Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 329: BATTLING THE ENVY CLAN IV

Zen stared speechlessly at the shattered remnants of his once-mighty spear, the jagged shards scattered across the scorched earth like broken promises.

His aura, once a roaring storm of demonic power, now flickered weakly, shrinking inward as the weight of reality pressed down harder and harder.

He could feel it slipping away, his pride, his strength, his certainty, evaporating into the smoke-filled air.

He lifted his gaze slowly to Greg, eyes dimmed and empty, the crimson glow reduced to a faint, barely-there ember.

No fire remained, only ashes of what had been.

Step. Step. Step.

Greg advanced with deliberate slowness, each footfall measured and unhurried.

Heaven Defier dragged behind him, the blade scraping along the cracked, blood-slick ground with a low, grating screech that sent tiny sparks dancing upward in erratic bursts.

The sound echoed across the ruined battlefield like a grim metronome, counting down to the inevitable.

"You are a monster," Zen whispered in utter defeat, the words barely audible over the crackle of distant flames and the groans of dying demons.

"I envy you," he added, his voice cracking as raw hatred flooded his expression.

That hatred burned hotter than ever, amplified to a searing intensity by the all-consuming desire of Envy that twisted through every fiber of his being.

Zen felt completely and utterly lost.

A profound hollowness had opened inside him, vast and echoing, as though someone had carved out his core and left nothing behind but cold emptiness.

Yet even in that yawning void, one emotion refused to fade: the fierce, irrational hatred born purely from envy toward Greg.

He couldn’t fully understand why it burned so fiercely, he simply knew it did.

He envied Greg’s overwhelming, effortless strength.

He envied Greg’s endless arsenal of devastating abilities.

He envied Greg’s unbreakable invulnerability that no attack could pierce.

Slowly, the envy within Zen began to swell and grow, feeding on itself like a dark flame licking at dry tinder.

It built steadily, relentlessly, until the hollow space inside him started to stir with unnatural life.

But this was no ordinary revival.

It was a twisted, parasitic vitality, something dark and hungry awakening deep within his soul.

"Do you want to grow stronger?" A smooth, enticing voice suddenly slithered into his consciousness, wrapping around his thoughts like velvet chains.

The voice was seductive, manipulative, coiling through the cracks in his crumbling will and tugging gently at the frayed edges of his mind.

"Yes," Zen answered subconsciously, the word slipping out before he could even register it.

His body relaxed slightly, caught in an involuntary trance.

"Do you want to get rid of him and take what belongs to him for yourself?"

The dark, sinister voice pressed again, its tone dripping with false sweetness and promise.

"Yes," Zen replied once more, his eyes locked on Greg but completely unfocused, pupils dilated and glassy as he sank deeper into the haze.

"Then grant me your soul, and I will provide you with your heart’s desire," the voice coaxed, its words sliding deeper into his psyche.

"Okay," Zen agreed without hesitation, his unfocused eyes losing even more clarity.

He surrendered fully to the temptation, letting the darkness seep in willingly.

Slowly, Zen’s aura began to surge upward once again.

The danger radiating from him increased exponentially, shadows thickened around his form, a faint, ominous crimson glow pulsed in his chest, and the air around him grew heavier, charged with something malevolent and unnatural.

Stab!

[Congratulations! You have killed a Demon Prince]

[You have devoured the Sin of Envy...]

Greg barely glanced at the cascading system notifications.

They flickered across his vision like irrelevant background noise.

He had already noticed the subtle, creeping transformation in Zen, the unnatural shift in his aura, the glint of something foreign awakening in his eyes, the sudden spike in power.

Well, buzzkill.

He didn’t care in the slightest.

Knowing Zen’s health pool had already dropped into abyssal territory, Greg had ended him with ruthless efficiency before any shady, drawn-out transformation could fully take shape.

He wasn’t in the mood to let Zen undergo some dramatic power-up sequence and force him into a prolonged, life-on-the-line struggle.

His actions had been deliberate from the start, calculated, purposeful, and pragmatic.

He had zero interest in complicating his life unnecessarily or engaging in risky, drawn-out battles when he could prevent them with one clean strike.

He didn’t care about whatever dark force had been whispering to Zen or why his strength had suddenly begun to rise.

That was none of his business.

With Zen now dead, his body crumpling lifelessly to the ground in a heap of broken armor and dark blood, Greg canceled the dome of darkness.

The shadowy barrier dissolved smoothly into wisps of black mist that drifted upward and faded into the smoky sky.

He turned his head toward Annabelle.

And as expected, she had already finished her part of the work.

The royal demon guards lay scattered around her in smoking, charred heaps, limbs twisted, armor melted, faces frozen in final expressions of agony from her lightning barrage.

"Now, the hardest part," Greg said quietly to his sister, resting a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder for a brief moment.

"Arrogant humans. How dare you defy me?"

The sibling duo raised their heads in unison.

High above them, a towering figure hovered effortlessly in the sky.

His massive wings beat with slow, powerful strokes, stirring gusts of wind that carried the sharp scent of sulfur, blood, and scorched stone.

He was the Demon Lord of the Envy Clan.

Azazel, the Envious.

"Good," Greg replied calmly, his voice carrying clear across the distance.

"You saved me the stress of having to search the entire castle for you."

His own four dark wings unfurled with a soft rustle of leathery membrane.

He lifted smoothly into the air, rising to meet Azazel at equal height.

The wind tugged at his clothes and hair as he ascended.

He stared directly into the Demon Lord’s eyes, unblinking, unflinching, not a single trace of cowardice or doubt in his steady gaze.

"Hah. To dare look directly into my eyes," Azazel laughed, the sound booming like thunder rolling across the battlefield.

Mockery dripped from every syllable.

"Perhaps I should show you the true might of a Demon Lord."

He extended one clawed finger toward Greg, the gesture filled with supreme arrogance.

Demonic energy began to gather at the tip in a dense, swirling orb, black and violet, crackling with violent power that warped the air around it. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Tendrils of dark energy danced along the edges, hissing and popping.

In one smooth, fluid motion, Azazel fired the concentrated demonic energy straight toward Greg.

The blast streaked through the sky like a comet of pure annihilation, tearing a glowing trail through the smoke-filled air.