SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God-Chapter 213: They are all dead

The emerging form of Skal’Zarith reeled. It wasn’t fear exactly, but recognition. That frozen grin of sadistic hunger faltered. The black frost surrounding it began to retreat, curling inward like ash afraid of wind. For the first time, the demon didn’t move forward.

From the light stepped a figure.

Or perhaps it wasn’t stepping at all, perhaps reality itself was simply shifting to make room for its presence. The figure was wreathed in celestial flame and cloaked in an armor of star-forged sigils that burned with truths too ancient for words. Its face was hidden, obscured by a mask etched with constellations and fate-lines, but even the mask pulsed with authority.

"Return." The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It resonated in bone, in soul. The kind of command that didn’t come from volume but from law, the original law before systems and rules were written.

The black form of Skal’Zarith’s fragment twitched violently, its enormous clawed hand grasping at the void, trying to hold on. "NO!" it bellowed. "Don’t you dare think this is over. This prey is mine, and he will be mine one way or the other. You are just a fucking lap dog. Don’t you dare think that this great Skal’Zarith is scared of the likes of you!"

The celestial figure tilted its head slightly, as if regarding a speck of dirt that had dared speak back. No anger, no emotion at all, just pure, implacable stillness. Then, a faint shimmer ran along the lines of the starmap etched into its mask. One by one, the constellations glowed in sequence, like locks turning against the will of eternity.

"I am not here to inspire fear," the figure said calmly, each word weighted like a celestial judgment. "I am here to enforce inevitability."

The void buckled. A second wave of chains burst from the rift above, these ones forged not from light but from paradox, each link made from opposing forces: time and void, creation and oblivion, memory and prophecy. They didn’t just bind, they rewrote. The laws of manifestation themselves were overwritten as they coiled around the demon’s fragment.

Skal’Zarith’s form spasmed. Its claws shattered mid-gesture, its shadow flesh unraveling into ribbons of void and corrupted will. "YOU CAN’T ERASE ME!" it howled. "THIS REALITY IS FRACTURED! I WILL FIND A WAY BACK! I will never submit to you and your system!"

"Then I will be waiting," the figure intoned, stepping forward. With a flick of a single finger, the space around Skal’Zarith collapsed in upon itself like a black hole made of silence.

A moment later, the world exhaled. The skies cracked back into blue, though traces of the aftermath lingered. The ground stopped shaking. The cold retreated. Damon, still on his knees, gasped for air as his body trembled uncontrollably, every cell whispering that he had been within reach of extinction.

The figure turned. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished, folding into the same crack in the sky that had brought it here. The light was gone. Everything was gone.

Damon remained on his knees, the blood in his veins still echoing with terror and awe. The ground beneath him was scorched and frozen in equal parts, a battlefield of opposites, where divine law and demonic will had clashed in absolute terms. He could still feel the last pulse of that godlike pressure, like a phantom limb pressing against his soul. freewёbnoνel-com

Behind him, Artimius stirred, coughing blood but still alive. "What happened? Is he gone?" the old man whispered hoarsely.

Damon shook his head. "I have no idea." He looked at the distance where his family, Mark, Kate, and Sylvara, were still fine. They had by now retreated as far as they possibly could to get away from all of this madness. Not that any of it would have helped.

Damon let out a sigh. He closed his eyes as the events of the last few minutes flashed in front of him. Every single thing seemed unbelievable. Every single thing felt surreal. The feeling of utter helplessness in front of a being like that was etched in his very soul. He wouldn’t forget it any time soon. He did not want to forget it. He wanted to never feel like that ever again.

Damon clenched his fists as he remembered what the demon screamed until the very last moment. He was going to come back for him.

Damon did not know if this was true or not, or if it was possible or not, but he needed to consider this carefully. He was caught off guard once, and somehow, because something intervened, he was able to come out of it alive, but who knew he would get this lucky a second time as well. He needed to be prepared just in case the demon really managed to get into their world once again.

While Damon was engrossed in his thoughts, suddenly a loud scream echoed in the silence, and he turned around to see Sylvara screaming at the top of her lungs. "They are dead. They are all dead."

Damon’s heart stopped. His family was dead? He just confirmed that they were alive? What was she talking about?

And then he saw... the entire clan, the entire fucking army that had come to take him out had now inexplicably dropped dead. Sure, he had taken out some of them, but the others... it was a completely different story. Their deaths seemed a lot more cruel and torturous.

All the corpses had twisted expressions of pain on their faces, each contorted in different ways. Their bodies were fine. Their blood was intact. No sign of wound or injury. Yet all of them had dropped dead right where they were. Their lifeless corpses and hollow eyes stared back, wanting and pleading for someone to save them.

Damon let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He did not have to guess what happened here. It was clear. Robert had sacrificed his entire clan to summon the demon god, which in the end had consumed every single one of them. It did not even let Robert off. Every single person was dead.

***

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