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Chapter 320

The first sign was silence.

In the northern region, deep within his residence, the household head paused mid-step. The air suddenly felt a bit different. Not thin. Not heavy.

It was an extremely faint sensation. He’d have missed it if his senses were not sharp.

Dark espera rippled subtly, like water disturbed far away, yet the disturbance carried weight.

He closed his eyes and suddenly looked towards the west.

There it was.

A familiar signature. Violent. Unstable. Overflowing in a way that should not exist.

His fingers tightened slightly.

’That idiot...’

The flow of dark espera was not controlled. It was tearing outward, flooding the land without restraint. Worse, it carried the unmistakable imprint of the western household head. A presence that had been steady for centuries was now flaring like a dying star.

He did not waste time calling for confirmation.

"Prepare the guards," he said calmly. "Full mobilization."

A moment later, his figure vanished.

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The western region did not fall all at once. It was torn apart piece by piece.

Streets that once echoed with bargaining voices were now choked with dust and blood. Shops burned without anyone trying to save them. Cracked stone was smeared red, and bodies lay where they had fallen, some crushed so badly they no longer looked like demons at all.

Above it all moved a single figure, huge and warped, stepping through the district as if it were nothing more than loose gravel beneath his feet.

The western household head no longer had a name.

His body had grown far beyond its former shape, muscles swollen and twisted, horns jagged and uneven. Dark espera poured from his skin like smoke from a furnace. He did not look around. He did not react to cries or pleas.

When something moved, his arm came down. When something stood in his way, it ceased to exist.

A fleeing merchant demon slipped on blood and fell. The giant’s foot came down a heartbeat later. The sound was dull and heavy. What remained was pressed into the stone.

Those still alive ran without direction. Some hid. Some froze. None of it mattered.

By the time the northern household head arrived, the west was already broken.

He appeared at the edge of the district with his guards, stepping onto streets that were no longer streets at all. His gaze swept over the destruction once, then settled on the towering figure in the distance. His face did not change.

Guards moved past him immediately.

"Evacuation first," one of them said.

They did not rush. They did not shout in fear. They moved with practiced efficiency, forming lines, pulling survivors out of collapsed buildings, lifting the injured, placing themselves between civilians and the giant whenever needed. Shields flared—not to fight, but to block debris and shockwaves.

Some guards were struck aside, bones broken, armor crushed, but others took their place without hesitation.

The northern head watched none of that.

’What a waste,’ he thought.

Not of lives. Of power. Of a pillar that had taken centuries to stand.

The giant noticed him at last and charged.

The ground split under each step. The northern head moved forward instead of back. His blade rose and fell in short, clean motions. He cut tendons. He severed joints. He carved through thick flesh without hesitation.

Each strike was aimed, measured, stripped of emotion.

The giant answered with raw strength. A fist slammed into the ground where the northern head had stood a moment earlier, erasing an entire block. Stone and fire swallowed the area.

When the northern head emerged from the smoke, blood ran down his arm, but his grip on the blade never loosened.

The fight dragged on. Buildings collapsed. Streets vanished. The western region was reduced to rubble under their feet.

The northern head took wounds that would have easily killed hundreds of lesser demons. He adjusted his stance. Changed angles. Waited.

When the opening came, he stepped into the giant’s reach and let himself be caught.

Bones cracked. Pain flared.

He drove his blade forward without hesitation, straight into the heart of dark espera.

The giant shuddered. The rage drained from his body as quickly as it had come. His massive form collapsed, shaking the ruins one last time.

Silence followed.

The northern household head stood over the corpse, blood dripping onto broken stone. He did not look relieved.

Calmly, he wiped the blood off his face. Despite bleeding from different wounds, he showed no signs of pain.

He looked at the giant’s corpse with no particular emotion. They were never on good terms, yet he could not discard his value.

’You were expensive to lose,’ he thought, filled with disappointment. This was a household head, one of the 4 pillars of the city he killed.

Not only had he sustained wounds fighting, but also too many demon lives were lost, and too many resources were destroyed. The western region of the city was practically in ruins at this point.

He was not exactly worried about this, but rather the lord’s reaction upon hearing this news. He knew that the lord was already in a terrible mood, and this would fuel the flames to an unimaginable degree.

Something was wrong with the city for sure.

He sighed and walked a bit forward, towards the belly of the demonic giant. He moved his sword and stabbed harshly into the thick skin. After making a deep gash, he put his hand inside and retrieved a glowing orb.

This orb was the main reason he rushed alone to fight and even endure the wounds. It was the demonic essence of the western household head, being cultivated for centuries—extremely potent and rich in elements and energy.

If he consumed this, his strength would progress a lot.

Out of all the bad news, this was the only single piece of good news.

’Maybe the lord will be a bit more appeased upon seeing me progress to the next level?’ He wondered as he cleaned the orb of any bloodstains.

’Also, I remember him having a son...’

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