To the west of the Pride Witch's territory.
A land "granted" to the Blood Clan for their last gasps of survival.
When Cecile had just deposed Edwina to become the Pride Witch, the Blood Clan—long dissatisfied with her rule—allied with the human kingdom of that era to rebel against her.
The outcome surpassed everyone's expectations.
Newly inheriting the Witch's seat, Cecile single-handedly defeated the famed elites of the Blood Clan and humans.
Even a Blood Clan deity, summoned by a prince's sacrifice, had its Authority usurped by her.
Thus, the title "Godslayer" was born.
From then on, the name "Pride Witch" truly stood tall across the world.
And from that time, Cecile grew increasingly arrogant, trusting fewer people.
Meanwhile, the human kingdom collapsed at its core, plunging into chaos and reorganization.
It eventually formed the current landscape of multiple kingdoms.
As the rebellion's main instigators, the Blood Clan faced slaughter and expulsion.
Above the rank of viscount, they were nearly wiped out.
Below, half their kin perished to secure a sliver of survival.
Under such pressure and blood-soaked hatred, how could the Blood Clan endure?
A massive pentagram pulsed with eerie crimson glows.
Outside it, Blood Clansmen chanted unknown incantations in unison.
They called to their ancestors, praying for their deity's descent.
They yearned for the glory of a bygone era.
An elder atop a stone pillar saw the crimson glow intensify.
He was about to slash his arm and sprinkle blood onto the pentagram to summon ancestors.
Then, a Silver Sword plummeted from the night sky like a falling star.
Hiss!
The moment it pierced his heart, blinding holy light consumed him utterly.
The elder didn't even utter a final cry.
Silver boots replaced him on the pillar.
Euphemia looked down at the chanting Blood Clansmen, ignoring her.
"In the name of the Pride Witch, I declare you guilty!" she shouted.
"Surrender within ten seconds for leniency. Resist, and you die!"
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
Her loud countdown echoed across the square.
All Blood Clansmen heard it.
But what did it matter? They had no other choice.
From the moment they formed this pentagram, they were already dead.
Their sole purpose was to summon their ancestor for vengeance.
Success or not, they would sacrifice themselves.
This was their choice. Their end.
In this barren land, the Blood Clan had no future.
Only annihilation awaited them.
Better to make a final stand than fade silently.
Die gloriously!
Even just to spite the Pride Witch was enough for them.
"Three!"
"Two!"
Below, royal guards surrounded the pentagram, standing ready.
Helena crouched before its light, childishly poking the glass-like barrier.
"One!"
As the countdown ended, Euphemia's Silver Sword blazed intensely.
All Blood Clansmen eroded and dissipated like under sunlight.
"So be it. Pay for your choice!"
Some Blood Clansmen at the pentagram's edge, near Helena, finally snapped.
Their bodies swelling, they charged at her like madmen.
Thrilled, Helena swung her Crimson Great Scythe.
She mowed down all who dared approach like grass.
Until a Blood Clansman suddenly appeared beside her.
His dagger slashed at her throat.
Helena barely dodged the strike.
But a slash marked her cheek.
The blood from that wound dripped into the brilliantly glowing pentagram.
After killing the Blood Clan earl beside her, Helena turned to others.
Suddenly, a chilling aura surged from the pentagram's center.
Blood Clansmen inside exploded instantly.
They turned to blood mist, flowing toward the center.
An overwhelming danger made everyone's hair stand on end.
On the pillar, Euphemia watched the rapidly spinning pentagram with tense vigilance.
A flash of intense crimson—and the pentagram shattered.
It scattered into red sparks.
"Ah!" Helena screamed from the edge, terrified.
Euphemia turned to see a chilling sight.
A petite girl with messy gray-white hair held Helena.
She wore a purplish-red skirt like a madwoman.
Her skin was deathly pale, not a trace of color.
Fangs deeply pierced Helena's neck, greedily sucking her blood.
Her exposed arms were horrifically stitched with countless seams.
It looked eerie and terrifying.
Helena was helpless, limp in her arms.
She let the girl drink.
Euphemia leaped down to help.
But before her Silver Sword could strike, purple flames crackling with lightning erupted from the girl.
They formed a giant warrior phantom in an instant.
Euphemia was forced to dodge aside.
Facing the phantom, everyone stepped back under its crushing pressure.
Helena was still being drained.
Her face grew paler, body limp and weak.
"Helena!" Euphemia called tentatively.
No response.
Instead, the little girl sucking Helena's blood looked at Euphemia.
Only then did Euphemia see her face clearly.
Her right eye was vast and starry purple.
Her left eye burned crimson with a vertical pupil.
A contradictory yet strangely harmonious dissonance.
Perhaps sated, the little girl tossed Helena to Euphemia with satisfaction.
"Not enough... not enough... Heh heh heh!"
She kicked the Crimson Great Scythe, picked it up, and examined it.
Then she swung a beautiful red arc.
"Let's play a game?" she suggested.
"If you win, you walk away unharmed. If you lose, blood will flow for miles!"
"No bodies left whole! Everyone dies here!"
Her terrifying cackle echoed in everyone's ears.
Undoubtedly, this being was far more insane and terrifying than Helena.
Catching Helena, Euphemia felt her nearly lifeless—but still alive.
"Which Blood Clan ancestor are you?" Euphemia frantically searched her mind.
No matter how hard she tried, she recalled no ancestor matching this girl.
She seemed entirely absent from Blood Clan history.
"Me? A Blood Clan ancestor?" the little girl muttered.
She rested the Crimson Great Scythe on her shoulder.
Looking up at Euphemia, she sneered.
"Impossible! How could I be their ancestor? I'm unworthy."
"You may call me the Destroyer of this world!"
