The ruined forest reeked of blood, frost, and divinity.
Ares, God of War, knelt for a moment—his breath ragged, his golden blood slowly turning black from the Poison Blood corroding him from the inside. Despite his divine resilience, the infection spread like rust on ancient steel. His spear trembled slightly in his grip.
"I should've killed you at the first breath," he growled.
Isshin said nothing.
Instead, he raised his hand. Shadows rippled from the cracks beneath his boots.
[Skill Activated: Shadow Clone – Number Created: 3]
Three dark silhouettes erupted from Isshin's feet, shaped like him but faceless, their movements distorted like echoes in broken mirrors. They darted to different sides, drawing Ares's attention—left, right, front.
"You think tricks will save you?" Ares roared and hurled a spear of Chaos Fire at the nearest clone. It exploded, scattering black flames and smoke. Another he impaled directly, dispersing it into vapor.
The third sprinted toward him, and he prepared to crush it—
But then he felt it.
A presence behind him. Cold. Silent. Final.
The real Isshin emerged from the shadow of a tree just behind the god, a faint mist trailing his boots. Frost clung to his form like armor. Without hesitation, without a word, he thrust Frostmourne forward, aiming for the divine heart.
The blade slid between Ares's ribs.
[Frostmourne Effect: Soul Drain – Success]
[Target: Heretic God – Vital Organ Penetrated]
Ares let out a strangled roar, his body jerking as black fire surged in resistance.
But it was too late.
The cursed blade drank deeply—blood, divinity, essence, and memory. The black flame that surrounded the god now lashed in panic, twisting around Isshin instead. Not to burn—but to bond.
[Heretic God Slain – You Have Gained Divine Authority]
[New Titles Unlocked: Campione – Eighth God Slayer | Vampire Lord]
[Divine Authority Acquired: Dominion of War | Chaos Flame]
Ares fell to his knees, eyes dimming. His body began to crack like ancient marble, shattering under the pull of soul devourment.
His last breath was not one of rage… but surprise.
"You… are no mortal."
And then he was gone.
Nothing remained but a wisp of heat, a scorch mark on the broken earth, and a man cloaked in frost and black fire.
Isshin stood tall, eyes glowing like molten silver, Frostmourne now wrapped in writhing Chaos Flame. The divine fire licked the blade's edge but obeyed him completely, enhancing its sharpness, pulsing with destruction.
He grinned.
"Your power suits me, Ares. It feels like it was always meant to be mine."
A few kilometers away, the Greek witches—those same low-tier sorcerers who had witnessed the beginning—now stared at the silent forest, afraid to approach.
"There's no divine aura left," one whispered. "Did… the god perish?"
"But who?" asked another. "No mortal could have done that. Not even a Campione would fight Ares alone."
The seer with glassy eyes looked pale.
"There are now eight," she said quietly. "I don't know who he is… but a new Campione has risen."
Back at the battle site, Isshin had vanished, blending into the dark once more.
He left no witnesses. No name.
Only rumors.
A god slain. A divine weapon corrupted by chaos. And a new Campione whose identity was cloaked in frost, blood, and shadow.
From that night forward, in whispers across the supernatural world, a name emerged.
The Eighth Campione. The Vampire Lord.
But none knew his face.
None… except Sebas.