Max swung.
One slash.
One terrifying slash that tore apart the air, the ground, and even the soul.
"No! Don’t kill !" Senior Brother Mack scread, flailing backward, trying to raise his arms to block, but it was hopeless.
Swish!
Bang!
The sword light reached him.
And in the next instant, his body exploded into a rain of blood and ash. Pieces of flesh were scattered across the icy cave like lting snow, and not even his bones remained whole. The roar of spiritual backlash echoed in the cave, but Max stood unmoving, the Black Fla and sword light still burning in the air around him. There was silence.
"He was too shocked by seeing using four concepts to actually put up a fight," Max muttered under his breath, his tone indifferent as his eyes lingered on the scorched and broken remains of Senior Brother Mack.
He shook his head lightly, then raised one hand and summoned the black flas once more. They hissed and twisted like living creatures, devouring the corpse in seconds, reducing flesh and bone into nothing but dark smoke that drifted away into the icy air.
A crisp chanical chi echoed in Max’s mind just then.
[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling up to level 9 of Master Rank.]
A slight nod of satisfaction curled on Max’s lips. His body felt lighter, stronger—sharper. The push to level 9 wasn’t massive, but it was enough to edge him closer to the Legend Rank, and in this world, even a slight edge could an survival or death.
His attention turned back toward the strange, glowing red pool in the heart of the ice cave. The Ten Thousand Year Old Demonic Blood swirled slowly within the bowl-shaped formation on top of the peach-shaped lava, still glowing faintly with spiritual power.
As Max stared, a strange pulse throbbed within his chest, low and primal. His Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline stirred violently, rumbling as though sothing ancient inside him had awoken. He placed a hand on his chest in surprise.
"...It wants the blood?" Max’s brows furrowed slightly. It was rare for his bloodline to react on its own, let alone with such hunger. But the sensation was unmistakable—it craved this blood.
Without hesitation, Max raised both his arms and summoned a tide of black fla. The fire surged out, not to burn, but to devour, surrounding the red liquid and carefully absorbing it into himself. The blood hissed as it made contact with the fla, but there was no resistance. In re monts, the entire pool was consud by his black fire, and then drawn into his body.
What followed was an eruption of raw, bone-cracking power.
Max staggered slightly as he felt his physical strength skyrocket. His muscles tensed, his bones trembled, and the mark of his bloodline pulsed faintly beneath his skin. Then ca the notification:
[Draconic Essence increased by 100.]
[Current Draconic Essence: 700]
Max’s eyes narrowed in confusion. "My Draconic Essence increased... but how?" he muttered aloud. He stood motionless, processing what had just happened. His Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline had the innate ability to sense dragon blood from miles away.
If there had been even a trace of dragon essence in that demonic blood, he would’ve sensed it. But he hadn’t—not even a whisper. And yet, sohow, the blood had nourished his draconic core and boosted his essence by an entire hundred points.
"Then what the hell was that blood...?" Max’s eyes grew sharp, the confusion giving way to curiosity—and a hint of wariness. There was sothing unnatural about it. Perhaps sothing far older, far more alien than dragonkind itself.
Before he could think deeper, a ripple of energy echoed from behind.
A figure stepped into the canyon, silent and composed. His pale skin seed to reflect the cold light of the cave. A veil of black mist surrounded him, and his eyes glowed with a cold, violet hue.
Kevin Voss of the Void Soul Tower descended into the canyon like a shadow in the mist, his presence quiet yet oppressive.
The black fog coiled around his body, faintly distorting the air, and his cold eyes scanned the icy chamber before falling on Max.
He didn’t even glance at the battlefield debris or bloodstained ground. Instead, his gaze locked directly onto the now-empty bowl-shaped depression where the Ten Thousand Year Old Demonic Blood had once rested.
"It should be the demonic blood pool, right?" Kevin’s voice was low and calm, but there was a sharpness buried in it—like a blade half-sheathed. "Did you take all of it?"
Max glanced at him briefly. His eyes ran over the man’s aura, the faint distortion of the space around him, and the heavy weight pressing down from his re presence. 6th level of Legend Rank. A dangerous foe.
"It was indeed demonic blood," Max said casually, though his body had already begun drawing in mana just in case. "But I don’t know what the demonic blood truly is."
Kevin’s lips curled in mild disdain, as if he were speaking to a clueless child. His gaze flicked toward the surroundings, and his brow furrowed slightly as he noticed the absence of Senior Brother Mack or any other signs of the Mountain Gods Valley mbers.
"I’m surprised you’re the one still standing," he said slowly, now truly studying Max. "From the trails of carnage left behind... all those Snow Bear corpses... there had to be at least two Legend Rank experts ahead of you."
Max gave a nonchalant shrug. "I guess I’m stronger than them."
Kevin sneered outright, a flicker of contempt flashing in his pale eyes. There was no way he’d believe such a bold-faced statent. To him, Max was a junior at the 9th level of Master Rank—still beneath the peak of mortal cultivation.
Killing two Legend Rank enemies? It had to be so trick. A forbidden rune, a treasure, maybe even help from so outside force. In his eyes, this boy was not a genius—he was a fluke surviving on borrowed luck.
"I can give you a quick death if you hand over the demonic blood now," Kevin said coldly, his voice heavy with threat. "Otherwise... only a brutal end awaits you."
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