CHAPTER 29: "VIOLENCE AFTER VIOLENCE"

Elsewhere—thousands of kilometers south of the high walls—stood a mountain where the moon never failed to reach. A mountain called Fangclaw. Vast in both size and height.

Its base stretched as wide as a small country, formed from molten rock, piles of sand, and stone. The entire formation took the shape of a perfect cone—though its surface was jagged, harsh, and utterly lifeless.

At the highest peak of Mount Fangclaw, a city-sized plateau rose into the sky. It sloped downward like the curve of an ocean basin, its circular sides layered with tiered buildings made of wood and stone, stacked one above the other like ancient columns.

There were traces of vegetation—but not from planting. No gardens, no cultivation. Only the growth born from the rotting remnants of raw flesh. A natural consequence of the carnivorous beings who called this brutal terrain home.

Werewolves.

Hunters of all other creatures—and even predators of their own kind, draped in sheep’s clothing for the sake of survival. Beings of speed and pride, unrivaled in ferocity.

But now... fear clung to their hearts like never before.

The land lay desolate, devoid of movement. Families locked themselves inside their huts, waiting for hunger to guide them toward the afterlife. Even the brave only dared to peek through half-opened windows.

And all this terror... was born of one man.

Lykos.

Once the werewolf personality of Zarynth. Now, Hadas’s loyal son.

Two days ago, Lykos had slain the most feared king of their kind—wearing his severed head like a crown of conquest. He now patrolled the land like a butchered god, tearing his victims apart piece by piece. Not quickly—slowly—so their screams would echo into the abyss, boring fear the fead his father’s dark hunger.

Each scream, each cry of agony, transformed Lykos into something even more monstrous.

Thanks to the Fear Absorber, the cursed ability gifted to him by Hadas, every ounce of fear he invoked became his strength. And fear was everywhere.

His savage howls thundered across the werewolf territory. His words—"I kill slowly, but my father only kills with a breath"—sent shivers down the spines of all who heard.

Whole families huddled together in silence, clinging to one another not from cold, but from sheer, soul-tearing terror... even when his voice was heard from miles away.

Lykos was the initiate of chaos.

He was their trope of doom, their rapture given form—the only thing that beat louder than the blood in their veins... was the fear in their hearts.

---

Elsewhere, back at the Demon Clan where chaos took the stage...

"Pay attention to the battlefield!" Shouted Pyraegon.

Allen snapped back to reality, his eyes widening just as he noticed the steady punch racing toward his head. Frozen by the unexpected roar, he stood still.

A smirk curled his lips as a single thought solidified his stance. Maybe I should test out the new ability, he mused, his body waiting for the devastating punch to satisfy his curiosity.

BOOM.

The impact landed—but not on Allen.

"Lord Allen!" Natasha cried out.

She had intercepted the strike, her eyes burning with determination, defending him like a lioness shielding her only cub. She blocked with both hands, but the force shattered them completely, launching her backward. Her ass slammed right onto Allen’s face, sending them tumbling across the dusty ground until their backs hit a distant wall, dragging a trail behind them.

"Damn it," Allen groaned, his voice muffled—buried squarely in the center of Natasha’s ass.

"Oops," Natasha hummed innocently as she stood up. Her expression held no pain, even though both hands hung mangled and broken. "Are you alright, my lord?... You hesitated."

’How did I even think Natasha would stand by and let me get hit?’ Allen thought with a wry smile. He rose to his feet, the burns and wounds from the friction instantly regenerating. "Sorry to make you worry. You’ve earned yourself a reward."

"Seriously?" Natasha whispered as shards of bone and skin began to float back to her wrists, reattaching themselves like self-aware cells. "Thank you, my lord. I’ll be looking forward to it."

Allen chuckled, then turned his focus forward where the tension thickened.

"For now, let’s deal with him."

"Yes, my lord," Natasha smirked, eyes hardening as she faced Pyraegon, who slowly approached.

’Engaging in close combat is risky for me—but not for Natasha. Her ability is practically a cheat, Allen thought as unease settled in his chest. What should I— Then it hit him. A memory from Earth—a solution born from his past life.

’That should work.’ His grin returned. ’I just need to give Natasha a little motivation...’

"Hey, Natasha," Allen called, his tone suddenly serious.

"My lord?" she responded instantly.

"I need your help."

"My lord, you don’t have to ask. I’m yours to command."

’That was easier than expected,’ Allen thought. "Thank you, gorgeous. What I want... is to fuse."

"Fuse?" Natasha echoed, tilting her head, though excitement visibly danced in her eyes. "How do you mean? We cant fuck here"

"No..no...not that..." allen smarked waying his hand nervously, "Since you don’t feel pain and you’re capable of disjoining and reforming... I want you to shield me. Like living armor."

"What are you two murmuring about?" Pyraegon snarled, striding closer, more furious by the second.

"You want me to engulf you?" Natasha asked, confused but intrigued.

"Yes. Quickly, Natasha," Allen urged.

Without hesitation, her entire body melted, turning into a skin-colored fluid—eerily bloodless.

She slid beneath his feet in liquid form, crawling upward, coating him inch by inch in a living layer of armor, her form adhering to his body like molten silk.

"You’re wasting my time!" Pyraegon thundered as his massive hand descended like a meteor from the sky. His towering form eclipsed the dying sun—his aura a storm of murderous heat and ferocity.

Just in time, Natasha’s fluid body fully consumed Allen—swallowing him like a lion’s maw. And from it emerged something monstrous.

A new being stood where Allen once did: four-eyed, towering nearly as tall as Pyraegon, with elven ears, enlarged palms, and a bare skull. A perfect armor—yet terrifyingly alive.

BOOM.

Allen caught Pyraegon’s monstrous strike mid-air, the dark aura dancing around Pyraegon’s palms extinguished in the shock of his counter.

A disturbing grin split his face—revealing two sets of sideways teeth spiraling out like a parasitic nightmare.

"What?" Pyraegon rasped—not in fear, but in disbelief. "You caught my strike? What... is this?"

Allen’s four eyes locked onto him—two of his own, and two belonging to Natasha, who now functioned as his sentient armor.

"We are..." Allen whispered as the living armor peeled halfway off his face, revealing half-monster, half-man. His voice came low and heavy, laced with growl and bass. "Venom."

’Yes...’ Allen smirked inwardly. ’Nailed that line.’

Pyraegon withdrew his hand, shifting into a more agile stance as he gathered dark mana into his fist—mana that shimmered like a twisted moon: dark yet radiant.

"Let’s see if you’ll survive this one."

Allen hissed, "I don’t fear you. All I seek is to return peace to this clan. But since I can’t kill you... I’ll erase you from existence."

Allen took his stance, watching Pyraegon’s punch come at him as if in slow motion. Lightning began to flicker around Allen’s body—red bolts lighting up the night like the strokes of a demonic highlighter.

"Die!" Pyraegon roared, launching his punch. But this time, the black aura surged ahead of his fist, crashing through the air with the force of a nuclear detonation.

"Too slow," Allen smirked.

He moved faster than time, teleporting to Pyraegon’s rear just as the attack detonated. Allen transported Pyraegon to the front of the dark orb, carring him with his hands in other to defend his own attack so quick Pyraegon did register.

But Allen didn’t let up—he circled, punching so rapidly that the space behind Pyraegon tore open into a warmhole, expanding wider with every blow.

The arena twisted into a tornado of red lightning, whipping around Pyraegon before he could even register the motion—then:

BOOM!

"Arrggh!"

Pyraegon’s own killing aura backfired, blasting him backward in a wave of blinding black light. It sent him skidding across the ground, hurtling toward the warmhole that led to nowhere—just a void in space.

But the impact wasn’t enough.

Pyraegon fought the air, struggling to regain his balance. Just inches from being erased from the world.

"Damn it..." Allen rasped, eyes locked. "One more blow should erase him for good."

He dashed again with lightning speed. Pyraegon, still mid-air and unbalanced, looked up in terror, barely registering Allen’s incoming form—his lightning-charged fist aimed straight at his chest.

"Get out!" Allen roared.

But just as the blow was about to land—a flood of pain exploded in Allen’s head, throwing him off course. He clutched at his temples, stumbling.

A voice rang out in his mind.

"Hey, young child..."

It was Hadas.

He had reached into Allen’s consciousness through the blood Allen had taken from Pyraegon. But he couldn’t seize control—Allen’s body resisted like an antidote rejecting a poison.

"ARRRGH!" Allen screamed, his hands pressed against his skull as he dropped to his knees.

"What...?" Pyraegon whispered. Seizing the opening, he punched Allen square in the gut, sending him flying backward.

The warmhole behind Pyraegon snapped shut just as he regained his balance, dark energy compressing into his palm once more.

Allen crashed into the ground, rolling violently. Pain screamed through his body like thunder in his mind. The fusion between him and Natasha collapsed, leaving them separated, sprawled across the shattered arena.

"Lord Allen?" Natasha called, crawling toward him. Her broken body knit itself back together as tears welled in her eyes, seeing him roll across the ground in brutal agony, like a dying lizard in hot flames.

Hadas’s voice echoed again—this time in Pyraegon’s mind, just as he prepared to strike the final blow.

"That’s enough, my son," Hadas said. "You’ve achieved more than planned. Come home."

Pyraegon immediately obeyed. The orb of darkness in his hand vanished as he dropped his stance.

"You’re lucky, boy..." he muttered, turning away. "But I’ll make sure you pay—another day."

With that, he walked into the darkness of the night.

"He’s leaving," Natasha whispered, dragging herself toward Allen. "What is all this... Violence, then more violence... Someone, please make it end..." she sobbed, finally standing as her last fractured limb reformed.

The pain in Allen’s head began to fade. He gazed up at the night sky, panting heavily. ’Damn... There was a side effect,’ he thought, forcing himself to his feet.

Natasha immediately supported him.

"Lord Allen!" Lilitu’s voice rang from a distance. She ran toward them, her sharp curves swaying as she moved with urgency. "What happened?" she asked, breathless, worry in her eyes.

"I told you to protect him!" Lilitu snapped at Natasha.

’I can’t let them know what just happened,’ Allen thought, forcing a calm smile as he straightened up.

"I’m fine, just a bit of pain in my head. My regeneration ability has already taken care of it," he said.

"You sure, my lord?" Lilitu asked, unconvinced.

"Yes," Allen answered aloud.

But deep inside, his thoughts stirred darkly:

’If he can reach into my mind through blood... then maybe I can find a way to reach him too. This ’God’ they serve—I’ll find him. And when I do... I’ll confront him.’