A thunderous clash echoed through the mountains, a blood-red figure streaking across the sky above.
The woman with crimson-red long hair brought her Blood Blade down heavily onto a spine blade, unleashing another tremendous boom that rippled through the forest with a chaotic surge of Magic Power.
The target of the red-haired woman’s attack was a tall, burly man with a thick beard, his neck adorned with a necklace of human skulls, varying in size, some still bearing fresh wounds, likely trophies from the opponents he had defeated.
This was a separate battlefield. After venturing deep into the Northern Mountains, Henna had been blocked by this very man.
They lunged past each other, and the Bone Chain Man laughed heartily. “Elf heads are a rare sight around here. I’ll be taking yours.”
Though his words were bold, the Bone Chain Man remained vigilant. Their strengths were evenly matched; it was only his trusty weapon that allowed him to hold his own against Henna.
Henna glanced at the Blood Blade in her hand, fractured and re-forged, and let out a cold snort.
With a flicker of her form, the pair of Blood Wings behind her spread wide, and she transformed into a blood-red comet hurtling toward the Bone Chain Man.
The man grinned, revealing gleaming white fangs, and raised his spine blade with a laugh, shouting at the approaching Henna.
“This blade of mine is carved from the bones of an Eight-Tier Beast! You think your little blood splatter can survive even one hit?”
With a sweeping swing, his spine blade struck the blood-red comet—but in that instant, the comet scattered into a swarm of tiny blood bats, flying right past the Bone Chain Man’s body.
The bats converged, reforming into Henna’s slender figure.
The Bone Chain Man’s eyelids twitched as he looked down at the fine wounds across his body and the thin crimson threads trying to burrow into his flesh.
He let out a furious roar, unleashing his full aura, shattering and dissolving those blood threads.
Henna exhaled lightly, gazing at the man with a cold smirk.
“I should thank you. With such a fine punching bag, I can get familiar with my power without feeling too rusty.”
“Punching bag? Ha! Fine, fine—this little lady sure has an arrogant mouth!”
The Bone Chain Man burned with irritation at being compared to a punching bag.
At the foot of the mountain they stood upon, the knights of Red Pine City were locked in a bloody struggle against a band of Heretic Cult followers.
The knights were individually far stronger than these cultists, who seemed to be mere rabble of unknown origin.
In the melee, the side with lesser quality naturally suffered heavy losses. Fortunately, the cultists were numerous—pure fodder that the enemy used without a hint of remorse.
Corpses littered the mountain base, the stench of blood rising to the heavens—and this played perfectly into Henna’s hands at the summit. She was a blood magic user, the last pure-blood Blood Elf in the world.
Henna looked up. The surging blood Qi rose into the air, coalescing into red threads that converged upon her hand, forming a dagger.
The Bone Chain Man caught sight of it and burst into laughter.
“Little lady, I think you’d fit right in with us.”
“Ready to die?”
Henna ignored his words entirely, coldly pronouncing his death sentence before thrusting the dagger, forged from the grudges of a thousand lives, straight at the Bone Chain Man.
The Bone Chain Man sensed it—the dagger carried an ominous aura, no doubt imbued with a Curse. He dared not take it head-on, so he raised his spine blade to guard his chest.
Henna once again activated her ability to dissolve into blood bats.
The Bone Chain Man swung his blade behind him, a colossal slash carving through everything in its path. Henna had only managed to materialize the upper half of her body when the half-formed bats were torn apart.
The Bone Chain Man was about to laugh, but then he saw the shattered blood chunks flying back toward Henna. His eyelids twitched as he swung his blade again, yet Henna didn’t dodge or flinch—she smiled.
Sensing something amiss, the Bone Chain Man hesitated for a moment, but he still brought his spine blade down, cleaving Henna in two.
Except, upon being split, this Henna shattered into rose petals. Her remaining face, slowly crumbling apart, was filled with nothing but contempt for the Bone Chain Man.
The Bone Chain Man’s eyes widened as he snapped his gaze to his left side. A hand had materialized out of thin air, gripping the venomous thorn-like blood curse dagger, stabbing into his waist.
Though it only pierced a small wound, the dagger dissolved into blood threads that instantly wormed their way into his body.
Ten meters away, scarlet rose petals reformed into the woman’s graceful figure, blood bats clotting into a crimson dress over her form.
She regarded the Bone Chain Man with cold eyes and spoke coldly.
“You’re done for now.”
“AAAAAHHHH!!!”
The Bone Chain Man let out a furious bellow, erupting with unprecedented power.
Henna gave a light snort.
“At the end of your rope.”
“RAAAAH! You vile wench—I’ll turn your pretty head into a trophy!”
The Bone Chain Man felt those blood threads devouring him ravenously, and even surging his Magic Power couldn’t wash them away.
At this rate, he would eventually be gnawed hollow by this vicious ability, leaving him only a short window to eliminate Henna, the source of the problem.
This time, Henna was in no hurry. With her speed and that dispersion ability, the Bone Chain Man had no way to kill her in time.
Indeed, as the Bone Chain Man had said, such a malicious power would fit right in with their organization—everyone there was the same kind of villain.
Henna’s blood magic was derived from the Blood God Cult’s sacred arts, rooted in even more ancient blood magic of the old lineage, which made it lean toward the heretical side.
After all, it originated from a Heretic Cult. She had yet to fully unravel the deeper, more archaic blood magic buried within her Bloodline.
Henna rarely used these abilities, usually relying on her Swordsmanship to subdue enemies—unless the threat they posed was severe enough.
Or, when she was pressed for time, she would reluctantly deploy them.
Her blood-red vertical pupils fixed unwaveringly on the Bone Chain Man scrambling for a way out, watching him stride toward death with merciless indifference.
Suddenly, Henna’s gaze shifted toward a distant peak.
Such an overwhelming presence!
At that very moment, the Bone Chain Man’s jaw snapped shut, his white teeth clenching. Then, a Strange Change swept across his body—flesh sloughing away, leaving naught but bare bone.
A towering white armored figure emerged—over six feet tall, encased in a suit of bone armor.
Henna narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists.
Troublesome thing!
With no flesh left, the blood threads gradually starved and withered upon the white bones.
Rosily forced her trembling legs to hold, struggling to lift her head toward the source of the pressure—a gray-haired man in full armor.
He approached step by step, halting before Estelle and Rosily, using his towering height to look down upon the two sisters.
“You two—are you Enya’s Daughters?”