I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

He would be at his strongest when he has nothing. He could go mad and slaughter indiscriminately in the city, kill his enemies in the most cruel way, and even take on the entire world single-handedly without any scruples.

But he had to think about the next step in reality, a way to preserve everything he cherished after killing all those pests in Kazimierz.

The only advantage at this moment is that, at least he won't be completely as Ramalen said, so bound by trivial matters that he can't enjoy the battle, or always have this or that concern—because there is still a place where he can vent.

So, when the person beside me fell into a deep sleep.

Gerald picked up the Banshee's Kiss and pinned it to his chest.

Chapter 95 The taste of the Blood Demon is amazing!!! (4K7)

Insufficient strength is an ultimate problem with no solution.

Just like Gerald's self-assessment a long time ago: not the best, but not the worst either.

Although both Lamaren and Aifanir are now roughly at the same level as him, they are still far from being reassuring.

Especially considering that Aphrodite is staying by the side of the new Demon Lord, Amiya.

Gerald only knew that there was an entity called "Black Crown," but he was unaware of the specifics of the Demon King's legacy, and Ramalen had never brought it up with him.

As can be seen from the history in the banshee's book, the existence of the demon king always means destruction and annihilation.

And they never had a good end.

The Far Exiles summoned the Scourge, Barthar killed Gordoo, and Quiron killed Barthar. The Cyclops died by assassination, the Blood Demon by conspiracy, the Banshee by coup, the Carrion by war, and even Theresa died in the civil war.

These are just some of the names that have been recorded in history, not to mention the nameless ones who were killed on the very day they inherited the throne.

There can't be just one puppet demon king like Elesh, but Gerald is quite certain that the alien demon king named Amiya could never be among them.

He believed that Lamarlene would not allow Afaniel to be buried with an incompetent leader.

However, this means that Aifanil will ultimately have to face all sorts of risks and crises, and he will ultimately have to get involved in the conflicts and hatred of the Sarkaz race.

—This is exactly what he wanted.

Pegasus has never forgotten that Theresa made a promise to him when they were in the valley that she would fulfill one of his requests.

Now it's time for that demon king to fulfill his promise.

……

However, just as Gerald drifted off to sleep, preparing to continue his search for Theresa—

An unexpected change disrupted almost all of his plans.

In a very, very good way.

"You have tainted the blood, Pegasus." An arrogant voice echoed in the surrounding void: "You have also tainted our glory, our battlefield... with your despicable skill."

"Tell me, why did you drag me outside the veil called Terra?"

This is what Gerald heard when he returned to the dream.

His consciousness awoke from the chaos, and he tried to turn his head to look at the source of the sound.

The familiar figure stood in the darkness, its crimson eyes scanning the surroundings.

The Blood Demon Lord's gaze didn't linger on the eggshell for even a moment, even though it seemed to be the only noteworthy thing in this space. He ultimately simply cast his cold gaze upon the culprit who had killed him, and said to himself:

"There's surprise in your expression... Interesting. It seems you don't expect me to appear before you again." Ducarre's face revealed a mocking smile: "Ha, is this the cage you created? To imprison me, to imprison the master of the Blood Court?"

"The brother and sister didn't question what I did."

Gerald quickly regained his composure and immediately retorted, "They seem to have no need for a future with you in it. It must feel terrible to be powerless, right? Do you need me to tell you what the future of the Sarkaz looks like?"

There wasn't much of a threatening aura emanating from the other party.

In the darkness, the only light source was the two eggshells. Yet, both he and the Blood Demon Lord continued to breathe, converse, and transmit information in the same way as in reality, indicating that the laws of nature still applied in this space, or perhaps this scene was constructed based on his understanding.

But why did the Blood Demon Lord appear in his dream?

Gerald suddenly realized something and glanced at the piece of cloth on his shoulder.

It hadn't expressed any feelings of hunger to itself for a long time, but what it was expressing now was a complete and utter satisfaction, like savoring a rich and precious treasure on an ordinary day, enough to keep it going for a long time.

"...No need."

Just as Gerald was pondering whether this thing was a natural counter to the Blood Demon, the Blood Demon Lord spoke after a long silence: "Although time is meaningless here, your appearance has not changed, Pegasus. Strength cannot conceal your immaturity. I know that not much time has passed in the outside world."

"Ha, that's fine too. It's more comfortable to cling to a sliver of hope in prison than to face the despair of reality."

Gerald, just like in reality, let the wind gently surround him and said, "However, things are not as you imagine... Let me finish testing first."

Then, Pegasus used his wind to create a gash in his palm.

Blood instantly swirled around him with the wind, but then, with Gerald's will, the wound was stitched back together as if it had never been cut at all.

Ducarre frowned, watching Gerald's every move: "What are you doing—"

Next up is the entire arm.

The arm fell, blood was pumped out, and then it remained completely unharmed.

“That’s much better.” Gerald nodded in satisfaction, then turned his gaze back to Ducarre and stated directly what he had just learned: “Theresia is dead.”

The air fell silent, as if even the dark red flowing in the Blood Demon's eyes was frozen by this one sentence.

Ducarre did not react immediately. He simply stood there quietly, his eyes slightly closed, as if he were chewing on Gerald's words or forcibly suppressing the doubts surging in his heart.

Then, he finally opened his eyes and slowly uttered a sentence: "Intriguing... There shouldn't be anyone among the Sarkaz capable of killing her. Why did she, a hero, die?"

"Information doesn't come for free, especially to prisoners."

Seeing that his opponent had taken the bait, Gerald's lips gradually curled into a smile: "Your strength is weak right now, and without the replenishment of blood, your control over blood is gradually declining—but the good news is that this will be a place where you can recover faster."

Immediately afterwards, a large amount of blood formed a river without source, which spread to the feet of the Blood Demon.

Ducarre's gaze fell on the blood that was slowly spreading to his feet, silently watching the familiar yet unfamiliar color.

That was Pegasus's blood, carrying his unique aura, mixed with a certain allure that he couldn't ignore—pure, abundant, and full of life.

The Blood Demon frowned slightly, then simply raised one hand. The blood on the ground immediately seemed to be drawn upwards by invisible threads, slowly rising to the surface and winding into a flowing ribbon around his palm, gently swirling around his arm.

His breathing became deep, and a bright red light emerged from the depths of his eyes, like a flame about to reignite.

"Give alms?"

He uttered two words briefly.

“It’s a deal, Blood Demon. I’ll give you information about the outside world and some blood,” Gerald replied just as briefly. “In return, fight me and let me see the skills and abilities of the Blood Demon, not just the bloodline you always boast about.”

"Let us fight until the moment time comes to an end, or until you can no longer provide me with pleasure."

Pegasus's golden eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

"This time, don't be as careless as last time."

……

During the first hour spent in darkness, Gerald's body was disassembled approximately ten times.

He was stabbed in the body by a blood gun, his head was pierced by blood that turned into sharp blades, his skin was burned through by boiling blood, and his heart was pierced by a blood spike that suddenly appeared.

For Pegasus, who can change dreams with his will at this moment, an endless array of opponents is a perfect match for his infinite vitality.

So he offered his blood to the Blood Demon Lord without reservation.

The blood, too sweet and abundant for the Blood Demon, would flow to Ducarre from all directions, helping to replenish his condition.

"The blood of the gods, do you know what it means to the Blood Demon, Pegasus?!" After fully realizing the current situation, Ducarre's expression instantly turned ecstatic, almost forgetting his elegant demeanor: "Very good! You are the victor, yet you still maintain your manners—baseness is far from you, nobility should be your label!"

Gerald remained silent, simply tossing the broken sword aside and retrieving a new one from the void, placing it before his chest.

In reality, his fighting style relies too heavily on wind. Although he can temporarily hold his own against several enemies at the level of royal rulers, he still has too many weaknesses when facing real battlefield monsters.

Here, he can let go of everything and hone his true fighting instincts in the most extreme battles.

Completely different from the first battle, no matter how he manipulated the flow of blood through the wind, the magic was forced to be set to an endless blood demon that could always neutralize his attacks and find loopholes in his movements when he was exhausted, so as to launch a counterattack.

The crimson glow rose and fell, and the wind's momentum was constantly being suppressed.

……

Seven hours had passed in the darkness, and Gerald's death count was approaching one hundred.

The resistance was gradually weakening, and even after regeneration, Gerald showed no intention of returning his body to its best condition, only letting the fatigue continue to permeate his body.

Blood flames licked at Pegasus's body, his skin peeling off in the scorching heat, his sinews twisting in the intense heat. He enveloped himself in a storm, yet the blood still seeped through, tearing open new wounds.

Pegasus's sword strikes were swift enough, but Blood Demon's blood spear always came out on top.

Trading injury for injury is effective as a surprise attack, but it's far from being a true means of defeating the enemy. Moreover, the Blood Demon has an endless supply of blood; even just the sheer quantity of it could easily overwhelm him. The only way to struggle in this situation is to constantly compensate for the lack of absolute strength with speed.

He gradually got used to it, but it also became increasingly difficult to deal with each of his attacks.

……

In the sixteenth hour spent in darkness, counting the number of deaths became a meaningless task.

The wind raged across the battlefield, whipping up shattered blood and weaving it into a whirlwind of blood and gore that swept across the heavens and earth. In this dance of slaughter, the Blood Demon's figure grew ever more unrestrained, and his killing intent ever more ferocious.

Pegasus's thinking began to slow down.

Pain is a necessary part of the process; otherwise, the battle would be as meaningless as playing a low-quality VR game. However, he himself could not completely ignore the pain. Physical fatigue and weakness also greatly affected his mental state, making it impossible for him to withstand even some of the most basic attacks.

It needs to be reset.

When flesh and blood regenerated on his bones, the vitality and the weariness in his bones were cleared away together, and a new sword fell back into his hand.

However, a brief lull occurred in the battle.

—The Blood Demon Lord stopped on his own initiative.

Ducarre stood in the darkness, his blood-stained spear pointing diagonally at the ground, a thick sea of ​​blood gathering beneath his feet. The river of Pegasus blood had now submerged their ankles, becoming a boundless ocean.

He gazed silently at the Pegasus before him, watching its wounds heal and its flesh regenerate—a process that had been repeated countless times in the past few moments.

After a few breaths of silence, Ducarre finally spoke.

"What exactly do you want, Pegasus?"

His voice was low and hoarse, no longer filled with the bloodthirsty madness of before, but instead carrying a hint of inquiry and doubt: "Enduring pain and torment, is that your pleasure? I have seen many things that can be called despicable, but your fighting spirit is genuine—tell me, what exactly do you want from me?"

"...Didn't you notice?"

Gerald was taken aback. Ducarre had indeed said quite a lot during the battle, but he had blocked it all out, and almost nothing useful had reached his ears.

And this is what he got in the end?

“What?” Ducarre asked.

"I don't understand. We've been fighting for a long time. Haven't you thought about what you've learned from it? Like how to counter my Originium Arts, or how to deal with my swordsmanship?"

A sense of powerlessness rose in Gerald's heart. He gripped his sword, took a step forward, and then casually slashed at the Blood Demon Lord's body from a distance.

Faced with the attack, Ducarre gripped his blood spear tightly again. The sea of ​​blood around him began to surge, shouting and clamoring, trying to devour the Pegasus in front of him again, or drive him to his doom.

But those old attacks ultimately became nothing more than shadows beneath the sword's edge.

Like ink carelessly smeared on paper with a brush, it spread with the wind and fell helplessly into the sea of ​​blood.

“Countermeasures, my dear Blood Lord.” Gerald looked at Ducarre, whose expression was gradually becoming serious, with an indescribable expression. “Can’t you counter each move? Even students from Letania can use analysis to counter Originium Arts. How long am I supposed to wait for you?”

"Just because I gave you endless blood doesn't mean you'll stick to one fighting style until you die, right? I can practice other skills along the way, but don't you get tired of fighting like this? If this keeps up, we'll be over soon."

Ducarre suddenly froze on the spot.

He realized something.

The phrase Tianma just uttered, "When time comes to an end," may have been without any embellishment.

“…Never mind, let’s continue anyway.” Gerald shook his head, feeling the renewed surge of power within him. “Although this is a bit troublesome, at least we have plenty of time—”

Snapped.

Just as if a monitor had been turned off, Gerald's vision was plunged into complete darkness in an instant.

There was no transition, no warning, not even the usual weightlessness that comes with a shattered dream. Everything seemed to be covered by an invisible hand, and suddenly the end button was pressed.

His mind seemed to be stuck in the moment he was about to swing his sword. His body instinctively tried to adjust his balance, but the next second, all his fighting spirit was forced to shut down.

In the blink of an eye, the world has completely changed.

The familiar ceiling, the vines that have been put away, the loving gaze, and the alarm clock on the wall showing that it's morning.