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Chapter 144

It was night in Medi Island. The tavern was still bustling with life—filled with drinks, food, and endless stories. Certain names echoed among the people, with the Barbarian Chieftan, one of the Twelve Star Lords, at the heart of the conversation.

“Whew, I thought my heart would stop,” someone muttered.

“Just one look from him almost made me wet myself.”

“Not surprising—he’s the chieftain of the barbarians, after all.”

“They say most barbarian warriors can match a fifth-class knight. From what we’ve seen of Sir Torand Orcas, that doesn’t seem to be an exaggeration.”

With his fierce, lion-like appearance, the Barbarian Lord exuded a wild and intimidating presence. People who saw him tended to avoid eye contact; he was a frightening figure.

“But why would someone like him be with the illegitimate son of Hatzfeld?” one person wondered aloud.

“They almost looked like allies,” someone replied.

“For Hatzfeld to involve the barbarians…this is nerve-wracking.”

“Who will bow to Hatzfeld next?”

Hatzfeld was widely known as a war-hungry kingdom that had already subdued several nations. With the Barbarian Lord, one of the Twelve Stars, as an ally, any foe could expect a swift downfall. the Barbarian Lord’s name carried immense weight.

“Looks like they’re planning to go against the Fresia Empire?”

“Are you blind? They seemed more like they were forming an alliance.”

“Aren’t Hatzfeld and Fresia rivals?”

“Maybe Fresia isn’t so easy to beat. They shifted from clashing to talking.”

“Shame, that would’ve been a thrilling fight.”

Fresia Empire’s noble clan—the prestigious Rehinar family—was now in a feud with Hatzfeld’s royal family. Though treasures may catch anyone’s attention, this fight had become captivating. Who would win? On one side is the renowned Blood Demon Young Master, who had been famous in recent days; on the other was Hatzfeld’s shadow.

It was the kind of clash that gamblers loved to bet on, although, regrettably, it had ended sooner than expected.

The tavern was still heated with this discussion.

“If they had kept fighting, Hatzfeld’s illegitimate son would’ve won, right?”

“Is that even a question? He was with the Barbarian Lord. Not even Kane Rehinar could handle that.”

Another group joined in.

“Don’t underestimate the Blood Demon Young Master! Have you not heard the story? He supposedly wiped out Count McCarthy and his elite forces single-handedly.”

“Count McCarthy was renowned across the continent as a spear master. To wipe them out alone…he must be at least eighth class, right?”

Everyone nodded. Count McCarthy’s elite forces were no ordinary army. They were battle-hardened veterans, spending decades on the battlefield and taking lives without hesitation. Many countries had knelt before them. Even their names caused shivers.

“But come on, not eighth class. How could someone in their early twenties be at the Twelve Star lord level?”

“Are you still naïve? The Twelve Star Lords reached eighth class at that age too.”

“A monster is a monster, regardless of age.”

“I still believe Hatzfeld’s illegitimate son has the upper hand.”

“Me too.”

“Should we place our bets now?”

Betting was one of the continent’s favorite pastimes. Winnings could be significant, and losses devastating, but its addictive pull kept it going. That’s why there were arenas for this kind of thing.

“I’d like to throw in a surprise entry—the Crown Prince of Fresia empire.”

“Oh!”

“Isn’t there also the Crown Prince of Fresia?”

“I’m betting all my money on Isaac von Fresia.”

While the previous two figures were surrounded by rumors, the Crown Prince Isaac was different.

He was the leading person among the young generation of the continent and was widely expected to inherit the next seat among the Twelve Star Lords.

Yet, in Medi Island, he drew surprisingly little attention. It made sense, given that Isaac hadn’t made any significant moves here. People tended to believe only what they could see, and right now, the impact of figures like Kane and Ray overshadowed Isaac’s reputation.

“Come on, why don’t we place our bets early?”

“We can store the deposits safely with the T&co Continental Guild.”

“That’s a great idea!”

Excited, the patrons in the tavern began placing their bets one by one.

Just then—

Bang!

The tavern door burst open, and a blood-covered man staggered in, barely able to speak.

“A…a monster has appeared…”

Before he could finish his sentence, he collapsed.

“Hey! Are you alright?”

A nearby patron rushed to help the fallen man, but suddenly—

Thunk!

Something sharp pierced the patron’s stomach.

“What…what’s going on?!”

The sudden death threw the tavern into chaos as the patrons scrambled in panic.

Then, the culprit revealed itself—a grotesque monster with tentacles extending from its body.

“A-ahhhh!”

* * *

Medi Island was drenched in blood.

A shapeless, mutated monster had appeared, killing people indiscriminately.

“Save meee!” came the screams, echoing all around.

But no one stopped to help. Everyone was too busy fleeing, some even shoving their companions toward the creature in hopes that it would buy them time to escape.

“Stay back!” A woman closed her eyes, trembling, as a red tiger towering at nearly three meters appeared in front of her.

When it bared its fangs, the monster hesitated, its bloodthirsty rampage halted by fear.

“Do you dare spill blood in front of me? Do you want to die?” It was Blata.

A fierce, bloody aura radiated from him, dominating the area. He slashed the mutated monster before him, ripping it to shreds as easily as tearing paper. It collapsed, blood evaporating completely.

“Roaar!” Blata roared to the sky, unleashing a wave of energy that froze every remaining monster in its tracks, turning them to stone. Yet he muttered with frustration, “Why aren’t they all dead? When is my damn power going to come back to full?”

In his prime, a single roar would have ended them all. That was his true power. Now, he could only immobilize them, and that stung his pride.

“Die, all of you.”

With a single stomp, Blata sent hundreds of blood-red spikes bursting from the ground, impaling every monster in sight. It was a display of tremendous power, but Blata still looked dissatisfied.

Then he noticed a man approaching him.

“You know this isn’t my full strength, right?” Blata wanted to show off his true power. As the strongest of his kind, the great guardian spirit of demons, he reminded everyone constantly of his unmatched strength. And yet—here he was, failing to kill these lowly creatures in one strike.

He looked over at Kane, worried about being underestimated.

“Did I say anything?” Kane asked.

“No, but you’re looking at me with contempt!”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are, Kane!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! You think I’m an idiot.”

“Well, maybe, but it’s not contempt.”

“Ugh!” Blata covered his ears with his paws as if refusing to listen, and his antics made Isaac burst out laughing.

“Isn’t he adorable?”

“You think that’s cute?” The Black Heaven Knight Commander asked skeptically.

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“You must not be an animal lover. I can’t understand how anyone wouldn’t find that adorable,” Isaac remarked.

“Let’s just call it a difference in taste,” replied the commander.

Together, Kane and Isaac continued to eliminate the mutated monsters to protect the people.

With Blata displaying his presence, the monsters’ movements grew sluggish. The appearance of a higher-ranked species had shifted the monsters’ focus— they were creatures with a far stronger sense of hierarchy than humans.

“They’re emerging from the labyrinth entrance,” Kane pointed out.

Isaac’s guards took their positions, forming a magical seal at their feet to block the entrance.

Using the Breath of the Moon they summoned ice, creating a glacial barrier that would trap anything inside the labyrinth.

“Freeze it all. There won’t be any survivors inside,” Isaac declared.

The mutated monsters inside were weaker than the 6th class and numbered in the hundreds. Those trapped within stood little chance; even seasoned knights at the 6th class would struggle against such strength.

As the ice barrier began to solidify—

Boom!

The barrier shattered easily, and from within emerged an old man in priestly robes.

* * *

“Tsk, this isn’t to my liking,” muttered Elder Manuel as he appeared with a horde of mutated monsters.

Kane broke the silence.

“Isn’t it a bit too obvious to reveal yourself like this?”

Elder Manuel wore the robes of the House of the Sun. Though most people were unaware of this organization, the crest was a blatant signal to those who did know.

Though most of the time no witnesses would survive to spread word.

“Who here can see me and live to tell the tale? They’re all as good as dead,” Manuel sneered.

“Your confidence is sky-high.”

“Heh, if this Elder claims it, so it is.” Manuel Smiled

“Careful. That confidence might shatter soon,” Kane replied coolly.

“Do you really think you have what it takes?” Manuel chuckled.

“Absolutely.”

“Judging by how smug you are after killing a few Executioners, you clearly don’t fear the heavens yet.”

“Don’t think you’re any different from them. To me, you’re all the same trash,” Kane shot back.

“Ha! Trying to provoke me? Useless,” Manuel responded calmly, unaffected by Kane’s taunts. His unshakable demeanor contrasted with those who typically fell for such provocations.

“Then, would you be upset if the ‘Samael’ Plan fell apart?” Kane asked.

“Heh. That’s impossible—”

But before he could finish, the mutated monsters behind him exploded, torn apart by Blata’s blazing gaze.

Blata had unleashed his power to avoid Kane’s scorn, killing the lower-ranked creatures with a mere glance.

The result was immediate, but that wasn’t all…

The oblivion energy seeped into Blata’s body. This beast had a boundless appetite, consuming demonic energy, bloodlust, and even the energy of oblivion without discrimination.

Elder Manuel was oblivious to Blata’s omnivorous nature, which explained his previous confidence.

“Getting a bit annoyed now?” Kane taunted.

“I didn’t expect you to have a ferocious species under your control,” Manuel replied through gritted teeth, his expression showing clear irritation.

“Enough with the high-and-mighty act. Why don’t you summon your lackeys—or should I bring them out for you?” Kane challenged.

Yet, Manuel remained unphased, his composure steady even in the face of Blata’s deadly consumption. Unlike the Executioners, Manuel was not easily baited.

“Blata, bring out all the hidden trash,” Kane commanded.

“Hehe! So you’re finally recognizing my strength! Leave it to me,” Blata responded eagerly.

With that, Blata unleashed a wave of blood-infused mana, flooding the area with his power.