The air in the arena had turned heavy with tension. Every heartbeat echoed like a drum as Julian turned to Klea.
"What kind of technique is he using?!!"
Klea’s face was pale, her lips pressed into a hard line. "He’s burning his life force!! Chumo is killing himself!"
The words struck like thunder.
Contrary to the myths that surrounded Magus realm cultivators, none of them were truly immortal. Their power granted long life, yes, but it was not infinite. A Magus’s vitality was tied to the amount of life force—a reservoir tied to their lifespan. Low-stage magus often lived more than a thousand years, while peak full-moon magus could stretch their lives to three thousand.
Chumo had only recently broken through to the Full Moon stage. By all accounts, he should’ve had a vast reserve of life force remaining. But now—Klea’s heart clenched—the white streak threading through his dark hair told a dire tale. Just that small transformation... was equivalent to burning away decades, maybe even centuries, of life.
"Chumo! Don’t do this!" Klea scread from the edge of the arena, her voice cutting through the crowd’s roar.
On the battlefield, Chumo paused. He lifted his head slowly, sweat streaking down his bloodied face. His lips curled into a faint, almost apologetic smile. He drew in a deep breath—and then, as if accepting his fate, allowed the crimson sigil to blaze once more upon his forehead.
It was the mark of a forbidden technique [Blood Sacrifice]—one he had uncovered from the [Blood To], the ancient and cursed text once owned by Lodos. Chumo had taken it in secret, shortly after Ery’s disappearance. It was his last desperate attempt to find power.
But even that—burning away his own life—was not enough against Poseidon, a warrior who stood at the peak of Grand Magus might.
And so, he reached into his storage ring and pulled out a thick obsidian jug. Inside sloshed a dark crimson liquid, thick like syrup and ominously glowing.
"Is... is that blood?" Julian’s voice cracked with alarm.
Without hesitation, Chumo drank it.
The transformation was imdiate—and terrifying.
His body convulsed, veins pulsing violently under his pale skin. His irises turned a deep, unnatural red. His fingers elongated slightly, claw-tipped. Twin fangs glinted beneath his lips as his skin lost all warmth and his aura shifted into sothing... unnatural.
The Nightwalker Transformation.
It was the curse that had plagued him since his ti in captivity on the dark elf world. For months, he had resisted feeding. Resisted the call of blood. But now, in this sacred arena, against a godlike opponent, he gave in.
And the blood—iron-rich, unleashed the full fury of the infection.
The crowd gasped. Even seasoned warriors flinched at the sight of the transformation.
Chumo stood tall, his eyes locked onto Poseidon’s with a predator’s intensity. Blood mist seeped from his pores like steam from boiling water.
Poseidon’s expression twisted with disgust and fury. "Blood magic?! You filth! You dare taint this battlefield?"
With a roar, Poseidon spun his trident, its blades trailing spirals of water energy as he began a whirling assault.
The clash reignited with terrifying intensity.
Poseidon’s trident, wreathed in swirling torrents of water, t Chumo’s twin crimson daggers in a symphony of chaos and steel. The battlefield erupted in bursts of force as the two collided—one wielding the fury of the ocean, the other the madness of blood and shadow.
Chumo t each blow head-on.
The forbiden blood sacrifice technique, the Nightwalker transformation, and the Khaos power—all three enhanced his physicality far beyond normal magus limits. Blood mist trailed behind his steps, and every strike he unleashed carried the weight of desperation and fury.
BAAAM!! BAAMM!
Explosions rippled outward every ti they clashed. The shockwaves cracked the marble arena tiles and sent shimring waves of force into the protective barrier shielding the crowd.
But the cost was clear.
Every second he maintained the forbidden techniuqe, more of his life force drained away. Wrinkles appeared across his cheeks and jaw, even through the monstrous enhancent. His hair, once jet black, was now nearly half white, strands falling with every movent.
Poseidon, for all his strength and divine stature, wasn’t untouched. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. Cuts lined his arms and legs, each one shallow but building. Bruises blood beneath his jade-tinted skin, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. The Sea God had underestimated his opponent—and was now paying the price.
From the sidelines, Klea scread for Chumo to stop, but her cries were drowned in the roar of the battle. Julian’s voice joined Klea’s in anguish. "Chumo, that’s enough... Let take your place!"
But Chumo didn’t even glance back.
His eyes were locked on Poseidon.
His resolve burned hotter than the crimson light in his eyes.
He knows the limit of his strenght.
He didn’t have Klea’s talent.
Thrax’s savagery.
Julian’s brilliance.
Ery’s bloodline.
He was the weakest link.
But not today.
Today, he would be the one to carry the weight.
Crimson blood aura erupted around him like a storm, swirling and blending with dark energy. Khaos itself laced into his form, amplifying the nightwalker transformation into sothing even more monstrous. His breathing steadied—then stopped altogether, as if his body had gone cold.
And then he moved.
"LET’S END THIS!"
Chumo blurred forward in a blood-red flash. Poseidon’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift. With a battle cry, the Sea God summoned the full force of his domain—his strongest trident technique, a manifestation of the ocean’s wrath.
Whirlpools churned, and his weapon glowed a deep turquoise, water vortexes coiling around it like serpents. "Let’s see how much longer you can last!" Poseidon roared.
The trident thrust out, aiming to finish the fight.
But Chumo was faster.
He twisted mid-air, dodging by a hair’s breadth, his daggers locking with the trident’s shaft. A crack echoed—his blades couldn’t take much more of this punishnt. But still, he held on. He parried one swing, then another. And when Poseidon surged again, Chumo took a step back.
Chumo shifted his stance, and—switched weapons.
With a flash of light, his bow appeared once more in his hand, an arrow already nocked.
A massive blood-forged arrowhead, thrumming with energy.
He fired point-blank.
Poseidon’s instincts scread. He ducked—just in ti. The arrow whizzed past his temple, missing by re inches.
He smirked, prepared to counterattack—
—only to realize too late.
The arrow wasn’t ant for him.
It struck one of the glowing jellyfish floating overhead—the ones creating the light that prevented shadows.
BOOOOOM!
The jellyfish exploded in a shimr of light and spirit mist, and for one fraction of a second—a shadow flickered.
And that was all Chumo needed.
In that instant, he vanished.
Poseidon’s eyes widened. "What!?"
Chumo reappeared in Poseidon’s blind spot—silent, sudden, deadly. Both of his crimson daggers glead with violent intent, swirling with blood magic and the remnants of Khaos energy. His body trembled with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with the fury of soone who had nothing left to lose.
This was his final strike.
[Thousand Bloody Streams]
With a burst of supernatural speed, Chumo unleashed a flurry of dagger strikes, his arms a blur of red slashes. Poseidon turned, eyes wide with shock. "URRGHH! I won’t let you!!"
He swung his trident wildly, water coiling to block the barrage, but Chumo had already broken past his guard.
One hundred strikes.Three hundred strikes.
Each cut chipped into the divine jade scale armor, and then into the flesh beneath. Poseidon roared in pain. His trident swung wildly, trying to catch the blur behind him.
"I MUST GO ON!!" Chumo roared, his voice cracking with pain and rage.
His arms scread with every motion. His shoulders nearly dislocated from the force. His fingers trembled, on the verge of shattering, and yet he kept striking. More and more of his hair turned bone-white, each strand a toll paid in life force. His veins glowing crimson.
From the sideline, Klea’s scream pierced the air. "CHUMO, PLEASE STOP!!"
But Chumo heard nothing. He no longer fought for survival—he fought for purpose. For Earth. For his friends.
Five hundred strikes.
Poseidon bellowed in agony, staggering under the relentless storm. His final life-saving spell activated instinctively—a violent torrent of seawater erupted from his chest, blasting Chumo backward.
But Chumo didn’t let go.
He held on.
The twin daggers stabbed deep into Poseidon’s chest, anchoring Chumo to his enemy. Blood sprayed from both of them—one sacrificing everything, the other refusing to fall.
With a guttural cry, Chumo pulled the daggers free, only to slash again. And again.
Six hundred strikes.Seven hundred.
Poseidon’s body trembled under the assault. His muscles spasd. His jade scales were shattered in dozens of places. He could no longer hide his groans of pain. The Sea God, one of Kronos’ most revered generals, was faltering.
But Chumo was failing faster.
His heartbeat beca erratic. His vision blurred. His breath ca in ragged gasps. And finally—
CRACK!
The crimson daggers shattered in his hands.
Blood gushing from his palms as the fragnts of his weapons scattered across the arena like falling stars.
Poseidon staggered but didn’t fall. Despite his wounds, he was still a Grand Magus—and he saw his chance.
"NOW DIE!!" he bellowed.
With a final roar, Poseidon raised his trident for the finishing blow, a divine strike fueled by everything he had left. This one hit would obliterate Chumo.
But Chumo moved first.
He charged in.
No weapon. No defense. Only desperation and will.
He tackled into Poseidon’s chest, slamming his shoulder against the sea god and wrapping his arms around him, locking the trident mid-swing. His face pressed against Poseidon’s shoulder, fangs exposed.
"GET THE FUKK OF !!" Poseidon scread.
But it was too late.
Chumo bit down.
Nightwalker fangs pierced the god’s neck.
"URGHH!!"
Poseidon howled in horror and rage. Blood gushed into Chumo’s mouth, and for a mont—just a mont—the tide turned.
Poseidon’s knees buckled. He dropped to one knee, vision spinning.
Then, with every ounce of strength remaining, the Sea God unleashed his domain in full.
A cataclysmic blast of oceanic energy exploded from his body, shattering the watery arena he’d constructed. A do of light and sea mist engulfed the platform, throwing Chumo’s body across the arena like a broken doll.
BOOOOMMM!!!
The shockwave rocked Mount Olympus. Spectators stood frozen. The sea domain vanished into mist.
As the dust cleared...
Poseidon stood swaying, his entire body soaked in blood, his jade scales dented and cracked. He coughed, spitting blood. But he remained upright—barely.
Across the field... Chumo lay motionless.
Face down, hair completely white.
Klea collapsed to her knees.
"No..." her voice shaking. "No, no, no...""
The entire coliseum fell silent, tens of thousands holding their breath.
Chumo’s aura—gone.
No life force. No heartbeat.
User Comments
0 comments from readers