Chapter 374 - 359: Bloodline Deprivation

Chapter 374: Chapter 359: Bloodline Deprivation

"BANG! CRACK! HISS!"

The roar of clashing weapons echoed across the fields outside Golden Ears City, the piercing sound of metal against metal tearing through the air.

Every exchange erupted in a grating shriek of metal, punctuated by the muffled booms of exploding Fighting Spirit and the sizzling hiss of corrosive Evil Energy.

The shield wall formed by human soldiers buckled and shattered under the Demons’ relentless assault.

Sharp claws and fangs tore through Chain Armor, and Obsidian Giant Swords cleaved through shields. Every inch of ground was soaked in blood and viscous Evil Energy.

Severed limbs and shattered weapons lay scattered everywhere as the groans of the dying and the roars of Demons wove together into a cruel symphony.

Caught between the fury of the Abyss and the cold blood of the Nine Prisons, the soldiers’ formation was like a lone boat in a storm, sinking inch by inch.

Meanwhile, another battlefield raged with even greater intensity.

"BOOM!"

Silvery-white Fighting Spirit poured down, cracking a mountain ridge and sending shattered rock flying.

"Damn it!"

Malcolm cursed as he scrambled to dodge the incoming sword strike. He had long since lost his former elegant demeanor.

His once-smooth skin was now covered in a web of fine cuts, and one of his backward-curving horns had snapped off.

Purplish-red blood trickled from his wounds, sizzling and releasing wisps of white smoke as it dripped onto the ground.

Seeing his "partner," Balot, have another mighty blow easily dodged by Morne, a flash of resentment and helplessness crossed Malcolm’s eyes.

’Dull-witted beast! If not for the upheaval in the Nine Prisons, why would I ever ally myself with such an idiot?’

As if sensing Malcolm’s disdain, Balot turned and angrily raised his flame-wreathed Giant Axe, expressing his displeasure toward his partner.

But the next moment...

"BANG!"

A silvery figure, looking exceptionally small compared to Balot, shot in like a comet and sent the Abyssal Demon crashing to the ground with a single blow.

"ROAR!"

As the earth trembled, Balot twisted its corpulent body back to its feet and charged once more.

However, while the Abyssal Demon’s power was so astonishing that even Morne had to temporarily avoid a direct confrontation, its speed was simply too slow.

To Malcolm, his "partner" looked more like a spinning top being whipped around again and again.

’Tsk, and here I was thinking of keeping him for research...’

Malcolm glanced at his own faintly trembling hands, his eyes growing cold.

’My Power is fading faster than I expected. I can’t delay any longer.’

With that thought, he raised a hand and made a grasping motion in the air.

An instant later, a fresh, red, beating heart materialized in his palm.

’That fool Celeste... At least she didn’t disappoint me this time.’

Malcolm studied the still-pulsing heart in his palm, its red tissue entwined with ominous, dark-purple patterns.

A savage grin spread across his face as his fingers clenched tight!

"With bloodline as the guide, and kinship as the lock..."

The obscure Demon tongue hissed like a venomous snake.

The heart began to convulse violently.

Lines of dark-red blood materialized from thin air, forming a twisted web that instantly crossed the space between them to wrap around Morne as he fought Balot.

"Ugh!"

Morne’s burly frame shuddered violently, and he let out a suppressed cry of pain.

The silver Fighting Spirit surrounding him began to flicker violently, as if it had been splashed with ink.

A wave of weakness originating from the depths of his soul seized him, as if something of vital importance was being forcibly stripped from his body.

"BANG!"

Seizing the opportunity, Balot brought his Giant Axe, wreathed in Abyssal Flame, crashing down.

Normally, Morne could have easily dodged the blow, but now, the sudden decline in his Power made his movements a beat too slow.

"CLANG!"

He hastily raised his sword to block. Amidst the deafening impact, the immense force sent him sliding back more than ten meters, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the ground.

His sword arm tingled, and his once vast and majestic silver Domain contracted and dimmed at a visible rate, like a candle flickering in the wind.

Malcolm watched from a distance, elegantly wiping the flecks of heart’s blood from his hand. A cruel, triumphant smile spread across his face.

"Do you feel it, mortal King? This is... the power of your closest kin’s blood."

A vicious glint flashed in Malcolm’s eyes, and his chanting of the Spell grew more urgent.

The dark-red bloodlines suddenly flared, biting deep into Morne’s very bones like red-hot branding irons.

"Argh!"

Morne let out an even more pained grunt.

His once-straight posture began to stoop, as if he were bearing an immense weight.

His knotted muscles atrophied, his powerful chest grew gaunt, the wrinkles on his weathered face deepened, and his thick hair turned gray and withered in an instant.

In just a few breaths, the mighty King had taken on the decrepit appearance of a hundred-year-old man.

However, the astonishing transformation came to an abrupt halt as it reached a critical point.

"Damn it!"

Malcolm cursed under his breath.

He had reached the limit of his own Power and could not carry the bloodline Stripping to completion.

But it was enough.

Morne’s aura was now feeble, his once ocean-vast silver Fighting Spirit as thin as dying embers.

He panted heavily, barely managing to stay upright by leaning on his Longsword.

Malcolm and Balot exchanged a look. Despite their mutual loathing, they had reached a consensus: eliminate the greatest threat before them.

The next moment, the Thorn Chain burning with Hellfire and the Giant Axe infused with Abyssal Power launched a simultaneous, fatal attack from two cunning angles, targeting the stooped and weakened Morne.

Morne struggled to raise his sword to block, his movements several times slower than before.

Amidst the deafening crash of his blade against the Giant Axe, he staggered backward, nearly failing to avoid the Thorn Chain that struck at his back like a venomous snake.

His silver Fighting Spirit shuddered violently under the assault, flickering erratically. The King who had once dominated the battlefield was now in mortal danger.

"BANG!"

After another exchange, Morne fell to one knee, his Longsword plunged deep into the scorched earth to support his faltering body.

Every breath brought a tearing pain, as if countless fine needles were piercing his lungs.

He stared in disbelief at his wrinkled hands. The silver Fighting Spirit flickering upon them was now as faint as a firefly’s glow.

’What in the world is this Evil Art?’

He had fought for half his life and faced countless powerful enemies, yet he had never encountered such a bizarre attack.

The power corroding him wasn’t external; it felt as if it had erupted from the depths of his own bloodline, like his closest partner suddenly plunging a Dagger into his back.

Then, a cold realization struck him.

’In my current state, there’s no way I can defeat both Malcolm and Balot.’

This realization brought not fear, but a heavy exhaustion.

As the Monarch of the Golden Valley Kingdom, he shouldered the fate of the entire Kingdom.

’If I fall here today, what fate awaits the soldiers who trust and follow me?’

’What will become of the Kingdom?’

’The blood of my closest kin?’

’Lucius...’

The face of his eldest son, so similar to his own in his youth, surfaced in his mind.

’That heart still beating in Malcolm’s palm... whose could it be but Lucius’s?’

A mixture of heartache and fury rose in his throat, carrying the coppery taste of blood.

He remembered a young Lucius following at his heels, learning Swordsmanship. He remembered the proud look on his son’s face the first time he donned a suit of Armor...

’What could have possibly led that once-righteous and brave boy to this point?’

’Perhaps... I was truly wrong, Selena...’

Recalling his beloved’s gentle face, a bitter smile touched Morne’s lips.

’That bastard Rudolph was right. I’m not a good father, not a good husband, and I’m not a good King... Perhaps being a carefree Mercenary is what suits me best...’

As his thoughts wandered, Malcolm’s Thorn Chain and Balot’s Giant Axe tore through the air again, the chill of death pricking his skin.

There was no time to hesitate.

Morne took a deep breath, and a resolute light suddenly erupted in his eyes, now clouded with age.

On a normal day, he might be the kind of King who dozed off in his throne room, the kind his ministers would privately call "unreliable."

But when the very survival of the Kingdom was at stake, he never forgot the weight of his responsibility.

’Since victory is impossible, I’ll use what strength I have left to rid the Kingdom of these two greatest threats.’

A Forbidden Technique, long sealed within the royal secret archives, surfaced in his mind.

To detonate the Fighting Spirit core he had cultivated his entire life, at the cost of his life and soul.

It would shatter his soul, preventing any chance of reincarnation, but the resulting destructive Energy would be enough to drag these two visitors from the Otherworld down to Hell with him.

A bitter smile flickered across his aged lips.

’Looks like this time, I’m really retiring for good.’

He slowly straightened up. His remaining silver Fighting Spirit began to flow in reverse, forming a path of Destruction within his body.

The air trembled from the terrifying fluctuations of Energy, and the rubble at his feet silently disintegrated into dust.

Just at that critical moment...

A sword blade, wreathed in pale gold Holy Light and Blood-colored Fighting Spirit, tore through the air and plunged into the earth with the precision of a spear of judgment, landing directly between him and his two powerful foes.

"BOOM!"

With a deafening boom, the solid ground sank several feet as if crushed by an invisible weight, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

The violent shockwave sent Malcolm’s Thorn Chain flying, and even Balot was forced to take half a step back to steady himself.

As the dust slowly settled, a tall figure could be seen standing proudly in the center of a deep crater.

The newcomer’s body was covered in fine, silver Dragon Scales that shimmered with a metallic luster in the dim light.

Fervent battle lust burned in his slitted, draconic pupils. Pale gold Holy Light and blood-red Fighting Spirit intertwined, forming a brilliant halo around him.

His handsome face, now accentuated by the features of his Dragonification, took on a wild and fierce beauty. Every inch of his muscle pulsed with explosive power.

"Morne... Your Majesty?"

A slightly hoarse voice cut through the dust.

"I’m not too late, am I?"

Morne stared blankly at the figure, his clouded eyes widening slightly.

"Ru... Rudolph... Commander?"

The aged King muttered unconsciously, as if seeing an Illusion dredged up from the depths of his memory.