Wayne beat his three pairs of green wings and from afar saw the Bart Manor’s skies dark and dismal, enveloped in an ominous aura, snuffing out the last flicker of hope in his heart.
The Evil God had completed his descent.
"Little one, you’ve followed me here."
The Evil God floated midair, flaunting dragon wings with casual flair as he traveled through the sky at blistering speeds, making Wayne’s effort seem several times more strained.
As memories of being pinned to the ground flooded back, a malicious fire welled up in the Evil God, but at this moment, he no longer saw Wayne as a concern. Unclaimed faith awaited his harvest, and...
The laws of Death indeed presented a thorny problem, constraining his Blood Law in a sense.
Domination loomed before him; vengeance did not need to be rushed.
The Evil God gritted his teeth. The pressing matter was to usurp the name of the Sea God and envelop the ownerless faith under his command.
He raised his arm, and from the villa, several blood arrows soared. This blood belonged to members of the Bart family, like the eldest son, Hayden, and the second son, Steward.
In Myron Bart’s deal with the Devil, there was a clause that, whether he succeeded or failed, the Devil was to spare the bloodline of the Bart family and put an end to the nightmare that had plagued its masters for generations—the curse of short lives.
The Evil God had agreed at the time, willing to fulfill the terms. He simply hadn’t told Myron Bart that the first Bart to sign the pact had already sold all his descendants to him.
Thus, the Evil God had not broken his promise. He had merely chosen the clause that suited his own interests in the face of two conflicting terms.
Evil God: Though I have broken a promise, I have not broken the promise.
The blood arrows hovered midair, shaping the symbol of an Inverted Pentagram of Hell, rapidly expanding high in the sky. Out of the Magic Array emerged a Giant Dragon over a hundred meters long, forged of crystallized blood, roaring towards Wayne with the force of a tempest.
Vines and tendrils erupted from the earth; giant arms shot towards the heavens, grabbing the Giant Dragon by its long neck to drag it back to the ground.
Below, the creeping vines writhed eagerly, weaving a trap awaiting the Giant Dragon’s unwitting descent.
The Evil God looked on indifferently, flapping his wings to ascend toward the Sea God Society.
As he passed Wayne, he swept up a howling wind with one hand, snarling fiercely, "Take pride, you almost succeeded in stopping me. Cherish these last moments, for your blood will ultimately serve my purpose. I will forge your skull into the Holy Grail of Blood and drink every single drop of your blood!"
Wayne raised his vines, attempting to detain the Evil God, but his efforts were thwarted by a sudden wall of red crystal. Instead, a Parasitic Spore settled on the opponent’s body.
The Blood Dragon tore through the vines and, flapping its massive wings, roared towards Wayne, its gaping maw swallowing him whole.
The Giant Dragon, born of Blood Magic, lacked any notion of thought, not a Magical Being. Its task was to kill its target; once completed, it hovered aimlessly midair.
In that instant, the Dragon’s belly violently swelled, and sharp vines pierced the crystal, burrowing out from its belly, neck, and even the back.
The vines wrapped around the Dragon, tightening like a vast net.
The crystalline Giant Dragon plummeted from the sky; the red crystal shattered into fragments, reverting to its original casting material—the blood of the Bart family members.
The battlefield was in disarray, the aftershock even affecting the large house by the cliff, where someone, likely the Butler, was organizing the servants to flee.
A knot of vines unfurled, and the flower bud spat out a white flesh mass.
The mass wriggled and transformed into three pairs of fleshy wings. Wayne, repeating his tactic, attached to green leaves and flapped wings towards the location of the Parasitic Spores.
If it was to be a fight to the death, so be it!
The island was restless that day, with small-scale earthquakes happening in succession. One second the sky was clear, the next, thunderclouds rumbled ominously.
Cries rolled on as hot air rose from the ground, and out at sea, a Tempest’s roar began to swell, heralding the approaching storm.
Dragonheart Island, located in the North Sea, usually encountered storms in winter. It was August now, not the storm season, especially not for a tempest so fierce and sudden.
Surely, the Sea God was enraged!
Fleets of fishing boats hurried to dock, and the fishermen’s families gathered at the Sea God Society, praying for the Sea God to quell his anger and ensure the safe return of their loved ones from the sea.
It started with just a hundred, but soon the count soared past a thousand.
Amidst the chants of the faithful, the central pool of the Sea God Society churned violently. With a splash, a figure leaped out, spreading wings wide to receive the worship of the faithful.
The Blood Demon in the flesh!
The Evil God flew to the center of the square, before a statue of the Sea God erected by the donations of the faithful, embodying their plain and unadorned belief.
People cannot earn beyond their perception; likewise, they cannot imagine beyond it. They don’t know what the Sea God looks like, how tall he is, or his size. Modelled after the style of the Heavenly Father’s Court, the Sea God Society and its statue had indistinct faces, with arms raised high in a humanoid shape.
As for the symbol of faith at the Sea God Society, that bizarre and twisted pentagram, nobody understood its significance, nor did they know its origin.
The Evil God folded his wings and landed in front of the statue. Raising his arms, he mirrored the Sea God statue’s pose and began to speak softly, "My faithful, my children, I have heeded your devout calls—"
The voice was not loud but gentle, clearly echoing across the square.
From intimate whispers to deafening peals, each syllable hammered the hearts of the faithful, quelling their doubts. They began to revere the Evil God before the statue.