The battle at the West Gate ended; Magus led his troops to reinforce the South Gate, while Exitus and Valen moved toward the other gate. At the South Gate, the fighting was unbearably tense, Kong and Chef coordinated with frightening synergy. Kong struck from range with massive slabs of stone as his weapon, while Chef operated as a guerrilla, vanishing into the dust and picking off enemies one by one. The Battle King guarding this gate was Ronan, a Battle King specialized in defense: immense strength and a hulking body, but slow and lacking agility. Thanks to him, many of Kong’s flying boulders were successfully intercepted, preventing far greater losses for the army.

  Thud. Ronan caught another rock from Kong; he bristled with anger. If this continued, it was not sustainable. The enemy numbered two, and one of them was slaughtering Ronan’s soldiers; the ranks dwindled, and soon there would be none left to protect.

  While Ronan was wracking his brain for a way to break the stalemate, from afar Magus arrived with remnants of over two hundred royal troops and launched a sudden attack on Kong from the rear.

  Boom.

  Kong dodged the cleaving axe from Magus. He looked dull and slow-witted, but in truth he was astonishingly agile. The surprise strike had no effect and only stoked the brute’s fury. "Sizzle, sizzle" his skin reddened, steam rising from his body. He seemed to activate an Ability that monstrously increased his speed. Unlike Doc, this was a true Battle King. Kong possessed a special Ability and even an Ultimate Skill.

  Kong’s afterimages flashed through Magus’s remnant ranks; wherever he appeared, soldiers cried out in agony. Magus attacked to draw his attention, but Kong easily evaded.

  “His speed is too great! I can’t keep up. There must be a way to stop him or my men will be wiped out,” Magus thought.

  “AAAAA!” A scream rang out as another soldier fell. Magus’s eyes flared red with rage and he shouted in fury:

  “You beast! Stop this at once! You monstrous abomination!”

  Kong actually stopped. Magus’s shout had pulled certain ugly memories from the brute’s past. The brute stared at Magus with eyes full of hatred and wrath.

  “Who did you call a monstrous abomination?”

  Kong growled each word slowly; the murder intent radiating from the creature locked onto Magus as its target.

  “That’s right! That’s what I’m saying! I’m calling you a monstrous abomination, you wretch!”

  No sooner had he finished speaking than Magus’s whole body sank into the ground as if struck by an immense force. Thud. The one-armed Battle King spat a mouthful of black blood mixed with shredded entrails from the impact, trembling as he looked at the monster clutching his leg.

  “Say that one more time,” the brute threatened.

  Magus was truly terrified; his instinct urged him to beg for mercy. He knew that a single wrong answer would greet him with an unimaginably horrific death. Bright memories flashed through his mind like a rapidly played film, from toddling steps, to displaying prodigious talent favored by the Hesmor royalty, to first love with a gentle peasant girl, to becoming the father of twin children. Suddenly the images twisted to comrades falling in blood, rising as undead that tore others apart, and finally Exitus’s mocking voice echoing: “What’s this? Old man, are you scared already?”

  “Scared? Ha ha ha! Am I afraid? Yes, I am afraid! I’m afraid that I’ll never return to my family again! But if I accept fear and let it control me, countless comrades of mine will never return either.” Magus laughed. The Battle King laughed a tragic, heroic laugh, spitting blood and saliva into Kong’s face as he replied coldly:

  “F*ck you! You abominable monster! I’ll be waiting for you in hell.”

  Kong stayed silent. He grabbed Magus’s leg, lifted the mutilated body high, and slammed it into the ground again and again. Each strike fell like thunder, shaking the very earth beneath them. Magus did not scream. He had already died after the first few blows. Yet his sacrifice was not in vain. The soldiers surrounding Kong, while the brute was still pounding the ground in madness, quietly formed a circular formation, channeling their mana together.

  Kong kept smashing Magus’s corpse until what remained in his hand was nothing but a lump of crushed flesh. As the dust settled, countless spears infused with mana were aimed straight at the brute. A warlord, his eyes red with tears, stared at the broken remains of Magus. The warrior’s voice trembled with rage and sorrow, his commander, his mentor, had given his life to buy them this chance.

  He roared: “Everyone, charge! For Hesmor! For Magus! Kill that abominable monster!”

  The voices rose in unison, pounding like drums of war:

  “Kill the monster!”

  “Kill the monster!”

  “Kill the monster!”

  Each spear pierced deep into Kong’s body. The brute struggled and fought back, but the soldiers, like moths to flame, did not stop, even as their bodies were shattered. Their weapons stayed embedded in his flesh. Kong was pierced like a hedgehog, blood gushing from countless wounds. He could feel death closing in. Fear crept across his face as old nightmares returned, reflected in his dimming eyes.

  “Mother… please don’t hit me anymore. I’m not a monster… please, don’t hit me… I’m sorry… for being born…” The brute muttered and sobbed like a child. At last, he fell silent.

  The surviving soldiers pulled Magus’s body from the rubble, trying to piece together what was left of him. But the only thing left intact was a small family photo of a smiling wife and two children clutched tightly in his right hand.

  Chef felt something was wrong. The cook had not received support from Kong for some time. Without the concealing dust, Chef could not fully employ his guerrilla tactics. He was quickly surrounded by Ronan’s troops. Battle King Ronan was insanely tough. His body seemed made of iron; Chef’s strikes could not pierce that thick hide.

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  “What’s happened to Kong?” Chef frowned.

  Crash.

  Ronan lunged to seize Chef, but the cook was too agile. Ronan’s body was well defended, but his eyes were not. He always had to guard against Chef aiming for them. Chef slipped aside and, on the way, slashed down several nearby soldiers, driving Ronan into a rage.

  “Damn it! If you’re so good, stand still ! Fight me like a man! What’s the use of running?” Ronan bellowed in fury.

  “You’re stupid?” Chef sneered, and didn’t forget to plant a few cuts into Ronan’s neck; sparks flew from the blows, but Ronan’s body was too solid. Neither side seemed able to truly harm the other.

  Time passed and Chef grew increasingly uneasy. Kong showed no sign of movement. He must have met with misfortune. A thought of silent retreat formed in Chef’s mind.

  “Want to retreat? No chance! Look at how many have fallen because of you! My reinforcements will arrive soon, and then you’ll be surrounded with no escape,” Ronan said, as if reading Chef’s intent, his voice a rough chuckle.

  Chef looked around, thoughtful. Ronan was right. There was no reason Kong wouldn’t react unless he’d been killed. A force capable of slaying Kong could not be weak. Chef sighed, he had no other choice; his strength was waning, and he could not win if reinforcements appeared. He drew from his person a strange object wrapped in layers of paper covered with special sigils. Carefully, he peeled back layer after layer until the object revealed itself: a writhing chunk of red flesh.

  Ronan stared in horror at Chef, at the thing in his hands. That was a piece of flesh from the Bloodhunt demons. This cult served Yh’raeth, the ancient god of blood and rebirth. These demons and their followers were prime targets of the Alliance’s hunts.

  Chef stared at Ronan like a madman, they had driven him to this. The cook quickly swallowed the flesh. From the meat countless tendrils burst forth and gradually fused with his body. Chef howled in pain, but also in ecstatic relief; he felt terrible power spread through every inch of his flesh. The burns on his face healed rapidly; his skin turned a deep blood-red, his teeth sharpened, two long curved horns sprouted from his head, and his back tore open as two red wings, like those of a Batta, unfolded. He was no longer human. He had become a powerful Bloodhunt demon.

  “Today you all will die! Especially you! I will happily gnaw your bones and drink your blood sip by sip,” Chef flicked out a long tongue, his eyes ravenous as they fixed on Ronan.

  Sweat ran down the Battle King’s spine. Ronan trembled before the mighty demon. This was a demon race, an ancient species that had haunted the continent of Veynar long before Madenes’ era. Though newly transformed, from the aura he exuded he was nearly on the threshold of a Battle Emperor. Moreover, he could fly; conventional formations could no longer encircle him.

  Chef’s wings beat violently, creating a shockwave that scattered the surrounding soldiers. He waved his hand and formed a small sphere of blood hovering in midair, directing it like a projectile through the bodies of the troops around him. In a moment, the last living person left was Ronan. The reason he remained alive was because Chef willed it so; he would keep his promise. Chef closed in on Ronan with terrifying speed, as if teleporting, and subdued the unlucky Battle King. Ronan could not move. Chef glared at him, tore off one of his legs, and began to chew it slowly.

  “I told you I would! I will eat you alive, starting from your leg, so you can feel each part of your body ripped away. You won’t be able to die! I’ll keep you alive until I have eaten your entire body.” Chef laughed wildly; he had completely lost his humanity.

  At the remaining city gate, Exitus was locked in a fierce battle against two pirates, Gun and Mep. The soldiers there had long been wiped out, including the commanding Battle King. Gun was firing madly at the boy, but Exitus calmly evaded; his speed was astonishing. He could clearly see the trajectories of the bullets and their strange, living forms.

  “These bullets… are they a kind of insect?” Exitus thought to himself.

  Judging from the corpses of the soldiers and the peculiar appearance of the bullets, Exitus could easily deduce the hidden technique of this duo. The thin man with the gun was a Battle King with the Ability of marksmanship which was a rare one. Swift, agile, and keeping distance from his enemies, his bullets were unnervingly accurate, each one compressed with a layer of mana to enhance its penetration and destructive power. The old woman, on the other hand, seemed to possess an Ability to control insects. The sudden changes in the bullets’ flight paths were all due to her manipulation. At first, it gave Exitus a hard time, but he soon realized that the altered trajectory weakened their damage. Instead of dodging, he began to simply focus mana at the points of impact on his body for defense.

  After a period of observation, Exitus found nothing special about them. The sky was turning dark, night was coming and he could not afford to miss the decisive battle raging in the palace. Mana began to gather within his eyes as he closed the distance between himself and his foes. His eyes turned pitch black, the pupils swirling like endless vortices.

  “Ultimate Skill: Eyes of Nightmare.”

  “Look into my eyes… and sink into the eternal nightmare,” Exitus whispered.

  The two pirates suddenly froze, staring blankly like soulless husks. Terror twisted their faces; tears streamed uncontrollably from their eyes. It was as if they had witnessed something beyond horror. Exitus slowly walked toward them. This skill did not work on everyone, but it was extremely effective on those with wounded, tormented pasts, those he called the miserable ones, people who lived haunted by their regrets, suffering nightly in endless nightmares.

  “Life itself is a great nightmare. The wounded seek to wound others, and those who live within nightmares are the very ones who create them,” Exitus murmured.

  He felt no pity for them. Everyone makes their own choices and their choices had led to this end.

  "Slash". Two heads flew into the air. The bodies of Mep and Gun toppled like felled trees.

  Exitus turned to head deeper into the palace to assist Renes when suddenly, a message came from Valen.

  “My Lord, I sense the aura of the Ancient God Yh’raeth to the south. Though faint, it is unmistakable. There must be remnants of the Bloodhunt demons there.”

  “Truly? A demon appearing in a nation allied with the Alliance?” Exitus frowned.

  “I have no wish to involve myself with the Ancient Gods so soon. Besides, my power is still too weak. Let the Alliance handle this. The Overseer will soon notice him anyway.”

  At Seabloom Academy, inside the familiar office of the Headmistress, Velen stood solemnly, staring at the glowing crystal orb on her desk. The crystal reflected the image of a woman who was stern, elegant, and noble. Her long ears and silvery-white hair gleamed faintly, her deep blue eyes calm and sharp, and her skin smooth and pale like polished jade.

  “Velen, The Thousand Faces has detected traces of Yh’raeth’s presence near the area under your and Xevia’s supervision. If I’m not mistaken, some fool has merged with the Rotten Flesh. The Sky Tower wishes for that fool to be captured alive. You and Xevia will depart immediately to apprehend him. This will also be your final mission in that region. Afterward, another Overseer will take over your jurisdiction. Your team will return to the Sky Tower until further assignment.” The mysterious woman spoke.

  “Understood, Lady Velarion. We shall depart at once.”

  “You have my gratitude, Velen.” The voice faded away with those final words.

  “The moment the Eighth Artifact appeared, the Ancient Gods began to stir again,” Xevia said calmly.

  Velen’s expression darkened. A new era was drawing near. Unknown powers were awakening, and war would once again sweep across the lands of Veynar.

  “We must move now. The longer we wait, the more the Rotten Flesh will merge with its host. Capturing it alive will become troublesome.”

  “It won’t take long,” Xevia smiled confidently.

  A magic sigil bloomed beneath her feet, glowing brightly. The light enveloped both Velen and Xevia within a radiant column. Moments later, when the brilliance faded, the two had vanished without a trace.