They did not stop.

Not after the roar.

Not after the surge.

Not after being forced down once more.

The reddened members of the Moonshade family kept coming.

Again.

And again.

And again.

It was no longer a simple sequence of reckless attacks. It had become something closer to an endless tide, a relentless wave of bodies that rose, charged, fell, and rose again as if exhaustion had been removed from their very nature.

At first, when they had begun, their resistance had been crude. Their movements had been nothing but wild lunges, their strength barely enough to create even the smallest disturbance against GrandLord Dreath’s overwhelming presence.

But now—

That had changed.

Dreath saw it clearly.

He felt it even more clearly.

"...You’re still growing..."

His voice lowered, no longer amused, no longer dismissive, but sharp with attention.

One of them leaped again.

This time, the ground beneath his feet cracked deeper as he pushed off, the force of the jump far greater than before, sending him upward with enough momentum to reach Dreath’s chest level.

Dreath raised his hand and struck him down again, the impact clean, controlled, sending the attacker spinning back into the ground.

But—

The sound of the impact—

Was different.

The crack of bone that should have followed did not come.

Instead, there was a heavier thud, like striking something dense, something reinforced.

"...Hm."

Dreath’s eyes flickered slightly.

Another came.

And another.

He moved again, intercepting, striking, deflecting, each motion effortless, each attack stopped before it could reach him.

Yet—

Each impact told him the same thing.

Their bodies were changing.

Becoming tougher.

Denser.

More resilient.

The first few strikes had sent them flying easily, their bodies folding under even casual force.

Now—

They still flew.

They still fell.

But they did not break the same way.

Their limbs twisted, but did not snap.

Their bodies slammed into the ground, but rose again almost immediately.

"...This level of adaptation..."

Dreath murmured under his breath.

"...in such a short time..."

It was wrong.

It defied logic.

It defied the natural growth of bloodline power.

Even the strongest talents required time, refinement, cultivation, and understanding to reach such changes.

Yet these—

They were doing it instinctively.

Violently.

Without control.

Another vampire rushed him from the side.

Dreath caught the attack again, gripping the arm and twisting it sharply before throwing him aside.

The joint should have shattered.

But instead—

It bent.

Strained.

Then snapped back as the vampire hit the ground and pushed himself up again.

"...Your bodies..."

"...are reinforcing themselves..."

Another one charged.

Dreath stepped forward this time, allowing the attack to come closer than before, letting the claws graze the air just inches from his chest before he struck downward with his palm.

The vampire slammed into the ground.

Hard.

The stone beneath him cracked deeper.

But he rose again.

Almost immediately.

His breathing heavy.

His eyes burning.

His body trembling—

Not from weakness.

But from something building inside.

"...You’re not just resisting..."

Dreath’s voice grew quieter.

"...You’re adapting to the pressure..."

And the more he observed—

The clearer it became.

Their muscles were tightening.

Their bones were hardening.

Their blood was moving faster, circulating with a force that made their entire bodies vibrate faintly, as if something inside them was being pushed to its limits and responding in kind.

Another wave came.

Three.

Then five.

Their movements still lacked coordination, still driven by raw instinct, but the speed—

The speed had increased again.

Dreath’s hand moved faster.

He struck them down.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Each one sent back.

Each one crashing.

Each one rising again.

"...This is not normal..."

The words slipped out more clearly this time.

Because even he—

GrandLord Dreath—

Could not ignore what was happening anymore.

The gap between them—

Should have been absolute.

Unbridgeable.

Yet—

With every passing moment—

They were climbing.

Not to his level.

Not even close.

But climbing nonetheless.

"...You are forcing your bodies to evolve..."

Another attacker came from behind.

Dreath turned.

Blocked.

Struck.

The vampire flew back, but this time—

His body twisted mid-air.

Adjusted.

Landed on his feet instead of crashing.

For a brief moment—

He stood.

Shaking.

But standing.

Dreath’s eyes sharpened.

"...You even learned to control your fall..."

The vampire roared again.

Then charged.

Dreath met him head-on this time, striking directly into his chest with his palm.

The impact sent a shockwave through the air, the sound echoing across the arena.

The vampire was sent flying again.

But not as far.

Not as violently.

He hit the ground.

Rolled.

Then rose.

Again.

"...Incredible..."

Dreath whispered.

Not praise.

Not admiration.

But recognition.

Because this—

Was something he had not expected to witness.

The other vampires, still pressed against the ground, watched in stunned silence, their fear momentarily overtaken by disbelief.

"...They’re... still fighting..."

"...They’re not dying..."

"...They’re not breaking..."

"...They’re getting stronger..."

The whispers spread, weak but filled with shock.

Even Lord Vord and Elder Achilor, still suppressed, could not hide the change in their expressions.

This was beyond anything they had imagined.

Beyond anything their understanding of bloodline could explain.

And Cain—

Watched.

Silently.

His eyes focused.

His thoughts racing with smugness of an Overgod.

"...Little Bastard..."

"...I changed them..."

"... You measly cultivated mana level won’t be enough to cut their growth..."

A faint realization formed deeper within him.

"...Their growth..."

"...is no longer bound by normal limits..."

But even he—

Did not fully understand what that meant.

Because what was happening now—

Was something that even he had not predicted.

Back in the arena—

The attacks did not stop.

They came faster now.

Stronger.

Relentless.

Each reddened member of the Moonshade family pushed themselves forward, their bodies screaming under the strain, yet responding with even more strength, even more force, as if the pressure itself was feeding their growth.

Dreath continued to defend.

Continued to strike.

Continued to send them back.

But his movements—

Were no longer as casual.

His eyes tracked each one carefully. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

His strikes adjusted slightly.

Because now—

They mattered.

Not as threats.

But as variables.

"...Enough of this..."

His voice finally changed.

Firm.

Decisive.

The amusement that had once lingered was gone.

The curiosity remained.

But it was now paired with intent.

He stepped back slightly.

Just enough to create space.

The reddened Moonshade members did not hesitate.

They charged again.

All of them.

At once.

A wave of red.

A storm of bodies.

Roaring.

Striking.

Clawing.

Pushing forward with everything they had.

And Dreath—

Raised his hand.

Not casually this time.

Not lazily.

But with purpose.

"...Let’s see how far you’ve gone..."

The blood in the air responded.

Instantly.

The faint crimson that had lingered around them gathered, condensed, pulled together by his will into something denser, heavier, more controlled.

A pulse formed.

Dark.

Thick.

Heavy.

A sphere of blood energy that trembled faintly, carrying within it a force that was completely different from physical strikes.

"...Back."

The word came out quietly.

And then—

He released it.

The blood magic spell shot forward, not exploding outward, but pushing in a focused wave that collided with the charging Moonshade members all at once.

The impact—

Was immediate.

Their bodies were struck mid-charge.

The force wrapped around them.

Pressed against them.

Then—

Sent them all flying backward.

Not one.

Not two.

All of them.

Their forms lifted off the ground, thrown back in unison, crashing into the arena floor, rolling, sliding, carving deep marks into the already shattered stone as they were forced away from him.

The wave continued for a moment.

Pushing.

Driving them back.

Until finally—

It settled.

And the arena—

Went still again.