Waves of ogres, northern soldiers, and twisted beasts poured out, roaring under the burning scent of sulfur. The ground shook. The walls of Sorriso trembled beneath the weight of war.
And then, thunder roared.
Kyros José Fernandes — the Lion of the South — leaped from the top of the walls, sword in hand.
The impact cracked the earth. His Sword of Thunder slashed across the field in a golden arc that cut through dozens of bodies in a single swing. His radiant aura burst outward like the eruption of a sun, evaporating blood and steel alike.
Helena Summer rained molten fire.
Kotan Aspen raised pillars of ice, laughing as he pierced ogres through.
Flora Anapelum walked calmly amid the carnage — every step unleashing petals that sliced through flesh like blades.
Aurelius Rowan lifted his burned-leaf mantle, and dead trees sprouted from nothing, crushing soldiers in their roots.
And Rubya, the White Tigress, led the demi-humans with claws of silver and a roar that made the air tremble.
Above them, TinBell, Queen of the Fairies, gathered crystal energy. Bolts of raw light pierced monsters in straight, blinding lines.
The slaughter was absolute.
And then... the battlefield fell silent.
From the largest portal, five figures stepped forward.
The mist parted like a veil.
Five pairs of black eyes marked with crimson numbers stared at the field.
— Langris Beika, Number 0.
— Fabrício Scadia, Number 1.
— Kael Draven, Number 2.
— Mira Von Zar, Number 3.
— Orik Talvos, Number 4.
Even the Patriarchs hesitated at the sight of them.
Then Morgana’s voice slid into Lukas’s mind, a whisper of pleasure and dread:
— So they finally did it…
These aren’t monsters, my sweet chocolatinho. They’re humans. Humans corrupted by living mana from an Original Disaster.
We used to call them… Nightmares.
— Humans? — Lukas thought, tightening his grip on the shield. — These didn’t exist in the past life…
— Of course not, — Morgana replied. — Back then, it was only theory.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The Original Disaster known as Number Four — “The Viper” started it all.
He believed he could perfect humans. Injected Disaster mana straight into their hearts.
Most died.
The few who survived... became what you see now.
Caesar’s voice broke in, calm but heavy with tactical weight:
— Then they’re further along in this life.
It’s not just Sorriso that changed, Lukas. The Abyss itself evolved.
Lukas’s eyes glimmered — gold and dark violet entwined.
— Then these numbers on their pupils… they’re marks of mana?
Morgana’s smile echoed in his mind.
— Exactly. Their eyes reflect the color of the mana and the desire of their Disaster.
Anatoly’s mana burned red — filled with hatred and hunger.
That’s why their eyes shine crimson.
Each number shows how pure and stable the injected mana is.
From 0 to 7, they’re all powerful.
Beyond that, the body cracks — unstable, incomplete, doomed.
Lukas watched the five move across the field.
The “Zero,” Langris, held the calm of a general.
“One” and “Two” moved like beasts.
“Three,” Mira Von Zar, stared directly toward the walls — eyes sharp enough to pierce his soul.
But the “Four”… his movements were too methodical, too deliberate.
Every cut — perfect. Every slice — surgical.
Morgana whispered:
— That one is Orik Talvos, disciple of The Viper.
They call him the Surgeon of Flesh.
He doesn’t fight for pleasure. He fights to understand.
He dissects humans mid-battle — to study how mana reacts as they die.
Caesar’s voice rumbled like distant thunder:
— If he studies, he has patterns.
Break the patterns, Lukas. Use that.
The young man smirked faintly, watching the field.
— “The Surgeon of Flesh,” huh? Interesting.
He raised his shield.
The cold wind brushed his skin, heavy with iron and ozone.
— So Anatoly planted his poison before dying. And now it blooms in human bodies.
— Then we’ll rip out the roots, — Caesar said. — One by one.
Lukas’s fingers clenched tight.
Below, the warriors prepared:
- Luiz Fernandes charged at Langris 0, spear blazing with scarlet aura.
- Sarya aimed straight for Fabrício 1, eyes cold as steel.
- Valquíria swung against Kael Draven 2, laughing in mid-combat.
- Besouro, spinning through the air in capoeira rhythm, faced Orik 4.
And Mira Von Zar, Number 3, simply stood still, watching — until her eyes locked on Lukas.
For an instant, the world froze.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Morgana’s tone turned almost amused:
— Don’t panic, chocolatinho. She only recognized something in you.
— Recognized what?
— The same seal.
The same living curse inside your heart.
Lukas inhaled sharply.
His blood pulsed, the Seal of Silent Heritage burning faintly in his chest.
Caesar’s voice thundered with command:
— Lukas. You killed Anatoly in the last life.
You did the impossible.
So look at them now and remember who you are — the Blood Demon.
And this time, Sorriso will not fall.
Lukas’s smile widened — calm, confident, terrifying.
His eyes blazed in black-purple and gold.
— Yeah… the game just began.
His aura exploded, runes lighting up the wall.
The skies thundered back in answer.
The war resumed — and the smile of the Blood Demon burned brighter than the storm.
End of Chapter 32