"Fuck!! The target's not us from the beginning!"

The words tore through the battlefield... Too late.

"ERICK!! MUKHLIS!! AYANA!!!" Askara's voice cut through the blizzard like a thunderclap. Every fighter on the field froze for a heartbeat as his tone shifted from fury to raw panic. The students sheltered within Kiara's barrier turned toward him, eyes wide with terror. "THEY'RE TARGETING THE STUDENTS!! PROTECT YOURSELF!!!"

Inside the translucent dome of ice and mana, Mukhlis flinched at the sound of his name.

"W-What should we do?!" He spun around, his mind blank, panic rising like fire in his throat.

Without a word, Erick raised his blade, eyes darting through the distorted haze beyond the barrier. Ayana stood close behind, trembling.

Mukhlis didn't hesitate any longer, he moved in front of her, spreading his arms protectively. "Stay close! Don't move unless I say so!"

Outside, the storm of blood and frost churned violently. Then, amidst the chaos, a low chuckle echoed, dry and distorted, crawling through the air like a whisper of death.

"Oh~ You finally realized it, huh?" The voice came from the three-horned mask, which until now had remained motionless. The figure tilted its head slightly, as if amused.

"What a shame, Prince Askara," the cultist continued, tone almost casual. "But it's already too late. Be kind, and let us take what we came for. After that, we'll leave peacefully... pretend none of this ever happened. How does that sound?"

Askara's grip tightened around his katana, veins glowing faintly crimson under his skin. His breath came out in visible bursts of steam.

"Like hell I'd accept that," he snarled, eyes burning. "Not from a bastard like you!" Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novelFɪre.net

The three-horned mask sighed, a sound both mocking and theatrical. "Then we continue as planned," he said softly.

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped his fingers.

A deep crack resonated through the air, not a sound, but a pulse. The mana around the seven one-horned cultists distorted violently, warping like heat over metal.

Then came the screams.

The seven convulsed, bodies jerking uncontrollably as black veins crawled across their skin. Their robes tore apart, ripped open by something expanding beneath. The air filled with the sickening sound of bones stretching, reshaping, and breaking again.

Their masks shattered, revealing twisted flesh underneath, eyes rolling white, mouths contorting into something no longer human. Their skin darkened to ashen gray, muscles swelling grotesquely.

Then... the scales came.

From beneath their ruptured flesh, black scales erupted, glistening like obsidian in the flickering crimson light.

Talons burst from their fingers; spines tore through their backs. Their necks lengthened, jaws splitting wider than humanly possible as fangs sprouted like knives.

On their foreheads, single horns pulsed with molten red light, but they were no longer masks. They were growing from their skulls.

Their eyes snapped open. No longer human, but vertical slits, the eyes of predators born from hell itself.

Askara took a step back, crimson mist swirling around him.

"This… no…" he muttered, disbelief twisting into fury. "A Demonization?! Oh, shit!"

The seven let out a guttural, inhuman roar that shook the snow-laden ground. The air trembled, rippling with their killing intent. Each step they took left trails of black fire and corruption, the mana itself recoiling from their presence.

Behind them, the three-horned figure spread his arms, voice dripping with mock reverence.

"Behold, Prince of Blood," he said, laughter lacing every word. "The gift from the Abyss m, flesh remade, devotion rewarded. My loyal ones... Devour them all!"

The seven Demonized surged forward, and the battlefield drowned in crimson once more.

Askara gritted his teeth as the mutated cultists charged, their movements jerky yet terrifyingly fast. The Blood Echoes met them head-on, blades of scarlet light clashing with monstrous claws. But the balance had shifted.

Before, his Echoes had cut through the cultists like paper.

Now, it was the opposite.

Each strike from the Demonized carved through the spectral soldiers with ease, bodies of blood and mist scattering like torn banners. One after another, the Echoes fell, dissolving into steam and crimson haze.

Askara's pupils constricted. "Tch! Damn it!"

Before he could reposition, a blur appeared in front of him. One of the Demonized was already there, its body a grotesque mockery of flesh and scale, talons dripping with black ichor.

Askara moved on instinct. His blade rose to meet the descending claw.

*CLANG!*

Steel met bone with a deafening crash, sparks scattering in the frozen air.

Askara held his ground for a heartbeat, but the strength behind the strike was monstrous. The impact sent a shudder through his arms, his feet dragging long grooves through the snow as he slid backward.

He clenched his jaw, blood trickling from his lip. "This thing's strong…"

But it wasn't just one. There were seven.

'…Shit!' he cursed inwardly, eyes darting across the chaos.

His siblings were still locked in combat with the newborn Aboriginal Being, four of them, surrounded by storm and lightning, their battle shaking the sky itself. He couldn't call for help; not now.

A sudden shift in the air, pressure collapsing around him.

Askara turned sharply... too late.

Two more Demonized were already upon him, claws raised, eyes burning with mindless hunger.

"Shi-!"

The first blow grazed his side; the second connected cleanly.

*BOOM!*

The impact hurled him backward like a ragdoll. He smashed through a half-frozen tree, splintering it into shards before slamming into the ground hard enough to crater it. The air left his lungs in a violent gasp, blood splattering from his mouth.

Snow and debris rained down around him as he pushed himself up, his crimson aura flickering erratically. His katana lay half-buried in the snow a few meters away, still humming faintly with bloodlight.

"...Heh," he muttered hoarsely, a grin ghosting across his lips despite the pain. "You monsters really think that's enough?"

The shadows around him stirred again, drawn by his defiance. His Blood Echoes, shattered, yet reforming, began to crawl back into being, their crimson forms trembling, their gazes locked on their master.

Askara's mismatched eyes flared, one crimson, one deep blue, burning like twin stars in the storm.

He reached for his katana.

"Alright..." he whispered, the words carried on a low, resonant hum that rippled through the blood-soaked air.

The ground around him trembled as the reformed Blood Echoes, kneeling once more, their formless bodies pulsing with his heartbeat.

His wound sealed itself before their eyes, the torn flesh stitching back together with threads of red light.

Askara drew in a long, steady breath.

"I think," he murmured, eyes narrowing, "I should use that…"

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate.

Each step left a faint red mark glowing in the snow, mana condensing around him like the weight of an oncoming storm.

Ahead, the seven Demonized cultists screeched in unison, their distorted bodies blurring as they lunged, seven streaks of black and crimson tearing through the air toward him.

Askara didn't flinch.

He closed his eyes.

Everything fell silent... wind, blood, even his own heartbeat.

Then-

*Click*

His grip shifted. The mana around his katana surged, changing hue. The crimson light bled away, replaced by pure, radiant white. The blade sang, a clear, ethereal tone that seemed to cut through reality itself.

"MagicSword Technique… Light Form"

His voice was calm, almost reverent.

The katana blazed to life, its glow painting the battlefield in holy brilliance. The light didn't just illuminate, it banished the darkness, each flake of snow frozen midair as if in awe.

The Demonized were upon him, claws raised.

Askara exhaled.

"…Absolute Slash"

*Shing!*

A sound too clean, too sharp to belong in the mortal world, like the heavens themselves had been split.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the world caught up.

A single line of light carved through the air, so blinding that it erased the horizon for an instant. The seven Demonized froze mid-charge, their movements halting as if time itself bowed before the strike.

Silence.

Then-

*BOOM!*

A blinding shockwave erupted, slicing the ground, mountains, and storm apart in one sweeping arc. The night itself seemed to recoil as the seven Demonized were cleaved through cleanly, each splitting in half before dissolving into black mist.

Askara lowered his blade, the white glow fading back to crimson.

He exhaled slowly, steam rising from his lips.

"…That's the problem with monsters," he said softly, sliding his katana back into its sheath. "They forget what it means to face a D'Archy"

The Blood Echoes behind him vanished into mist, bowing silently before dispersing.

The snow fell again, soft, silent, almost reverent. It blanketed the battlefield in ghostly white, hiding the carnage beneath a fragile calm.

*Cough!*

Askara staggered, crimson spilling from his lips. His knees buckled, the cold earth greeting him harshly as blood dripped onto the frozen ground, staining the purity of the snow.

"…This is my limit…" he muttered between labored breaths, his voice hoarse and trembling. "I don't know how Father could spam this technique as easily as breathing…"

His Katana dimmed, its once-brilliant light flickering weakly like a dying ember. The echoes of battle faded, replaced by the sound of his ragged breathing... until-

*Clap! Clap! Clap!*

The sound of slow applause broke the silence, echoing mockingly through the frost-chilled air.

Askara lifted his head, eyes narrowing. From the drifting snow emerged a figure, tall, robed in black, a three-horned mask gleaming faintly.

"Amazing," the masked cultist drawled, his tone a mixture of admiration and mockery. "As expected of the D'Archy… truly remarkable"

He stopped a few paces away, unfazed by the sight he just witnesse. "But what a shame…" he tilted his head slightly, voice turning cold, "…you're too late, prince"

"HELP!!"

A desperate scream tore through the night. Askara's head snapped toward the sound.

Beyond the shattered barrier, chaos erupted. The two-horned masks had broken through Kiara's defenses. Three of them, one carried a student on his shoulders, while the rest cut down anyone who tried to resist.

Mukhlis and Erick were still standing, their mana flaring wildly, but they were being pushed back.

Askara's eyes darted across the survivors, then froze.

The girl being dragged away, he recognized her absence immediately. Among the huddled, terrified students, she was missing.

"PRINCE ASKARA!!" Mukhlis screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "THEY TOOK MY SISTER! P–PLEASE, HELP!!"

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