The ceiling wasn’t stone at all—it was flesh. Ribbed and pulsing, a grotesque membrane stretched taut between the pillars, glistening with the same molten light that now pooled beneath the abomination’s feet. The eyes blinked in unison, their pupils dilating as a wet, rippling sound echoed through the hall. Something moved behind that fleshy veil—something vast.

  Patter. Patter.

  A weird sound echoed before one could even blink.

  It was hungry.

  The countless eyes blinked again.

  This time from the darkness of the ceiling, several thin, yet countless, legs stretched out. They were bent at angles that didn't look possible.

  The creature below could sense the blood and flesh hanging on the ceiling. His own blood ran cold and then hot. Incredibly hot to melt his own skin. The ceiling looked like a mural, or more like a throne to these abominations.

  The slit-faced one didn't move at first, his eyes scanning the creeping terror above him.

  Similarly, the creeping terror did the same.

  An eerie silence passed between the two rulers who had met for the first time.

  Then—

  "Wargggh!" the slit-faced one screamed.

  He had tried to replicate the chants he had heard countless times in his head.

  He was about to wage another war.

  Boom.

  In the next instant it took a giant leap in the air.

  A loud sound followed after.

  The blood. Hot. Red and deadly exploded from his body.

  The slit-faced one was deadly. However, his opponent, the creeping terror, was more vicious.

  Its countless thin legs rained down like a cloud, which had also burst open. It was like thunder had rained down with devastating fury.

  The spilled blood lit up like light before turning into dark flames. Flames that didn't just burn but flickered with madness. A craziness spilling from the slit-faced one himself.

  The clash was deafening.

  The blood-crazed flames and the long, crooked legs tore each other apart.

  The floor shook, and ruptures like spiderwebs spread over the space. However, the floor didn't break.

  Each dent, every hole and everything destroyed returned to its previous state!

  'What the—?'

  Asher couldn't help but gasp in shock.

  This—

  What is this shitty place?

  Asher held back a scream from his hiding place.

  The palace was repairing itself no matter how much it got damaged. It wasn't instantaneous, and the process looked weak, but it was surely happening each second.

  No matter how one looked, this place was eerie and disturbing. Even if one were to ignore the fact that it was trapping the long-legged terror from escaping but simultaneously allowing others to come and go, it was creepy.

  Whoever made this place had a disturbingly bad sense of humor.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Luckily he was not the victim of this place—the long-legged terror was.

  How annoying must it be to watch others come and go but you can't leave yourself?

  'How pitiful.'

  Asher suppressed himself from laughing out loud but couldn't stop his lips from twitching upward.

  "Grrr!"

  Pulling Asher out of his thoughts, the southern ruler, the blood fiend, let out a loud roar.

  A white storm has brewed right over him.

  It was sharp and cold, as if it could cut the guts without even touching anyone's skin.

  The long-legged creature blinked its countless eyes from the dark. The Crown Castle restored itself as the storm cut through the walls. They seemed to be competing to see who could exhaust the other person first.

  Sheeeee

  A hot wind suddenly came out from the center of the white-web storm. The thin ashen fog turned white before it also started to burn in crimson.

  The slit-faced blood fiend had let out another fierce roar!

  At the same time, the fierce blood in his hand had crystallized as if flames had taken a solid shape. It was a long, crudely built spear with a sharp tip that burned darkly.

  The floor shook again.

  'Unbelievable.'

  Asher didn't hide his shock at the moment. The moment he saw the southern ruler bring the weapon out, his heart sank.

  The white-web storm did not spare the ruler of the South. Instead, he had sustained severe wounds. He had deep cuts on his limbs, and the slit across his face had become even more hideous.

  However, he didn't look weak.

  Furthermore, he reminded Asher of someone he knew.

  -Chris.

  Asher inhaled the warm air and felt his back drenched in sweat. He clenched and unclenched his fist unknowingly and licked his lips.

  They both shared the common trait of getting stronger the more they bled.

  Of course Asher knew, unlike his thread of thoughts, it was not a physical trait they had developed but rather was a part of their abilities.

  When Chris achieves transcendence, will he also possess comparable abilities?

  Asher felt his lips quirk at the thought, which came to him suddenly and unconsciously.

  If Summer hears me talk like this, she will be upset.

  No, perhaps everyone will be. No, perhaps everyone will be.

  Asher's mouth tightened.

  He tried everything to calm his heart, but it didn't work.

  It didn't look good.

  He needed the long-legged terror to prevail in this battle in order to ascend.

  He was unsure if the southern ruler's triumph would meet the requirements for his elevation.

  The outcome was 50/50.

  Additionally, he doesn't want the southern ruler to prevail given his current situation.

  'He looks crazy.'

  Not to mention frightening.

  The crooked-legged ruler appeared adorable in contrast to this frightening creature.

  'What am I even thinking?'

  A bitter taste spread across Asher's lips, causing his head to pound.

  Bang.

  As he was lost in thought, the crooked-leg ruler had already made its next move, spreading a white weave everywhere.

  It resembled silk, but it was not silk.

  The white weave stretched outward in fractal patterns, each strand splitting into finer strands until the air itself seemed to fracture.

  When they touched the walls, they were cut down, leaving deep scars. Before repairing themselves.

  Suddenly both Asher and the slit-faced creature felt a sharp pain in their abdomen.

  Asher's eyes opened wide as he fell on his knees but didn't let go of the mist covering him.

  His face went white and dry as he felt his body growing weak.

  'Wh-'

  He couldn't think straight.

  "Huff—"

  Hunger.

  Asher felt hungry. The realization hit him like a gut punch—not a hunger for food, but a gnawing, marrow-deep emptiness that spread through his veins like poison.

  I was not even the target...

  Asher clenched his eyes in pain.

  The slit-faced blood fiend also let out a scream before flames spread across the floor, burning the threads.

  'Good thing they are not here.'

  Asher thought as his complexion improved slowly with the threads burning down.

  'Bastard now I surely kill you.'

  The blood fiend matched his line of thought before the flames tinted with war struck the ceiling.