Serey Villeries, once the Night Race Lord, now a bartender and pole dancer at the Undying Club.
Geoffrey had known Serey for many years, although he couldn’t claim to fully understand this Night Race Lord’s inner world, he could sowhat discern his emotional shifts.
Serey’s face always bore a few familiar expressions: a carefree and indifferent smile, a constantly vacant look as if tornted by solitude, or at tis a drunken, twisted expression.
Now Geoffrey witnessed an emotion Serey had buried, one even Serey himself was close to forgetting.
Anger.
Olivia was akin to a forbidden na; the mont Geoffrey uttered it, Serey was utterly enraged.
Geoffrey could clearly sense the overwhelming murderous intent approaching him, a violent aura almost materializing, transforming into blood-red wings spreading behind Serey, the falling feathers hitting the skin like cuts from blades and swords.
"You can’t, you can’t do this, Geoffrey!"
Serey’s voice rose, striding towards Geoffrey; while Geoffrey recognized Serey’s anger and terrifying destructiveness, he still stood motionless.
Serey raised his hand, his palm was deathly pale, as if devoid of life, cold and bloodless, with bluish veins protruding beneath the skin like ugly earthworms, chilling to behold.
His noble deanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a terrifying nightmare.
Nails grew sharp and strong, appearing lined with razor-like teeth, ready to shred through any obstacles.
Serey’s visage was hideously distorted, his skin turning extrely dry and uneven, full of wrinkles and pits, looking rough and disordered like the erosion of ti, void of Life Force.
With sunlight filtering in, Geoffrey could clearly see the texture between the skin, resembling patterns etched by a knife, blood vessels rising prominently in blue or purple hues, almost visible were the streams of blood within, intricate like rivers forming a vast lake, emanating an eerie yet sinister aura.
This perhaps was the true form of a High Tier Night Race.
Geoffrey’s breath was tight; he wasn’t afraid of what was about to happen. Serey was restrained by the Undying Club’s power, unable to harm anyone, much less Geoffrey himself, another Undead, would rely suffer a few punches. Geoffrey was prepared.
The distance between them narrowed rapidly, just as Serey’s fingertips almost touched Geoffrey, sunlight rose, its warmth filtering through the gaps between buildings, a golden line cleaving through the shadows.
This line divided Geoffrey and Serey.
Serey halted before the golden demarcation, yet his deford hand had crossed the boundary.
Sunlight grazed the palm, the skin surface charring, scorching, the dead cells evaporating a pungent sll like burnt flesh, riddled with cracks, fragile as ceramic shards ready to crumble.
Over ti, Serey’s skin darkened and hardened, splitting into countless small openings, exuding a bloodthirsty scent, a chilling stench perated the air.
Next ca the evaporation of flesh, the whole piece of flesh caved in, the body continuously contracting, blood and cells slowly vanished, leaving behind a heap of black-gray shell, faint flas released outward, emitting a dense stench of blood.
The pain from sunlight surged Serey back to consciousness; he withdrew his hand, shedding the ashes, fresh flesh regrew swiftly.
Witnessing this, Geoffrey recalled sentints Geoffrey once shared upon his first visit to the Undying Club. Serey’s lineage is extrely noble, even when facing lethal sunlight, he possesses a certain level of mobility with his Undying Power.
"Have you cald down?" Geoffrey inquired.
"You’re such a bastard, Geoffrey."
Serey glanced at Geoffrey, then directly crossed the sunlight boundary, heading for the Undying Club behind Geoffrey.
"Serey!"
"Quiet, let be alone for a while!" Serey complained.
"No, what I an is, if you’re so resistant, we can skip the topic," Geoffrey apologized, "we can talk about sothing else."
Serey scrutinized Geoffrey, a profound feeling of pain flashed in his eyes, but quickly it was concealed, leaving one sentence.
"Olivia is not the Regent King, the true Regent King is another."
With that, Serey turned and walked into the Undying Club without looking back.
Geoffrey asked, "Why are you so sure?"
"Because she promised , sworn on her mother’s na."
Serey slamd the door shut heavily, the sound echoing through the empty street.
...
When Geoffrey followed into the Undying Club, he only saw Serey’s silhouette flashing past in the stairwell, footsteps gradually receding, then another loud door slam.
Geoffrey stood there, savoring the words Serey had just said, when another voice arose.
"Don’t mind, Geoffrey, Serey is just in a bad mood lately."
Wei’Er erged from the shadows, its jet-black fur, perfect for traveling with shadows.
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