For a moment, it seemed as though the battle might be over.

But then something impossible happened.

The severed arm began to regenerate.

New flesh grew from the stump at terrifying speed, bone and muscle and skin knitting themselves together in seconds.

Within moments, Cornelia’s arm was whole again, as if it had never been damaged at all.

And when she smiled, her teeth were no longer human.

“You…are…” Odessa started to doubt her identity.

And the next second, they were fangs, white as bone and sharp as needles, designed for tearing flesh and drinking blood. Her eyes blazed with an inner fire that was older than civilization itself, and her skin took on a pale luminescence that spoke of things that hunted in the darkness between worlds.

“Now you see,” Cornelia whispered, her voice carrying new harmonics that made the very stones of the castle tremble.

“I am not some mere witch playing with shadows. I am highborn of the North Isles.”

The red shadows around her transformed, becoming not just darkness but liquid shadow infused with the hunger of the grave. They moved with new purpose now, seeking not just to strike but to drain, to consume, to feed the endless thirst that burned in her ancient heart.

Odessa’s expression didn’t change, but her blade storm intensified.

More weapons of green energy materialized around her, spinning faster, striking harder. The very air began to sing with the sound of their passage.

“A vampire,” she said with cold amusement. “How… quaint. Tell me, blood-drinker, have you ever faced the Goddess of Death itself?”

Jaenor was surprised as he kept staring at Cornelia. She was a vampire? He couldn’t even tell, not that he knew how to find them, if they aren’t showing the teeth or any symptoms.

The temperature in the hall dropped to below freezing in an instant. Ice began to form on the walls, on the floor, and on the very air itself. Odessa’s black hair flowed around her like a banner of war, and her eyes became black voids that seemed to swallow light itself.

“You know, you speak a lot for a witch as powerful as you are. But words alone wouldn’t save you,” Cornelia chuckled as she said.

The battle that followed was unlike anything the great hall had ever witnessed.

Cornelia moved with the greater speed and strength of her vampiric nature, her regenerating body allowing her to take risks that would destroy a mortal opponent. Her shadow-creatures swarmed around Odessa like a living storm, each one carrying the hunger of the vampire’s curse.

The witches who were present in the hall, they all had shocked expressions on their faces, as they weren’t aware of Cornelia’s true form. She was so strong and influential that they didn’t even care to see her true appearance. Everyoneknew her as the Mistress of the Redmoon Coven, as a powerful witch.

As the revelation kept the women in a frozen state, the two omnipotent beings fought for the control.

Cornelia was like the darkness, ready to consume everything.

Odessa was death itself given form.

Her blade-storm carved through Cornelia’s attacks with deadly precision, and where her weapons struck the vampire, wounds opened that healed slower, leaking not blood but something darker and more vital.

They crashed into pillars, shattering ancient stone. They tore through tapestries and sent furniture flying like toys. The very foundations of the castle groaned under the assault of their Origin-powered battle.

Cornelia leaped high into the air, her cloak of shadows spreading wide like bat wings.

She dove toward Odessa with claws extended, moving fast enough to leave afterimages in her wake.

Odessa met her head-on, a spear of green energy materializing in her hands just in time to intercept the vampire’s attack. The two women grappled in mid-air, each trying to gain the advantage, their powers creating a whirlwind of force that sent everyone else scrambling for cover.

They hit the ground together, rolling and fighting, their energies crackling around them like caged lightning. Cornelia’s fangs snapped at Odessa’s throat, but the death goddess was already moving, a dozen blade points pressing against the vampire’s chest.

–

The battle between the death goddess and the vampire progenitor raged on without end.

Neither could claim victory over the other.

Odessa’s blade-storm carved deep wounds into Cornelia’s flesh, but the vampire’s regeneration healed them almost as quickly as they were made. Cornelia’s shadow-creatures managed to land devastating blows, but Odessa’s death powers seemed to make her immune to lasting harm.

They were too evenly matched, too ancient, and too powerful. The fight could continue for hours, perhaps days, with neither gaining the upper hand.

While they battled, destroying more of the great hall with each passing moment, Saphyra saw her opportunity.

The Siren Queen had been watching Jaenor from the moment she arrived in the hall, and every instinct she possessed screamed at her to claim him.

Her instincts told her that he was a perfect mate for her.

He was magnificent in his transformed state, a being of such raw power that her siren nature could not resist the urge to possess him. She had tried the subtle approach first, letting her charm wash over him from a distance, but his Origin energy had burned through her mental magic like fire through silk.

But there were other ways.

Moving with ease, Saphyra began to circle around the edge of the battle between Odessa and Cornelia. Her water-silk dress flowed around her as she moved, and her oceanic eyes never left Jaenor’s floating form.

She could feel the pull of him, the desperate need to make him hers that sang in her blood like the call of the deep ocean.

Ancient siren instincts drove her forward. This was what she had been made for, what her entire species existed to do. They were collectors of powerful males, beings who could not resist the urge to claim and keep the strongest specimens they encountered. And Jaenor, floating there in his crimson-winged glory, was the most powerful male she had ever laid eyes upon.

She had to have him.

When she was close enough, Saphyra suddenly changed direction.

Instead of continuing her cautious approach, she launched herself toward Jaenor with inhuman speed. But this was not an attack meant to kill or harm—it was something far more dangerous.

Her arms reached out, seeking to wrap around his body, to press her skin against his. Physical contact would amplify her enchantment powers a hundredfold, allowing her to pour her siren magic directly into his very essence.

Once she touched him, once she could channel her power through direct contact, not even his Origin energy would be able to resist her completely.

But Jaenor was not defenseless.

His burning eyes caught the movement instantly, and his ethereal wings snapped wide as he twisted in the air to avoid her grasping hands. Crimson energy flared around him like a shield, and when Saphyra’s fingers barely brushed against the edge of his power, she recoiled with a sharp hiss of pain.

“Hey, hold it right there!” he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of mountains.

But Saphyra was beyond hearing reason now. Her siren nature had fully awakened, and she was driven by instincts.

She spun through the air with impossible grace, her dress billowing around her like living water, and tried again to reach him.

This time, Jaenor was ready.

His hand caught her wrist before she could touch his chest, and Origin energy crackled between their skin. Saphyra gasped as the power burned into her, but instead of being repelled, she seemed to draw strength from the contact.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice carrying undertones that made the air itself seem to vibrate. “Let me touch you. Let me show you pleasures beyond your wildest imagination. We could rule the oceans together, command the very tides themselves.”

Her free hand reached for his face, her fingertips glowing with an inner light that pulsed in rhythm with the waves of a distant sea. If she could just touch his skin directly, just make contact without the barrier of his Origin energy, she could begin the process of binding him to her will.

But Jaenor pulled back, his grip on her wrist tightening until she could feel bones beginning to creak under the pressure.

“I said stay back!!” he growled, and there was something in his voice that spoke of barely controlled violence.

Saphyra’s beautiful features twisted with frustration and growing desperation. Her charm had always worked before. Every male creature she had ever encountered had eventually fallen under her spell and had become hers to command and control.

But this one, this magnificent little human boy, seemed immune to even her most powerful enchantments.

She tried a different approach, letting her body go limp in his grip, making herself seem vulnerable and harmless.

“Young man,” she whispered, her voice now carrying the sound of gentle waves lapping against a peaceful shore. “I desire you; I want you, boy.”

For just a moment, something flickered in Jaenor’s burning gaze.

He remembered Delia’s lies, her pleas for mercy that had meant nothing. He had learned not to trust the words of those who sought to use him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep