CHAPTER 348: NOT THE END

Valerian’s severed head landed heavily upon the scorched, ruined earth, rolling slightly before coming to a grim stop.

A dark pool of blood quickly formed beneath it, staining the ground an eerie crimson. Yet, in those final moments, the vampire lord’s gaze remained sharp, his lips curving into a cynical smile as all his previous panic vanished.

"Foolish brat," Valerian’s voice emerged faintly yet mockingly, eyes glowing softly despite his gruesome state, "you truly decided to kill yourself along with me?"

Above, Orion staggered, gripping tightly onto the Realm Guardian Sword, feeling the burning agony spread mercilessly from his pierced heart.

The world seemed to fade at the edges of his vision, threatening to plunge him into darkness. Yet, amidst the pain and blurring senses, Orion maintained clarity, his mind racing rapidly. He refused to let Valerian’s mocking words be the last thing he heard.

Without hesitation or a single wasted breath, Orion swiftly reached into his inventory, retrieving the tiny but extraordinary relic, the Time-Lost Hourglass.

His trembling fingers curled around the delicate, intricately designed object. Even as blood poured from his chest, Orion smiled coldly, locking eyes with the still-aware head of Valerian.

"Don’t overestimate yourself," Orion retorted calmly, his voice slightly mocking, "you aren’t worthy enough for me to trade my life for yours."

He used the artifact quickly, and instantly, reality seemed to ripple around him. A mystical power surged forth, engulfing Orion completely.

For precisely one and a half seconds, the fabric of time reversed itself, threads of reality knitting rapidly to undo the mortal damage inflicted upon Orion’s heart.

Valerian’s dagger, having plunged deeply into Orion’s heart just moments before, abruptly vanished from the wound, clattering harmlessly onto the charred, devastated earth before Orion’s feet.

The fatal injury healed instantly, leaving Orion gasping softly, feeling life surge back into him, his heart beating powerfully once more, his breathing steadying rapidly.

Valerian’s severed head stared upward silently, the mocking grin fading, replaced by an expression of unexpected calmness. He seemed neither enraged nor disappointed—instead, a strange silence had settled upon him.

"Well played," Valerian finally conceded quietly, his voice strangely calm yet distant. "I must commend you. You are the first mortal to have bested me in countless millennia."

He paused, his crimson eyes still burning faintly with interest. "You truly managed to defeat one of my lesser clones."

Orion’s hand twitched sharply, his eyes narrowing dangerously upon hearing this revelation.

Deep within, he’d harbored suspicion about Valerian’s seemingly absurd strength, the arrogance with which he had carried himself throughout the encounter.

And now, Valerian himself had confirmed it, yet Orion felt no sense of victory, only deeper apprehension at what this implied.

"You talk far too much," Orion muttered icily, cutting short Valerian’s explanations. Leaning forward, he grabbed the severed head by its blood-matted hair, his expression unchanging, cold as steel.

He hurled it decisively upward, directly toward a vicious spatial turbulence crackling violently within the shattered sky. The severed head soared through the air, Valerian’s voice echoing one last time across the devastated landscape:

"I’ll remember you, mortal!"

With a faint crackle, the head vanished into the roiling spatial fissure, obliterated completely by the chaotic storm.

Silence returned slowly to the shattered world, a deep stillness replacing the violence and chaos that had raged mere moments ago.

Orion stood there quietly amidst the devastation, gripping the Realm Guardian Sword tightly, feeling the weight of his countless wounds and struggles. His gaze swept slowly across the ravaged landscape around him.

The once tall mountains had collapsed into rubble, fractured earth sprawled endlessly, gaping spatial fissures pulsated menacingly, threatening to devour what remained.

Cities lay in absolute ruin, mere echoes of their former grandeur. The collateral damage from their battle had been catastrophic, immeasurable loss etched visibly into the land itself.

Orion closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply to steady his heart and mind, allowing himself a momentary pause.

Regret surged within him, mixed with guilt at the millions of innocent lives lost to the collateral violence. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon his shoulders, forcing him into quiet contemplation.

Yet, amidst that silence, gentle footsteps echoed softly, approaching Orion hesitatingly. Sensing their presence, Orion slowly opened his weary eyes, turning calmly toward the newcomers.

Walking through the swirling dust and lingering smoke were Duke Varian and the Lionkin King, both bearing expressions of deep awe mixed with unspoken sorrow.

Their gazes met Orion’s respectfully, cautiously approaching as if unsure how to address the powerful being who had wrought such unimaginable destruction, yet had also vanquished their greatest enemy.

Duke Varian, normally proud and dignified, bore clear marks of recent battle himself, armor dented, clothing torn, yet his expression now humbled before Orion’s overwhelming might. He took a step forward first, bowing slightly.

Orion met Duke Varian’s gaze and offered a subtle, weary nod, his voice heavy with sincerity as he began softly, "I’m sorry for the destruction caused by—"

Yet Varian swiftly raised a hand, interrupting him firmly yet respectfully, shaking his head solemnly. "You don’t have to feel guilty, Lord Orion. If not for you, our entire world would have become nothing but a feeding ground for those damned bloodsuckers."

Orion paused, eyes flickering with slight surprise, clearly unsettled by Varian’s words. "Explain," he requested, his tone sharply curious.

It was the Lionkin King who stepped forward now, his towering form battered yet dignified. He inclined his head deeply, his voice a low, rumbling growl filled with barely contained fury and grief.

"I overheard one of the Vampire Generals speaking with another. Once they conquer a world, it becomes nothing more than livestock for their clans. They feast mercilessly on the inhabitants’ blood until there’s nothing left but a hollow, dead husk."

Hearing this revelation, Orion took a slow, deep breath, a dark shadow crossing his face as he muttered darkly, "I truly underestimated the cruelty of those damned bloodsuckers."

His eyes then drifted across the devastated landscape once more, the shattered earth and ruined cities testaments to his own destructive battle. A wry, bitter smile formed on his lips as he shook his head. "But I... I’m not much better than them, am I? The entire spatial grid of your world is destabilized. It isn’t far from total collapse."

The Lionkin King, however, offered a calm, faintly resolute smile, devoid of blame or bitterness. "This end is far better than becoming mere livestock. At least we will meet our fate with dignity."

Orion’s expression softened at the king’s brave words, yet just then, his senses flared sharply. He swiftly spun around, eyes narrowing and mana instinctively surging through his battered body.

Atop the towering celestial staff, now dramatically shrunken yet still looming imposingly like a massive golden pillar, sat a familiar, casually posed figure: the Monkey King himself, Sun Wukong.

His fiery golden eyes twinkled playfully, radiating a divine aura that rendered the Lionkin King and Duke Varian unconscious in an instant, their bodies gently collapsing to the ground.

Orion stood alone now, his gaze steady as he looked at the mischievous deity perched above. "What was this test truly about?" he asked, his voice calm yet filled with unspoken questions. "Why the climb to the top? What will I receive, and are there any more trials?"

Wukong’s lips curled into an amused, teasing smile as he raised an eyebrow, swinging his legs nonchalantly. "Slow down there, young one. Why the sudden barrage of questions?"

Orion inhaled deeply, forcing himself to suppress his impatience. Once composed, he remained quiet, respectfully awaiting the Monkey King’s explanation.

Satisfied, Wukong chuckled lightly, hopping down from the staff effortlessly. As his feet touched the ground, the immense pillar shrank instantly, returning to the size of a regular staff. He twirled it lightly, the intricate golden runes shimmering with power.

"The test was meant to find a worthy successor," Wukong revealed plainly, eyes glinting seriously despite his casual tone. "The climb was merely to measure the resilience, courage, and spirit of the contenders. Your vampiric opponent hesitated at the crucial moment and thus failed. As for what you will gain..."