Last Born Of The Desdemona

Chapter 391: Chapter 391: Conclusion [T30 Bonus Chapters 5/5]

Chapter 391 – Conclusion [T30 Bonus Chapters 5/5]

The explosion, this time, felt like the bell declaring the end of this absolute chaos.

The blaze from the blast burned even more dreadfully than the first, as though Faceless’s very corpse had fed it to unimaginable heights.

An entire zone was leveled to dust and ash, blue and purple flames dancing together in the wreckage. The surrounding area turned toxic, poisoned by the harmful substances that had gone into building the bomb, dead for good.

A mushroom cloud of smoke rose high into the sky, darkening the already dark world even further, before spreading out and blanketing the entire Hushsight Domain.

Meanwhile, in the distance, the fight between Scarlet and the Dragon Hunter reached its staggering conclusion.

The mouth-stitched woman lay on the ground, silvery fire writhing through her insides. Her right leg, severed just below the knee, twitched a fair distance from her.

Looking closer at the leg, one could see worms of silver fire devouring it with something like cancerous hunger.

The Dragon Hunter had tried desperately to purge the fire, but it was useless. Once it latched onto her cells and organs, it just kept multiplying, no matter how many times she tried to burn it out.

She lifted her head, looking up at the sky, streaked with poisonous smoke from the bomb, and shivered inwardly.

The surroundings had become a wasteland of red water, wailing cries, and the anguished screams echoing up from deep within the Dragon Hunter herself.

Scarlet stood over her, like a pillar of fire and blood, not entirely unscathed either. Blood, resembling molten lava, streamed down her burning body.

This mouth-stitched woman had proven far harder to beat than she’d expected. Still, despite it all, Scarlet wore a wide grin.

It had been a long time since she’d fought this seriously. And even without drawing on her full power, the feeling was more than satisfying.

She looked down at the writhing, coughing, burning woman beneath her, watching her Phantasm dissolve, restoring her original form.

The Primal Queen’s mind drifted back for a moment.

High-ranking beings often shared a saying among themselves: look at your opponent’s Phantasm, and you’ll understand exactly who you’re facing.

It was a fairly accurate statement. A Phantasm reflected what a being truly believed about themselves. And once you could actually see what your opponent thought of themselves, beating them became a much simpler matter, logically speaking.

But that wasn’t why the saying crossed Scarlet’s mind now. It was because this woman’s Phantasm was rooted in grief and self-loathing, likely tied to her children, judging by the physical shape her Phantasm had taken.

Scarlet didn’t particularly care, but as a mother to three annoying children herself, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of understanding for this woman.

That was all it was, though. Nothing more. And she wasn’t foolish enough to let her live.

They’d wanted Cassius’s eye. They’d wanted Amate’s eye.

"That’s not something I can accept, little girl," Scarlet said, raising her hand, palm facing the sky, a black orb of fire swirling above it, shaped like dancing eastern dragons. "She sacrificed so much of herself to create this eye for him. No one, and I mean absolutely fucking no one, is taking it from him."

Her eyes went dead cold, and she hurled the black fireball straight at the Dragon Hunter. "Remember that in—!"

PUFFF—!

Scarlet’s body dissolved into a puff of ash, her time in the real world fully spent.

Her attack, an inch from the Dragon Hunter, vanished right along with her, sparing the woman from what would’ve been a killing blow.

Without meaning to, she let out a heavy sigh of relief, heart pounding hard against her chest, blood roaring in her ears.

’Alive... I’m alive...’ the woman thought, dazed, having fully expected to die. She turned towards the site of the second explosion, the one from moments ago, certainly powerful enough to kill her outright, had she been closer.

And that explosion had happened twice now.

She was utterly stunned, unable to grasp what kind of hidden power had just intervened.

But that was no longer her problem to solve.

She pulled out a sect artifact and activated it with the last dregs of essence she had left, her body beginning to fade, as if erased from existence,

’This time, I wasn’t the hunter. I was the prey,’ she thought, finally, vanishing completely, leaving behind a world scarred by her own maternal wound. ’Mission failed.’

...

The Dragon Hunter wasn’t the only one fleeing the battlefield by then.

After hurling Faceless towards the faceless masked woman, Horus ran with everything he had, searching frantically for Omar.

’Fast, fast! Museum staff are already coming!’ Horus thought, spotting figures running towards the shattered battlefield from the sky above.

They needed to get out. Now!

Fortunately, after a brief but stressful search, he found Omar sprawled on the ground, covered in wounds, his head bearing a grisly, open wound severe enough to kill him.

Horus’s alarm spiked. He couldn’t care less about most people dying, but Omar?

This annoying man was his only real friend. He couldn’t let him die. How else would he survive under that dreadful sect, with Constantine breathing down his neck?

Unthinkable.

In a rush, he pulled out a Tier 5 healing potion and forced it down Omar’s throat. Then he lifted him, activated the runic spell inscribed behind their right eyeballs — the safest hiding spot the Fangs Sect had ever come up with — and vanished from the battlefield.

All that remained were William, sitting atop the corpse of his opponent — a man with every limb severed — his eyes cold, jaw shattered and hanging loose.

And Diaila, sitting beside what was left of Mr. Green. Or rather, what remained of him. Diaila had made sure of that, cutting off every limb, pulling out his insides, and carving each piece apart one by one.

Her whole body was drenched in blood, organs, flesh, and viscera. She reeked of death, of murder, and, undeniably, of madness.

Her eyes were still bloodshot, something inside them permanently broken.

Looking at the wreckage of her handiwork, Diaila felt only a twisted flicker of satisfaction, wishing she could’ve mutilated him even further.

She looked at the blood coating her body, the wound in her stomach still aching like hell, at the death and destruction surrounding her on every side, and let herself sink deeper into all of it.

She picked up the dagger again, and kept mutilating Mr. Green further, for no real reason anymore, except that doing so simply felt better.

Meanwhile, further off, Meadow now stood beside the second carriage — shattered, its artifacts, treasures, and everything of value already stolen.

Stolen by Meadow Wealth herself.

She’d stored all of it inside a space ring built specifically for this purpose. But she wasn’t careless about it. She’d stolen everything wearing her sect’s Sun Mask, making any attempt to trace the theft back to her essentially pointless.

No one could divine the identities of Fallen Angel Sect members.

Once she had it all secured, she tucked the ring into her Sun Mask to hide its presence, then made the mask vanish entirely.

The Sun Mask, and every mask worn by Fallen Angel Sect members, was kept safe within their goddess, Ananke, not on their own person. After all, it had been forged from a substantial portion of her GeumGeum, and her authority.

Now, back to being just Meadow, she lay sprawled on the ground, still trying to purge the image of the faceless man who’d nearly killed her from her mind.

This was the first time she’d ever come this close to death. And Meadow felt a pang of shame realizing she was shaking with fear. Even the memory of that faceless face brought tears to her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, her whole body trembling as though submerged in freezing water.

She began to wonder how Cassius could live like this: always this close to death, threatened constantly, at any moment, from any direction.

’Queen, please... help me,’ she prayed to her goddess, shaking harder, the faceless face still hanging over her mind like a wraith, refusing to fade. ’I’m scared. I’m... I...’

Meadow’s thoughts stopped short as arms wrapped around her. A warm body, its presence deep but gentle enough that her trembling started to ease.

She turned her head slowly and saw Cassius, blood and wounds covering his face and body, holding her with a small smile.

"Cold, isn’t it?" he said, smiling wider. "Mind if I borrow a bit of warmth myself?"

Meadow sat dazed by his words for a moment, then everything she’d been holding back broke loose, and silent but intense tears began streaming down her face.

She held Cassius even tighter, his warmth wrapping around her like a blanket. "Y-Yes," she sobbed, "it’s cold. It’s so cold, Cassius."

"I know. But it’ll be okay," he said, patting her back. "You’re our sun, aren’t you? A little cold can’t scare you off for long, can it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then you’ll be fine. Don’t worry." He lifted his head, watching figures rushing towards them from a distance. Above, the starless, moonlight-veiled sky, thick with smoke, suddenly cleared, and blue sky flooded back over the world.

The sun reclaimed its rightful place, bathing the shattered battlefield of the Hushsight Domain in light.

When the museum’s guards finally arrived and took in the state of their own domain, dread crept up their spines instantly.

But once they registered the state of the four sole survivors — a girl covered head to toe in the organs of the dead, a boy sitting cold-eyed atop a mutilated corpse, and a boy and girl embracing each other amid a sea of death and destruction — their hearts froze entirely.

In that instant, they caught their first real glimpse of the Golden Generation.

...

At the same time, where Cassius had dropped the second bomb, the faceless masked woman remained, buried in a deep crater.

Her body had been blasted apart almost entirely, leaving only her head and torso down to the waist. Half her skull was nothing but raw black bone, the other half showing peeling, dangling skin. The rest of her, down to the waist, was formed from black bone rotted through with red runes.

Yet her hair could still be seen. Red, long, now filthy from the blast. Her eyes matched, burning red within their sockets with death and wicked amusement.

[Dear Hel,] Vorn, Lord of Death, spoke gently, [you failed the mission.]

’I can see that.’

[Nothing to say about your failure?]

’Nothing. Who were those two masked men?’

[No idea. Their identities are heavily shielded. I can’t divine them.]

’A new sect, then? Or an unknown one?’

[Most likely.]

Hel Hood laughed, a sound like bones clattering together, her red pupils flaring brighter still. "A sect heavily protected by fire spirits. Interesting. Should I head to the Spirit World and kill them all for answers?"

[If you’re eager to die by a Primal Queen’s hand, be my guest,] Vorn said, and a dark portal reeking of death opened beneath Hel. [Come home, dear Hel. People are coming.]

’Hide my death essence,’ Hel said, before the portal swallowed her whole.

[Already done.]

—End of Chapter 391—