Chapter 18 : The Corrupted Origin of the Immortal Blood

The crimson mass barely managed to break through the Mist Rift before the monster’s colossal arms came after it.

They tore through the gray barrier with terrifying persistence, hundreds of limbs reaching into the continent as though the rift itself meant nothing to them. The crimson mass twisted violently in midair, changing direction again and again in a desperate attempt to stay ahead of them.

It could not afford to be trapped.

Not now.

Not after everything it had sacrificed just to escape that creature.

One of the enormous hands swept past it and smashed into the ground, sending rocks flying in every direction. Another followed almost immediately. The crimson mass narrowly slipped between them, its body stretching and twisting in ways no ordinary creature could have managed.

It kept running.

Or, more accurately, fleeing.

It did not stop until it had put a considerable distance between itself and the Mist Rift. Only then did the damage it had been ignoring finally catch up with it.

Its body gave out.

The crimson mass dropped from the air and struck the ground amid a field of rocks. It rolled several times across the corrupted earth before finally coming to a stop.

For a while, it simply lay there.

Its form trembled.

It had been trapped inside that blood-red cube for who knew how long, forced to remain confined there until the mysterious young man had used it as bait. Escaping the monster that came for it had required a desperate choice.

It had cut away a portion of its own essence.

The loss had left it badly wounded.

It needed treatment.

More importantly, it needed blood.

A great deal of blood.

The thought was almost enough to keep its scattered form from collapsing completely.

Slowly, the crimson substance began to gather itself.

It writhed across the corrupted ground, struggling to restore some semblance of stability. It needed a source of blood, and fortunately, he could sense the source of the blood nearby.

The Crimson Fortress.

The crimson mass turned in that direction.

Then it began to move.

Maxwell was having a surprisingly pleasant day.

That, in itself, was suspicious.

He sat comfortably on the sofa in the command room with one leg resting over the other, watching an action movie on the blue screen in front of him. Nothing was exploding. Nobody was screaming. There wasn't a mysterious intruder running around , and no one had come rushing into the room with some ridiculous emergency.

It was almost peaceful.

Perhaps, just this once, fate had decided to leave him alone.

Alexander stood nearby, his arms folded behind his back. The old man's rough beard framed a face that had seen more battles than most people could imagine, yet he looked strangely out of place standing there while Maxwell watched a movie.

Maxwell was perfectly content to ignore him.

He had no problem with that arrangement.

Then the blue screen flickered.

Maxwell's eyes narrowed.

The movie distorted, the image stretching for a moment before disappearing completely. A new figure appeared in its place.

A man sat upon a throne .

Black hair. Golden eyes.

Maxwell's relaxed expression stiffened immediately.

Of course.

Why wouldn't he be here?

“Not my movie…”

He sat up with a sigh.

“Your Majesty. What is it?”

Rowan looked at him from the other side of the screen, an amused expression on his face.

“Hmm. You don't seem very happy to see me, little Maxwell.”

“No. Of course not.”

The answer came a little too quickly.

Maxwell forced himself to smile. The last thing he needed was for Rowan to misunderstand his reaction.

Rowan chuckled.

“Haha. I'm only joking.”

Maxwell relaxed slightly.

Then Rowan's expression changed.

“It seems you have a problem that needs solving.”

There it was.

Maxwell's eyelid twitched.

“What problem?”

“Something interesting has entered through the Rift.”

Maxwell stared at him.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“I mean—”

“I'll send the information to you through a message. Make sure you read it.”

“Wait, Your Majesty—”

“Goodbye.”

Rowan raised one hand.

The image disappeared.

The movie returned to the screen, but Maxwell barely noticed it. A small message icon had appeared in the corner of the display.

He stared at it for several seconds.

This was never a good sign.

Eventually, he reached out and opened the message.

His eyes moved across the information.

Once.

Then again.

Alexander watched him from the side.

He couldn't see what was written, but he could certainly see what it was doing to Maxwell.

The man's expression changed several times in quick succession. The color drained from his face, then somehow seemed to return in entirely different shades before settling back into something resembling normal.

Maxwell closed the message.

“Damn my life.”

That was all he said.

He shut down the blue screen and rose from the sofa.

Whatever Rowan had sent him, it had been enough to ruin his peaceful afternoon.

Maxwell walked toward the large opening overlooking the fortress. The horizon stretched peacefully beneath the sky, but he knew better than to trust the appearance of things.

Something had entered the continent.

And judging by Rowan's message, it wasn't something they could simply ignore.

“Look at it.”

His voice was quiet.

“It isn't even trying to hide its presence.”

Alexander frowned and looked toward the horizon.

He still had no idea what Maxwell was talking about.

Before he could ask, Maxwell reached out and gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

“Boy Marilz.”

Alexander looked at him.

“Start Plan B.”

The relaxed tone was gone now.

Maxwell's expression remained calm, but there was something in his eyes that made Alexander instinctively straighten.
Maxwell paused.

Then he added quietly,

“The Tower will cover the transportation costs.”

He paused.

Then added,“The lives of the little ones are in your hands.”

Alexander's expression became serious.

Maxwell turned and walked out of the command room.

Alexander remained where he was.

Alexander remained where he was for a moment, watching his back disappear through the doorway.

Then he slowly exhaled.

His rough hand moved over his beard as he looked toward the distant horizon.

Whatever was coming, it was something even the Master of the Mage Tower had considered worth personally dealing with.

Alexander could only hope one thing.

“I hope the coming storm is merciful to my clan.”

Then he left the room as well.

He had a mission to carry out.

.

The distance between the Mist Rift and the Crimson Fortress was roughly four hundred kilometers.

For most creatures, that would have been a considerable journey. For the crimson mass, it was little more than a warm-up.

It crossed half that distance in barely five minutes, moving at several times the speed of sound. The corrupted landscape blurred beneath it as it raced across the continent, with rocks, hills, ruined structures, and patches of barren earth flashing past in rapid succession. Even so, the crimson mass was not moving anywhere near its maximum speed. This was little more than a light run for a creature of its level.

Then, without warning, it stopped.

The sudden halt sent a wave of dust outward across the ground.

A man stood in front of it.

Maxwell.

He watched the crimson mass quietly as it shifted before him, its unstable body flowing and twisting as though it could not decide what shape to settle into. There was something deeply unnatural about the creature. It resembled blood more than flesh, yet it moved with the awareness of a living being.

Maxwell narrowed his eyes.

He could already tell what it was.

“A creature that has reached the Origin realm…”

His gaze lingered on the crimson mass for another moment before his expression became slightly more serious.

“The corrupted Origin of the Immortal Blood.”

The creature remained silent.

Maxwell's eyes narrowed further.

“And one of the fragments of the Abyss Lord.”

That finally produced a reaction.

The crimson mass suddenly shrieked.

“GIIIIIIII!”

Maxwell barely had time to register the movement before the creature vanished.

His eyes followed the distortion in the air.

Too fast.

The crimson mass reappeared directly in front of him, one of its arms already transformed into a fist. The condensed blood struck toward his chest with enough force to shatter a mountain.

“BOOM!”

The impact exploded through the surrounding air.

The ground beneath Maxwell's feet cracked open, and a crater more than a meter deep formed where he had been standing. Dust and fragments of stone erupted in every direction.

But Maxwell was no longer there.

The crimson mass paused.

For a brief moment, it seemed confused.

Then a violent force slammed into its side.

Its entire body was thrown backward.

It flew through the air before crashing into the earth and carving a long trench across the ground. Its crimson substance spread over the broken earth for several meters before finally coming to a stop.

“Giiii…”

The creature's cry carried a hint of confusion.

It had attacked Maxwell.

It had clearly struck the space where he had been standing.

So why was it the one that had been sent flying?

Maxwell emerged from the settling dust without a scratch on him. His clothes were still perfectly intact, and there wasn't even a trace of dirt on his face.

He looked at the crimson mass with open annoyance.

“Hey, monster.”

The creature slowly raised itself from the ground.

“Do you really think we're equals?”

It gave no answer.

Only another distorted scream emerged from its body.

Maxwell sighed.

“Right. You don't even possess enough intelligence to understand what I'm saying.”

He took a step forward, studying the creature with an expression completely devoid of amusement.

“Pathetic.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And disgusting.”

The crimson mass reacted almost immediately.

Its body lunged toward him once again.

Maxwell lowered his stance.

He had no reason to retreat.

On the contrary, he was curious to see what this creature was actually capable of.

He slammed his foot into the ground.

The sound of the impact was almost impossible to hear.

A moment later, Maxwell disappeared.

The air exploded behind him as he surged forward, his body tearing across the battlefield at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.

“Origin Magic — Flowing Repulsion.”

He swung his fist through the air.

His fist never touched the crimson mass.

It didn't need to.

The space between them suddenly warped as an invisible force surged outward. It was as though the distance itself had been turned into a weapon, subjecting the crimson mass to pressure it could neither see nor comprehend.

The void between them twisted.

For an instant, it seemed as though distance itself had lost its meaning.

Then an invisible force slammed into the crimson mass.

Its body bent backward.

“Geeeeeeeeee!”

The creature was hurled across the battlefield as though a gigantic hand had seized it and shoved it away.

Its body warped violently.

Its unstable form stretched beneath the overwhelming force. One of its legs suddenly melted into liquid, spreading across the ground in an attempt to anchor the rest of its body.

The crimson substance sank into the earth before hardening.

It looked almost like roots spreading beneath the soil.

The creature resisted.

Maxwell noticed it immediately.

“Oh?”

Maxwell continued walking toward it.

With every step, the force of repulsion intensified. The ground beneath the crimson mass began to crack under the pressure, long fissures spreading outward as the earth groaned beneath the strain. The creature tried to anchor itself even more firmly, but even that wasn't enough.

It continued sliding backward.

Maxwell didn't hurry.

He didn't need to.

The difference between them was already obvious.

The crimson mass struggled desperately against the invisible force, repeatedly reshaping its body as portions of it liquefied and hardened against the ground. Yet Maxwell continued advancing calmly, forcing it farther and farther away.

Then he raised one hand.

“Origin Magic — Isolation Bubble.”

The space around them changed.

A transparent field formed around the crimson mass, enclosing it and a large portion of the ground beneath it. The earth split apart with a deep rumble, and an entire mass of soil began to rise into the air.

The chunk of earth ascended rapidly.

The crimson mass screamed.

“Geeeeeeeeee!”

Its body twisted as it struggled to escape the isolation field.

Then its hands came together.

The crimson substance gathered between them, becoming denser and darker as an enormous amount of energy concentrated into a single point.

For a moment, it seemed as though nothing had happened.

Then a tiny drop of blood appeared.

It was almost laughably small.

Yet Maxwell's expression changed slightly when he sensed the power packed inside it.

That was a dangerous amount of energy for something so small.

The crimson mass thrust its hands forward.

“Fallen Origin—Piercing Blood.”

The drop of blood shot forward.

It transformed into a beam almost instantly, tearing through the air toward Maxwell with terrifying speed. The surrounding space seemed to vibrate from its passage.

Maxwell watched it approach.

He didn't move.

He had already seen enough.

“Didn't I tell you?”

His voice was calm.

“It's over, monster.”

He raised his hand.

Two fingers extended.

“Origin Magic—Collapse.”

Something changed in front of him.

Mana began gathering around a single point.

At first, the distortion was barely visible.

Then the air began to bend.

Dust and loose fragments of stone trembled across the battlefield and were slowly pulled toward the same point.

The world around his hand seemed to tighten.

Mana gathered at a single point, compressing more and more densely as Maxwell forced enormous amounts of energy into an area no larger than his fingertips. The air twisted around it, and dust from the battlefield began drifting toward the center.

The pressure continued increasing.

The mana collapsed inward.

Then it condensed again.

And collapsed once more.

The process repeated at a speed that ordinary perception could barely follow. Each cycle made the condensed mass denser and more destructive, until even the space around it began to distort.

Maxwell remained perfectly still.

His fingers were extended.

His expression was cold.

Then he moved his hand forward.

“Die.”

The condensed mass shot toward the crimson beam.

For an instant, the two attacks met in the middle of the battlefield.

Everything seemed to stop.

The crimson beam pushed forward with enough power to tear through almost anything in its path, while Maxwell's compressed mana continued collapsing inward, becoming denser with every passing moment. The surrounding air trembled between the two forces, and cracks appeared across the floating earth beneath the crimson mass.

Neither attack gave way.

Even the surrounding space seemed to bend around the opposing forces.

Then the balance broke.

The compressed mana moved forward.

Then Maxwell's spell began to advance.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

The condensed mana pierced into the blood beam, tearing through it from the center. The crimson energy began collapsing around it, breaking apart under the overwhelming pressure.

“GIIIIIIII!”

The Immortal Blood screamed.

Its body twisted violently.

It tried to reinforce the attack, pouring more of its power into the blood beam, but the result was only to give Maxwell's spell more energy to consume. The Collapse continued advancing, devouring the crimson substance piece by piece.

The beam became thinner.

Then thinner still.

The crimson mass itself began losing its shape.

Its arms dissolved first.

Then its torso.

The crimson substance scattered through the air before being pulled into the compressed mass and crushed out of existence.

The scream gradually faded.

And then there was nothing left.

The battlefield fell silent.

Maxwell kept his hand raised for another moment before finally lowering it.

Dust drifted through the air around him. The earth was covered in cracks and deep trenches, while pieces of stone slowly settled back onto the ground. The place where the Immortal Blood had disappeared was nothing more than a scarred patch of earth.

Maxwell stared at it.

It was over.

At least, that was what it looked like.

The creature had crossed through the Mist Rift while being pursued by something so powerful that it had terrified even the creature itself. It had sacrificed a portion of its essence merely to escape, yet even after reaching the continent, it still possessed enough power to attack him directly.

That alone was troubling.

Maxwell slowly lowered his gaze.

His eyes turned toward the distant horizon, in the direction of the Mist Rift.

But down below, among the craters and rubble, a viscous, bloody substance began to seep through the ground, slowly taking the shape of an eye.

It looked up at Maxwell with mockery in its gaze, a crooked smile twisting across its surface.