After Rivik told them to leave and said the hall had been dealt with, Cain went back to his room, the one that was supposed to be his private space in this timeline. He closed the door quietly and stood there in silence.
He took a deep breath.
"Good," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I finally got away from her for a bit."
Suddenly, he touched his chin.
"Something's wrong. Why do I feel that she has become bolder?" he wondered.
"Strange… What gave her confidence?"
He paused.
"I'm sure it's not my looks. Even if I am enhanced overall, it won't happen in an instant," he calculated.
"So why?"
His voice was strained. His mind was a mess.
He looked around the room. It was neat and luxurious.
Velvet carpets.
Blood-red curtains.
A coffin bed with obsidian edges.
Everything here belonged to the Cain who failed. Everything here belonged to the man he used to be in this cursed version of his previous life. He felt like the room itself was judging him.
"Damn it," he muttered as he walked toward the coffin. "This is a bad case. A very bad case."
His wife—no, that temptress disguised as a saint—Ivira, adored him now. She clung to him. She looked at him like he was the only moon in her sky. In his last life, she despised him. That was good. That kept him free. That kept him from getting dragged into all the emotional nonsense of vampires. But now? She adored him? That was dangerous. Very dangerous.
"I need her to despise me," he muttered again.
He paced. His steps were getting faster. His frustration was building.
"But I need to get close to her to annoy her. To make her hate me. But the blood pact reacts every time I get close." His voice almost cracked in irritation. "This damned blood pact."
He stopped walking. He pressed his hand on the coffin lid.
"The stronger I am, the stronger this stupid pact becomes. Of course it does. Why wouldn't the universe hate me?"
He let out a long sigh. Then he sat inside the coffin and began to calm his breath. He closed his eyes. He focused on his blood mana. He let his consciousness sink into it like a diver going into deep waters.
And then he felt something.
His eyes snapped open.
"What… is that?"
He felt the change. It was a faint change, but as an Overgod, he immediately noticed it. His entire awakened Overgod body felt different, and not in a small way. He sat up sharply. His hand pressed harder on his chest.
"What is this?" he whispered.
He focused again. He scanned his blood mana. He followed its flow. The structure. The rhythm. The density. The form. The behavior. And then he sensed it—tiny threads spreading out from him, linking him to three distant sources.
"My talent…" he whispered. "I know it's shared…"
He leaned back against the coffin wall. He ran both hands through his hair.
"One talent split into four. Me, and my three wives." His tone was shocked but oddly calm, the calm of someone who knew he was entering deeper trouble.
He swallowed air.
"The difference… those three should have been taking my talent, not sharing it. They're weak. They're so weak that they should've dragged me down. But…"
He felt it again.
"But now I'm benefiting?"
He wondered.
"Could it be because Ivira had a breakthrough in his blood mana mastery?"
He froze…
Suddenly, he laughed. A short, broken laugh that sounded like disbelief punched into sound.
"No way. No way. No way!"
He inspected deeper. He probed every corner of the blood connection, every thread between him and the three women tied to him by blood and fate.
And then he froze.
His expression drained everything.
"This…" he whispered with wide eyes. "This is insane."
He leaned forward, gripping the sides of the coffin so tight the wood cracked.
"Since my Overgod mana… is slowly transforming their blood into Overgod blood."
His breath stalled.
"A true Overgod. Not a fake. Not a lesser version. A complete Overgod bloodline."
He blinked like his mind couldn't hold the truth.
"If they become complete Overgods… and if the blood pact stays… then…"
He swallowed the air again.
"Then they will share their growth with me."
He let the idea sink in. It flooded him with shock. Then realization. Then sheer, bone-deep horror mixed with insane opportunity.
"That means… my growth will multiply. Their progress will be mine. Their rise will drag me up. When they become Overgods too, my mana mastery speed…"
He shut his eyes tight.
"Will be faster than my last life. Much faster. No… terrifyingly faster than it."
He leaned back again and stared at the ceiling.
"Normally, according to my estimate, it would take me a hundred thousand years to reach my peak again. But with this… if they complete their Overgod blood transformation… My estimate is that I'll reach my peak in just ten thousand years."
He almost laughed.
"Ten thousand. That's nothing. That's like blinking."
He smirked.
"Those gods… They forced me to use the Reverse Time Blood Spell. They nearly erased me. But now…"
He pointed one finger upward.
"Watch me, you bastards. I'll be back soon. Very soon."
He grinned with all his teeth.
But then he stopped.
And he blinked.
"Wait."
His expression fell.
He stared forward blankly.
"My goal… was to get away and spread my seed. Right? Right? And I didn't want to be tied to them. But now… It seems there's changes… However, I still don't want to be tied down but I also wanted to use the blood pact to benefit from their shared talent. But if they adore me, if they remain attached, if the blood pact strengthens, then I'll be tied to them forever."
He paled.
"No, no, no. That can't happen. I need them to despise me, hate me, loathe me so much that if I return to my peak, I can get out anytime."
He sat upright.
"Yes. The plan. The plan is simple. Make them despise me so much that the emotion itself becomes a blade that cuts that they won't want to see me for ten thousand years. After all, the blood pact was so strong that I cannot enjoy it. I might even get tied to them for getting too close… It should be simple, as long as I get what I want… I'll recite the ritual, cut the pact, and I'm free."
He grinned.
"That's it. That's the plan. Perfect. I just have to make them hate me so that even when ten thousand years have passed, they will still hate me. If worse comes to worst, I'll still sever it even if they can benefit my Ascension; after all, I am an Overgod who can do everything by himself. Why rely on women to get whatever I want?" He nodded. "Yes… Yes… that is me!"
He lay down inside the coffin with a satisfied sigh.
"I'm going to sleep. I haven't slept in millions of years."
He smirked.
"I wonder what it's like, I hope this will feel good!"
He closed his coffin lid slowly, enjoying the silence, enjoying the return of darkness.
…
Far away.
Deep in the dark throne hall of the Chimera Ant Empire.
The throne towered over the hall. Bone and obsidian, massive and unforgiving. Armored Chimera Ant officials stood below it in silence.
Mist rolled through the chamber, cold against the skin. Dark mana pulsed inside the walls, slow and persistent.
And on that throne, the Chimera Ant Demon Emperor sat.
His face was wrapped in thick, heavy shadow. His eyes were unseen. His upper features blurred like a cursed veil hid them from existence. Only his mouth and jaw were visible. His jaw was strong. His lips are thin. His breath was cold enough to crack spirit mirrors.
Around him, dozens of Chimera Ant Demon officials bickered loudly.
"He must act now!"
"No! If we attack directly, we break the pact!"
"We must remove that rising Lycannis family!"
"They grow too fast!"
"They must be silenced!"
"You fools! We cannot touch them due to the blood pact with His Majesty!"
"They are protected!"
"But they are rising!"
"They will become a threat!"
"They are already a threat!"
"This is unacceptable!"
The hall boomed with voices. Their arguments filled the throne room like clashing iron. Each official shouted. Some slammed their staffs on the ground. Some beat their chests. Some hissed in frustration.
One official shouted, "If we break the pact, His Majesty will suffer backlash!"
"Then what shall we do? Sit and watch the Lycannis family rise!?" another roared.
"It is impossible to let them be!"
"It is also impossible to kill them directly!"
"Then what!?"
The arguments escalated. Their voices rose. Their mana flared. The hall trembled.
Suddenly, a deep, calm, cold voice echoed across the room.
"I already sent one of my spawn."
Silence.
Instant.
Heavy.
The Chimera Ant Demon Emperor slowly leaned forward. The shadows covering his upper face shifted like living smoke. Every official bowed their heads.
"One of my spawn is already on the move," he said. His tone was smooth and sharp. "It will sow chaos. It will weaken them. It will frighten them."
The officials trembled with excitement.
"Brilliant, Your Majesty!"
"As expected of you!"
"A genius plan!"
The Emperor lifted one clawed finger.
"This time," he continued, "we will use the Crimson Blood King's unknown subordinates."
The officials blinked.
"We will what…?" one whispered.
"We will make the Crimson Blood King remove the Lycannis family for us."
The officials gasped.
The Emperor's smile widened.
"Control that little pawn. Let it attack the Lycannis family. Force the Lycannis family to retaliate. The Crimson Blood King will be forced to take action, and the Lycannis family will be done for."
Shock.
Admiration.
Praise.
"It is brilliant!"
"He is a mastermind!"
"He avoids breaking the pact!"
"He avoids risk!"
"He sacrifices nothing!"
"He uses another king as a blade!"
The officials bowed together.
"As expected of His Majesty! A perfect plan!"
The Emperor's lips curved in satisfaction.
But then…
His expression stopped.
His lips froze mid-smile.
A faint tremble ran along his jaw.
He blinked once behind the shadowed veil.
Then he slowly rose from the throne.
The officials looked up in confusion.
"Your Majesty?" one asked.
The Emperor didn't answer. He stood fully. His back is straight. His claws are stiff.
Another official whispered, "Is something wrong…?"
Then the Emperor spoke.
His voice was low. Cold. Heavy. Too heavy.
"…My spawn."
The officials gulped.
"What of your spawn, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor's jaw clenched.
"…It… was killed."
Silence.
The hall shook.
The officials' eyes widened.
"K-killed…?"
"That is impossible…"
"That spawn is unkillable!"
"That thing regenerates endlessly!"
"No one can kill that spawn as long as you're alive!"
The Emperor's voice cut through the panic like a blade made of winter.
"Someone killed it."
His tone was iron.
His tone was cold.
His tone carried rage beneath restraint.
He slowly lifted his hand and stared at his trembling claw.
"…Who?" he whispered.
The shadows above his face dimmed.
"…Who killed my spawn?"
And the hall fell into absolute, soul-deep silence.