Ancestral Lineage

In just a day, the Smiths' war fleet descended upon Veryan City. Their march had been relentless, a storm of steel and fire, growing in number as the fleets of the Eight Families joined them along the way. Now, their combined forces stretched across the sky, blotting out the sun and casting an ominous shadow over the already broken land.

Darkness fell before them, not of nature's doing, but of war's herald.

At the vanguard, two figures took their place at the front of the fleet, commanding respect and absolute authority—Madeleine and Vlad. Their presence alone was enough to silence even the bravest warriors among them. As commanders of this war, they answered only to Ethan, and none dared challenge them. After all, who would be foolish enough to incur the wrath of two Emperor Realm beings?

Vlad's crimson eyes glowed like molten embers, his long braided red hair whipping wildly in the wind as power radiated off his towering form. Clad in black armor engraved with crimson runes that pulsed with energy, he was a vision of war incarnate. His greatsword- Scarlet Annihilation- was floating beside him, bathed in the same ominous crimson glow.

A weapon of legends. A harbinger of destruction. Continue your journey at My Virtual Library Empire

Forged in blood and bound to Vlad's very essence, it was no ordinary blade. It was his spirit beast—one that had undergone the ultimate fusion, merging its existence with the steel, becoming both weapon and companion. It pulsed with an eerie sentience, as though thirsting for the carnage to come.

Vlad's voice boomed across the sky, shaking the very heavens.

"The time has finally come! Tonight, we begin the process of eradicating these fools who dared terrorize Anbord. They have incited the wrath of our Ancestor, and as his descendants, we carry out his will! Tonight, the Blades will bend and break by our hands. They will tremble in despair and perish to appease the Patriarch.

The Blade Clan will fall!"

The warriors roared in response, their battle cries shaking the air, weapons raised high as they welcomed the bloodshed to come.

Madeleine hovered beside her father, her casual clothes a stark contrast to the battlefield, yet no one could mistake her for anything less than a war goddess. Her wild red hair danced in the violent winds, and her violet eyes narrowed with a deadly gleam. The long fur coat billowed behind her as a dark purple portal opened beside her.

From its depths, a spear emerged.

Nyxfang.

A weapon born of destruction, its sleek red shaft pulsed with an eerie life, its tip gleaming with a sharp violet light that devoured the surrounding energy like a bottomless abyss. It was a spear that had tasted the blood of countless foes, a spear that knew only death and ruin.

Madeleine raised it high as she spoke, her voice cutting through the storm of war like a blade.

"Let the whole world witness the fall of the Blade Clan! We fight for all the lives lost, for the forgotten families, for the orphaned and the homeless! The Smith Clan will bring justice to all!"

The air trembled as their forces answered with a unified roar, shaking the ruined city below.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Smith weaklings? An excuse for a Clan, I must say."

A deep voice rang out, cutting through the roars of the warriors like a blade through flesh.

All eyes turned toward the source. A man hovered above the battlefield, dressed in deep blue armor with intricate silver and gold designs, his presence radiating authority. A pair of majestic white wings, glowing with an azure light, flapped gently, keeping him aloft. His long blonde hair swayed softly, untouched by the turbulence of war, while his cold blue eyes gleamed with icy contempt.

Vlad's smirk widened slightly as he recognized the figure.

"Oh? So it's you. How quickly you've grown."

"You remember me?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course. Uriel von Seras Blade," Vlad replied, his voice carrying an air of mild amusement. "Now the Air Marshal of the Blade Clan. I must admit, I didn't expect you of all people to appear here. I thought you were a coward."

"I'm not." Uriel scoffed before his lips curled into a sneer. "Unlike your whore of a daughter, I'm perfectly—"

The air turned deathly still.

The sky, once a darkened battlefield, now burned crimson. A dreadful pressure descended upon the land, suffocating, oppressive, and absolute. Uriel's breath hitched, his wings faltering mid-flight as panic spread through his veins like wildfire.

"What… What is this?!" he stammered, eyes darting around wildly. The warriors of the Blade Clan behind him stirred uneasily, their instincts screaming that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"You shouldn't have said that," Vlad murmured with a sigh.

Before Uriel could react, the two figures vanished from their positions in a blur of motion.

Then, something else appeared before him.

A towering entity, stark white against the crimson sky. Its form was humanoid, but there was something fundamentally wrong about it. Its wild, ethereal white hair billowed like tendrils of energy, crackling and shifting unnaturally. Crimson eyes blazed with eerie intensity, gleaming brighter than the reddening sun. But the most unsettling feature was the large, manic grin stretching across its face—a grin that spoke of amusement, hunger, and something far darker.

Uriel's body froze. A primal fear, the kind he had never known, took hold of him.

"Could you please repeat what you just said?" Trevor's voice was low, dark, and crawling with something ancient and terrible.

Uriel's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

"I… I—"

"Coward."@@novelbin@@

Uriel barely registered the word before Trevor's expression shifted, the manic grin vanishing, replaced by something utterly cold and detached.

"How dare you refer to my mother as a whore?"

Trevor's hand shot forward, seizing Uriel by the throat in an iron grip. The Blade Clan's Air Marshal choked, his hands clawing at the fingers wrapped around his neck, but there was no escaping. He was trapped, forced to meet Trevor's burning crimson eyes.

"I wasn't planning to waste my time on trivial fights," Trevor continued his voice like a whisper of death itself. "Not until I met your so-called Primogenitor. But congratulations… you've successfully earned my ire."

The next words fell like a death sentence.

"Now, despair in blood."

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted as a massive geyser of blood shot into the air, raining crimson upon the battlefield. The Blade Clan warriors barely had time to react before the liquid congealed midair, twisting and shifting, morphing into a monstrous form.

A towering beast of blood stood before them.

Six tails, each sharpened to a deadly point, lashed the air. Its massive, pulsating form pulsed with raw, unchecked power, its glowing red eyes locked onto the Blade Clan warriors like a predator eyeing its prey.

Uriel watched, helpless, as his forces—his elites—were torn apart in an instant. The blood beast surged forward with terrifying speed, the ground shattering beneath its every step. Screams filled the air as warriors were crushed, impaled, or outright consumed in a torrent of carnage. Those who managed to react barely had time to unleash their abilities before they too were eviscerated.

It was a massacre.

But the slaughter did not end there.

A deeper, more chilling voice rumbled across the battlefield.

"Can't have you having all the fun."

A suffocating darkness spread through the Blade Clan's ranks, thick and unrelenting.

Trevor barely glanced back. "Suit yourself."

Still gripping Uriel's throat, he turned his captive's face toward the battlefield, forcing him to witness the butchery of his own men.

Stepping forward was Lamair, his black horns now glowing with an ominous, unnatural purple light. He raised his hands, and at his command, the corpses of the fallen Blade Clan warriors twitched.

Then they rose.

A sea of undead warriors stood once more, their bodies grotesquely twisted, their eyes alight with a disconcerting purple glow. Dark tendrils, like marionette strings, stretched from their forms, connecting them to a massive black sigil pulsating in the sky.

They let out a chorus of shrill, unnatural wails before charging.

The tide of darkness and death swept forward like a storm, a living wave of ruin. Everything in its path—stone, metal, flesh—withered and crumbled into nothingness.

The air was filled with the sound of slaughter.

Uriel's body trembled violently as he felt his own blood begin to boil, his vision swimming.

This wasn't war.

This was annihilation.

...

Back in the Beast Plane…

Ethan hovered silently in the air, arms crossed over his chest. Maverick perched on his shoulder, his golden eyes mirroring Ethan's own as they observed the raging beast below. A faint silver glow shimmered around them—Aura Control. Ethan wielded it effortlessly, masking his presence from the creature that tore through the desolate land like a force of nature.

The beast was colossal, its sheer size dwarfing even the largest of war machines. Three heads, each snarling and baring fangs sharper than blades, roared in unison, their tones merging into a nightmarish symphony. A wild mane of dark purple fire crackled around its massive frame, flickering like an infernal storm. Six glowing eyes, burning with an ominous purple light, scanned the area with restless fury. Every stomp of its heavy paws sent tremors rippling through the already decayed terrain.

This was his next challenge.

A Cerberus.

Or rather, the Deathfang Hellhound, as Asteria had labeled it.

Ethan smirked slightly as he observed its chaotic rampage. "He sure has a fiery temper."