My blood ran cold in my veins.
A body slammed thud from the skies, uninterrupted by all. As the Matriarch's body fell, a shockwave spread through the area. The wind slapped against my face. Lilian fell to her knees beside me, while I cursed under my breath.
Everyone saw what happened. Nobody could accept it. Even our foes, the other vampires fighting against the werewolves, watched the scene in intensity rather than continuing with their attacks. The acting patriarch of the Obsidians, Val, had stopped fighting the acting matriarch of the Moon Wolves.
What happened that the Matriarch, who had miraculously healed, suddenly weakened again? The tea potion… it must have limitations. Maybe the brewing process was different, or maybe it just wasn’t enough to heal her severe injuries permanently. Whatever the case was, my [Insight] Skill had missed it.
A Basic Ranked skill couldn’t be trusted as the words of gods, I supposed.
Everyone stared at the body of the gigantic wolf, waiting for movement. Fighting was pointless if she truly died, for the victor would have been decided then.
"What a shit show," I murmured under my breath. Was this what happened in the original storyline? She died, and the entire city fell? Did my presence change nothing at all?
No, perhaps it did. Perhaps in the original timeline, Lilian would have been beaten to death by those third-generation Obsidians. The cup would go down with her. In the process, the Matriarch would never rise, and therefore, die caved in her room.
My optimistic heart said that, at least my presence had bought me a chance.
My sane mind said that I was fucked either way.
"Mmrgh..." that was when the Matriarch's body twitched. She shifted, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She didn't succeed. It was heartbreaking.
"Grandmo-!" the girl beside me shouted from her knees, and I pressed a hand above her mouth. Thankfully no eyes turned toward us.
We were hidden behind a broken wall, observing the situation from here. I wanted to live for as long as possible, I wasn't dying because of a squeaky girl. She turned her eyes toward me and glared daggers, and I glared down at her. When she didn't show any sign of backing off, I ignored her eyes and looked ahead at the scene.
The Vampiric Father was floating down from the sky, his wings at full display. Bat-like wings flapped behind him to keep him afloat, a whole lot of blood trickling down his nose and ears. He didn't look unharmed either.
But… I don't think he was flying with wings earlier, I couldn't see that far into the sky, but I'm confident his wings weren't out so far. He's weak enough that he needs his wings to fly. His mana might be at its lowest point right now.
He had been hiding his injuries well, perhaps some blood or flesh art, to act tough. Perhaps. Or maybe he received those injuries inside that dome. Regardless, it was obvious that he too had sustained injuries that he didn’t want the world to see.
If there was another Vargathrian of the First Apocalypse here, the battle would have ended in our favor. I peeked out to look at Professor Amelia in the sky. Firefly wings flapped behind her. If it's her, she could jump in and deal lethal damage.
I had my suspicions when I saw a dragon peek its head from the mansion, but it really was her. We had a dragon on our side, and yet...
Unfortunately, Munera Obsidian sat on the ceiling beside where she was flying. They were exchanging glances, ready to jump at each other. If Amelia tried to attack the Vampiric Father, Munera would jump to tear her apart.
"Oh, Vargathrian." The Vampiric Father chuckled darkly, a hand clutching his other one. "In the end, victory is mine once again. What were you saying about revenge and its dark effects? Look at you, who lived freely, and yet is still weaker than me, on your knees, about to draw your last breath."
The Vampiric Father talked, keeping a distance from the wolf, still skeptical, while we watched. I didn't even consider Ralian, that wolf lady I'd met that day, to save her mother. She refused to tell me her name that day, but Amelia let me know about it. Ralian was right beside Val, if she tried to jump in, Val would stop her.
Nobody could save the Matriarch. And if she couldn't be saved, neither could the rest of us. I was going to die here.
Still, she must feel like shit right now as a dragon. I looked at Amelia and thought. Dragons were Apex Predators, the peak of the food chain; the strongest dragon was stronger than the strongest vampire. Unfortunately, Amelia wasn't the strongest.
My initial suspicion that she died in Lockdarn in the original game must be true.
"...."
Death.
No other way would I have missed someone like her in the Game. Dragon-hybrids were rare, even more so one who was proficient in both dragon tongue magic, and draconic battles. Hybrids usually only focused on one; they didn't have a choice.
Her lineage must be quite extraordinary if she could transform into such a large dragon despite being a half-ling, and on top of that fight like that. I had a guess about her bloodline, but that didn't matter now.
None of it did. We were all going to die anyway.
So I guess it's about time I make my choice.
A system screen formed before me, as I took a second look at the Skill I gained after merging it. This was not the Skill I got earlier, after defeating those third-generation vampires and reaching Level 21; that would be a Sword Art.
This... this was a True Demon God Art, one I've never seen before.
===
Name: [True Demon God Art: The Temporal Overdraft]
Rank: ◾Unrankeable ◾
Description: An unranked technique that allows you, Iskandaar Romani, to tap into your potential futures, borrowing strength from a random version of yourself across possible timelines. The power drawn is always unpredictable, possibly ranging from immense to non-existent, depending on the state of the future self. From a Cripple to a King.
The cost of using this technique is a portion of your lifespan, proportional to the power borrowed. It might be one year, or a hundred, killing you immediately. Additional costs may apply.
Effect: Upon activation, the user draws power from a possible future. The duration of the effect depends, during which time the user's abilities may be enhanced based on the future they’ve tapped into.
Cooldown: Once per six month
===
A Deus Ex Machina, except it was an absolute Gatcha bullshit Skill. Okay, maybe not Deux Ex, given it was either zero or hundred. The cost was severe too, even if I scored something good. If it was too good, my lifespan would drop to zero, and I’d die.
Regardless, it was a skill that was tailored to this situation.
A situation where death was prominent, certain, this was a trump card. Closing my eyes, letting go of Lilian’s mouth, I stepped forward. I ignored her surprised yelp seeing me walk forward, while I called for any divine entity that could boost my luck.
I hope this gamble’s worth it.
This was the sole card that made me stay here from the get-go.
****
“Oh, look at you. Poor, poor little wolf,” the Vampiric Father cracked at the Matriarch. He liked playing with his food, but today he enjoyed it a bit too much. After all, having reached his revenge after centuries, he ought to savor it a little.
“Quit wasting both our time… Azrath,” the Matriarch said with a defiant smirk, her body defeated, and yet her mind prideful. “Finish me already.” Then her jaw slapped to the side as he kicked it, sending fur scattering across the wind.
“No more words. I’ve been keeping you alive for a reason,” he said, his head turning to look at one corner of the baron’s mansion nearby. “I want you to see how your tribe dies by my han–”
The Matriarch’s head snapped back at him, “Don’t you dare-!”
But both of them stopped talking, as a figure walked out of the shadows from the exact area that Azrath was looking toward. The Matriarch slowly turned, her eyes widening as a young human boy walked into the charred garden they were occupying right now.
She recognized him.
Her heart sank. He must have put all his faith in her, but she lost.
He should have made a run for it, for the slightest possibility that he’d survive. Why was he coming here? Vargathrian parted her jaws, “Boy, run! This is no place for kids!”
From afar, his daughter, Munera, murmured, “That boy… he’s still here?”
The Vampiric Father ignored Munera and looked at the wolf. “Oh my, it’s someone you know?” He grinned, “I was about to erase him from existence. Should I play with him instead? How about I tear off his limbs, one by one, and-”
“I’ll have to humbly reject that, you old fucking bastard,” the boy interrupted him. He was sweating like a fountain, nervous as shit, but he did not tremble.
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Professor Amelia shouted, “Y-you fool, what are you doing!”
The desperation in her voice made him turn. He smiled at her. Then he pointed a finger at the Azrath, who was shocked silent that a mortal dared to talk to him in that manner. “I’ll meet you in hell if this doesn’t work.”
Then, he snapped that finger at him.
A Skill activated. The world hummed.
Something happened, but it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. The atmosphere grew dense, the air thickening with an invisible weight that pressed down on everything and everyone. A palpable tension crackled in the air, like the static before a storm, as the very fabric of reality seemed to bend in response.
Yet, for all the invisible chaos that surrounded him, there was no change in Iskandaar’s body. He remained still, his eyes unfocused, as if caught between this world and some far-off realm.
A sudden, sharp voice shattered the silence. “A-aunty, that’s him! That’s the one who killed Rang’thar and Darian!” Velora, the third-generation vampire who had slipped through Iskandaar and Lilian’s grasp earlier, now pointed an accusatory finger at him from the sidelines, her voice shrill with both fear and fury.
She shouted toward Munera, expecting her to do something. The woman just blinked. She had been watching the scene unfold with cold detachment from her position on the rooftop, barely curious about what the boy was up to, but Velora’s words made her pause.
Her eyes flicked between the boy and her own thoughts. This child, her daughter’s fiancé,… Could he truly be the one who killed her kin? He did not appear strong enough though, was this a false report?
What the hell? The revelation rocked her, but before she could process this, another voice roared across the battlefield.
“Damn you!” Val Obsidian’s voice was a thunderous bellow of rage, his eyes blazing with a fury that could only come from the loss of a son.
She understood why. Rang’thor was her nephew, but Val’s son. A father wouldn’t wait to verify things. He did not have the liability that she did.
Without waiting for anyone’s command, he thrust his hand forward, a ball of blood-red mana forming in his palm. Ralian tried to stop him but failed. He was too fast.
The orb, pulsating with dark energy, was identical to the one that had torn through the city’s defenses earlier. It shot toward Iskandaar like a crimson comet, leaving a trail of death in its wake. Time seemed to slow as the deadly sphere raced toward him.
Iskandaar remained frozen on his spot, his expression vacant. Munera frowned, wondering if she should have stopped it. In the end, she decided she didn’t regret this. She didn’t even have any proof that he truly was her daughter’s fiance.
So, she chose to watch him die.
She watched, as he finally moved. He merely raised his hand. With a casual swipe, as if brushing away an insect, he batted the attack aside.
The blood orb veered off course, crashing into the ground with a deafening explosion that sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Dust and debris flew in every direction, yet Iskandaar remained untouched, his hand slowly lowering back to his side.
Munera, and everyone else, watched in silent shock.
The world hummed again. The world reacted to this display of power with a fury of its own. Mana screamed in the atmosphere, a deafening roar that seemed to echo from the very heart of the planet.
The skies above darkened, clouds swirling into a vortex of chaos as the ground beneath them trembled with a violent intensity. The once steady earth cracked and split as if the world itself could no longer contain the power that had been unleashed.
“W-what the hell?!” Lilian Lunewolf stumbled into the sight from her hiding spot, but none of her enemies bothered to look at her. Their senses were screaming, their eyes locked on Iskandaar’s visage.
His eyes were blank, his face devoid of emotion, yet the air around him began to vibrate with an otherworldly intensity.
As if guided by an unseen force, his body moved with a purpose that was not his own, a mere vessel for a power far beyond mortal comprehension. Then, a surge of red and purple aura slowly sipped out of him… until it exploded outward, swirling around his form like a violent storm.
The aura twisted and coiled, taking on shapes that defied reason—horns of pure energy sprouted from his head, curling upward like those of a demon, while shadowy wings of ethereal darkness flickered at his back.
His hand rose higher, this time toward the Vampiric Father, the movement slow and almost lethargic, yet carrying an undeniable weight. A weight that crushed the ground beneath him. The very air seemed to tremble with a sense of impending doom as if the world itself recognized the awakening of a monstrous power.
The Vampiric Father’s eyes widened in shock, a rare flicker of fear crossing his features. He could feel the raw power that was about to be unleashed, a power that made him instinctively shout, “Stop him! Kill the boy, now!”
The vampires surged forward like moths to fire. In a desperate bid to stop Iskandaar, they tapped into their full speed. They moved with a frenzy, their normally graceful movements reduced to panicked scrambles. But before they could reach him, the defenders sprang into action.
“No, you’re not!” Amelia, her wings aflame with golden light, swooped down from the sky, her fiery breath scorching the earth as she cut off the vampires’ advance. Ralian charged at Val with a snarl filled laugh, her claws extended as she sought to keep him away from the boy.
Lilian, too, joined the fray, her sword a blur of motion as she rushed toward Velora. The area once again exploded in a series of battles.
But even as the situation around him grew louder, Iskandaar remained still. The only thing that changed about him was his hand that continued its slow descent toward the Vampiric Father.
As he called upon the full power of his odd power, the Vampiric Father gathered his own strength, his aura expanding in readiness for the attack. Above him, the sky darkened even more, the clouds coiling into a colossal whirl of blood-red energy. A mana storm crackled there with sinister lightning, the air tight with the threat of annihilation.
But before the Vampiric Father could release his attack, Iskandaar’s hand finally came down.
In that instant, the heavens split open.
– Swriktchhhhh-!!!
A blinding column of light descended from the sky as if the very sun had been torn from the heavens and hurled toward the earth. The light took form as it fell, shaping itself into a colossal sword, its blade so bright that it seared the eyes of all who dared to look upon it. The sword descended with a terrible finality, slicing through the swirling bloodstorm as if it were made of nothing but mist.
“The Divine Cult is… Immortal,” Iskandaar’s lips finally moved, even with his eyes blank, “True Demon Sword Art, Ninth Form: The Annihilation Blade of Cursed Finality.”
The Vampiric Father’s eyes widened in horror as the sword of light cleaved through his defenses, tearing apart the dark energies he had summoned with ease. The blade struck the earth with a force that shook the world to its core, the impact sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under the sword’s might, the ground splitting open as the energy of the attack tore through it. The entire mortal realm went bright. All light seemed to focus on Lockdarn, as night vanished, and absolute light remained.
For a moment, there was nothing but white.
****
As the intense light from the sword's descent began to fade, the world came back into focus. Lilian regained her senses. There was a faint ringing echoed in her ears, and she could taste dust on her lips, as well as smell the scent of charred earth around her.
She blinked slowly at first, and then her eyelids fluttered rapidly. Her sight sharpened to reveal the aftermath of the destruction as she paused. She rubbed her eyes, questioning whether her vision was deceiving her.
She was confronted with a scene completely out of this world.
The once proud and bustling city of Lockdarn was now divided down the middle as if struck by a divine hand. The city was... cleaved... in two.
The titanic sword of light had left a scar upon the land, a canyon where buildings once stood and streets once bustled with life. The destruction was absolute, the sheer force of the attack having torn through everything in its path.
“Oh, Luphoran, give me strength…” Disbelief coursed through her veins.
As her eyes adjusted more, she saw him. The villain, the nightmare. The Vampiric Father, Azrath, as he lay crumpled on the ground, his left shoulder gone, barely missing his head.
He would have been split in two, like the city, if he was a millisecond slow. His body was a ruin of blood and torn flesh, the arrogant, untouchable figure now reduced to a mere shadow of himself, teetering on the edge of death.
But he wasn't dead yet.
Even after such a devastating technique, that bastard somehow still breathed.
Azrath’s eyes, filled with a mix of pain and disbelief, locked onto Iskandaar’s unmoving form. “You… demon…” he hissed, the words barely a whisper, laced with venom and fear.
Lilian's breath hitched when she followed his gaze, noticing Iskandaar’s form nearby, lying still on the ground. His body was limp, unresponsive, and for a terrifying moment, Lilian feared the worst. That man was their savior. She'd like to thank him, but what was this? Was he… was he dead? Had he sacrificed everything for that one final strike?
The idea made her gulp, and her heart pounded in her chest in worry.
She wanted to rush to him and check, but before she could do that, her attention was drawn to something else. A slow, deliberate crawl.
Despite her weaknesses, the Matriarch Vargathrian had forced herself onward.
Despite the destruction and damage that marred her body, she was not yet done.
“Grandma…” Lilian whispered, her voice trembling, unable to do anything but watch as the Matriarch reached Azrath. Her massive form loomed over the fallen Vampiric Father. She stared down in silence, her eyes burning with hate.
“Azrath…” she growled, her voice a mere rasp but carrying the weight of centuries of enmity. “A millennia ago, I’d have felt sad about what I’m about to do. I just want you to know that.”
Then, without hesitation, she bit down on his neck. Her jaws closed on his flesh with a sickening crunch as the Vampiric Father’s body jerked, a gurgling sound escaping his throat as his life force drained away.
Lilian stared in awe. Perhaps if it hadn't been for the Matriarch, that vampiric bastard would still be alive today despite the fact that everyone else in the field had died.
Against his arch-rival? He could only glare up at the world with his last breath, cursing everything and everyone before his body went still.
The silence that followed was loud. The vampires, who had been fighting Ralian and Amelia all throughout this time, stopped in their tracks. Their eyes were wide, their gazes filled with horror as they witnessed their leader, their father, getting bitten the life out of him.
"Father!" Val Obsidian's roar of fury cut through the chaos, his eyes blazing with rage. Without hesitation, he charged at the Matriarch, his hands glowing with blood mana, determined to tear her apart for what she had done. “I’ll kill you!”
The Matriarch, bloodied and broken, turned her head towards him. A wave of mana was passing through her, for she had leveled up. It didn't heal her completely, not like low-level people, but she could force herself to stand, her body trembling with the effort.
Yet, even in her weakened state, she met Val’s charge head-on, her claws clashing with his in a violent explosion of power.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done!” Val barked, his strikes fueled by the despair of a father who lost his son – and a son who had just lost everything.
But the Matriarch stood like an impenetrable wall. Though weakened, she was far from defeated, especially now that she had leveled up a few times. She fought back with the strength she had left, her eyes burning with the willpower to end this once and for all.
Ralian rushed toward his back to stop him.
“Val, stop!” Munera’s voice rang out from above. She watched the battle unfold from her position in the sky, her heart torn between the urge to fight to death and the realization that they were outmatched. She knew this was a battle they could no longer win. “We have to leave! Now!”
Val hesitated, his eyes flicking to Munera, then back to the Matriarch. “But–”
Ralian closed up further. If the Matriarch and she teamed up, Val wouldn't even be able to flee. “There’s no time! If we stay, we die!” Munera’s order was firm, leaving no room for argument. Leaving the choice up to him, she swooped down, grabbing Velora by the arm. The younger vampire was frozen in shock, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene below. “We need to find Jacob. Then we leave this cursed city!”
Grumbling in frustration, Val finally pulled back, his gaze lingering on the Matriarch with hatred. “This isn’t over, wolf,” he spat before turning away, leaping into the air to follow his sister.
Munera, Val, and Velora fled through the sky, and Ralian and Amelia rushed behind them. Amelia's flaming wings flapped to carry her while Ralian streaked through the air.
“Damn it!” Munera cursed under her breath, pushing herself to fly faster, to escape the disaster that had befallen them.
The Matriarch watched them flee and then lowered herself to the ground. She looked at the spot that Lilian had been staring at in emotion. Her complete attention was on the lifeless body of the Vampiric Father, the very source of fear that had plagued her tribe since the day she was born.
He was a source of terror, a boogeyman. A figure of dread for the Lunewolves. But now, the shadow that had cast over her life was gone. She should have felt relief, but all she experienced was a sense of numbness. The impact on her tribe was too severe; too many lives were lost.
The conflict had ended, the horror was over, but the aftermath felt almost unbearable due to the extent of the devastation.