Tap tap ~
Tap tap ~
Seraphine walked through the dim, metallic corridor, her expression as relaxed as if she were simply strolling through a garden.
Winding her way forward, passing turn after turn, she eventually stepped into a large hall steeped in an intense, heretical atmosphere.
She glanced around.
The gloomy setting did nothing to hinder Seraphine’s sharp gaze.
Before her, all four walls of the vast chamber were ornately gilded, covered in intricate golden murals rendered in a deeply unsettling style.
Unlike most religious art, these paintings weren’t solemn or divine.
They were grotesque—vividly bloody and disturbingly deformed.
It was clear they didn’t belong to any orthodox faith.
“Flesh Mysticism Sect iconography,” Seraphine murmured, shaking her head. “Utterly tedious.”
She then turned her thoughts inward, recalling the lore of the mercury race from 《Dragonblood》.
In the latter half of the original story—
Several decades from now, an alien reconnaissance fleet would inadvertently stumble upon the Solar System. The fleet had entered through a naturally occurring black hole hidden deep within the vast expanse of the Oort Cloud.
And so, by sheer accident, they discovered Earth and its human civilization.
That unintended third-type contact event triggered a devastating war between Earth and the mercury race.
In that war, under the command of humanity’s strongest warrior, Kael, the human race paid an unimaginable price: 90% of the population perished, and more than half of Earth’s landmass was reduced to ruins—all in the struggle to push back just a single expeditionary fleet from the mercury race.
And Kael himself, amid the chaos of a Solar System–spanning war, faced countless life-or-death moments. Yet through his unmatched foundation in martial arts and a transcendent, almost unnatural talent, he broke through the limits of the Martial Saint Realm.
Ultimately, Kael ascended into the Great Realm, becoming a cornerstone in humanity’s eventual counteroffensive against the mercury race’s home world.
Now, as for the mercury race—
Also known as the Driphoran.
They are a highly intelligent alien species originating from a planet 1,200 light-years away, orbiting within a binary star system.
Their homeworld moves along an elongated elliptical orbit, completing one full cycle around the twin stars every 3.5 Earth years.
This orbital cycle is known among the Driphoran as the Glacurn.
On their planet, a full Glacurn consists of only two seasons: a cold season and a hot season.
During the frigid dry season, the planet drifts far from its suns, causing surface temperatures to plummet well below even the Antarctic extremes of Earth—cold enough to freeze steel until it shatters.
Then, as the hot dry season begins, the planet swings dangerously close to its primary star. The surface temperature can skyrocket past 400℃, instantly vaporizing any liquids present and blanketing the planet in thick, blinding clouds.
It is, for all intents and purposes, a hellish world.
In most cases, the probability of life evolving in a binary star system is infinitesimal—almost nil.
Why?
Because once stellar activity intensifies, massive solar flares and high-energy particle streams ravage planetary atmospheres. Most worlds lose their protective layers entirely. Liquid water becomes impossible to retain. Even if life did miraculously emerge, it would likely be annihilated by ecological collapse.
But the universe has its own way of defying logic.
The mercury race’s planet is rich in an element they refer to as high-quantity mercury.
Even in the blazing dry season, the clouds that cover the sky are composed mainly of mercury vapor—thick, heavy, and dense.
These clouds are so substantial that even charged stellar particles struggle to completely tear through them.
And it was because of this rare planetary phenomenon that the ancestors of the Driphoran were not wiped out.
Instead, the friction of the super-dense clouds during the extended hot season generated immense electrical storms—vast networks of lightning.
Thus, even in their pre-literate, primitive state, the Driphoran began harnessing electrical energy far earlier than most civilizations.
Their society advanced at breakneck speed, bypassing fossil fuels altogether.
They stepped directly into the age of electrical technology.
At the same time, the mercury race—shaped by the relentless brutality of their natural environment—had inherited that extremity at every level of their being.
Their temperament was wildly unpredictable, oscillating between calm and carnage without warning.
That alone might have been tolerable.
The real danger lay in what evolution had granted them through countless generations of merciless natural selection: a unique alloy-based muscle structure, capable of contracting and expanding in response to electrical signals.
These electro-metallic fibers endowed every adult Driphoran with raw strength measured in hundreds of tons.
Their physical capabilities surpassed even Evershield Body martial artists by more than an order of magnitude.
In fact, Seraphine had originally drawn inspiration from this very species when designing the Titan Crystal Muscle.
Yet, ironically, it was this overwhelming physical strength that ultimately stunted their advancement in martial arts.
Aside from a few elite noble bloodlines—and an even smaller number of royal lineages—most Driphoran shared little variation in their individual combat potential.
Instead of refining internal techniques, they leaned into what they had mastered: technology.
And from this fusion of brute force and innovation, a new combat model emerged—
Etheric Battleform.
A fusion of biotechnology and cybernetic engineering, the Etheric Battleform was a semi-mechanized, bio-enhanced suit—reminiscent of a Space Knight’s Iron-Man system.
Even the most common soldier, once equipped with a basic Etheric Battleform, would see their combat ability surge exponentially—dozens, even hundreds of times stronger—easily rivaling a Martial Saint in their early stage.
As for the Driphoran royals—already powerful enough to match Martial Saints on their own—when armored with a high-tier Etheric Battleform, their power became monstrous.
They could wipe out thousands of Martial Saints in an instant.
Of course, to Seraphine, such numbers were trivial.
No matter how many of them came, they wouldn’t even be enough for her to stretch her fingers.
But still, as an advanced interstellar civilization, the Driphoran possessed more than just brute strength.
They wielded weapons of extinction—interstellar-grade armaments capable of obliterating planetary landmasses, cracking entire crusts.
Some of their technology could even destroy stars.
Buzz—
A deep hum suddenly tore through her thoughts.
The pitch-dark hall was abruptly flooded with light, brilliant as daylight.
All the docile shadows lying across the floor were instantly obliterated by the blinding radiance erupting from every direction.
It was a sensory overload no ordinary person could endure.
The once-spacious hall now seemed crammed with light, filled to the brim with an oppressive, almost solid brilliance.
In the next breath, Seraphine found herself surrounded by an overwhelming field of searing white.
Her mental power surged outward—
And effortlessly detected hundreds of luminous points now dotting the surrounding walls and ceiling.
All of them were emitters.
Click click—
A soft mechanical noise emanated from the main fixture ahead, followed by a low, modulated voice:
"Good day, Mr. Abram. I hope I haven’t startled you. I’m Anthony, the director of this base."
Seraphine tilted her head slightly, unfazed by the glare, and smiled.
"I was just wondering why no one tried to stop me on the way in," she replied. "So this is where you were hiding."
"Please forgive the base’s... less-than-warm reception," the voice replied smoothly. "I would’ve preferred to greet you with a bit more enthusiasm, but..."
A low sigh followed.
"...given your reputation, Mr. Abram, especially as one of the Hexagram, I must admit—you're... inconvenient to accommodate. Particularly for civilians."
"The Losngel City base has been understaffed lately, and as their commanding officer, I’d rather not see everyone wiped out in a single encounter with you."
A hint of dry humor entered his tone.
"Especially considering the massive compensation package I’d have to file. That alone is enough to ruin my sleep for weeks."
Then, without warning, his voice turned cold:
"That’s why my superior, the esteemed Mr. Flander, proposed a rather ingenious idea."
"He suggested I welcome you with a dazzling little light show... One calibrated at exactly 95,000 lumens."
"Quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you say? I’d wager even the most exhausted soul on Earth wouldn’t be able to nap through this."
"So then, escaped prisoner... Mr. Abram—"
"Between all these blinding lights—"
Seraphine cut him off, smiling faintly. "Honestly, it’s not the lights that keep people awake."
She tilted her head again and added lightly, “It’s your endless droning—like a nagging aunt with a megaphone—that’s the real insomnia trigger.”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Perhaps that last remark struck a nerve.
Anthony, likely not fond of the comparison was momentarily speechless.
Seraphine lowered her gaze, casually examining her body before surveying the space around her.
As expected.
On her clothing—
And in the pits and seams of the surrounding walls where shadows once clung—under this overwhelming, high-intensity, full-angle illumination, all traces of darkness had been scattered and erased.
Even her skin had begun to flush faintly red under the intensity.
Crack—crack—
A quiet tearing sound echoed out.
Without a word, the wall ahead split open.
From the narrow seam stepped a broad-shouldered white man—hands clasped behind his back—flanked by over a dozen fully armed soldiers bearing sleek, modern firearms.
Behind them, the wall sealed shut once more.
“In this level of lighting, shadows won’t find this room particularly welcoming,” the man said calmly. “Which means…”
This was Anthony.
Still smiling, he continued, “Mr. Abram, you’ll be utterly powerless here.”
Seraphine raised a brow, her lips curving in quiet amusement. “Is that so?” she said lightly. “Funny—I see things rather differently.”
She glanced upward.
“In my eyes, this room is nothing but darkness.”
She raised a hand and snapped her fingers.
Bang.
The sound echoed like a thunderclap in their minds.
In that moment, every soldier staggered—struck by a brief wave of spiritual disorientation.
And then, horror.
When their senses returned, the entire chamber—floor, walls, even ceiling—was suddenly drenched in black.
Ink-like shadows clung to every surface, gnarled and writhing like claws reaching out from another realm.
A grotesque contrast.
The lights still blazed overhead—harsh and countless, flooding the hall with pure white radiance.
But it was as if the shadows no longer cared. They remained—defiant, immutable—anchored as if by some invisible will.
“What… what the hell is this?!”
Anthony’s voice cracked with disbelief. The soldiers around him clutched their rifles tightly, eyes flicking nervously to Seraphine.
She stood calmly in the distance, smiling faintly.
“No need to panic.”
Her voice was smooth, relaxed. “I’m merely testing the limits of the Shadow Domain.”
As she spoke, the darkness rippled—then surged.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of jet-black hands erupted from the floor and walls, lashing out at Anthony's unit.
“Fuck!”
Anthony spat, leaping backward.
With a violent twist, his arms extended grotesquely—elongating like serpents—as he shoved the nearest soldiers toward the oncoming mass.
“No!!”
“Ahhh!”
“Help!—”
Panic.
The frontline soldiers barely had time to scream, let alone fire.
The hands tore into them mercilessly, piercing torsos and ripping open organs. Blood sprayed. Bodies crumpled.
By the time Anthony reached the wall and slammed his fist against the escape panel, it was too late.
The hands had already turned on him.
A dozen, then dozens more—snake-like and unrelenting—wrapped around his limbs, his chest, his throat.
“Ahhhh!”
Anthony roared, his body swelling grotesquely. A burst of silver light erupted from within as he transformed—bones twisting, skin hardening into shimmering alloy. Within seconds, he became a hulking metallic werewolf.
Perhaps his monstrous form gave him an edge.
He pummeled the shadowy arms relentlessly, shattering several with raw brute force—each blow powerful enough to flip a truck.
But more kept coming.
Hundreds.
Tightly binding him, locking his limbs in place.
He struggled, snarling, thrashing—but the shadows held firm.
“You! Damn you!!”
“Oh?” Seraphine tilted her head, intrigued. “Werewolf physiology, metallic reinforcement, adaptive limb mutation…”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re using an Abraham Machine, aren’t you? Otherwise, how would you manage to wield three distinct powers simultaneously?”
She smiled faintly.
“You’re making me very curious.”
Even as she spoke, the shadows churned.
More blackened limbs surged forth, fusing together like molten tar into a massive, fanged maw—easily ten meters wide.
It opened with a guttural hiss, then lunged.
Anthony’s eyes went wide.
“No—no, wait! Abram, please, don’t—!”
But it was far too late.
The mouth clamped down in one swift motion, swallowing him whole.
A moment later, rows upon rows of jagged, serrated fangs unfolded from within the abyssal interior—writhing like worms, grinding against the alloy hide of the werewolf.
Only his metallic head remained visible, protruding from the maw’s edge, his face contorted in raw, helpless terror.
Then the grinding began.
Whirrrrr—grrrrrkkk—fzzzzt!!
Sparks flew. The screech of metal against metal echoed throughout the chamber.
“AHHHHH!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Anthony writhed like a man being fed into a living grinder—howling in agony as the maw’s teeth chewed through steel and flesh alike.
Seraphine stepped closer, watching with interest. Her tone was almost gentle:
“Did you know… pain doesn’t just break the will,” she said softly. “It also shatters memory—floods the mind, makes it easier to extract what’s hidden.”
She shook her head slightly.
“A shame, really. This body is too weak. And the spiritual projection I used to descend here? Far too shallow. So I have to rely on these… crude methods.”
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!"
Anthony couldn’t understand a word she was saying. All he could do was writhe in agony, howling as he thrashed his head violently.
"Come now… Let me take a peek inside your mind."
Seraphine extended her hand slowly, calmly resting her palm against Anthony’s trembling forehead.
But the werewolf’s head continued to buck and jerk wildly.
With a quiet sigh, Seraphine extended her index finger and thumb—then, without hesitation, dug them deep into his eye sockets.
"Let’s see what lovely little secrets this base is hiding."
Bzzz~~
A surge of spiritual power—small in magnitude but terrifyingly pure and precise—sliced into Anthony’s brain like a scalpel of mental energy.
"Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh!!"
Anthony spasmed like a madman in mid-lobotomy. His screams cut off abruptly, his eyes rolled back, and he began gasping for breath.
"Three-dimensional schematics of Losngel City base..."
"Technical blueprints for a micro-controlled fusion reactor..."
"Engineering designs for nano-machine swarm deployment..."
"Complete list of Frankenstein Corporation’s branch bases..."
As Seraphine siphoned memory after memory from Anthony’s mind, his body convulsed, tortured beyond human limits. It felt as if an electric drill was boring through what was left of his sanity.
It didn’t take long.
His mind, already pushed beyond the edge of collapse, was utterly drained.
And at that very moment, the enormous shadow-formed maw that had manifested earlier vanished without a trace.
Thud!
A blood-soaked metallic wolf head, lifeless and mangled, dropped to the floor.
Behind it lay a trail of warped and bloodied metal fragments.
They were all that remained of Anthony’s body—crushed into nothing by Seraphine’s shadow-formed beast.
"Hmm—"
Completely unfazed by the grotesque corpse, Seraphine turned and tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"This base only has three things of value," she murmured. "First, the micro-fusion reactor technology reverse-engineered from alien wreckage by Frankenstein Corp. Second, their cloning and self-replication systems for nano-machine swarms."
"And third… the team of elite scientists stationed here. Conveniently, the first two types of data are stored directly with them."
Her eyes darkened, depthless.
"Furthermore..."
"The 'Superpower Struggle' faction—the Sacred Society—has already formed a connection with the mercury race from the Dragonblood plotline."
"That can only mean one thing: the Abraham Machine must originate from the mercury civilization."
"And if their starship wreckage has already appeared..."
"Then the arrival of the mercury race on Earth isn’t far off."
Her voice grew cold.
"The pace of Earth’s unification must be accelerated."
At that moment, deep within the underground base—
“Hurry! Move it!”
“Everyone, pick up the pace!”
Tap tap tap…
Footsteps echoed down a sterile corridor as dozens of scientists in white coats rushed beneath the pale glow of overhead lights.
“Phew~”
A short, balding scientist stumbled as he ran, wheezing as he turned to the man beside him.
“My God, this is insane. Isn’t it just a superpower prisoner who escaped? Why the hell are we mobilizing like this?”
His companion barked out as he jogged ahead, not even turning back:
“Are your brains fried from radiation? Didn’t you hear the emergency broadcast from HQ? That freak Abram went through some kind of transformation. Director Anthony is dead. Dozens of elite guards got slaughtered.”
“Oh?!” the bald man exclaimed, wide-eyed. “It was that bad?! I-I was busy logging data from the artificial mercury-strain cultures… didn’t hear a thing…”
“Enough chatter. Move!”
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” the bald scientist nodded frantically.
The two scientists pushed forward, following the surge of bodies racing deeper into the base.
Not long after, they reached a compact control room—where a massive silver elevator, nearly 10 meters wide, loomed before them.
The tall, elderly scientist leading the group stopped in front of the console, exhaling slowly as he looked up at the steel door.
“These emergency protocols... we've never had to use them before.”
He shook his head and stepped forward to activate the console.
Beep—
The elevator doors slid open with a metallic hiss, and the elder scientist stepped inside without hesitation.
The others followed in close formation, packing in quickly.
Buzz—
The heavy doors sealed shut, and the great platform began its slow, steady ascent.
Just one minute later—
The elevator came to a smooth stop, and the group stepped out onto a massive concrete platform nearly a hundred meters across.
Swish ~ Swish ~ Swish ~
The crowd instinctively looked down.
Beneath the cold gray platform, dark green seawater churned and surged, never still.
A dock.
An enormous, hidden dock buried deep beneath the Losngel City base.
From a distance, they could see it—
A gray-white submarine lying in wait, quietly bobbing in the water.
"When you all first entered the base, I promised your safety."
"The Bohemia!"
The elderly scientist leading the group walked a few steps forward, gesturing toward the vessel as he introduced it with a warm smile:
"Sixty-five meters in length, nine meters wide. Surface displacement: 1,500 tons. Submerged: 1,950 tons. Cruising speed of 15 knots on the surface, 21 knots submerged. A thirty-man crew. Always standing by."
"We'll be departing aboard her shortly."
Hoo—
A collective sigh rippled through the group. Tension visibly melted from their shoulders. Smiles began to return.
"Finally… we're safe."
"Yeah, thank God."
"I seriously thought something catastrophic was going to happen."
"Haha, glad we're all still in one piece."
Thud —
Just then, the hatch atop the submarine creaked open from within.
A young white crewman emerged and sprinted up the gangplank to the platform, saluting as he approached the elderly scientist.
“Dr. Campbell, are we cleared for departure?”
Campbell nodded calmly. “Yes. Begin departure procedures.”
“Understood.” The crewman turned and quickly headed back aboard.
Led by Dr. Campbell, the scientists followed one after another into the submarine.
Once everyone was on board, the gray-white vessel began to hum faintly as its systems powered up.
Beep!
Beep!
“Attention: valves opening!”
Beep!
Beep!
“Repeat: valves opening!”
Water surged and frothed around the hull. The submerged waterway at the dock's edge began to drop.
Swish ——
A great volume of seawater suddenly rushed inward, flooding the channel.
The massive sea gate had begun to open.
Creak —
Clank clank clank!
At the rear of the submarine, the enormous propeller whirred to life, spinning rapidly.
The Bohemia began to move forward—slow, steady.
In the long, narrow cabin, the scientists exhaled in unison.
"Lord above… we’re finally out of danger."
But just then—
BOOM!!
Without warning, a section of the ceiling—ten meters directly above the submarine—exploded outward.
Chunks of steel rebar, shattered concrete, and debris rained down as a howling gust of wind tore through the chamber.
From the ruptured opening above, something massive emerged—
A pitch-black claw, thick as a locomotive’s front end, burst from the hole with terrifying force.
With a deafening roar, it lunged downward.
It crossed several dozen meters in an instant and slammed into the stern of the submarine—
Clutching it in a monstrous grip just as it began to depart.
Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!
In an instant, the submarine’s rear propeller—spinning at full speed—smashed directly into the black claw's massive palm.
Hissss… hissss… fizz! Fizz!!
Sparks erupted in a furious storm of red, bursting outward from the point of impact, swirling and scattering like boiling metal rain.
Moments later—
BOOM!
The propeller blades exploded violently, torn apart one by one. Black smoke gushed from the stern, accompanied by a heavy, rhythmic thudding as internal systems began to fail catastrophically.
The entire submarine lurched violently.
It rocked from side to side, veering out of control.
Inside the long cabin, the once-relieved scientists were thrown like ragdolls into the walls and floor. Shrieks filled the air. Blood splattered. Panic reigned.
"Aagh! My nose—my nose is broken!"
A tall, thin man clutched his face, groaning through the pain.
"My hand! My hand!! Aagh!!!"
Another, short and stocky, screamed in agony as he cradled his twisted arm.
Then, without warning—
A monstrous mass of shadow burst through the gaping hole in the dock’s ceiling above.
It surged out like a living abyss, and in that instant, the entire dock dimmed unnaturally.
No—
It didn’t "seem" darker.
The moment the darkness emerged, it erupted into a raging tide of black, spreading like wildfire across every surface in sight.
That darkness—
Was Seraphine.
Having traced the exact coordinates from Anthony’s memory, she had swiftly made her way through the lower levels of the base, arriving at the hidden dock just in time.
And within just ten seconds—
The entire dock—its ceiling, platform, sea surface, surrounding walls, even the submarine Bohemia itself—was swallowed by shadow.
Then—
Thousands upon thousands of writhing, ink-black tendrils surged from the sea below, coiling around the submarine.
They clung to it—inside and out.
Suddenly, the tips of these tendrils transformed into a horrifying arsenal: whirling drills, serrated saws, grinding wheels—each spinning at ferocious speed.
And then—
SIZZLE SIZZLE SIZZLE—!! FZZZZZZZZZ!!!
A shrill, metal-tearing screech erupted from every corner of the sub.
The sound was monstrous—loud enough to shatter eardrums.
"Ahhh!!"
"Make it stop!"
"Help me! I can’t take it!!"
The scientists screamed as they dropped to the floor, clutching their ears, eyes wide with terror, completely paralyzed.
Within just ten seconds—
The Bohemia was gone.
Ripped apart, reduced to twisted scrap and sinking steel.
Only a handful of scientists were spared—those deemed useful.
Held safely by the shadow tendrils, they were gently placed back onto the concrete platform, unharmed.
Everyone else?
All irrelevant personnel were shredded into unrecognizable, blood-soaked pieces—torn apart by the swarm of shadow limbs and dropped into the black sea below.
"Gentlemen..."
Seraphine now stood with hands clasped behind her back, calmly watching the pale-faced Beaconreach scientists who lay scattered across the platform—sitting, kneeling, or trembling.
She smiled softly.
"Your scientific talents are truly impressive. I have great need of your expertise."
"But don’t worry—I only need you to work as researchers and technicians. Nothing more. After all..."
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes cold.
"I don’t trust a single one of you."
At that moment, Seraphine’s true body—far away, somewhere in the depths of space—activated her Seal.
Through this spiritual projection, she inserted a mark into the soul of each scientist present.
In an instant, their eyes grew unfocused.
Their consciousness blurred, their spirits dazed.
With a flick of her hand—
The entire group of scientists, along with the sensitive technical data in their minds, vanished from the platform.
They had been instantly teleported via the Real Number Channel to the Sapphire Research Institute, thousands of miles away.
"What did you just do?!!"
A furious voice suddenly echoed through the chamber.
Seraphine turned her head, intrigued.
At the far end of the platform, near the elevator—
A towering black man stood under the flickering lights, his skin gleaming like polished obsidian.
His gaze was locked on her, a complex mix of grief, rage, and fear in his eyes.
"Abram... surrender now," he growled.
"And I’ll try to plead with the Boss to spare your life."
Seraphine blinked slowly, rifling through the memories in her mind.
Ah.
Sawyer Arisandra.
Abram’s older brother.
A two-faced coward.
She smiled faintly.
"A textbook example... of a distorted soul."
Sawyer’s expression twisted. He hesitated—something wasn’t right.
“You’re… different. Your voice, the way you talk—your whole presence. It’s all wrong.”
