Chapter 979. Tell Them... I’ll See You All In Hell... Not Today... Nor Tomorrow!

Chapter 979: 979. Tell Them... I’ll See You All In Hell... Not Today... Nor Tomorrow!

The telekinetic grip abruptly snapped. With a sound like shattering glass, the invisible pressure holding Veylor aloft vanished.

The spectral hero collapsed, falling limply toward the floor, landing on his knees with a wet, hollow thud. His knees hit the blood- and cum-soaked sheets beside Iris’s unconscious, leaking body, but he didn’t even flinch at the filth coating his skin. He simply slumped forward, his forehead nearly touching the mattress, his entire being drained of purpose.

Rex stood over him like a colossus, the Tremor mask now fully integrated into his face, casting jagged shadows across the room. The mask pulsed with a low, menacing hum, and his eyes glowed with a malevolent crimson light.

He looked down at Veylor with the casual satisfaction of a predator who had not just killed his prey but had thoroughly dismantled its soul.

"Look at you," Rex said, his voice distorted by the stone mask into something ancient and terrifying. "A broken shell..."

"A ghost of a man who never deserved the title."

Veylor didn’t raise his head. His voice came out as a broken whisper, hoarse from screaming and weeping, barely audible over the wet drip, drip, drip of Iris’s semen falling from the bed onto the floor.

"You... you haven’t won yet, Rex."

Rex let out a derisive snort, the sound echoing unnaturally through the mask. "Oh? And what do you have left?"

"Your pride? Your honor? Those died when Iris begged me to fuck her into submission."

Veylor finally lifted his gaze, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. "When I pass beyond this realm... when I finally return to the afterlife... I will curse you, Rex."

"Every fiber of my being will scream for justice..."

"I will beg every god, every deity, every ancient spirit of balance to turn their eyes toward what you have done here..."

"I will plead for them to send a punishment so absolute that even your strength won’t save you."

Rex froze for a moment, then a slow, terrifying grin spread beneath the stone lips of the mask. His laughter started as a low rumble in his chest before exploding into a thunderous, mocking roar that seemed to shake the very air molecules in the room.

"Justice? Gods?" Rex stepped closer, his massive shadow engulfing Veylor’s pathetic form. "You think those cowards care about this?"

"You think they sit on their golden thrones watching mortals suffer?" He leaned down until his masked face was inches from Veylor’s. "Tell them this, Veylor."

"When you get there, when you’re begging at their feet, tell them to come down here."

"Tell them to send their armies, their lightning, their divine wrath. Tell them to come at me right now."

Rex straightened up, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of obscene challenge. "Because I am ready."

"I am more than ready... I’ll tear the wings off their angels and crush their divine crowns beneath my boots."

"And if they’re too scared to face me here..." His grin turned razor sharp, dripping with smug arrogance. "...then tell them to prepare themselves."

"Because when I inevitably follow you into that afterlife, I won’t be coming to worship."

"I’ll be coming to greet them as their new master."

He turned his back on Veylor with utter contempt, glancing one last time at Iris’s limp, satisfied body. The room remained silent except for the obscene sounds of her body continuing to expel the evidence of Rex’s dominance, a slow, wet splat each time a droplet hit the floor.

"Now get out of my sight, ghost," Rex commanded, his voice cold as death itself. "Your suffering is complete."

"My work here is done."

Rex stood over the broken specter, the crimson glow of the Tremor mask casting hellish highlights across Iris’s pale, unconscious form. The room was still thick with the cloying, musky atmosphere of their coupling, the metallic tang of blood mixed with the overwhelming, sweet stench of spent semen that continued to drip from Iris’s thighs in slow, obscene patterns.

Drip... splat... drip.

Veylor raised his head one last time, his spectral form flickering like a dying candle.

"I will wait for you, Rex," he rasped, his voice cracking with a final, desperate spark of defiance. "In the afterlife, beyond the reach of your flesh and bone, I will find you..."

"I will take my revenge in the realm where you cannot hide behind your brutality."

Rex’s laughter cut through Veylor’s vow like a serrated blade.

"Revenge?" Rex mocked, the stone mask grinding as he spoke. "You think you’ll ever get the chance?"

"You think you’re special enough to warrant a confrontation?" He began to channel his power, reversing the soul manipulation.

The dark energy that had been binding Veylor’s essence began to unravel, creating a sound like tearing silk. "That’ll never happen, little hero..."

"You’ll fade into nothingness before you ever see my face again."

Rex leaned down one last time, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "But do me a favor."

"When you arrive in that great beyond, say hi to all the gods for me..."

"Tell them Rex Rexilion is coming for them... And tell all the victims... all the souls... you failed to protect..."

"Tell them that I’ll see them all in hell... Not today, not tomorrow... but soon enough."

With a final, violent surge of telekinetic force, Rex tore the last connection between Veylor’s consciousness and the mortal plane. Veylor’s soul let out one final, silent scream before shattering into fragments of light that dissolved into the stale air.

The room suddenly felt colder, emptier, leaving only the wet sounds of Iris’s body settling into its post-orgasmic stillness.

Outside the heavy oak doors, Theo stood frozen, his back pressed against the stone wall of the corridor. He had heard everything. Every guttural thrust, every obscene moan from Iris, every shattering scream of her degradation, and every word of Rex’s blasphemous promises.

The sounds had been visceral: the wet slap of flesh, the rhythmic creak of the bed, and the terrifying, inhuman timbre of Rex’s laughter.

Theo’s hands were shaking so violently he had to clench them into fists. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He hadn’t just heard a battle; he had heard the systematic destruction of a human soul and the complete corruption of a warrior.

He knew what he had witnessed. Rex wasn’t just a threat; he was a walking apocalypse, a man who had abandoned every shred of humanity to embrace something monstrous.

The horror of it settled deep in his gut, cold and nauseating. He couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t breathe this air. His mind raced with images of Iris, the legendary assassin, reduced to a whimpering, leaking husk, and Rex’s terrifying, masked face.

"He’s insane," Theo whispered to the empty hallway, his voice barely audible. "He’s completely lost it."

Without looking back at the door, Theo turned and sprinted down the corridor. His boots made frantic, echoing sounds against the marble floor as he fled toward the living quarters.

He needed to find his mother. He needed to warn her that the monster wasn’t coming; the monster was already here, and he had already won.