The smile on Faithlis's face, coupled with his black eyes, was something entirely different. He stood face to face with the mysterious figure. The stranger gave a cold, generous smile and spoke in a sharp tone:
"Are all humans this insane? Or are you different from them?"
And in the same voice, he added:
"But the more important question is—who allowed you into this forbidden place?"
Faithlis grabbed the stranger's shoulder and let out a mad, absurd, and cold laugh.
"Hahaha, oh my god, you ask too many questions, you gothic freak… it doesn't matter how I got in. The real question is: how will you stop me?"
The stranger gripped Faithlis's hand tightly, his eyes flaring with anger:
"I think I know who did it… but why would anyone send a handsome young man like you into this hell?"
He snapped Faithlis's hand, then landed a blow to his abdomen so powerful it severed the arm completely. Faithlis grabbed his sword with the other hand and stabbed it into the ground for balance.
Then, with all his strength, he charged at the stranger, slashing deep into his stomach… The stranger neither flinched nor held the wound; instead, he raised his sword and tried to stab him.
But Faithlis raised his sword to his back and blocked the blow. Both began clashing swords, striking each other with a rhythm that rang out like a magnificent symphony.
"You're a monster—fighting with one hand even after losing the other… You're not human," the stranger said with a sharp grin.
"Unfortunately for you," Faithlis replied with a mad grin that split his face in twisted joy, "I have a strange power… any part of my body that gets cut off grows back. So yes, I am a monster."
"A demon… no, you're Zolthars himself." The stranger spoke in a cold tone, knocking Faithlis's sword aside and aiming at his stomach. But Faithlis dodged and struck his chest with an open palm, sending him flying a great distance back.
The stranger lifted his shirt and looked at the swirling vortex on his chest—it looked like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean…
"Hahahahahaha! Man, you're fun… I haven't fought with this much excitement in ages… and because I liked that last hit so much, I'll give you my name. Remember it well when you descend into the depths of Hades… I am the Victorian Hunter—Braith Eston the Fourth." A mad grin spread across Braith's face as he spoke with growing enthusiasm.
"Seems like you've gone insane, Braith… that'll make this fight even more fun. And I promise you, you'll remember this party when you meet Hades," Faithlis replied, a wicked grin and an enchanting gleam in his eyes.
Suddenly Braith was behind him, placing his broken scythe at Faithlis's neck, ready to slice it. But Faithlis slid his sword under his neck and blocked the attack.
He struck Braith's leg, then drove his sword into his gut. Braith coughed blood and laughed like a lunatic. He grabbed the sword and yanked it out, then landed a brutal kick on Faithlis. But Faithlis used Royal Guard, partially deflecting the strike.
Braith stepped back slightly, resting his scythe on his shoulder, speaking with excited energy:
"Oh, you've got some neat techniques, kid… fighting you will be entertaining… hahaha."
Faithlis placed all five fingers across his face, his black, wild eyes gleaming as he spoke in a mocking, clown-like tone:
"You've got strange reflexes… but the thing I hate most about you is your damn leg… How about I break it, hahaha!"
Braith suddenly pressed the scythe near Faithlis's abdomen, speaking in a low, terrifying voice:
"How about I remove that white wrapping from your stomach?"
He slashed with his scythe, tearing the white bandage and revealing Faithlis's muscles, along with a deep wound. Blood poured from his stomach.
"You have another wound that hasn't healed… even though your severed hand did." Braith spoke curiously, placing his index finger on his chin.
Faithlis licked his lips like a deranged man, speaking with a quiet but nauseating voice:
"This wound… I want to keep it as a reminder on my stomach… because it was from a girl. Man, she was beautiful… but crazy."
"Sounds like she loves you—to leave a mark like that on your stomach." Braith gave a mocking smile.
Faithlis appeared behind Braith and spoke in a mocking tone:
"Unfortunately, she hates me."
He stabbed Braith in the back, then grabbed his head and slammed it hard against the ground… then smashed his elbow into the back of Braith's skull so hard it drove his head into the earth.
"I didn't know the earth could sprout human bodies," Faithlis muttered sarcastically, resting his index finger on his chin.
Braith hurled his scythe at Faithlis at such speed he couldn't even see it—striking him in the shoulder. Braith emerged from underground, grabbed the scythe, and severed Faithlis's arm again.
Then he clenched his fist and delivered a series of brutal strikes to Faithlis's body—the sound of breaking bones echoed clearly.
Faithlis grabbed Braith's hand, blood pouring from every side, and punched him repeatedly in the face. But Braith caught his fist, a mocking grin on his face.
"Even the girls hit harder than that."
He broke Faithlis's hand and struck him in the gut with a double palm strike so hard it sent him flying through the air, crashing violently into the gate.
Blood streamed across Faithlis's face, covering him from every angle… one arm gone, the other broken. His eyes were open but lifeless, even his madness seemed to have vanished.
Faithlis began speaking to himself in a cold voice, his eyes trying to look forward but cast downward… soldiers around were kneeling in a majestic pose…
They knelt on one leg, one hand covering their faces. Braith advanced slowly toward Faithlis, scythe resting on his shoulder.
"Killing… is the moment the killer declares his victory. Murder will earn you respect among the butchers… but can I really call myself a killer?"
Faithlis murmured faintly… silent for a few seconds. Then continued in the same tone:
"The helplessness I feel is terrifying… even if I can heal from any wound, what's the point if I can't finish the fight? There are many kinds of killing, each with its unique flavor; the darkest of them is when you masterfully sculpt your victim… murder."
"They say revenge is a fleeting pleasure—like sleeping with a whore, the satisfaction ends after an hour… But me? I want to turn the earth into an ocean of blood for my revenge… and when I forget the pleasure of vengeance—I'll bathe in it."
"There's a voice inside me that's not mine, repeating the word 'kill'… like a painting carved on my back, reminding me."
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
"What a word… it makes my body shiver for blood."
Faithlis rose to his feet… Braith stopped moving, his eyes wide in shock. He could sense a maddening aura, not rage—an aura of someone thirsty for blood and death.
"You're one persistent bastard… Looks like your death won't be an easy one," Braith said, smiling menacingly.
Faithless lifted his head, speaking with a mad, sarcastic tone as he smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand:
"And a whore like you thinks she can kill me? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
He sheathed his sword on his back, grabbed his own neck with all five fingers, and continued in the same twisted tone:
"You've got some fighting skills. How about we go hand-to-hand—no swords?"
Braith threw his scythe aside and stood face-to-face with Faithless, grinding his teeth in fury.
"Seems like you want to die a different way… prepare yourself."
He launched a powerful kick toward Faithless's face, but Faithless grabbed his leg mid-air with a maniacal grin, then struck him with his elbow, sending him crashing backward into the ground.
Braith tried to rise, but Faithless jumped and landed on his head…
"Since when is the ground this bumpy?" Faithless mocked.
Braith grabbed Faithless's leg, hurled him high, and slammed him to the ground… Faithless kicked off his leg, raised his own foot straight up, and brought it crashing down on Braith's back. The sound of bones cracking echoed loud and clear.
Faithless grabbed Braith by the collar and lifted him high, still grinning like a madman.
"You're not human… What are you?" Braith asked in a sharp tone.
"A demon in human form," Faithless replied in a cold, deranged voice.
He placed his palm on Braith's chest—and struck with a blow so powerful, the earth itself erupted.
Faithless stood over Braith, with faceless soldiers kneeling behind him… Braith's body was shattered, he couldn't move a finger. He spat blood on the ground and spoke with pride and eerie calm:
"Stranger… What does fighting and killing mean to you?"
Faithless grabbed Braith's neck and lifted him high into the air. He placed all ten fingers on Braith's face, laughing insanely as he spoke in a mocking tone:
"Nothing… I kill and fight for nothing."
Just as he was about to slice his head off—someone appeared beside him. A terrifying, majestic, mysterious figure. He grabbed Faithless's hand with such force, it broke instantly.
"You've finally arrived… My King."
The faceless soldiers began to tremble—some suffocated just from the presence of the King. Even Faithless's twisted smile vanished.
Faithless slowly turned his head, his wide eyes trembling in fear. He stared at a pale figure, without a drop of blood in his body, with long black hair and eyes drenched in blood. He wore Victorian European attire, topped with a black hat.
The sight was majestic—even the earth itself seemed afraid of this being. He spoke in a voice of terrifying royal authority:
"Men were born from blood, they feared blood, and civilizations were built upon it. Let us bless the old blood."
He placed his hand on Faithless's chest—Faithless didn't even know what was happening around him. His eyes trembled from fear, terror, and the agony of defeat.
"Down into hell."
He struck Faithless with a devastating force, so fast the King didn't even move his hand. Faithless was blasted through trees, which shattered over his body.
The King turned to check on Braith—but then his eyes widened, and he looked behind him slowly, sensing something strange.
In the royal palace of the Lucia Kingdom…
King Jin Li sat in his library on a high-backed chair, with a massive window behind him that overlooked the entire kingdom.
The room was adorned with engravings and expensive decor. A grand bed, a beautiful Victorian-style couch… and a long table with swords embedded into it.
A figure sat on the couch, one leg over the other. He asked King Jin Li in a sharp, majestic tone:
"Oh First King… why did you kill Prince Faithless so quickly? Your hand was even trembling."
King Jin Li swirled his glass of wine, answering with a cold, chilling tone:
"I figured you'd ask that, Fourth King… I saw something terrifying looking back at me. Something so dreadful, it wanted to escape and cut off my head… It had sharp golden eyes… and tears running down its cheek."
"…Don't tell me it was…"
King Jin Li answered in a cryptic tone:
"That's right, Fourth King… it was the Golden Anthrois."
In the other dimension…
The sky began to rain blood violently… Everything froze in place, even the earth stopped spinning around the sun. Thunder echoed through the void with deafening force…
All of this was to welcome the Supreme Being—
Anthrois.
A golden light shone from beneath the rubble—then it burst forth, revealing a towering figure exuding a golden aura. His eyes were sharp and terrifying as he gazed at the King.
The Golden Anthrois spoke in a voice that shook the soul:
"It's been a long time… King of Kings of the Vampires."