{Chapter: 163: Interrupted Transformation}
Without hesitation, Dex greeted them.
His first punch obliterated a dwarf-like figure, scattering it into a mist of red fragments. Before the blood could settle, he launched himself gleefully into the horde. Each blow of his fists, each brutal motion of his will, tore apart the insane figures. He didn't stop to hesitate, didn't flinch or falter. The entire battle became a festival of carnage, with Dex at the center.
He fought not with blades or magic, but with the very force of his soul. This was a contest of raw will—his defiant, ever-burning soul against the lingering hatred of the dead.
And he was winning.
"Hahahahahahahahaha!!"
He laughed—loud, wild, unchained.
---
He no longer remembered how long he had been fighting. Perhaps hours had passed. Perhaps centuries in this mental space, where time flowed differently. He didn't know how many twisted figures he had slaughtered again and again. All he knew was that now, they were beginning to retreat.
They were… afraid.
Yes, for the first time, the countless whispers that once tried to manipulate him—tempt him, threaten him, twist him—were now shrinking away. Even though they were already dead, their remnants carried fear.
Dex didn't know what this shift meant in a grander sense. He didn't care.
What he did know was that he enjoyed it immensely.
His arms moved faster, sharper, more precisely. Like a butcher cleaning house, he shattered what remained of their forms with even greater fervor.
—
In the outside world, his body remained seated at the center of the tainted wasteland. Yet around him, the changes were dramatic.
The black gas that had once been invisible to the naked eye now churned so thick and violently that even untrained villagers could see it swirling like ink in the air. It spiraled above him like a towering vortex, consuming all resentment, agony, and hatred nearby, channeling it deep into the earth and straight into Dex's still form.
The magic and blood within his veins began to shift under this storm of negative energy. It was as though his very biology had found a new path—one not based on ancient tradition or natural law, but on something darker and more primal. The evolution system he had within him—some dormant machine of potential—was now running wild, injecting new definitions, clearing old codes, rewriting what he could become.
Purification and enhancement happened in tandem. Useless traits were purged. New patterns formed. His instinct-driven transformations were being refined into something far more terrifying and deliberate. It was like the very blueprint of his being was undergoing divine revision.
And for now… no one dared to interfere.
The abyssal creatures had already fled in panic, fearing that something worse than them was awakening. The native forces, stationed at the outer defense lines, lacked the ability to approach without risking annihilation, and so they hesitated and considered retreat.
A deathly silence stretched across a vast radius. For nearly a hundred kilometers, there was no movement, no heartbeat, no witness. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
But not for long.
The world consciousness of Mi Ling—a mysterious and omnipresent force overseeing the balance and integrity of this realm—was no longer willing to stay silent.
Dex's actions were triggering alarms.
While the ancient evil entities that had once terrorized this world were problematic, at least they were natives—products of Mi Ling's own cycle of life and death. Dex, however, was a foreigner. A contaminant. An anomaly. And now, he dared to reshape himself in the heart of this world, channeling forces beyond the norm.
It was unacceptable.
Just as his transformation neared completion, the sky roared.
The blood-red lightning that had been brewing for hours or days finally exploded from the heavens in merciless judgment.
Dex, deep in the trance of his awakening, sensed the danger immediately. It was not the threat of an enemy. It was something far worse.
It was the wrath of a world.
With a jolt, he broke free from his transformation, forcefully ripping himself out of his internal realm, forcefully stopping his evolution.
Dozens of emergency spells carved into his flesh and soul triggered simultaneously. They bought him a sliver of time—a fraction of a second, maybe 1/200th—to move. It was barely enough.
In a flash of crimson light, he vanished from his original location, teleporting dozens of kilometers away.
The moment he reappeared, he turned his gaze back and witnessed the sky fall.
Bolts of blood-red lightning rained down like divine spears, branching across the clouds in every direction. They struck the ground with overwhelming force, as if the entire sky had been torn open in rage.
Within those blinding lights, Dex could feel it—a presence. The will of the world itself. Watching. Judging. Warning.
The malice was suffocating.
He exhaled slowly, curling his lip at the overwhelming show of power above.
"Looks like you're serious," he muttered to himself.
The transformation would have to wait.
He was strong—but not yet a [Big Devil], not yet a [Demon Lord]. He knew when to pick his fights.
Looking up at the clouds, he spat toward the heavens and muttered with a smirk, "I admit it. You've got the bigger fist—for now. So I'll back off... just for now."
And with that, Dex turned and disappeared into the distance, his unfinished evolution smoldering quietly within him like a sleeping volcano, biding its time.
---
After delivering his final words, Dex didn't linger for even a breath longer. Without hesitation, he turned and slipped into a different spatial dimension, vanishing from sight as if he had never been there to begin with.
With his sudden disappearance, all remaining signs of life within hundreds of kilometers followed suit—beasts, monsters, and even the most savage predators had long since fled. Now, not a single creature stirred. It was as if nature itself had evacuated in reverent fear.
Overhead, the blood-red lightning that had loomed ominously for so long crackled once more, then began to fade. The sky, once heavy and suffocating, gradually cleared. Sunlight returned, piercing through the gloom like a divine decree. In its wake, it left behind a colossal crater—several kilometers deep—scarring the land as evidence that something terrible had come close to fully awakening.
The scene was nothing short of catastrophic. It was as though a god's fury had carved a wound into the earth.
Inside the fortified defense perimeter, soldiers and powerful beings alike stared up at the now-peaceful sky with expressions of confusion, as if waking from a bad dream. The sun shone down gently, contrasting with the violence they had just braced for.
"???"
"…What in the world just happened?" Henry Moore, still gripping his weapon tightly, looked around and then up at the sky with disbelief.
"Did the ancient evil appear or not?" he muttered, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
He turned toward the elven demigod standing nearby. In Henry's view, the elf was easily the oldest and, by default, the wisest among the assembly—at least when it came to ancient lore. It was this elf, after all, who had first warned them about the return of an ancient evil. Surely, he would have an answer.
The elven demigod opened his mouth, a hesitant frown pulling at his features. "Judging from the current situation…" he began slowly, "it seems that the ancient evil did not descend fully. Perhaps it was rejected by the world itself before it could take root."
He paused, sensing the doubtful stares from those nearby. His expression became strained as he quickly added, "I said 'seems,' okay? Seems. You understand what I mean, right? I'm not saying it definitely didn't appear… just that maybe it was stopped."
He had no desire to be held accountable later for a poorly worded prophecy.
At that moment, an orc demigod standing beside him snorted and delivered a solid kick to the elf's side, causing him to stumble forward.
"We know nothing because of you! You should've just said you don't know anything!" the orc growled.
The elf snapped. Red-faced and furious, he leapt up, eyes blazing. "A dumb shaman dares to kick an assassin like me?! I'll beat the hell out of you today!"
"I'd like to see you try!" the orc shouted, not backing down in the slightest.
"[Dragon Power]!"
"[Shadow Leopard Swiftness]!"
Both opponents began casting enhancement spells, powering themselves up in preparation for a physical brawl. With muscles bulging and magic flaring, the two demigods lunged at each other, throwing punches and kicks with reckless abandon.
"Hiss…" Henry Moore sighed, watching the two titans wrestle in the mud like children.
He shook his head. If this was the kind of authority they were relying on for answers, perhaps they were all doomed.
After much heated discussion, most of the demigods and commanding officers present came to a consensus: open the defense barrier at full strength for several days and monitor the situation carefully. If any signs of abnormal activity reappeared, they would retreat immediately without hesitation.
*****
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