Chapter 239: Evolving Rage
The moment that body left the ground, everything seemed to slow.
Not for the others.
Not for the terrified vampires still pressed against the shattered arena floor.
But for GrandLord Dreath.
His eyes followed the motion with ease, the trajectory, the speed, the force behind the leap, all of it laid bare before him as if the attacker had chosen to present every detail willingly.
"...Hm."
The sound left his lips, calm, almost lazy.
And then—
He moved.
No grand motion.
No visible exertion.
Just a simple raise of his hand.
The first reddened vampire reached him with a roar, claws extended, blood surging violently within his body as if the act of attacking something like Dreath itself was feeding the frenzy inside him.
"RAAAAH—!"
The sound had not even fully faded when—
Smack.
A clean, simple strike.
No energy burst.
No technique.
Just the back of Dreath’s hand connecting with the attacker’s face.
The impact—
Was absolute.
The vampire’s body twisted in mid-air, his roar cut short as his entire form was sent spinning backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the ground far behind, the force of the blow carving a shallow trench across the already broken stone before he finally came to a stop.
Silence followed for half a breath.
Then—
"...Heh."
Dreath chuckled.
"...They really are rebellious."
His tone carried amusement now, genuine this time, as if the situation had suddenly become entertaining rather than merely interesting.
But the others—
Did not stop.
The reddened Moonshade members did not hesitate.
They did not pause.
They did not retreat.
Instead—
They charged.
One after another.
Bodies launching forward, feet pushing off the ground with growing force, their movements becoming sharper, faster, more aggressive as if something within them had fully awakened.
"GRRAAAH—!"
Another leaped.
Dreath turned his head slightly, catching the incoming strike with two fingers, stopping the momentum completely as if the vampire had run into an invisible wall.
"...Too slow."
He flicked his wrist.
The attacker was sent flying again, crashing down with enough force to crack the stone beneath him.
Another came from the side.
Dreath stepped forward this time, his movement smooth, effortless, his hand catching the vampire’s arm mid-swing before twisting lightly.
A snap echoed.
The vampire was thrown aside.
Another followed.
And another.
And another.
They came in waves.
Uncoordinated.
Wild.
Driven purely by instinct and rage.
Yet with every strike—
With every leap—
With every failed attack—
Something was changing.
Dreath noticed it first.
Of course he did.
His eyes never left them.
Not once.
"...Interesting..."
His voice softened, the amusement lingering, but now mixed with something else.
Something sharper.
Because while he continued to send them flying, continued to deflect, to slap, to flick them aside as if they were nothing more than insects daring to buzz too close—
He could feel it.
Their bodies were adapting.
The second wave came faster.
The third jumped higher.
The fourth struck harder.
The difference was not dramatic.
Not yet.
But it was there.
Clear.
Undeniable.
"...You’re learning?"
Dreath’s lips curved slightly.
"...No..."
He corrected himself almost immediately.
"...Not learning..."
"...Evolving."
Another vampire lunged toward him, this one faster than the last, his claws slicing through the air with more precision, more force than before.
Dreath caught the strike with his palm.
The impact—
Slightly stronger.
Not enough to move him.
Not enough to matter.
But enough to notice.
"...Hm."
He pushed the vampire away, sending him tumbling back.
His smile began to fade.
Not entirely.
But enough.
Because now—
This was no longer simple entertainment.
The attacks continued.
The reddened Moonshade family members did not slow.
They did not tire.
If anything—
They grew more intense.
Their breathing heavy.
Their eyes glowing brighter.
Their blood surging faster with each movement, as if every failed attack only fueled something deeper inside them.
They leaped again.
Higher this time.
Far higher.
One reached nearly to Dreath’s eye level before being struck down again, his body slammed into the ground with a force that shattered another layer of stone beneath him.
"...Higher..."
Dreath muttered.
Another came from behind.
Dreath turned.
Faster.
But so did the attacker.
The distance closed quicker than before.
His arm moved.
Blocked.
Countered.
Sent flying.
But the difference remained.
"...Faster..."
The next one attacked.
Then another.
Then three at once.
Their movements were still chaotic.
Still wild.
Still unrefined.
But their raw physical ability—
Was climbing.
With every second.
With every failed strike.
With every impact.
Dreath’s eyes narrowed slightly.
His amusement began to thin.
Because what he was witnessing—
Was not normal.
"...This shouldn’t happen..."
His voice was quieter now.
More serious.
The growth was too fast.
Too unnatural.
Too immediate.
Even for beings with high potential.
This was not something that should manifest in the span of a few breaths.
And yet—
It was happening.
Right in front of him.
Another vampire leaped.
This time—
Higher than before.
Noticeably higher.
His body reached closer than any of the previous attempts, his claws cutting through the air with more force, more intent.
Dreath moved.
Again.
Blocked.
Struck.
Sent him flying.
But his expression—
Did not return to amusement.
"...You’re getting stronger..."
The statement was not spoken loudly.
But it carried weight.
Because now—
He was acknowledging it.
Fully.
And the reddened Moonshade family—
Did not stop.
They attacked again.
And again.
And again.
Their roars filled the arena, echoing against the cracked stone and trembling air, their voices filled with something that was no longer just rage, but something closer to instinctual hunger, something that pushed them forward regardless of consequence.
"RAAAAH—!"
Another jumped.
Higher.
Another followed.
Faster.
Another.
Stronger.
Dreath moved through them, his body untouched, his movements efficient, precise, his strikes always enough to send them back, to stop them, to dominate them—
But no longer without thought.
Because now—
He was watching closely.
Analyzing.
Measuring.
"...Your blood..."
"...What is it...?"
He murmured, almost to himself.
Because what he felt from them—
Was not ordinary vampiric blood.
It carried something deeper.
Something heavier.
Something that resonated strangely even with his own.
Another wave came.
Three at once.
Dreath stepped forward this time, his aura pressing outward slightly as he intercepted them mid-air, striking each one down in rapid succession, their bodies crashing into the ground in different directions.
The impact echoed.
But they rose again.
Immediately.
Their bodies trembling.
Their eyes burning.
Their strength—
Not diminishing.
But building.
"...Enough."
Dreath’s voice changed.
Not loud.
But firm.
And with that—
He released a stronger pulse of pressure.
Not overwhelming.
But enough to halt them momentarily.
Their bodies froze mid-motion.
Pressed.
Forced down again.
Their limbs trembled violently as they tried to move, tried to push forward, tried to continue attacking despite the renewed suppression.
And then—
They roared.
Louder than before.
Deeper.
Heavier.
As if something inside them had reached another threshold.
"GRAAAAAAAAAH—!"
The sound shook the air.
Not just noise.
But force.
Something within their blood responding, rising, pushing against Dreath’s pressure with raw, unrefined power.
Dreath’s eyes widened slightly.
Not in fear.
But in recognition.
"...Another surge..."
His voice was low.
Focused.
Because he could feel it.
Clearer than before.
Their strength—
Was rising again.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
But in bursts.
In waves.
And with each roar—
Their bodies pushed harder.
Their resistance grew stronger.
Their presence—
Heavier.
And then—
They roared again.