Royal Bastard's Bloodstained Regression-Chapter 94: No More Masks

CLANG!

Daemon's blade slammed against the tortoise's shield again and again and again.

CRACK! BAM! CRACK!

But no matter how hard he struck, the ancient glyphs shimmered and held firm. The shield didn't break.

Daemon gritted his teeth. Sparks flew as Nyxtriel's blade clashed against the barrier with blinding force.

Still no give.

Until something in him shifted.

A familiar burn crawled up his spine.

Nyxtriel felt it instantly.

That power... he's tapping into it again.

Her sword form began to glow not golden, but deep crimson, like blood laced with fire. Demonic energy surged into the blade, twisting the air around it. The metal hissed, pulsing with raw, unstable magic.

The ground beneath Daemon cracked open. The entire dungeon shook violently.

Wind screamed through the chamber, ripping at the walls. Varian shielded his face, stumbling backward.

"Okay what the hell is that?!"

Daemon's eyes snapped open bright red, glowing like burning coals.

His voice dropped to a cold whisper:

"Shadow Ember."

The sword pulsed and changed.

Dark flames danced along the edge, and a shadowy aura erupted outward like black lightning. The very air turned sharp. The sword itself grew longer, heavier, its form infused with corrupted power.

SHOOM.

Daemon raised it.

Then brought it down.

BOOOOOOM!

The impact hit like a meteor.

A shockwave tore through the chamber, shattering the stone path, sending waves across the underground lake. The tortoise's shield flared in a desperate attempt to defend—

But it wasn't enough.

CRACK!

The glyphs splintered.

CRACK! CRACK!

Then—

SHATTER.

The shield broke with a sound like glass exploding underwater. The energy blast that followed tore upward through the cavern.

Above the surface—

The entire island trembled.

Soldiers screamed as the ground split. Prisoners scattered in panic.

"What is that?!" one shouted, pointing to the sky.

From a distance, a massive pillar of black-red energy erupted through the jungle and pierced the heavens. The clouds above tore open like paper, leaving a gaping hole in the sky like something divine had just been struck.

Wind roared. Trees were ripped from the earth.

And in the heart of the island, standing amidst rubble and darkness—

Was Daemon, sword still glowing, eyes still burning.

And the tortoise?

It was no longer shielding.

Varian crouched behind a broken rock, eyes wide, hands trembling not from fear, but adrenaline.

Then he laughed. "That was insane hell yeah! That was AWESOME!"

In the aftermath of the explosion, smoke still curled from the fractured cavern walls. The tortoise remained still, its shield shattered, head lowered as if exhausted or yielding.

Daemon didn't waste a second.

He dropped Nyxtriel's sword form, vanishing in a blur of motion a speed-blitz straight to the tortoise's forehead. In a single leap, he landed between its glowing eyes.

The tortoise began to shake its head, massive and slow.

Daemon reared his fist back.

BAM!

A thunderous punch slammed into the creature's skull, momentarily dazing it.

He dug his hand deep into the glowing symbol etched into its forehead fingers burning against the raw magical seal and with a surge of power, he ripped the fragment free.

SCHNK!

He leapt back, landing on the stone platform. The fragment pulsed in his hand, jagged and dark, glowing faintly with demonic energy.

Daemon stared at it.

"That makes two. Five more fragments to go."

Nyxtriel reformed beside him in a swirl of light, her expression composed almost.

"Congratulations, my lord," she said with a small smile.

But there was something off in her tone. Something tight.

Daemon noticed immediately. "What's wrong, Nyxtriel? Did something happen?"

Before she could answer, Varian stepped forward, scanning the shadows.

"Hold that thought," he said. "I'm sensing a lot of energy coming this way. Fast. We've got company."

Daemon nodded. "You're right."

He looked one last time at the fragment in his hand, then slipped it into his cloak.

"Let's go."

They turned from the tortoise as its eyes slowly closed again not dead, but dormant and disappeared into the dark tunnels, leaving behind the echo of shattered stone and the trembling heart of an awakened island.

Meanwhile—

High above the trembling earth, smoke curled into the sky like a warning.

Captain Timothy stepped out of his office, the shockwave still vibrating faintly through the stone beneath his boots. He didn't hesitate.

"To arms!" he barked, voice echoing across the barracks. "Half of you Elite unit with me! The rest get every prisoner out of the compound now!"

Soldiers scrambled into motion.

A group of mounted riders took to the skies on griffins, soaring toward the plume of black and red smoke rising from the jungle's heart.

Timothy's eyes narrowed.

"They disturbed the tortoise," he muttered. "Those two bastards got inside the dungeon. But how?"

His cloak whipped behind him as he marched down the main path, boots striking hard stone. A squad of elite guards followed close behind, weapons drawn, expressions grim.

As they passed the central barracks, another figure came running.

Rhea.

"Captain!" she called, breathless.

Timothy turned. "Where is the soldier that was assigned to Team 2 with you?"

Rhea looked down, guilt and fury fighting across her face. "Nyxtriel... she knocked me out, sir. I think she's working with the criminals."

A flicker of rage passed through Timothy's eyes.

His aura flared sharp and suffocating. Several soldiers near him instinctively backed away.

"She betrayed us?" he growled. "I'll kill her myself."

Without another word, they marched down the jungle path, straight toward the source of the energy.

As they approached the sealed dungeon entrance, they called out.

"Soldiers! Report!"

No answer.

They turned the corner and froze.

The two griffins who once guarded the entrance were in pieces. Their wings shredded, their bodies split down the middle.

The soldiers who had been stationed there? Gone.

Only bloodstains remained.

Timothy's jaw clenched.

"Get ready," he said coldly. "They're still inside."

He drew his blade, eyes fixed on the dark entrance below.

"This time, we finish it."

Daemon, Nyxtriel, and Varian sprinted through the tunnel stone crumbling, energy still cracking in the air behind them. But as they burst into the open clearing near the prison's edge—

They stopped.

Surrounded.

Dozens of mages encircled them, robes fluttering as they stood ready, spells glowing at their fingertips. Magic circles hovered in the air like traps ready to snap shut.

Captain Timothy stepped forward, slow and smug. He clapped his hands once clack, clack before laughing.

"Well, well, well," he said. "Looks like our dear prisoners weren't so ordinary after all. I can't believe I didn't see through this sooner."

Daemon said nothing. His red eyes scanned the mages around them, unimpressed.

Varian's eyes darted nervously. "We're surrounded... we're so screwed," he muttered, inching back.

Timothy's grin faded. "Who sent you? What kingdom is after the tortoise? If you speak now, I might just let you die quickly."

Daemon's silence broke with a short, dry laugh. He tilted his head. "That's funny. I needed a good laugh."

Timothy frowned. "What is this bastard talking about? You think just because you took down 435, you can act like this?"

Daemon raised a hand lazily, pointing forward.

"Nyxtriel," he said calmly, "kill everyone standing here."

She stepped forward, blade already drawn.

"Yes, my lord."

Timothy's eyes widened. "What—?!"

"Attack!!" he roared, but it was already too late.

Dozens of fireballs erupted from the mages spells arcing through the air in a blazing dome.

But before the spells could land—

SHLICK.

In a blur of silver light and blood, Nyxtriel vanished.

Then—

CRACK! BAM! SPLASH!

Screams tore through the clearing as heads dropped from shoulders, arms were severed mid-cast, and blood painted the ground in seconds. She moved like a phantom, a ghost with a blade, elegant and merciless.

One mage barely blinked before his throat opened.

Another reached for a shield only for both his hands to be gone in the next second.

Varian gawked. "She's—she's a monster!"