Returning to the Mysterious Era

A gaping hole could be seen in Wolf's chest from above, revealing the mangled, blood-soaked organs inside. Half of his heart had been blown apart, a wound that not even the Holy Spirit could heal.

"Wolf!" Owl shouted in disbelief from where he was on the ground. But the lifeless body could no longer respond.

Tap, tap, tap…

Footsteps approached, leaving bloody footprints as Cassius, his face cold and his eyes filled with murderous intent, walked toward them.

"I told you before, you two should be the ones running this time," he said. "You've been hunting me for half a month; it's time you've repaid with your lives."

He strode toward Owl, who was struggling to stand.

Bang!

A shadow flashed before Cassius's eyes, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. By the time he came back to his senses, he was already airborne, his surroundings blurring rapidly. He crashed into a wall with a loud bang, causing it to collapse.

As Cassius got back on his feet, a man dressed entirely in black appeared in the middle of the street. He met Cassius's gaze with a sinister look of his own.

The surroundings seemed to freeze and pulled into a trance. A massive black bat's shadow seemed to spread across the sky, its fangs bared as it rushed toward him. Cassius found himself paralyzed, but he quickly snapped out of it, having experienced something similar before.

A high-ranking Blood Race!

"Oh? You broke free from the mental shock rather quickly; your willpower must be strong." The pale-faced man in the middle of the road looked at Cassius with interest. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Andrew, but people call me Count Andrew." He removed his hat and bowed elegantly, his right hand placed across his abdomen.

Count Andrew glanced at the gravely injured Owl still on the ground and the lifeless Wolf. He shook his head. "What a shame. Although Robert informed me, I was still too late." He turned his gaze back to Cassius. "It seems the only option now is to capture you alive and hand you over to those pesky shamans."

Whoosh!

Cassius's pupils contracted as a figure exuding an ancient, decaying aura appeared before him. A pale hand shot out, expanding and transforming as it came close. By the time it struck, the claw had grown to half the size of a human body and was covered in a blood-red mane.

Bang!

The claw slammed against Cassius's raised hands. It felt like he had been hit by a truck. Flung backward, he flew past the black streetlights on either side. His left hand throbbed painfully, his bones were likely broken, and his muscles felt as if they were being torn apart.

Cassius's mind raced. He was definitely no match for a high-ranking Blood Race in his current state. All he could do now was use the two remaining forbidden techniques to try to escape. At this point, the so-called aftereffects were the least of his concerns. Survival was all that mattered.

"Demon Worm! Battle Magic Ring!"

Instantly, Cassius's eyes turned pitch-black, filled only with absolute rationality and extreme coldness. At the same time, a blood-red energy wrapped around the hand adorned with a ring—Avalon's Bloodthirsty Ripple which enhanced his destructive power and attack range.

"It's useless," a voice whispered in his ear.

Bang!

Once again, the massive claw tossed Cassius through the air. Each time he was thrown, the high-ranking Blood Race would materialize behind him, and knock him back down once again. He was getting kicked back and forth like a ball. The man in black was toying with Cassius.

Despite being in his extremely calm state, Cassius would occasionally react and strike with his Bloodthirsty Ripple fist. But it proved futile; he was still sent flying. In moments, his body was battered and bruised with barely a patch of unharmed skin left.

Bang!

Cassius was knocked away again. The high-ranking Blood Race looked like a puppet as he paused momentarily. In the moonlight, red steam continuously seeped out from the cuffs and collar of his black clothing.

It had happened at last.

His body and consciousness had lagged, a form of suppression even he couldn't resist. Although this one had maintained combat readiness much longer than the last recently awakened high-ranking Blood Race, he too was not immune.

Cassius rolled on the ground and grabbed the Holy Fetters Spear embedded in the earth. Oddly enough, despite the totem wielder, Wolf, dying, the spear hadn't disappeared. Moreover, it wasn't in its glowing blue state but covered in a metal layer.

With a burst of strength, Cassius leaped up and, in his extreme state of coldness, made the optimal decision. He couldn't escape. Running was not an option! A counterattack might be the only sliver of hope he had.

Cassius's face remained expressionless, but thick snake-like veins crawled across half of it. His blood boiled, and his muscles bulged. Using his intact right hand for support and his broken left hand for assistance, he lunged forward, aiming for the Blood Race's throat.

Blood Races had significant limitations; if any part of their body was injured, their power would dissipate like steam. Cassius fought desperately, praying he might take down hisopponent with him. He was betting everything he had on the Blood Race's delayed reaction time.

Everything hung on this moment.

Whoosh!

The spear's tip shot straight for the Blood Race's throat.

Thunk!

The sound of flesh being impaled echoed. The Holy Fetters Spear was exceptionally sharp, far surpassing ordinary weapons. But the spear had pierced the Blood Race's arm.

A pair of eyes, filled with intense bloodlust and fury, lifted up. "You, a mere insect, dare to wound me?"

Boom!

Cassius was kicked away again. He crashed into a wall, dust falling around him.

"Wretched creature. How darea piece of food that's as low as bread harm a noble one such as me?" The Blood Race's face twisted in rage, its fangs protruding, revealing an ugly bat-like face. He wrenched the spear from his right hand with a squelch, releasing a thick blood-red steam. It had a strong stench like it was decaying and evil.

"Foolish human, you truly deserve to die!"

The Blood Race gave a cursory glance at his arm, now with a gaping wound. A massive loss of essential energy, nearly a fifth, meant he would have to return to his coffin for recovery. And it was all because of this human before him.

He changed his mind; he was going to kill Cassius.

The ground caved in with a bang as the Blood Race moved like a shadow, appearing in front of Cassius. His right claw clamped around Cassius's neck; even injured, he still had a terrifyingly tight grip.

He lifted Cassius up instantly. Face turning a deep shade of crimson, Cassius's wounds spurted blood out under the intense pressure and splattered on the ground. It was a pitiful sight.

"Here's what dying by slow suffocation feels like." The Blood Race's face twisted into a cruel smile.

In his extremely cold state, Cassius's expression remained unchanged. His hands grippedthe Blood Race's arm tightly, but he still couldn't break free from the overwhelming force.

"Hehehe…" The Blood Race's cackle was wild and unchecked, but suddenly, he frowned. He felt his strength draining rapidly as if a powerful pump was sucking it out.

"What the…" He quickly looked at his right hand. The usual blood-red steam wasn't there.

Instead, Cassius's right hand had swollen to twice its size, covered in black veins that writhed like small snakes and pulsed rhythmically. An unfamiliar dark aura surrounded him.

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