SSS Transmigration: I Can Extract And Evolve Overpowered Shadows-Chapter 34: The New Nishikawa Hinata (4)
The entire walls of Falmouth fell completely still once the cocoon fully closed.
Tamara took a slow drag of her cigarette. Even though she was two ranks above the young man, she couldn’t believe she had to squeeze out every last drop of her mana to stop him from moving.
"Crazy bastard," she muttered, raising one hand in the air to signal the members of her pleasure house and others who bore the name Dragonforge to appear.
Over a hundred men materialized out of the shadows. Without a word, they all lurched forward and knelt before Tamara Dragonforge.
Unlike what Hinata thought, the Dragonforge family was far more complex than they appeared.
Their true depth was something that very few understood.
The Vanir Clan—a bloodline born from mana itself, or rather aether, the first form of mana.
To the world, they were known as the Wraiths: a group of powerful mythic beings capable of wiping out continents.
Within that clan, only those who could awaken a fully manifested bloodline could call themselves Vanir. The rest were left as slaves and stepping stones for the great ones.
The Dragonforge was one of those families. After a direct descendant of the Vanir Clan caused chaos in the world and nearly killed a god, the Vanir decided to sacrifice a clan to appease them—at least, that was what they told everyone.
In truth, the Vanir Clan feared Noctis, a member of the Dragonforge family who had the ability to become a god.
He was more talented than the direct line of the Vanir Clan, and during the great clash of the gods he had refined their energy to form a core.
To ensure their power reigned supreme, they and the so-called gods deemed it necessary to kill Noctis before he became a problem—for unlike them, he did not follow the ideology that the strong must rule over the weak.
This was the reason the Dragonforge family were killed and cast out from the central plains to the edges of the continent. This was because even after wiping out most of the pure bloods, they still feared another Noctis emerging.
’Like anyone could ever match the man who nearly became a god in just fifty years.’
Tamara’s gaze drifted from the kneeling men to the cocoon. "I suppose you were right about some things, Nishikawa Hinata."
Indeed, someone who was like a god to them had died—but that god was the very man named Noctis. The shadow core was simply a core he had constructed from every form of energy; in a sense, it was the closest thing in existence to actual aether.
"One of you," she addressed the men. "get the refinement room ready."
Today, even if she died doing it, she was going to wake their god and king. With his return, the Dragonforge family would take their revenge and claim the top of the food chain.
Tamara swept her gaze across the gathered men until it landed on Lilith, who stood staring directly at the cocoon.
"Lili—" The words caught in Tamara’s throat. The little fox before her, who should have been relieved about the young man’s defeat, was fixed on the cocoon with an intensity that made her body tremble ever so slightly.
Recalling how Lilith had warned her of Hinata’s attack, Tamara snapped her head around—but there was nothing there. The cocoon remained intact, with no signs of struggle.
’What is wrong with her?’
Though Tamara couldn’t perceive it, Lilith could somehow sense it.
The young, blue-haired woman couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from the cocoon.
’What is happening to me?’ Her body shook like that of someone gripped by a severe fever.
"He’s not dead..." she breathed, forcing herself to her feet.
Whatever was coming wasn’t something she or anyone here could handle.
Her very soul trembled. Through her eyes, the sky was already laced with purple light.
It was coming.
Lilith clutched the hem of her kimono. Cold sweat tracked down her face as she stared at the cocoon, which had begun emanating purple mist.
Without warning, someone seized her arm and yanked her back to reality.
She glanced sideways, finally wrenching her gaze from the cocoon. Her aunt stood at her side, expression hardened like stone.
"Lilith, what is it?" 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂
Lilith raised her quivering hand slowly. Tamara tracked the motion until her gaze settled on the white, round mass in the distance.
She turned back to her niece, brows drawing together. "Why are you pointing at it?"
Lilith’s lips parted, yet no sound came out. Her throat worked, each word seeming to drag itself up from somewhere deep and unwilling.
For a few seconds she stood trembling, gathering the strength to speak. "He’s coming."
Tamara’s jaw tightened. "What are you even saying? No one is coming!" she snapped, the veins along her forehead rising as her composure fractured.
Lilith didn’t lower her hand. If anything, her arm stiffened, finger locked in place as though it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. "No... he’s coming."
"Who?" Tamara demanded, gripping her by the shoulder. "Who do you think is coming? A paladin? Seraphina?! Just tell me!"
Lilith’s response wasn’t immediate. Her head moved—slow at first, then sharper, shaking from side to side.
"The devil."
"What?"
In that instant, the ground began to shake and the sky above Falmouth bled purple.
"Boss!" One of the seventy men called out, voice cracking with alarm. "What’s happening?"
Tamara turned her head toward the cocoon. She couldn’t explain it, but something was definitely stirring within her.
It was as if a force tugged at her mana, sending a sharp pain tearing through her body.
"Damn it!" She thrust her hand up, barking a command at her men. "Attack the cocoon. Whatever it takes, destroy whoever is inside."
"Boss, the core—!"
"I said do it!"
The moment her voice cracked through the city, fifty men surged toward the white mass, intent on reducing it and its occupant to nothing.
The city held its breath—yet before they could reach it, black mist flooded the ground beneath their feet. Several purple spikes tore through the cocoon, and Tamara coughed blood.
By the time she lifted her head, she went completely still.
Even with it unfolding directly before her, she couldn’t bring herself to believe what she was seeing.
At least fifty trained Dragonforge Aspirants had fallen before the stranger in the space of a single breath.
Standing at the center of the corpses was not the man she had fought—it was something else entirely.
A single, jagged horn jutted from the side of his head, stark against black hair that whipped wildly around his face as though caught in a violent gale.
What stopped her heart was his eyes. There was no white—only an abyssal black, with pupils that burned like toxic, demonic amethysts.
Thick, violet mana, resembling necrotic fire, poured from him and consumed everything around him.
Tamara took a step back, her knees unsteady beneath her.
Whatever she was staring at was not living. It was as though death itself had taken a shape and stepped forward to be seen.
Every voice in the city vanished at once. Slowly, the demonic figure raised one hand—within it, he held the long black horn of one of the Dragonforge soldiers.
Without a word, he tossed it toward them. The horn struck the ground with a sharp crack, then began to roll—unnaturally slow, tumbling over and over until it came to rest at Tamara’s feet.
The demonic figure’s lips split into a maniacal grin. "Did you truly believe this would end any other way?"
The sheer arrogance radiating from his voice made Tamara clench her jaw, though she didn’t dare challenge it.
She had lived and breathed the principle of the strong devouring the weak. She had never truly stood on the weaker side—not since childhood—and because of that, she had never genuinely understood what the weak experienced in the moments she loomed over them.
Now she understood.
A single word captured it completely.
Unending terror.
The demonic figure raised one finger, and black mist detonated from his sides, rushing through the city in an instant. Within a breath, the streets of Falmouth were swallowed beneath a tide of black.
"Now," he said, his voice rolling like thunder across the battlefield. "Devour them."
