SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God
Chapter 247: Undone

Chapter 247: Undone

The moment Damon channeled the new lance, everything else fell away. The screaming, the battlefield, and even the wyrm’s howls of rage.

The world condensed into one moment. His vision reddened, not from damage, but from the overwhelming surge of power coursing through his veins. Blood essence twisted around him like a cocoon of storming serpents, wild and alive.

He charged forward using this momentum, and in one huge leap, he landed right on top of the wyrm.

The wyrm, broken and blazing, tried to rise again, its wings flapping weakly, molten blood dripping from every joint. It turned its head, half-blind, one eye glowing dimly as it recognized what was coming.

Damon didn’t give it time. His feet dug into the wyrm’s charred scales as he raised the weapon high, the lance thrumming with every ounce of his fury and fire-forged will. Time slowed as the wyrm opened its ruined mouth, and he brought the lance down, holding nothing back.

The next second, everything was crimson and gold. The impact was cataclysmic. The lance exploded into an inferno of gore, essence, and splintered magic. Parts of the wyrm’s scales and skin, and flesh exploded and scattered around the battlefield. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Even Damon was thrown aside like a rag doll, unable to bear the impact of his own attack. His entire body was haywire. Everything was out of control but with the last bit of consciousness he had left, he sucked in the blood essence from everywhere like there was no tomorrow.

He did not even have the strength to focus on the wyrm. He blindly absorbed everything that he could like a madman. He lasted for a whole minute before his body completely went berserk and his mana core started cracking and sizzling.

Pain ripped him apart from the inside out as he could feel the flesh around his mana core tearing apart. His entire body was torn apart. It simply couldn’t handle the strain.

Damon gritted his teeth and continued absorbing all the blood essence that he could find. He did not know what else to do. He couldn’t care less right now if the wyrm was dead or alive or if the battle was going their way or not. All he could think about was this all-consuming pain, which made him feel like his soul was being peeled from his body.

He knew he had pushed himself too much and now there was no going back. He had to endure it all. He had to endure it all and somehow stay alive at the end of it.

Meanwhile, the wyrm convulsed. Its damaged and destroyed body convulsed violently before a final, breathless shriek tore free.

The wyrm slumped fully, every ounce of fire within it extinguished, its massive frame cratering the earth beneath.

One after another, notifications popped into Damon’s vision, but he could no longer pay attention to anything.

His vision had already blurred into an unending storm of crimson. The pain in his chest was beyond what any system could quantify. His mana core was screaming, cracking like glass under a relentless tide.

Blood essence surged into him in torrents, raw and untamed, more than any vessel should ever attempt to contain. His bones vibrated. His skin rippled. His soul burned.

Somewhere deep inside, he heard voices, no, not voices. Echoes. Old, fragmented things whispering in a tongue older than history, guiding, pushing, pulling. They came from his blood, from his bloodline, from his very marrow. And they demanded more from him.

You are not meant to survive, one said.

You are meant to transcend, said another.

And then his mana core really shattered. But it wasn’t destruction, it was metamorphosis. The cracking split the air like thunder, but instead of collapsing, something new began forming in its place. A core not made of simple mana, but one laced with blood.

A Primordial Core, birthed from agony and greed!

Damon let out a choked scream as the transformation took hold, his body erupting with veins of molten red and black. His skin cracked like volcanic rock before sealing over with a new sheen, tougher, harder. His heartbeat became a drumbeat of war. His aura spiked and spiked again before it completely disappeared.

"My liege..." Bloodreign’s voice purred in glee, despite her weakness.

Damon lay there in the crater, breathing raggedly, his body remade and yet unfamiliar. Smoke curled from his lips. His eyes flickered open, no longer crimson. But gold-red slit pupils stared out, gleaming with power not meant for mortals.

Damon barely opened his eyes before he completely lost consciousness and slipped away.

Right as Damon’s body went limp, half-buried in the crater he’d carved through raw will and devastation, the Blood Sovereign’s Eye above the battlefield pulsed with violent majesty. A vortex of blood mist and red lightning descended from it, forming a gateway, and through it, a battalion of elite vampires emerged.

Their auras were anything but simple. Clad in robes stitched with runes of blood and armor made from obsidian plates etched in crimson veins, they radiated an oppressive aura of blood authority. Their very presence made everyone on the battlefield pause and look at them.

The battlefield itself seemed to recognize their arrival. Screams quieted. Weapons stopped mid-swing. Even the wind dared not blow too loudly. Yet the vampires spared the chaos only a single, dismissive glance. Their attention had locked onto a single figure, Damon.

They narrowed their eyes as they curiously stared at him. But before anyone could utter a word or make a move, a flicker of motion disrupted their focus.

Ghost had already acted. In a blink, he appeared at Damon’s side, shadows coiling like serpents around his legs. And in the next instant, the two vanished into the darkness

All the vampires could do was narrow their eyes at the fading distortion in the air. But they didn’t have the luxury of chasing shadows.

The third and final wave of the Purification Raid descended. There were only a handful of them, even fewer than the previous group. But their presence hit harder than an army.

Each one was a peak C-rank warrior, yet they felt like walking temples. Divine Guardians clad in shimmering celestial mail, Paladins bearing lances that hummed with holy judgment, and Holy Healers whose every step left trails of light on the blood-soaked ground.

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Mass Release sponsored by Syphatrol