Absolute Cheater

Chapter 65 Catherine Past VI

With a single gesture, Alaric unleashed the Blood Titan. The massive being roared, charging at Pazu with unstoppable momentum. Its blade, now glowing with the combined essence of the Bloodcrown warriors and Alaric's ascended power, cleaved through the air, aiming to bisect the monstrous form.

Pazu caught the blade with both claws, the collision sending a shockwave that tore through the ground and split the sky. The two giants wrestled, their raw power shaking the heavens, but the Blood Titan pressed harder, its form burning brighter with each passing second.

As the Titan held Pazu in place, Alaric stepped forward, his entire body radiating an aura of divine crimson light. He raised his hand, and the blood around him coalesced into a massive spear, its surface etched with ancient runes. The weapon hummed with the concentrated wrath of generations.

"This ends now, Pazu," Alaric declared.

He hurled the spear with impossible force, the projectile cutting through the air like a bolt of judgment. Pazu saw it coming, but the Titan held him firm, its molten arms locking around his grotesque form.

The spear struck true, piercing Pazu's chest and detonating in a blinding explosion of crimson light. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, vaporizing the shadows and disintegrating Pazu's monstrous form. His roar of defiance echoed one last time before fading into silence.

When the light finally subsided, the Blood Titan stood motionless, its form beginning to dissolve. Alaric staggered, his body flickering as the strain of the Crimson Ascension took its toll. He dropped to one knee, breathing heavily, but his eyes remained fixed on the spot where Pazu had fallen.

The battlefield was eerily quiet. The warriors of the Bloodcrown estate approached cautiously, their faces filled with awe and reverence.

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One of them knelt beside Alaric. "My lord… it is done. The Bloodcrown remained standing tall."

Alaric closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of relief. But deep within, he knew the battle had cost them dearly. The estate lay in ruins, and the power he had unleashed would leave scars on the land and on his soul.

"Begin the reconstruction," he ordered softly, rising to his feet. "We will rebuild, stronger than ever. The Bloodcrown will not fall—not today, not ever."

As the warriors scattered to follow his command, Alaric cast one final glance at the remnants of the battlefield. Though Pazu had been defeated, Alaric could not shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

There are always more shadows waiting to rise, he thought grimly. And when they do, the Bloodcrown will be ready.

The crimson sky above the Bloodcrown estate began to clear, the oppressive energy from the battle dissipating like a storm passing over the horizon. Yet, the air carried a sense of foreboding, a lingering unease that settled heavily over Alaric as he stood amidst the wreckage.

The Blood Titan, its purpose fulfilled, crumbled into a cascade of molten blood, returning to the soil from which it had risen. Alaric's warriors gathered what strength they had left, their eyes fixed on their leader with a mixture of reverence and apprehension. They had witnessed the impossible—a force capable of matching the Bloodcrown's might—and it had left them shaken.

"My lord," one of the high elders approached cautiously, his voice low. "The estate is in ruins, and our resources are depleted. This... event will not go unnoticed. The other powers will see this as a sign of weakness."

Alaric's gaze hardened, his crimson eyes still glowing faintly with residual power. "Let them come," he said coldly. "The Bloodcrown stands, and we will prove our strength again if we must."

The elder hesitated before speaking again. "And Pazu… are we certain he is gone?"

Alaric turned his eyes toward the massive crater where Pazu had fallen. It was a void of scorched earth and shattered stone, the center of the devastation. He could still feel faint traces of darkness lingering there, faint but undeniable.

"No," Alaric admitted after a moment. "Pazu's body may be destroyed, but beings like him do not simply vanish. His essence lingers, scattered and weakened—but not gone. We must be vigilant."

The elder nodded solemnly and stepped back, leaving Alaric to his thoughts.

As the hours passed, the warriors began the arduous task of clearing the rubble and tending to the wounded. The Bloodcrown estate, though scarred, still stood as a symbol of their resilience. Alaric oversaw the efforts, his mind weighed down by the magnitude of the battle's aftermath.

But as the moon rose high in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ruins, a sense of unease crept into the air once more. Alaric, sensitive to even the slightest shifts in energy, felt it like a cold dagger against his skin.

"Stay alert," he called to the warriors around him, his voice sharp. "Something isn't right."

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to tremble, a low rumble that grew louder with each passing second. The crater where Pazu had fallen began to glow faintly, a sickly green hue that pulsed like a dying heartbeat.

"No..." Alaric whispered, his fists clenching.

Before anyone could react, a shockwave of dark energy erupted from the crater, sending debris flying and knocking warriors off their feet. From the depths of the void, a shadow began to rise—a formless mass of darkness and malice.

A voice echoed through the chaos, deep and resonant, carrying an unmistakable edge of mockery.

"You thought it was over?" the voice taunted. "Fools. You may have destroyed this body, but my will transcends flesh and form. I am eternal."

Alaric's blood ran cold as he recognized the voice. Pazu.

The shadow coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape, its eyes glowing with unnatural light. Though diminished, the presence was no less terrifying, its aura still oppressive enough to make the warriors tremble.

"How...?" one of them whispered in horror.

Pazu laughed, a guttural sound that seemed to echo from the abyss itself. "You cannot kill what is already beyond death. This is far from over, Bloodcrown. This was only a taste of what's to come."

Alaric stepped forward, his body still weakened from the Crimson Ascension but his resolve unwavering. "You're a stubborn stain, Pazu," he said, his voice steady. "But even stains can be erased."

He raised his hand, summoning the blood around him once more. The warriors rallied behind him, their fear replaced by the resolve to stand with their leader.

But Alaric knew the truth: this battle was far from over. Pazu's persistence meant that a far greater darkness was on the horizon, one that could not be defeated by sheer power alone.

As the shadow of Pazu loomed over them, Alaric's mind raced. If the Bloodcrown were to survive what was to come, they would need more than strength—they would need unity, cunning, and the unbreakable will to face the darkness again.

Let it come, he thought grimly. We are the Bloodcrown. We will endure.

And so, as the ruins of the estate became the staging ground for another battle, Alaric stood tall, the weight of his family's legacy burning brighter than ever in his heart.

The air crackled with tension as Alaric squared off against the spectral remnant of Pazu. The warriors around him formed a loose circle, their weapons drawn, but even they knew that this fight was beyond their power. The Bloodcrown's strength was now embodied in their leader, and they would either triumph or fall with him.

Pazu's shadowy form twisted unnaturally, his eyes burning like twin stars of malevolence. "You should feel honored, Alaric," he hissed. "Few have pushed me to such limits. But you will come to regret your defiance."

Alaric didn't respond immediately. His crimson aura flared, drawing the blood spilled on the battlefield into a swirling vortex around him. He could feel his body protesting—the strain of the Crimson Ascension had not yet subsided, and his reserves were dangerously low. But there was no time for weakness. Not now.

"I've heard enough of your boasting," Alaric finally said, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve. "You're nothing more than a parasite clinging to existence. And parasites are meant to be crushed."

Pazu let out a guttural laugh, the sound reverberating like the toll of a death bell. "Then come, little king," he mocked, spreading his shadowy arms wide. "Let us see if you can crush the void itself."

The first clash was cataclysmic. Alaric launched himself forward, his blade forged from pure blood energy colliding with Pazu's claws. Sparks of crimson and black erupted in all directions, illuminating the ruins with a harsh, flickering light.

Pazu retaliated with a sweeping strike, his shadowy limbs expanding and warping like living tendrils. Alaric dodged with precision, his movements fueled by years of training and the instincts of a warrior born. He countered with a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed to exploit the gaps in Pazu's shifting form.

But Pazu was no ordinary opponent. His essence was fluid, unbound by the limitations of flesh and bone. Each time Alaric struck, the shadows would reform, his attacks seemingly absorbed into the void.

"You fight like a mortal," Pazu sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Did you really think that would be enough?"