High above the gloomy terrain, the air itself trembled from fear.
Yaro, the Blood Marquis, hovered effortlessly in the sky, his crimson cloak hanging weightless around him like a frozen spill of wine. Below, the land had been carved open: gouged, warped, half-consumed by an invisible will that pulsed like a living heart.
"This monster..." Yaro murmured, eyes narrowing.
It really had turned out to be troublesome.
Not because it was stronger than expected, no, that much he could tolerate, but because it was also cunning and calculating.
Every exchange between them thus far had been a test, probing, learning, and adapting.
The creature retreated when pressured, advanced when opportunity appeared, never wasting strength.
’I truly underestimated it.’
But then again, this was inevitable.
After all, this thing had already formed its Resonance Domain.
Yaro’s gaze sharpened as he analyzed the distortions rippling through space below. The domain wasn’t fully stabilized, but it was undeniably real - a proto-reality imposed over the world, bending laws to favor its owner.
"If I had to place it..." he muttered.
Peak of Overlord Rank.
Dangerously close to the threshold.
But not Mythic yet.
No, definitely not.
If it were Mythic, Yaro would not be floating here like this.
He would already be fleeing, tearing through space without a shred of dignity left intact.
The gap between a non-ascendant and an ascended existence was not something that could be bridged by cleverness or courage alone.
’Hmm...’ Yaro exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders.
"Good," he said softly. "Then this is still manageable."
Below him, the monster shifted within its domain. Shadows folded inward, then expanded, as if the land itself were breathing.
A pressure gnawed at the edges of Yaro’s perception: hostile, invasive, demanding submission.
He smiled.
"So that’s why Master wants you."
The thought settled neatly into place.
It was evident that his master’s ambitions were grand, his path steep. Bonding with a creature of this nature, a spatial and mental predator with a fully realized domain, would be a monumental advantage.
It would smooth the road ahead considerably.
And if his master ascended... then he, Yaro, as a loyal right hand, would have his own chance to grasp true ascendance much, much sooner.
"...Hehe," Yaro chuckled, licking his lips. The idea really thrilled him. ’I have to work hard for it then.’
"WRRR!"
It was at this moment that the monster below roared again.
Whoosh!
Its domain surged upward, tendrils of pitch darkness clawing at the sky, trying to drag the annoying intruder down into its territory.
Yaro’s eyes gleamed.
"Enough testing," he said calmly.
He spread his arms.
The air around him darkened, crimson light bleeding outward like ink dropped into water. Countless symbols ignited one by one around his body, orbiting him in slow, deliberate motion.
The sky recoiled.
"Let me show you," Yaro said, voice resonating with layered echoes, "what a true domain looks like."
The Blood Marquis began unleashing his own Resonance Domain.
He raised a single finger.
At its tip, a single bead of blood surfaced.
It was small, perfectly round, and it hovered there, trembling faintly, as if aware of the entire world beneath it.
Yaro then released it.
The droplet fell.
There was no speed to it, no dramatic descent. It simply drifted downward, slow and inevitable, defying the rules of the existing domain.
The instant it touched the air—
Thump.
A sound like a colossal heartbeat echoed across the frozen valley, felt in the chest more than heard.
But the droplet did not splash.
It burst downward, collapsing into itself before spreading in a razor-thin, expanding wave.
A blood-red circle unfurled beneath Yaro’s feet, expanding with terrifying precision.
Countless rings of scarlet glyphs interlocked like a living mechanism, rotating at different speeds, grinding against one another with unseen purpose.
Thump.
Another heartbeat. The circle pulsed, and its edge surged outward another fifty meters.
Thump.
A third pulse. The domain’s boundary slammed into the ground, etching itself into the snow and stone.
The world within that boundary bent.
The gravity lost its meaning.
In some spots, it intensified, crushing snow into diamond-hard ice and making stone groan. In others, it lightened, causing debris to drift upward like ash.
A blood-red mist poured outward, seeping into the air, staining the sky as if the heavens themselves had been wounded.
The temperature rose sharply, yet no heat could be felt.
Instead, there was pressure, an overwhelming sense of authority pressing down on everything beneath it.
And just like that, a second reality tore into existence.
"Hmph."
Yaro’s Resonance Domain was fully manifest.
The Crimson Sovereignty.
Within its bounds, blood was no longer merely a substance.
It became law.
It was the medium of power, the currency of life and death, and the very fabric of the space he now commanded.
Its rippling, scarlet edge now met the perfect black wall of the Night Devourer’s dome. Where the two domains touched, the air screamed in silent negation—a violent, invisible seam where opposing laws of reality fought to unmake each other.
"Hmm."
Yaro surveyed his work, a cold satisfaction settling in his chest. The Crimson Sovereignty held firm against the oppressive dark.
The tendrils of shadow that had reached for him earlier now recoiled, their advance slowed and thickened by the dense, bloody air of his dominion. They withered at the edges where the two realities met, dissolving into nothingness under the relentless, crushing pressure of his will.
Moreover, he could feel the nature of the opposing domain now, more clearly than before. It wasn’t just mere darkness. It was an abyss of hunger, a void that ruled by erasing light, sound, and space itself—a perfect consumer.
But now it faced something that refused to be consumed.
As the Crimson Sovereignty expanded, that absolute darkness began to falter.
A new, invasive law took hold within its territory: all blood answered his call.
And this land was steeped in it.
The frozen soil of the pass was a ledger of slaughter.
Every conflict between tribes, every beast brought down, every life ended in this cold arena — their blood essence had seeped into the stone, earth, and ice.
He could not control the blood of the Devourer, but the blood of its countless victims, the very history of violence that had painted this place long before it arrived, was a weapon ready to be wielded.
"Come!"