My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 132 - No. One Final Stretch (2)

[Location: Dungeon—Vampire King’s Castle]

"You speak boldly for someone who does not even know the time I was feared just for existing, you think as if you’re already a victor. Don’t forget why I was sealed in the first place; Even Helel couldn’t kill me at his peak, so tell me, brat, what gives you the courage to look me in the eye, YOU MONGREL!"

The skin on his face started to peel, revealing a completely black composition whose only visible features are monstrous, sharp teeth and red eyes, while his hair started be flying as if it’s defying gravity.

My skin crawled just by looking at him.

Not fear.

Recognition.

The moment Alucard’s flesh peeled away, revealing that pitch-black, voidlike composition beneath, something deep inside my soul responded—not with panic, but with a low, instinctive warning.

Danger.

Not the kind that screams.

The kind that whispers you should already be dead.

The blood rain halted mid-fall.

Every droplet froze in the air, suspended like crimson stars, casting warped reflections of the battlefield around us. My shadows stiffened. King’s Domain contracted slightly—not retreating, but bracing, like a shield tightened just before impact.

Alucard’s hair rose completely, floating upward as if gravity had lost authority over him. Veins of red light pulsed beneath that blackened skin, tracing sigils that weren’t spells—but scars.

Scars left by gods.

"You ask what gives me courage?" I replied calmly, my voice cutting cleanly through the oppressive stillness.

I took one step forward.

BO—BOOOOOM!

The pressure detonated outward.

Not as wind.

Not as force.

As will.

Conqueror’s Will poured out of me unrestrained, no longer a coating or an edge—but a presence. The frozen droplets of blood trembled, then shattered into crimson vapour, erased before they could even fall. The sky above groaned, clouds tearing apart as if something invisible had clenched them in its fist.

My shadow screamed.

Not in pain.

In exhilaration.

King’s Domain surged to meet my will, dark land expanding violently, swallowing fractured stone and bleeding veins alike. Where shadow met blood, reality itself warped, laws grinding against one another with a soundless shriek.

The Blood Thralls froze mid-motion.

Some collapsed outright—knees buckling, bodies convulsing as if their very existence was being questioned. Others screamed, clutching their heads, mouths opening too wide as crimson light leaked from their eyes.

Fafnir recoiled.

The Dragon of Greed took an involuntary step back, massive wings snapping open as if to flee before they caught themselves. Its claws gouged deep trenches into the ground.

Greed...

was afraid.

Alucard did not move.

But for the first time—

He leaned forward.

Not physically.

Existentially.

"You misunderstand," I continued, my voice steady despite the storm of will raging around me. "This isn’t courage."

I raised my gaze, meeting those burning red eyes set within a face no longer bound by flesh.

"This is inevitability."

The void-black skin beneath his peeled flesh rippled, sigils flaring brighter as if reacting to my words. The scars etched across his body—divine wounds that had never healed—burned crimson, each one radiating a history of violence so ancient it made the air feel old.

"You think I don’t know why you were sealed?" I asked.

I took another step forward.

BOOM!

The ground shattered again, fractures racing outward like spiderwebs. Blood veins bulged, shadows thickened, neither yielding.

"You weren’t sealed because you were weak."

Alucard’s smile widened.

Sharp. Hungry.

"So you do understand," he said, voice layered now—one tone atop another, as if multiple throats spoke in unison. "Then you should also understand why this ends the same way."

"No," I replied. "You were sealed because you wouldn’t kneel."

That—

That made him pause.

Not long.

Just enough.

The Dragon of Greed lifted its head slowly, pupils narrowing.

"You existed before the current order," I continued. "Before Hell stabilized. Before the Satans consolidated power. Before kings learned the convenience of thrones."

My will pressed down harder.

The Blood Thralls screamed again, several bursting apart outright—blood mist evaporating, erased before it could return to Alucard’s dominion.

"You were a variable," I said. "A contradiction. A king who wouldn’t play his assigned role."

Alucard laughed.

This time, it echoed.

The sound reverberated through the floor, through the sky, through the very blood veins beneath our feet.

"Kneel?" he repeated, amused. "To whom? The so-called God? The Lord of Light? Or was it those others from different continents? To whom should I kneel, huh?! For a moment, I seriously thought you understood. But you’re just another fool who learned history from the outside."

The pressure surged.

Crimson Dominion roared in response to his intent, blood veins bulging grotesquely as the floor itself convulsed. The sky screamed again, clouds collapsing inward, forming a massive vortex of blood above us.

The Blood Thralls howled in unison, their bodies swelling further, forms growing more grotesque as Alucard poured more of his sealed authority into them.

"You talk about inevitability," Alucard said, spreading his arms wide. "Yet you stand here wielding borrowed power, shadows stitched together from corpses, pretending you’re something more."

His gaze pierced into me.

"Tell me, boy—do you even know whose body you’re standing in?"

The words hit harder than his pressure.

Not because he was right.

But because he was closer than he should have been.

I didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t tighten my grip or bare my teeth.

Instead, I smiled faintly.

"You’re fishing," I said calmly. "Which means you don’t know."

Alucard froze.

Just for an instant.

And that instant told me everything.

"You sense contradictions," I continued. "Fragments that don’t line up. An aura that feels wrong. Familiar—but not."

I took another step forward.

The pressure collided head-on.

BOOOOOOM!!

King’s Domain and Crimson Dominion clashed violently, shockwaves tearing through the battlefield. The remaining Blood Thralls were obliterated instantly—some crushed flat, others erased outright, leaving nothing behind.

Vael staggered briefly before stabilizing, eldritch sigils flaring across his body as he anchored himself deeper into my shadow. Draugr dug his claws into the ground, growling low. Paimon shifted his stance, blade humming with restrained force.

Bob vibrated.

Dangerously.

"You sense something off," I said. "But you can’t name it. And that irritates you."

Alucard’s lips peeled back, exposing rows of jagged teeth. "You speak as if you’re above it all."

"No," I replied. "I speak as someone who doesn’t need your validation."

The Dragon of Greed snarled.

Fafnir’s massive wings unfurled completely now, casting a colossal shadow over the battlefield. Gold-stained scales glinted under the crimson sky, greed pouring off him in suffocating waves.

"You’ve overstayed your welcome, whelp," Fafnir growled, voice reverberating like grinding vault doors. "Your existence reeks of theft."

I finally looked at him.

Just once.

And smiled wider.

"That’s rich," I said. "Coming from a dragon whose very name is synonymous with hoarding what he can’t comprehend."

Fafnir’s pupils dilated.

The greed wavered.

Not disappeared.

Wavered.

Alucard raised a hand slightly.

The dragon froze.

Again.

That obedience was absolute.

"You’re clever," Alucard admitted. "Clever enough to dress defiance as analysis. But cleverness didn’t save the others."

He clenched his fist.

CRACK—!!

The sky split open.

A massive crimson rift tore through the clouds, and from it descended chains.

Not metal.

Not magic.

Blood-made concepts.

They slammed into the ground around me, forming a colossal sigil array that pulsed with oppressive authority.

Tti-ring!

I ignored it.

"Do you know what they feared most about me?" Alucard asked softly. "It wasn’t my strength."

The chains rattled.

"Not my army."

The ground convulsed.

"Not even my refusal to kneel."

His eyes burned brighter.

"They feared that I understood souls."

The word souls carried weight.

Not mystical.

Absolute.

The air thickened, my shadows stiffening as something ancient pressed against the fabric of existence itself.

"I am not merely a king," Alucard continued. "I am a Progenitor."

The world answered.

The chains flared blinding red.

The battlefield warped.

And suddenly—

Everything felt wrong.

Not heavier.

Not slower.

Hollow.

I felt it immediately.

Not on my body.

On my shadows.

Vael gasped—not in pain, but in shock. Draugr snarled, claws digging deeper as if anchoring himself to reality. Paimon’s blade trembled.

Bob stopped vibrating.

That alone was alarming.

"What—" Vael began.

Alucard’s smile returned.

"You erase concepts," he said. "Impressive."

He took one step forward.

"And I rewrite souls."

The chains moved.

Not toward me.

Toward my shadows.

They plunged into the ground beneath them, crimson light spreading like ink through water.

I felt it then.

A tug.

Not on my authority.

Not on my domain.

On the connection.

The link between me and my shadows strained violently, as if something was trying to peel them away—not by force, but by editing the rule that said they belonged to me.

"...Interesting," Alucard murmured. "These aren’t simple necromantic constructs."

His gaze sharpened.

"They are claimed."

I clenched my jaw.

This—

This was new.

The chains pulsed again.

Paimon staggered.

Draugr roared.

Vael screamed.

Not from pain—

From displacement.

"King—!" Vael gasped, his form flickering violently. "Something is—rewriting—"

"Hold," I said sharply.

My will slammed down.

King’s Domain tightened instantly, shadows compressing around my soldiers, reinforcing their existence.

The tug lessened.

But didn’t vanish.

Alucard tilted his head.

"So that’s how you anchor them," he mused. "Authority over identity. A king’s claim."

He chuckled softly.

"Crude. Effective. Temporary."

The chains brightened further.

"You see," he continued, "souls are not erased so easily. Concepts can be devoured. Bodies can be broken."

His eyes gleamed.

"But souls..."

The chains yanked.

Hard.

Draugr was lifted half an inch off the ground, shadow-body distorting grotesquely. Paimon gritted, form trembling as crimson sigils crawled across his shadow-armour.

Vael’s body destabilized, eldritch sigils flickering wildly as he struggled to maintain cohesion.

Bob—

Bob made a distressed noise.

That was worse than screaming.

I exhaled slowly.

So this was it.

The true reason.

This was why he was sealed.

Not his strength.

Not his defiance. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

This.

Vlad.

The Progenitor of Vampires.

A being whose authority over souls exceeded even the gods bound by the soul-concept.

No wonder Helel couldn’t kill him.

Killing implied release.

And Alucard didn’t release souls.

He edited them.

I smiled.

Not wide.

Not mocking.

But genuine.

"Now I see," I said quietly.

Alucard frowned.

"You’re not wrong," I continued. "You are dangerous."

I took a step forward.

The chains rattled violently, reacting to my movement.

"You’re also incomplete."

His eyes narrowed.

"You can rewrite souls," I said. "But only those you can reach."

I raised my hand.

Not in challenge.

Not in defiance.

But in clarification.

The chains shuddered violently, crimson light stuttering as if confused by the intent behind the gesture. The sigil array etched into the ground flared brighter, then dimmed—like a system recalculating something it didn’t understand.

"You can rewrite souls," I continued calmly, my voice steady despite the strain tearing through my shadows. "But only those you can touch."

Alucard’s eyes narrowed further.

I took another step forward.

The ground cracked—but this time, the fracture didn’t spread outward.

It spiralled inward.

Toward me.

"You’re bound to this floor," I said. "To this body. To this coffin-chamber masquerading as a domain."

The chains strained, rattling harder, crimson light flickering erratically as if encountering resistance that wasn’t supposed to exist.

"You can reach my shadows because they are here," I continued. "Anchored. Manifest. Claimed."

Vael gasped sharply, stabilizing just enough to remain coherent. Draugr’s distorted form snapped back into place with a thunderous impact, claws carving trenches into the stone as he regained footing. Paimon exhaled, blade humming louder as shadow and will reasserted themselves.

Bob vibrated again.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

"But you can’t reach me the same way," I said softly.

Alucard didn’t interrupt.

That, more than anything, told me I was right.

"You’re a Progenitor," I acknowledged. "A soul-editor. A being who predates the current order."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"But I don’t belong to your order."

The words landed.

Not as an attack.

As a fault line.

The chains froze mid-pulse.

The sigil array flickered violently, lines distorting, several runes cracking outright as if something fundamental had been miswritten.

Fafnir’s massive head snapped toward Alucard, greed-fueled eyes widening just a fraction.

"That’s impossible," the dragon rumbled. "Everything belongs to something."

I smiled faintly.

"That’s the assumption that gets you hoarders killed."

The Dragon of Greed snarled, wings twitching, but Alucard raised his hand again—this time more sharply.

"Silence."

Fafnir froze.

The obedience was instant.

But strained.

Alucard’s gaze never left mine.

"You claim exemption," he said slowly. "From law. From origin. From ownership."

The blood rain resumed, but unevenly now—droplets falling in warped trajectories, some evaporating mid-air, others splashing harmlessly against shadowed ground.

"Not exemption," I corrected. "Incompatibility."

I flexed my fingers.

King’s Domain with Conqueror’s Coating tightened—not expanding, not clashing—but condensing, shadows folding inward around me, reinforcing my presence rather than spreading my influence.

"You’re trying to edit something that doesn’t have the metadata you expect," I said. "You feel contradictions because there are contradictions."

I took another step.

The chains recoiled.

Not dramatically.

Instinctively.

"You don’t know whether I’m a fragment, a vessel, a descendant, or an anomaly," I continued. "And that uncertainty matters."

Alucard’s expression shifted.

Not anger.

Not disbelief.

Interest.

"That aura," he murmured. "That wrongness... it isn’t corruption."

"No," I agreed. "It’s divergence."

The word echoed unnaturally.

The sigil array beneath us cracked further, several blood-etched runes collapsing entirely, leaking crimson light that was immediately swallowed by shadow.

"You’re used to editing souls that follow rules," I said. "Even gods follow rules. Even rebels follow patterns."

I smiled.

"I don’t."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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