let it out.
“My apologies… but… are you, by any chance, related to the Grave family from the Empire?” she asked, her voice respectful, careful, yet unable to completely hide the tension beneath it as her gaze fixed on Maria, because even without confirmation, the signs were too clear to ignore..
Obiously the Grave family was not just known it was renowned, their influence stretching across empires, their power acknowledged even beyond borders, and anyone who had even the slightest awareness of noble hierarchies would recognize those defining traits.
Maria’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the question not in surprise, but in acknowledgment as she understood immediately what had led Aveline to ask it, and without hesitation, without deflection, she answered directly, her posture straightening just a little, a quiet pride settling naturally into her expression as she spoke.
“Yes,” she said calmly, her voice clear, “I am Maria Grave… The heiress of the Grave family.”
There was no arrogance in her tone, no need to exaggerate or emphasize, because the name itself carried enough weight.
And that weight landed instantly.
Aveline’s reaction was immediate and unmistakable.
Her eyes widened, her breath caught for a split second, and before she even realized it herself, she had already pushed herself up from her seat, standing abruptly as if her body had moved on instinct rather than conscious decision, and in the very next moment, she bowed deeply, properly, without hesitation.
“My apologies for not recognizing you, my lady,” she said quickly, her voice firm but carrying the unmistakable edge of shock beneath it, because this was no longer a simple escort mission, no longer just about a Great Saint whose intentions were unknown this was now something far more complex, far more dangerous in its implications.
The Grave family.
Even though they were technically a pillar family within the Empire, their power and influence placed them far above what most kingdoms could compare to, and for the Denvaar Kingdom, a figure like Maria was not just nobility.. she was, in terms of standing, equivalent to royalty, if not higher, because the Empire itself stood on a completely different level.. if one were to compare purely by hierarchy, it would not be an exaggeration to say that Maria’s presence here held the same weight as if the queen of Denvaar herself had been sitting in that carriage and yet Maria was not even the head of her family, only the heiress, which made the reality of it even more overwhelming.
Maria, however, did not react as someone overwhelmed by such recognition.
She had lived with it all her life.
Respect like this, reactions like this they were normal to her.
“There is no need for that,” she said simply, her tone neither dismissive nor indulgent, just calm and matter of fact as she looked at Aveline, “you can sit down.”
Aveline hesitated.
“My lady… I…” she began, her voice uncertain now, her mind racing through every rule, every protocol she had ever been taught, because how was she supposed to sit casually in front of someone of such standing? How was she supposed to share the same level, the same space, without proper formality? The idea itself felt wrong, almost disrespectful, and yet disobeying a direct instruction from someone of that status was equally unacceptable.
Her conflict showed clearly.
Maria noticed it immediately.
A faint sigh escaped her not out of annoyance, but mild resignation as she tilted her head slightly and spoke again, this time with a bit more clarity.
“I’m sure no one here would mind,” she said, her gaze soft but steady, and then, as if remembering something, she added, “and besides… I’m not the only one here.”
That single line shifted the entire atmosphere.
Aveline’s confusion deepened instantly, her brows knitting slightly as she followed Maria’s movement, her eyes tracing the direction of her hand as Maria gestured toward Nancy.
“This is Nancy Dragonweaver,” Maria continued, her tone composed, almost casual, as if she were introducing acquaintances rather than revealing identities that could shake the entire political structure of a kingdom, “Daughter of the Dragonweaver ducal family.”
Aveline’s breath almost stopped permanently .
But.. Before she could even process that, Maria’s hand moved once more, this time toward Sofia.
“And this is Sofia Neptune… the youngest daughter of the King of Atlantis… a princess of Atlantis.”
The words landed one after another, each heavier than the last.
And this time… Aveline didn’t move.
She just couldn’t.
She remained standing where she was, her body frozen, her mind struggling to keep up with the sudden flood of information, her gaze shifting slowly almost mechanically from Nancy to Sofia, then back again, as if trying to confirm that what she had just heard was real, that she hadn’t misunderstood, that this wasn’t some kind of absurd misunderstanding or cruel coincidence.
Nancy, with her ice-white hair and crystalline eyes that already carried an unnatural presence…
Sofia, whose calm demeanor now seemed to hold a depth Aveline hadn’t noticed before…
And Maria…
All three of them…
Her throat went dry.
She swallowed, slowly, the sound almost audible in the quiet carriage as the reality of her situation finally settled fully into her mind.
A Great Saint.
The heiress of the Grave family?
The daughter of the Dragonweaver ducal house? Which was ghe most scary and significant thing in bere..
And a princess of Atlantis? Wait wasn’t existence of Atlantis just a rumour? She was confused.
But again would heiress of Grave Family joke something about it?
Even then.. Even if without her Dragonweaver and Grave family.. Direct lineage?
All sitting in the same carriage.
And she…
A mere captain of the city watch…?
Was escorting them?
Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides, not out of fear alone, but from the sheer weight of understanding just how far beyond her standing this situation had escalated, and for the first time since entering this carriage, her tension shifted from fear of the unknown… to the realization that she was now sitting at the center of something far, far greater than she had ever anticipated.
——