Chapter 322: The Devourer’s Heritage

Five hundred years ago, long before the Vorn family consolidated their grip on the Thirteen Worlds, before the Dravens established their martial dynasty, before any of the current great families held power, there existed a clan that struck terror into the heart of every living civilization.

The Devouring Spirit Clan.

Their bloodline was designated as a curse—a genetic anomaly that allowed them to devour people’s abilities and special traits of beasts and demons alike to make themselves stronger. They didn’t simply learn techniques or mimic powers. They consumed them, integrated them and made them permanently their own. A Devouring Spirit Clan member who killed a fire cultivator would gain their fire affinity. One who slaughtered a dragon could manifest dragon scales. Their potential was limitless, and their hunger was insatiable.

Because of a unique cultivation technique passed down through their bloodline, members of this race increased their power at an amazing speed. What took normal cultivators decades to achieve, the Devouring Spirit Clan accomplished in months. By absorbing the vibrant bloodlines of rival factions, they could perpetually replenish their own power, extend their clan’s peak lifespan, and breed insanely powerful experts. Other families, races, and clans became food for them—livestock cultivated for harvest.

But they had very few members. Seventeen in total at their peak. And their bloodline was declining with each generation, the devouring ability weakening, the offspring fewer and weaker. Driven by the need to sustain themselves, the Devouring Spirit Clan unleashed an all out wide campaign of genocide across different galaxies. They systematically hunted down, slaughtered, and entirely wiped out multiple smaller clans, completely consuming their lineages. Entire bloodlines erased from existence, their unique abilities absorbed into the Devouring Spirit Clan’s growing arsenal.

Their rapidly growing power eventually reached a point where no single faction could hope to stand against them. The seventeen members of the Devouring Spirit Clan were the apex. Seventeen individuals who collectively wielded hundreds of devoured bloodlines, techniques, and abilities. Seventeen monsters who could wipe out civilizations.

Realizing they were all on the chopping block, the remaining apex clans alongside the IGF and even the three great empires were forced to cast aside their bitter rivalries and form a historic military alliance. Ancient enemies stood shoulder to shoulder. Beast clans fought beside human families. The three great empires contributed their strongest armies. It was one of the largest military coalition in recorded history, assembled for one purpose.

A brutal, apocalyptic war followed. Entire planets were devastated. Galaxies scarred. The conflict raged for years, the allied forces suffering catastrophic casualties against each of the seventeen Devouring Spirit Clan members. Each one was a walking army, their devoured abilities creating combinations that defied logic.

But numbers prevailed. Through sheer numbers and combined strength, the allied ancient families, clans, beasts, and IGF managed to defeat the Devouring Spirit Clan, shattering their forces and hunting the survivors to absolute extinction. Every member was tracked down, cornered, and killed. The Devouring Spirit Clan was erased from history, their name becoming a cautionary tale told to children.

Or so the world believed.

Forty years ago, the House of Crimson explored the dangerous ruins of the Devouring Spirit Clan’s ancestral home. Deep beneath layers of collapsed earth and forbidden formations, after searching for treasures of the Devouring Spirit Clan, they came across a frozen boy. Preserved in a block of ancient ice, his body intact, his bloodline dormant. A survivor of the massacre, hidden by his clan in a last desperate act of preservation.

That boy was Claude.

The last surviving member of the Devouring Spirit Clan. Raised by the Shadow Vatican, trained as one of their ultimate weapon. His devoured abilities had grown over forty years of careful cultivation. Each ability taken from a killed cultivator, each power a stolen legacy.

Claude floated in the air—HUMMM—a wind ability he had devoured from an IGF officer decades ago holding him aloft. His black mask obscured his face, but his posture radiated calm confidence.

Kael rushed forward—WHOOSH—gravity bending beneath his feet, propelling him skyward with explosive force. Lightning Body activated—CRACKLE—blue-white electricity wreathing his form, his speed doubling. His fist, coated in darkness and purple-black fire, rocketed toward Claude’s face.

Claude slapped his hand away—CLAP—casually. His palm met Kael’s fist and deflected it sideways, the combined energy scattering harmlessly. Wind gathered in Claude’s other hand—FWOOSH—a concentrated vortex compressing against his palm. He thrust forward—BOOM—a devastating gust of wind slamming into Kael’s chest.

Kael went crashing—WHOOSH, CRASH—his body hurtling through the air, slamming into the ground carving a trench through the fractured earth before coming to a stop.

Claude floated above, looking down at the crater. "No matter the boost you get," he said, his voice calm, analytical, "that power is still a fake power compared to real Peak Spirit Soul realm power. You’re borrowing strength your body wasn’t built to sustain. It’s impressive, I’ll admit. But borrowed power has a ceiling. Mine doesn’t."

Kael stood up from the ground—STAND—his body trembling, blood dripping from his nose and the corners of his mouth. He didn’t seem to care about the pain. The rage consumed everything—rationality, strategy, self-preservation. His black eyes were fixed on Claude with the empty, hollow focus of a predator.

He launched forward again.

Meanwhile, Sage scrambled to her sister’s side. The dark spear still protruded from Rue’s back, its malevolent energy pulsing—PULSE—devouring the surrounding tissue.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Sage whispered, her hands hovering over the wound. Fox fire gathered in her palms—HUMMM—golden-white flames pressing against the spear’s shaft. The fire made contact—HISS—and the spear reacted.

It devoured her fire.

Sage’s eyes widened. The golden-white flames she’d channeled into the spear were being absorbed. The spear pulsed brighter—PULSE—growing stronger from her attempt to destroy it.

"No. No no no." Sage’s voice cracked. She intensified the fire—FWOOM—pouring more mana into the assault, her Royal Fox Bloodline flaring. The fox fire turned from golden-white to deep violet, the color of her most concentrated flames. The spear resisted—HSSS—devouring the first wave, then the second, then the third—

CRACK.

The spear’s surface fractured. Sage screamed—AHHH—pouring everything she had into one final burst. Violet fox fire exploded—FWOOM—engulfing the spear completely. The dark energy fought back—HSSS, CRACKLE—but the intensity was too much. The spear dissolved—MELT—breaking apart into dark vapor that dissipated into the air.

Rue lay unconscious. Her breathing was shallow—WHEEZE, her face pale as snow. The wound in her abdomen was ragged, the flesh around it blackened from the spear’s devouring energy. Blood continued to seep.

Sage pressed her hands against the wound, channeling mana into Rue’s body—HUMMM—trying to stabilize her. Fox fire wrapped around Rue’s form, the regenerative properties of the Royal Fox Bloodline working to repair the internal damage. But it wasn’t enough. The wound was too deep. The spear had devoured portions of Rue’s spiritual foundation, leaving gaps that natural healing couldn’t fill.

Tears streamed down Sage’s face—DRIP, DRIP—falling onto Rue’s pale skin. Her hands trembled as she poured more mana into her sister—HUMMM, HUMMM—watching Rue’s condition remain unchanged.

"Come on, Rue. Don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare leave me."

Rue didn’t respond. Her breathing grew shallower—WHEEZE—her pulse weakening.

Kael clashed with Claude again—BOOM—their energies colliding in mid-air. Claude had devoured dozens of abilities over forty years, and he used them with practiced efficiency. A teleportation ability from a killed spatial cultivator—FLASH—he vanished, appearing above Kael, striking down with a density-manipulated fist. Kael dodged—WHOOSH—but barely, the shockwave catching his shoulder.

Claude followed with a darkness ability he’d devoured from a Guild member—FWOOM—a wave of condensed dark energy that rivaled Kael’s own Devouring Darkness. Kael met it with his own darkness—CLASH—the two forces grinding against each other before exploding—BOOM—sending both combatants reeling.

Another ability—a density manipulation from a crushed Core Formation cultivator. Claude’s fist became lead-heavy—HUMMM—the air around his knuckles compressing to diamond hardness. He struck—BOOM—Kael blocked with his gauntlet—CLANG—but the force launched him backward—WHOOSH.

The raging Kael who seemed to have lost his rationality, combined with the Slaughter Intent which was further eroding his sanity, pushed forward without strategy. He charged blindly—RUSH—swinging with raw power. Each attack was devastating but predictable. Claude dodged, countered, and punished with the precision of a surgeon.

Claude appeared behind Kael—FLASH—his teleportation ability activating instantaneously. His fist, dense with density manipulation—HUMMM—connected with the back of Kael’s head—BOOM. The impact was catastrophic. The ground beneath Kael’s feet shattered—CRACK—and he was driven downward—CRASH—his body cratering the earth, dust and debris erupting skyward—RUMBLE.

The dust hung thick—SWIRL—obscuring the crater. Claude floated above, his dark energy pulsing as he scanned the impact zone.

"Pathetic," Claude said. "All that power, and you don’t even know how to—"

FWOOM.

An intense dark aura erupted from the crater—SURGE—clearing the dust in an instant. The air itself seemed to darken, light bending toward the crater as if gravity had intensified on a conceptual level. Kael stood at the bottom of the crater, his body wreathed in darkness so dense.

His Astraeon bloodline pulsed—PULSE—the ancient, primordial darkness responding to his rage. The dark ring behind him expanded—GROW—from three meters to five, its edges flickering with purple-black fire and crimson Slaughter Intent.

His black eyes stared upward at Claude.

His aura intensified—SURGE, SURGE—the pressure mounting with each pulse.

Claude’s eyes widened behind his mask.

The power radiating from Kael was growing even further pushing to the absolute peak of the Spirit Soul realm.