Unholy Player

Chapter 528: Zephan vs Sevrak

Zephan couldn’t tell by appearance, and he couldn’t sense any aura unique to the Blood Path from them, as if they had sealed it away or forced it deep inside.

The only hint was their red eyes. Even that wasn’t enough to be certain. No other Path showed a fixed trait like that, and physical changes usually came from the Sparks with which a person evolved.

But his instincts told him enough.

Though he had never met a Blood Path follower personally, the enmity toward them ran deep in his genes, old stories and older pain etched into his lineage.

In the end, the Blood Sect was the one that had tormented the ancestors of the Lunari for so long and forced them to flee from the Midlands to the Outer Region with a curse that continued to pass down from generation to generation, a shadow that had followed them for centuries.

Still, Zephan didn’t let that old enmity surface. He suppressed his feelings of enmity for two reasons.

First, thanks to Adyr, their curse had finally been lifted, and now, with his help, their race had an unlimited future ahead of them. Their past should stay behind them as a memory, without letting it hinder their current life.

And the second reason mattered even more. This wasn’t Zephan’s territory.

If he could, he wanted to stop the Blood Sect from reaching Adyr’s city without causing any disturbance. He wanted to end it here, on an empty road, not at a gate filled with civilians.

So he put his sword back into his Sanctuary and asked calmly, "Tell me why you are here. If it’s something reasonable, I will help you."

Sevrak heard him and started to laugh again. "You want to help us?"

He looked like he’d heard the funniest joke in his life.

"You can help me by starting to kill all your people," he said, smiling wider. "Then kill yourself. I’m here to take back my territory. And I’m going to kill everyone who laid their filthy hands on it."

Zephan stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "You were the one who destroyed your kingdom," he said. "You left in the first place. And do you even know who the current owner of that territory is now?"

For Zephan, Adyr and the human race were already in a category where even the entire Blood Sect in front of them would be crushed like insects, the difference in weight almost insulting.

So seeing Sevrak trying to take something from a deity like him almost made Zephan feel pity.

Sevrak hesitated at the question. That strange feeling returned. A face surfaced in his mind again, like a lost memory trying to push through fog. He couldn’t see it clearly, no matter how hard he tried.

He asked anyway. "Who?"

He wanted the answer. He felt like it would sharpen his blurred memory, even if only a little.

But Kaelor cut in first. "Sevrak, no one cares about your territory," he said. His voice stayed even, but it carried weight. "Don’t forget why we came here."

He was still sitting in the carriage, his hood covering his face. Seeing the conversation drifting away from their real mission, he had to step in, steadying it back on track.

He looked at Zephan next. "We are looking for a treasure. If you help us find it, we will leave without causing any trouble."

"Treasure?" Zephan mumbled, one eyebrow lifting, his suspicion shifting shape.

He had assumed the Blood Sect was here because of the Lunari. In this region, he believed the Lunari were the only ones with any connection to them.

So hearing "treasure" threw him off. The motive didn’t fit what he expected.

He still had no idea about the Heart of the Blood Palace. He didn’t know Adyr had used it to upgrade his Rank 4 Spark. He hadn’t even seen Adyr’s new appearance yet. He was still sleeping in a secluded room, far from all eyes.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

If it was something he had, he would give it up. If it kept them from causing trouble, it was worth it.

"It’s called the Heart of the Blood Palace," Kaelor said. "It has already been used and shattered. What we need are the remaining pieces. They have to be somewhere in the place we are currently going."

Zephan had not only never had it, but he had also never even heard the name before.

The uncertainty that flashed across his face for only a split second was enough for Sevrak to seize on it and steer the conversation again. "Looks like he doesn’t know. We just need to go to the place where I left them behind and search ourselves."

His provocations were immediately effective.

Zephan summoned his sword again. This time, it didn’t look like ordinary metal. It gleamed gold, silver lightning crackling along its edge as he raised it toward them.

"There’s nothing there you’re allowed to touch."

Now everything in that territory belonged to only one person, and anyone who came to claim even a single speck of dust from there—Silverlight Zephan was determined to stop them.

It wasn’t that Zephan’s resolve came from the friendship he had built with Adyr or anyone else.

It was simply that he owed them far too much.

Even the sword in his hand and the clothes he wore had been given to him by Humans.

And in return, he was more than willing to use those gifts against their enemies.

Sevrak looked at the sword and the fine clothes. They looked impressive, but he didn’t feel threatened. "I’ll make sure none of your blood goes to waste."

Then he turned to the others, asking for permission first. "Can I?"

"You can’t," Arvyn said immediately, folding her arms. "It’s not every day I find a Lunari. You can kill him, but his blood is mine."

The way she looked at Zephan was enough to give anyone goosebumps.

Sevrak was no exception. A shiver ran up his skin as he nodded. At least he had permission to kill him. That alone was enough.

"Too bad I won’t be the one to taste your blood," he said, "but at least I’ll be the one to spill it."

He stepped forward, revealing two pale hands from beneath his robe.

Blood started to form at his fingertips and drip to the ground with a sharp hiss. Wherever it landed, it ate into the earth, melting it like liquid splashed onto red-hot metal.

He changed his skillset? Zephan thought as he watched the skill take shape.

It looked familiar to him. But the version he remembered had been black, not red, and it hadn’t looked like living blood.

Then the realization hit.

No. He didn’t change his skillset. He changed his Sparks to the Blood Path.

There were only four kinds of Sparks found in nature: Astra, Nether, Ignis, and Aether.

But Blood Path followers had something that let them twist Sparks into blood.

Their bloodline talents.

Zephan wasn’t sure how much stronger Sevrak’s skills had become with blood affinity. Still, if his skillset was the same at its core, that was something he could work with.

"You look so calm," Sevrak said, lifting his hands as the blood continued to drip. "Looks like you forgot our last fight."

The last time, with his Blood Dragon, Sevrak had beaten not only Zephan but also Liora and Throgar.

"Even though I don’t have the Blood Dragon anymore," Sevrak went on, "I’ve gained so much power I don’t even need it."

The dripping quickened. In seconds it became a steady pour, then a rushing stream, spilling down in sheets until it spread across the ground beneath him like a flood.

Zephan stepped back as the blood pool expanded toward him, the earth beneath it darkening and corroding as it spread. But it kept widening, swallowing more ground with each heartbeat, until he had no choice but to summon a flying Spark.

A white, swan-like Spark formed in front of him. He jumped onto it and rose into the sky.

But the blood hadn’t been meant only to corrupt the ground.

"Come back here." Sevrak raised both hands.

At once, the blood pooled on the ground surged upward like living tentacles, lashing toward the bird as it tried to climb higher.

The Spark was fast by nature, but the blood tentacles carried another effect beyond corruption.

A rotten stench spread from them, racing through the air faster than the bird. The moment it reached the Spark, its wings began to lose strength. It slowed increasingly until it could no longer flap at all.

And just as the tentacles were about to catch it, its owner finally made his move.

Zephan stood upright on the bird and lifted his sword slightly; the motion was so calm that it felt like slow motion.

But the instant the blade reached its peak, before it could even start to come down, all the blood tentacles scattered, a sudden wind current slamming into them.

"What?" Sevrak stared at the gold-colored sword in shock, unable to understand what had just happened as it now began to lower in a controlled arc.

When the blade completed its descent, another wave of wind crashed down onto the ground, sweeping through the area and scattering the pooled blood in every direction, clearing it in an instant.