Vance’s breath caught sowhere between his chest and his throat, refusing to co out properly.
He stared at the scene in front of him as if his eyes were lying.
Cornelia’s hand was wrapped around Sevette’s neck.
Not an illusion. Not a delayed echo. Not a fading blood image that would dissolve in the next blink. It was real. Solid. Her fingers were digging into actual flesh, pale skin already beginning to bruise beneath her grip.
"How..." Vance whispered.
His mind raced backward, dragging mories with it whether he wanted them or not. Blood Illusion was not sothing you simply reacted to. You didn’t grab it. You didn’t counter it like a normal technique. You endured it, survived it, waited for the user to slip up, and even then, most fighters still failed.
He rembered a senior vampire mana user at the academy, a man with cold eyes and a reputation carved out of broken challengers. That man used Blood Illusion too. Perfectly. Or so everyone said.
Vance rembered sparring with him once, rembered how the world had fractured into false positions and mocking laughter, rembered waking up on the ground with blood in his mouth and sha burning hotter than his wounds.
That man had crushed people far stronger than Cornelia.
And Sevette was supposed to be like him.
No, Sevette was supposed to be better.
So why was she caught by the neck?
Did Cornelia predict it?
The idea felt absurd the mont it ford.
Predict Blood Illusion? Even seasoned veterans struggled to do that. Cornelia had been flustered monts ago, pushed back, confused, clearly overwheld.
Vance’s fingers trembled.
This didn’t make sense.
On the other hands Cain felt the sa shock, though he hid it better.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched
Cornelia hold Sevette in place, watched the illusion technique crumble under raw control and timing. For a brief mont, even he had underestimated the result of his own words.
Huh.
So she can do that.
A quiet snort echoed in his thoughts.
I thought she was useless a mont ago, flailing around without even seeing the obvious gaps. Turns out being well experienced combat was her key to finer Sevette’s loopholes.
His gaze softened despite himself. He’d rember how much she admire her because of her stubborn but fixed personality.
Battle experience really does matter. All those fights, all that stubborn refusal to give up, it finally paid off.
And then, quieter, more reluctant.
...Good job.
But then Cain imdiately but his tongue after saying that in his head.
Damn it!
Good Job my ass!
Cornelia’s mood suddenly changed.
She didn’t hear the words aloud, but she felt them settle in her chest like warmth spreading through cold limbs. Cain’s thoughts brushed against her awareness, sharp but unmistakably approving, and sothing inside her loosened.
Her lips twitched.
So you do know how to praise soone, she thought smugly, my Overgod husband.
Her fingers tightened.
Sevette’s eyes widened as the lack of air finally registered. The world snapped back into focus for her, panic cutting through the haze of confidence that had followed her for so long.
"You..." she gasped, her voice strained and uneven. "You caught ?"
Cornelia leaned closer, her grip firm but controlled, her red eyes steady now.
"Yeah," she replied calmly. "I did."
Sevette’s hands flew up, claws forming instinctively as blood condensed along her fingers. She slashed at Cornelia’s arm, aiming to force her to release the hold.
The claws struck.
Nothing happened.
Cornelia blinked.
The attack didn’t even sting.
Sevette’s confusion mirrored her own. She struck again, harder this ti, blood claws scraping across Cornelia’s forearm with enough force to tear through steel.
Still nothing.
"What?" Sevette hissed, disbelief creeping into her voice.
She kicked upward, driving her knee toward Cornelia’s ribs with all the strength of a seasoned vampire at the twelfth stage of the Blood Infusion Realm.
The impact landed solidly.
But Cornelia stayed in place and didn’t move a single step.
Vance’s jaw dropped.
Why isn’t she hurt?
He could see the strikes clearly. Sevette wasn’t holding back anymore. Those were real attacks, desperate and sharp, the kind ant to cripple or kill. Any vampire at Cornelia’s supposed level should have been torn apart by now.
But Cornelia stood there, unmoved, her grip unwavering.
Cornelia herself was just as stunned.
She looked down briefly at Sevette’s clawed hand pressed against her arm, then at the faint scuff mark on her sleeve that hadn’t even reached her skin.
That should have hurt.
But?
She felt nothing.
No tearing pain.
No burning.
Not even pressure.
Another kick ca, then another slash, then a frantic flurry of blows that landed against her body in rapid succession.
Nothing.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Why isn’t this hurting ?
Is she missing on purpose?
No... she’s trying to kill .
Her grip didn’t loosen, but her mind raced with questions, each one louder than the last. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from a strange mix of shock and dawning realization.
Cain felt sothing twist painfully in his chest.
That body.
That was the body nourished by his blood.
Not just any blood. Overgod Blood. The most potent blood a vampire could ever hope to touch. And on top of that, he had fed her the blood of two emperors. One from the Human Plane, one from the Chira Ant Emperor. At the ti, it had been necessity, desperation, survival.
Now he was seeing the result.
Even peak Blood Condensation Realm attacks wouldn’t scratch her anymore.
His fingers curled slowly at his side.
I did this.
The thought was heavy. Not prideful. Not triumphant. Just heavy.
Cornelia’s confidence surged like a tide crashing through her doubts. The pieces clicked together all at once, and her spine straightened as understanding settled in her bones.
So that’s why.
So that’s what it ans to be bound to him.
Her grip strengthened, fingers pressing deeper into Sevette’s throat. She leaned in, her expression calm, almost gentle, but her eyes burned with certainty.
Her long, curly hair caught the torchlight as she moved, framing her face, her fangs visible now as her lips curved upward. She looked beautiful in a way that made the air feel thinner, dangerous in a way that demanded attention.
"You don’t want to surrender?" Cornelia asked softly.
Sevette glared back at her, pride flashing even through panic. "No," she spat, voice rough. "I won’t."
Cain closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
You won’t beat her, he thought tiredly. You really won’t.
Cornelia sighed, almost disappointed.
"Then don’t bla ."
Her fingers tightened further.
Sevette thrashed violently, her body twisting as she clawed at Cornelia’s arms, her chest, her face. She tried gouging, biting, kicking, channeling blood into explosive bursts against Cornelia’s torso.
Nothing worked.
Her movents grew wilder, less controlled.
The elegance from before vanished, replaced by raw desperation. She tried prying Cornelia’s hand open with both of hers, nails digging into skin that refused to break.
"Let go!" Sevette rasped, her voice cracking.
Cornelia didn’t respond.
The struggle dragged on, seconds stretching into sothing longer, heavier. Sevette’s strength began to fail her, her movents slowing as oxygen dwindled. Her strikes weakened, turning sloppy, unfocused.
Her eyes fluttered.
Cornelia watched closely, her expression steady, waiting until the mont she was sure.
Finally, Sevette’s body went slack.
Her claws dissolved into mist. Her head lolled forward, consciousness slipping away at last.
Cornelia loosened her grip.
Sevette’s body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, unmoving.
The field fell silent.
Cornelia exhaled slowly, then swiped her hands together, brushing off imaginary dust as if she had finished an unpleasant chore.
"Fortunately," she said quietly, "it ends here."
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