My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill-Chapter 329

But the hunter had made a fatal mistake: he’d gotten too close.

Cassius’s hand shot out, grabbed the man’s throat, and crushed his windpipe before he could scream. The hunter collapsed, choking on his own blood.

Seven remaining.

They adjusted immediately, spreading wider, denying him easy targets. Three formed a defensive wall with shields and blessed weapons. Two hung back with crossbows, blessed bolts ready. Two began chanting prayers that filled the air with holy light.

The crossbow bolts came first—one aimed at his heart, one at his head. Cassius created a blood shield, the hardened essence deflecting one bolt. The other he dodged, but barely.

The holy light intensified, making his skin prickle uncomfortably. Not deadly, but distracting, weakening.

They were methodical. Professional. And they were wearing him down.

Cassius made a decision. He couldn’t win by playing their game, fighting their way. He needed to change the rules entirely.

He dismissed all his defensive constructs, every blood shield and barrier he’d been maintaining. Channeled all that power—every bit of accumulated energy—into a single devastating technique.

The hunters saw him gathering power and reacted instantly. Crossbows fired. Holy water flew. The prayer-casters intensified their chants.

But Cassius had already committed.

Blood Eruption.

The power detonated outward like an exploding star. Pure blood magic in a crimson wave that carried the force of a hurricane and the cutting edge of a thousand blades. The air itself turned red.

Four hunters died instantly, torn apart by the sheer force. Their blessed armor and holy protections meant nothing against this level of raw power.

The remaining three were thrown backward, crashing through bookshelves, lying stunned and bleeding on the stone floor.

But the technique had cost Cassius dearly. His legs nearly gave out. Every wound he’d taken blazed with renewed pain. His blood magic reserves were severely depleted.

He stumbled but forced himself to remain focused. Three enemies remained. He couldn’t stop now.

The surviving hunters struggled to their feet. They were battered, injured, but still dangerous. And they saw Cassius swaying, recognized his exhaustion. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"He’s spent!" one shouted. "Finish him!"

They advanced, weapons ready, moving to surround him.

Cassius knew he didn’t have enough power left for another Blood Eruption. He’d have to do this the hard way—close combat, one at a time, using every bit of skill and speed he still possessed.

The first hunter lunged, blessed sword aimed at Cassius’s chest. The vampire sidestepped, his rapier finding the gap in the man’s armor at the armpit. The hunter gasped and fell.

Two remaining.

They came at him together, coordinating their attacks. One high, one low. Cassius created a small blood construct—all he could manage with his depleted reserves—to block the low attack while he parried the high strike with his rapier.

The exchange was brutal, frantic. Blessed silver bit into his side, sending searing pain through his body. But Cassius’s fangs found the attacker’s throat, and he drank desperately, the fresh blood giving him a surge of renewed strength.

One remaining.

The last hunter backed away, fear finally showing in his eyes as he realized he was alone facing a vampire who’d just killed nine of his companions.

"Please—" the hunter began.

Cassius gave him no chance to finish. Blood magic lashed out, a crimson tendril wrapping around the man’s legs and yanking him off balance. The hunter fell, and Cassius’s rapier ended it.

All ten enemies dead.

Cassius stood among the corpses, breathing hard, his body screaming from multiple wounds and near-total energy depletion. But he’d won. Survived.

Then he heard the sounds of Sylvara’s desperate fight nearby—the clash of steel, pained gasps, coordinated shouts of hunters closing in.

She was in trouble.

Cassius forced his exhausted body to move, using what little remained of his blood magic to enhance his speed. He appeared behind Sylvara’s attackers—three hunters circling a badly wounded woman who was barely standing.

His fangs found one hunter’s throat before the man registered his presence. His hand punched through another hunter’s back, fingers closing around the man’s heart. He crushed it.

The third hunter spun, saw him, tried to bring his weapon around. Too slow. Cassius’s rapier found his eye, driving through into the brain.

All three of Sylvara’s immediate threats fell within seconds.

"Took you long enough," Sylvara gasped, swaying dangerously.

"Had my own problems," Cassius replied, catching her before she collapsed. His enhanced senses catalogued her injuries immediately—multiple stab wounds, broken ribs, severe blood loss, thigh wound that had compromised her mobility. "Can you still fight?"

"Can I stand?" she asked, the question clearly rhetorical given how she was leaning on him.

"Barely," he assessed honestly.

"Then yes," she forced out through gritted teeth. "I can still fight."

He helped her to a position where they could watch Satou’s battle, applying pressure to her worst wounds with strips torn from his own clothing. They were both in terrible shape—wounded, exhausted, barely able to stand.

But they were alive. And more importantly, they’d kept the majority of Richard’s forces from interfering with Satou’s fight.

Now all they could do was watch and hope.

"Lord Satou has to win," Cassius said quietly, his eyes tracking the explosive exchanges between Satou and Richard. "Everything depends on it."

"He will," Sylvara replied, though her voice carried more hope than certainty. "He beat Richard before. He’ll do it again."

Cassius nodded and said "Yeah , i believe Lord Satou will Win"

All Cassius and Sylvara could do was watch, wounded and exhausted, and pray that their mission wouldn’t end in failure after everything they’d sacrificed.

Please, Lord Satou, Cassius thought, watching him flicker between positions using Shadow Step. Finish him. End this. Make all of this worth it.

—----------

The library had become a battlefield where reality itself was negotiable. Shadow and time clashed, each force trying to impose its fundamental nature on the space around them.

Richard moved first, temporal acceleration making him blur. His sword came down in a strike meant to split Satou’s skull—years of refined technique behind the blow, the blade moving at quadruple normal speed.