Inside the ancient, towering castle, a relentless rain lashed against the stone facade. Heavy drops swept through the tall, arched windows, wetting the cold floor beneath. Yet, the vast chamber remained immersed in a quiet, majestic dignity.
At the center of the room sat a massive table carved from black oak, its polished surface reflecting the warm, gentle glow of flickering candlelight. At the head of the table stood a grand throne, towering over the six high-backed chairs aligned on either side.
Sitting atop the throne was Null.
He appeared as a young boy with long, raven-dark hair and striking, beautiful features. But his eyes were utterly void of humanity—completely pitch black, save for a tiny, singular white dot glowing at the center of each pupil.
Suddenly, a bright burst of light tore through the quiet atmosphere as a spatial portal tore open in the middle of the room.
From the shimmering rift stepped a skeletal entity, dragging the bloody, unconscious body of Marcus Reed. With a dull thud, the entity cast Marcus onto the cold stone floor, and the portal snapped shut behind them.
The impact jarred Marcus awake. Gasping for air, he opened his eyes, disoriented, only to look up and lock eyes with the child sitting on the throne.
A wave of paralyzing horror crashed over him. He instantly recognized the terrifying figure before him: Supreme Demon Lord Null.
Marcus's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped beast. Instinct took over; he slammed his forehead against the floor, trembling violently.
"D-Demon Lord Null..." Marcus stammered, his voice quivering with terror.
Null looked down at him, his expression cool and unbothered.
"Marcus Reed," Null began calmly. "You are a wielder of Blood Manipulation Magic. I even gave you a drop of my own blood—a power capable of wiping out an entire continent in a single breath. And yet, you lost to a mere child."
Marcus didn't dare raise his head. The cold stone pressed against his face as he cowered. "Lord Null! I know... I know you granted me your blood and immense power, but—"
"But what was the point?" Null interrupted sharply, his voice dropping an octave. "You reminded me of someone from years ago who used the exact same blood magic—someone who also died groveling in fear. In the end, you proved to be just as useless."
"Lord, please! Forgive me!" Marcus begged, tears of terror mixing with the blood on his face. Fear seeped into his bones, consuming his mind as his whole body shivered uncontrollably. "Lord Null, I don't know what happened! I tried to cast my spells, I tried to detonate the boy's body from the inside... but it was as if an invisible force was suppressing my blood magic over and over again!"
Null paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
Someone suppressing my magic?
A single name surfaced in Null's mind. A faint, dark smile crept onto his lips, which quickly erupted into amused laughter. He stood up from his throne and glided toward the high window. The cold rain misted against his face, and the draft caught his long dark hair, blowing it back.
"Why are you taking such a keen interest in this, my friend?" Null murmured into the storm, a chilling smile playing on his face. "There is certainly more to you than meets the eye, Leo Black."
Null turned back around and looked down at the pathetic figure on the floor. "Raise your head, Marcus."
Marcus obeyed instantly. As he lifted his head, Null noticed his severed finger.
Null smiled softly—and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
A sudden torrent of black flames engulfed Marcus instantly. Shrieks of agonizing pain echoed off the stone walls as the dark fire devoured his flesh. After a few horrifying moments, the flames extinguished, leaving Marcus's body severely charred and broken, barely clinging to life.
"Throw him away somewhere," Null commanded coldly. "He is of no use to me anymore."
The skeletal entity stepped forward, bowing its head. "Master Null... with this failure, our opportunity to break the 9th Seal is gone today. How will we unseal it now?"
Null's smile only widened. "I know another way to shatter the seal. Those wretched angels cannot stop me from entering the Celestial Realm. And on the day I step foot inside... I will slaughter every last one of them with my own hands."
The skeletal entity picked up Marcus's burnt, ruined body, turned around, and vanished into a newly opened portal.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield...
Leo stood alone amidst the destruction. Blood gushed from a deep wound on his shoulder, and a crimson stream trickled from the corner of his mouth—the severe cost of overusing his mana and aura.
He forced himself up, leaning heavily on his katana. Spiderweb cracks spanned across the blade. He looked down at the rings on his fingers that had been granting him extra strength; they, too, were beginning to fracture.
Taking a step forward, Leo's knees buckled. His entire body felt like it was breaking apart. Every ragged breath tore through his chest, and his vision blurred into darkness. He was about to collapse—
RUMBLE!
The earth shuddered violently.
A tide of hundreds of bloodthirsty Orks and Goblins surged toward him like a ravenous wave. Their guttural war cries and heavy footsteps shook the ground beneath his feet.
Leo slowly raised his head.
A violent red aura erupted along the length of his shattered katana, bursting into an inferno of crimson flames. Hellfire coiled around the blade. His mind had passed its absolute limit—his memories were hazy, his thoughts dissolved, and an overwhelming exhaustion pulled at his soul.
Yet, his body refused to yield.
With a primal roar, Leo swung his katana with everything he had left.
BOOM!
A massive whirlwind of red flames exploded outward. In a single slash, the front ranks of Orks and Goblins were sliced clean in half. Severed heads flew through the air, torsos were detached from legs, and chests were cleaved open. A warm rain of blood sprayed across the battlefield, painting the earth crimson.
Leo didn't stop.
With every step forward, his katana danced a dance of death. One slash cleaved through three monsters; a second took down five; a third eradicated an entire line. Anyone who dared draw near had their limbs, necks, or torsos shredded before they could even register their own deaths. The flame-engulfed blade bit through flesh and bone, leaving behind nothing but burning blood, dismembered corpses, and a horrifying silence.
Leo's eyes were completely hollow. No pain, no anger, no mercy—just void. His mind had given up long ago, but his body moved on pure, unyielding instinct.
A short while later, silence reclaimed the field.
There was nothing left except rivers of blood and the mangled remains of monsters.
Leo dragged his heavy feet toward the ruined wall of a clock tower and collapsed against it. His breathing was heavy and ragged, his body feeling as though it were shattered into a thousand pieces.
The morning sun slowly rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays upon his face. His dark eyes caught the sunlight one last time before fading into unconsciousness.