CHAPTER 193: KINGS VS GOD BEGINS

Inside the Blood Valley, the air itself seemed to throb with a low, sinister hum. The crimson mist thickened, as if the valley had begun breathing in unison with the beast that stood in its heart.

Fenric Bloodfang.

But he was no longer just the wolf champion he had once been. His fur was slick with gore—blood dripping down his muzzle, coating his claws. Yet not a drop of it was his own. It was the lifeblood of his allies, Vexa Moonscar and Ralkor the Ironhide, whose screams had been swallowed along with their bodies.

His back arched and cracked as bones jutted out like jagged spikes, tearing through skin. Muscles swelled unnaturally, twitching and throbbing with raw power. His frame grew broader, towering even more menacingly than before, until his shadow stretched across the entire valley floor. His fangs lengthened, dripping with saliva and leftover flesh.

Then—he howled.

It wasn’t the howl of a wolf. It was a shriek that rattled the marrow in bones, a cry so drenched in madness that even the Blood Valley’s walls quaked and split in places.

Gordan’s blood armor shivered instinctively. Syran’s shadows flickered uneasily at his feet.

But Aamir... Aamir only stood tall. His eyes burned with resolve.

He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders once, then spoke, his voice calm yet sharp as steel.

"Fenric... you’ve become a beast. But don’t forget—"

Aamir’s pupils glowed faintly, his aura surging out like a storm tearing through the valley.

"I’m a beast too."

And in the very next breath—he moved.

Aamir sprinted across the scarlet-soaked earth, the ground exploding beneath his feet. In a single leap, he soared upward, twisting mid-air. His leg descended like an axe, his heel aimed straight for Fenric’s skull.

Fenric reacted, arms shooting up. His claws met Aamir’s strike—

BOOOOM!

The impact shook the valley. A crater cracked open beneath Fenric’s feet, swallowing earth and stone. The blood-mist blew apart in violent ripples, and even the pillars of bone that jutted from the valley floor snapped under the force.

Fenric’s eyes widened, glowing an eerie red. For the first time, the monster looked stunned.

"How... how has your strength grown?!" he snarled, spittle flying.

Aamir’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed harder against Fenric’s guard.

"Because..."

His fist came next, slamming into Fenric’s jaw with bone-shattering force. The sound was like thunder cracking.

"...I wasn’t using my full strength from the start."

Fenric staggered, teeth clattering. But before he could regain his footing, a strange shimmer appeared behind him—a portal, swirling like a hole torn in reality itself.

Aamir raised his palm. The portal expanded, sucking Fenric backward.

"WHAT—?!" Fenric roared, his claws tearing into the ground, desperate to resist. But the vortex dragged him in.

And then, with a blink, another portal opened right behind Aamir.

The beast shot out of it—face-first.

Aamir turned in a smooth pivot, fist already cocked. His knuckles glowed with condensed pran, veins bulging as adrenaline roared through his body. He drove his punch straight into Fenric’s exposed back.

CRACK!

The sound was sickening. Bones shattered like glass beneath Aamir’s blow. Fenric’s body twisted unnaturally, ribs breaking, his massive frame bending from the sheer force. He coughed out blood, chunks of flesh and bone spewing from his mouth.

But even broken, the beast did not fall.

Fenric staggered back, bones audibly snapping and reshaping. His flesh bubbled, knitting itself together at unnatural speed. Spikes erupted further along his spine, his claws doubling in length. His healing was grotesque, like watching meat boil and fuse.

His growl was lower this time. Animalistic. Inhuman.

"You... cannot kill me..."

Aamir wiped a streak of Fenric’s blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. His eyes narrowed.

"Then I’ll just keep breaking you until there’s nothing left to heal."

In a blur, Aamir reached behind him, slipping his hand into the air as though parting a curtain. From his dimensional space, he drew his sword—its blade blackened with a faint crimson shimmer, humming with power.

Syran and Gordan, watching from the cliffside, both stiffened. They had seen Aamir’s fists tear mountains apart. But when he brought out his sword... it meant only one thing.

The fight was already over.

Aamir vanished.

One heartbeat—Fenric saw nothing.

The next heartbeat—white-hot pain split across his chest.

A line of crimson opened as Aamir appeared behind him, blade dripping.

Fenric’s scream split the sky. His entire chest burst open, ribs shredded apart, his monstrous heart visible for an instant before muscle closed around it again. But it was too late.

Aamir didn’t stop. He blurred in and out of sight, his blade cutting faster than Fenric’s eyes could follow. Every slash tore chunks of flesh, severed tendons, snapped bones. The valley floor ran with rivers of blood, crimson streams spilling into cracks and craters.

Fenric swung wildly, claws carving the air, but Aamir flowed around him like water. Every attack left Fenric more broken, more bloodied, more desperate.

At last, Aamir reappeared in front of him.

He crouched low, gathering all the pran in his body, condensing it into his blade. His aura flared so violently that the valley’s blood-mist was swept away entirely, leaving only raw, suffocating pressure.

"Now it’s time for you to die."

With that, Aamir vanished once more—

—and appeared behind Fenric, sword already sheathed.

Fenric stood still for a moment. His breath came in ragged gasps. His healing tried to spark, tried to mend him...

Then his body split apart.

SLASH!

Chunks of flesh and bone rained to the ground. Arms, legs, and torso, severed in clean lines, collapsing like butchered meat. His monstrous head rolled down into the blood-soaked dirt, eyes still glowing faintly.

Silence.

Gordan’s jaw clenched beneath his blood armor. Syran’s shadow-fused eyes widened.

Neither spoke.

They had both fought werewolf champions with their lives on the line—both barely surviving their matches. Yet Aamir...

Aamir had torn Fenric apart like he was nothing.

The warrior sheathed his sword slowly, each movement precise. His chest rose and fell, but his expression remained calm, as if the slaughter hadn’t even broken a sweat.

He turned to them, his gaze sharp.

"Let’s head back to the arena." His tone carried weight, commanding yet unshaken. "I’ve sensed something. A presence stronger than anything we’ve faced here. Stronger... maybe even stronger than me."

The words made the valley seem colder.

For the first time, even Aamir admitted uncertainty.

Gordan and Syran exchanged glances. Their victories, their survival, felt hollow compared to the storm brewing ahead.

The air rippled as Aamir’s portal tore through the fabric of space. Its edges shimmered like molten glass, vibrating with raw pran energy. Without hesitation, Aamir stepped through, followed by Gordan and Syran.

In a heartbeat, they emerged inside the grand arena.

But the sight that greeted them was not the same arena they had left behind.

Blood stained the cracked stone floor, corpses of masked vampires and scattered werewolf carcasses littered the ground. The torches around the coliseum walls flickered weakly, their light struggling against the oppressive darkness that lingered over the battlefield.

And at the center—seven vampire lords still stood, locked in vicious combat against the remnants of the masked army. Their crimson blades clashed against shadow-born weapons, fangs glinting as they tore through the chaos.

But that wasn’t what caught Aamir’s attention.

Across the arena, Zalmic—the old warlord—was locked in a brutal clash against Seemus. Sparks erupted every time their weapons met. Zalmic’s great axe tore chunks out of the arena floor, while Seemus’s claws lashed like venomous serpents, leaving trails of black energy.

Yet, Aamir’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the real threat.

Another vampire, one he hadn’t seen before—his aura sharper, darker, hungrier than the rest—was creeping up from behind Zalmic. A killing intent so refined it almost escaped notice.

Syran squinted. "That one... he’s waiting for Seemus to distract Zalmic before finishing him."

Before Gordan could reply, Aamir moved.

A storm of pressure exploded out from him, shaking the very bones of the coliseum.

The arena groaned under the crushing force of his aura. The air thickened until even breathing felt like drowning.

Every warrior—vampires, masked soldiers, even the remaining werewolves—dropped to their knees. Their weapons clattered against the ground as they fought for breath.

Even Zalmic staggered, forced to a knee. His axe trembled under the unbearable weight.

Seemus’s smile cracked into a snarl as his knees hit the ground, his claws gouging the stone in frustration. The unknown vampire behind Zalmic collapsed flat, his body convulsing against the crushing gravity Aamir exuded.

For a brief moment, silence ruled. Only the sound of breaking stone and gasping breaths filled the arena.

Then Aamir moved again—swift as lightning.

In a blink, he was beside Zalmic. His hand gripped the old warlord’s armor, yanking him backward before the assassin vampire could strike. Aamir leapt, dragging Zalmic with him, landing a safe distance away.

And then—just as suddenly as it had erupted—Aamir’s aura vanished.

The crushing weight lifted from the battlefield, leaving warriors panting, their bodies slick with cold sweat.

Zalmic coughed, clutching his chest, but his sharp eyes turned to Aamir.

Aamir gave him a small grin. "Well, old man. I saved you."

For the first time in years, the hardened warlord allowed himself a chuckle. His voice carried both relief and respect. "Yes... Lord Aamir. For that, you have my thanks."

He steadied himself, raising his axe again. His eyes gleamed with renewed fire. "Though I hate to admit it... I nearly lost myself there."

Aamir tilted his head slightly, glancing at Seemus and the vampire lords still watching warily. "Need any help?"

Zalmic smirked, blood dripping from his lips. "Yah... why not? Let’s finish these monsters together."

Gordan cracked his knuckles, stepping up beside Aamir. "Finally. I was getting bored."

Syran grinned, the faint glow of his power flickering around him. "Don’t keep all the fun for yourselves."

The vampire lords, realizing who had just joined the fray, hissed and drew closer to Zalmic and waited for his order.

Seemus rose, fury burning in his eyes, his voice dripping with venom.

"Aamir..." he snarled, his claws twitching with bloodlust. "You should have stayed out of this."

But the fear in his eyes betrayed his words.

Aamir only smiled faintly, resting his hand on his sword hilt, the blade gleaming faintly within his dimensional space. "I don’t stay out of fights... not when my people are at stake."

The arena pulsed with anticipation, the storm of blood and steel ready to ignite once more.