CHAPTER 444: ANCESTORS. BLOOD AND DEATH

The air around Lamair didn’t just shift, it folded inward, as if reality itself grew wary of what it was about to witness. A low, bone-deep hum rolled out from his chest, and the ground beneath him withered into ash the moment his power began to climb.

His aura burst outward in a deafening pulse. It wasn’t loud in the traditional sense; it was the kind of sound that felt like a whisper pressed directly into the skull, a reminder of mortality delivered by something far too ancient to care.

His purple eyes bled into a deathly green, the glow so sharp it cast eerie streaks across the battlefield. His long purple hair darkened into a sheet of midnight black, flowing like ink in water. The black skin he wore as a Ghoul King cracked apart in places, revealing a new, ashen-grey body sculpted as if from the bones of titans. The faint grey veins he once had now flared into jagged, glowing black tribal markings, each one pulsing with necrotic power strong enough to make the air taste like dust and endings.

His armor strained, groaned, then split open with a violent tear as two new arms erupted beneath his original pair. All four arms elongated, fingers sharpening into grotesque dark claws wreathed in the same green death-light now pouring from his eyes. Every twitch sent distortions across the ground, as though the world wanted to recoil from being touched.

A deep, symmetrical sigil burned open on his forehead, an angular, ancient crest shaped like a downward-pointing crown made of bone and shadow. The moment it appeared, Lamair’s aura didn’t just grow; it multiplied. Waves of necromantic force rippled outward in circular shockwaves, each one hollowing the earth and dimming the light around him.

Behind him, darkness thickened into shape.

Lamair’s avatar rose like a nightmare given structure. A colossal four-armed wraith towered over him, its surface a mix of ghostly fog and skeletal armor, rib-like ridges visible through shifting shadow. Each of its arms ended in claws that were too long, too sharp, and too hungry-looking to be natural. Four eyes glowed green on its face, positioned like a predator that evolved specifically to hunt souls. A mane of drifting spectral smoke slowly spiraled down its spine, floating upward like reversed ashfall.

Where Trevor’s avatar radiated feral majesty, Lamair’s radiated doom. The avatar’s presence alone caused Tyrant’s half-evolving body to convulse, as if something instinctual deep inside it understood:

This was death not as a force, but as a being.

Lamair’s voice came out layered, his own overlapping with the guttural timbre of the avatar behind him.

"Ghoul Sovereignty... Ancestral Form."

The battlefield dimmed, the temperature plunged, and the cracks in reality began to spread, straight lines etched by a power that had no business existing anywhere alive.

Their combined ascensions were enough to shake Tyrant’s evolution... and rattle the world that surrounded it.

The next moments would decide whether the corrupted wolf would survive its evolution or be annihilated by two Primogenitors unveiling the truth of their lineage.

...

The pressure rolling off the two Primogenitors had shifted into something unmistakable, something only Saints should possess. It warped the air, bent the shadows, and sent cracks trembling through the frozen earth.

Tyrant felt it. His corrupted heart hammered once, twice, then detonated in a roar that split the air. The sound wasn’t just loud; it vibrated the marrow in their bones, a primal defiance from a beast that refused to be overshadowed.

His aura surged, rupturing outward in a violent shockwave of freezing force. A pillar of dark blue light swallowed his body, bright enough to wash the battlefield in ghostly luminance. The temperature plunged so suddenly that frost crept up the ankles of both Primogenitors despite their overwhelming power.

The light twisted, churned, then shattered.

Where the colossal wolf had once stood, ice cracked outward in a ring, and Tyrant emerged in an entirely different shape.

He was tall, towering even over Trevor and nearly brushing shoulders with Lamair’s monstrous height. His body was sculpted like a warrior born for siege and slaughter, muscles thick and corded beneath skin the color of deep midnight. His skin wasn’t smooth; it was etched with intricate snowflake symbols that glowed faintly, each one pulsing like a heartbeat of frost.

Long, spiked hair fell wildly down his back, most of it a stark white but with dark blue tips that looked as if they had been dipped in frozen flame. A few strands draped across his face, covering one eye, an eye that pulsed faintly beneath the veil, as if the chill inside him was too potent to be fully contained.

Both his hands boasted claws that were impossibly long, curving like ice-forged talons. They dripped a dark, viscous venom that steamed on contact with the cold air. The droplets that hit the ground froze instantly, forming black ice that ate through the earth like acid.

Tyrant exhaled once, a plume of mist swirling from his mouth, sharp enough that the air crystalized in its wake. The beast had no avatar; his evolution had been poured wholly into his own body, a concentrated monster designed for devastation.

The shift wasn’t majestic. It wasn’t divine. It was eerie, imposing, and wrong in a way that made even two Primogenitors feel a ripple of instinctive caution.

This was no ordinary humanoid evolution. This was a corrupted rebirth, something made to kill.

"Now that is some peak level shit!" Trevor exclaimed as he flexed his claws and got into a fighting stance. "It’s been so long since I used the Smith clan techniques..."

"He’s become more dangerous... I don’t think we can win even if we go all out," Lamair commented as he flexed his muscles. "But, we have no choice but to fight!"

"Even if we can’t win, let’s beat up the mutt badly, that it would cry for its master!" Trevor stated as his stance solidified. The ground cracked and caved in around.

"I thought the same thing!" Lamair exclaimed as he vanished from his position along with his avatar.

BOOM!

...

It was like the umpteenth time that the world experienced another earthquake. And it wasn’t from the two gods who were fighting high up in the sky. Besides, the two gods had disappeared. That was how it looked to normal people, but those at the Emperor Realm and beyond knew that someone had intervened and sent them to a different dimension. They were causing damage to the world.

Just this action had caused many to be cautious, because they never saw the person or even felt his power. It just happened. Some who could create a dimension and throw two Saints in there was definitely a demigod or beyond.

Anyway, the earthquake was a cause of Lamair clashing with Tyrant, and the result...

Total annihilation of the environment. Everything within a 60-kilometer radius was reduced to rubble and dust. Nothing was spared. Thankfully, the barrier surrounding Anbord was strong; otherwise, Anbord would have been caught up in it.

"I fear for the future enemies of these brats..." A soft, gentlemanly voice said in a tired sigh. The only thing that could be seen was his white hair and golden eyes.

"I hope I don’t break the balance by doing this..." He said as an unknown power covered Anbord. In the blink of an eye, Anbord, the empire, disappeared from the world.

"It worked, huh... no backlash... It seems Fate has started moving once again. I leave everything to you, my children..."