Eternal Undying Chronicles-Chapter 206: Hear Me

The pain of having his left side completely blown off did nothing to slow Alicarde down. There was no blood—only the swirling darkness of his Reaper's Vestments, shifting like a living shadow.

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Yet, even through the agony, he felt a dark satisfaction. After all, he wasn't the only one suffering. Zagarath, despite his monstrous form, centuries of battle experience, and mastery of high-level magic, could only kill him so many times. The Strigoi had landed lethal blows in the double digits, but each time, Alicarde regenerated, rising again as if pain meant nothing to him.

For any other Undying, there would be a threshold—a limit to how much suffering they could endure before breaking. But this one… this wretched human-turned-Undying simply absorbed it, laughing as long as he could return the pain tenfold.

Any other time, Zagarath would have chosen to retreat. But not today. The future of the Strigoi—their children hidden beneath the vampire cities—rested on his shoulders. He was fighting for them.

"None of them will suffer as I have…"

He clutched his side, feeling the blood seep between his fingers. His opponent took joy in his agony, not even trying to kill him outright. This wasn't a battle for victory—it was humiliation, a war of attrition.

"Damn Undying… damn Evernight Empire…!"

Before he could form another coherent thought, a volley of flaming swords rained down upon him. He barely dodged the lethal strikes, but his body was still burned and lacerated, the searing heat singing his flesh.

Zagarath hissed, baring his fangs.

"You Undying are cowards. You only need to kill your opponent once, yet anyone who fights you must do so endlessly. No duel is fair when only one side endangers their life."

Alicarde remained unfazed.

"What a sore loser. I see fear in your eyes, Zagarath. I even gave you a handicap, but no matter… I'll end it now."

He raised his hand toward the ruins of the fallen skyscraper, and from the rubble, a sword shot into his grasp..

"Now, you die."

Zagarath clenched his fangs, his crimson eyes narrowing.

"Not today… I am too close to my goal."

He raised his claws, power surging through his form.

"I will turn this city into a kingdom of Strigoi!"

He lunged, but Alicarde was faster. His sword found its mark, piercing Zagarath's side before he slashed downward in one fluid motion.

Zagarath staggered, his eyes widening in shock. "Hngh… a-agh…"

Alicarde's cold violet gaze never wavered.

"You probably thought I would toy with you, drag this out for my own amusement… but all I wanted was to see fear in your eyes. And now that I have, you are no longer of interest to me."

With a sharp kick, he sent Zagarath crashing to the ground.

"Seriously… you were supposed to be nothing more than a forgettable monster-of-the-week. A disposable pawn. Yet here you are, acting like some final boss when, in reality, you are nothing more than a lowly Strigoi… a pet of your vampire lords."

His gaze flickered to the blood seeping into the ground, drawn deep beneath the earth, feeding the seal of the Demon of Noon.

"How wretched you are. Borrowing power from something greater than yourself… I despise that I ever saw you as a great enemy."

Zagarath trembled, but still, he forced himself to stand. The wound was deep. The sword had pierced his heart. And yet, he refused to fall. His eyes burned with fury.

"Do not act as though you understand me, boy. I am not lowly. We Strigoi are not pets… We are our own people."

Power surged through his battered body. His claws elongated, his frame expanding as his fangs glowed with an eerie blue light. Small, membranous bat-like wings stretched from beneath his arms.

With a furious roar, he charged.

Alicarde met him head-on. Their clash shook the battlefield, the impact spiderwebbing cracks across the asphalt, sending cars flying like weightless cans.

Zagarath's claws slashed toward him, but Alicarde intercepted with the cold steel of his sword. They exchanged a flurry of blows, a brutal dance of steel and flesh.

Then, Alicarde shifted his stance, seamlessly integrating the clawed techniques he had learned from Argint. He raked his gauntleted fingers across Zagarath's torso, tearing away layers of flesh before ramming his body into the Strigoi's monstrous form, forcing him backward.

Doubling down, he drove an elbow into Zagarath's face, shattering his jaw.

The momentum did not stop.

Alicarde brought the pommel of his sword crashing down onto his opponent's temple, smashing his eye into his skull in one swift, fluid motion.

The impact sent a violent shock through the already-weakened Strigoi. Dizzy and barely conscious, Zagarath fell to his knees.

But Alicarde had no mercy left to spare.

With a ruthless kick, he sent him hurtling backward—straight into the jagged remains of a shattered metal rod.

A sickening crunch echoed as the rod impaled Zagarath's body.

The Strigoi gasped, his vision blurring, his strength fading. He coughed, blood bubbling at his lips. His life was slipping away.

And slowly, through the haze of his failing consciousness, he saw Alicarde.

Draped in his Reaper's Vestments, sword in hand, walking toward him like death itself.

He chuckled…

'So this is how it ends…'

He closed his eyes, and in that moment, his mind drifted back to the past—to his childhood beneath the vampire cities. The Strigoi lived in utter darkness, forbidden from ever seeing the surface. When the vampires did not feed them, they starved until they were forced to cannibalize their dead loved ones. Whoever died first became food, even if it was your own mother…

But they had accepted this brutal, inhumane way of living. At least they were permitted to exist. Even though they could take human forms, they were still treated as nothing more than beasts. No, less than beasts.

Zagarath had been a child back then, powerless to change anything. But he had always been curious about the stars—about the ocean. He had longed to see them, just once. He didn't want a life of hunger and darkness to be all he ever knew.

So one day, he snuck out.

He was followed by a young girl—a Strigoi just like him. He still remembered her beautiful red hair. Even wearing rags, she was adorable.

He hadn't wanted to bring her along, but she insisted. So together, they climbed the tallest building in the vampire city. And for the first time in their miserable lives… they saw the stars. They saw the ocean.

It was supposed to be over.

But the vampires saw them.

They were stupid children, but how did their lords react?

They hunted them like animals.

Soon, they were cornered. And in a final desperate act, she had pushed him into an abandoned carriage. He tried to get out, but an older Strigoi—one who had witnessed their escape—held him down and covered his mouth.

The vampire lords showed their mercy by letting her be ripped to pieces by dire wolves.

He never forgot her smile.

Her screams.

Her blood covering her hair.

The growls of the wolves.

The jeers of the vampires.

That day, he swore he would liberate the Strigoi. He would never stop—no matter what.

Yet here he was, dying when he was so close.

His years of hatred and resentment—meaningless.

Tears mixed with his blood as he raised his head to the heavens.

"God of the Abyss… have we not suffered enough? Unseen Sovereign, do you not feel my resentment? Hear me… see me… Are we so lowly, even in your eyes? Hear me… Demon God…"

His screams went unanswered.

Alicarde walked up to him.

"How pathetic… No, your god doesn't care."

He pulled Zagarath up and slammed him into the ground, forming a minor crater.

Even still, Zagarath raised his trembling hand to the heavens.

"I… Give me more power… Hear me… please… God of Wrath… I offer you everything… one chance… hear me…."

Alicarde watched him with disdain.

However, right before he could raise his sword—everything changed.

The world darkened into an endless night. Stars appeared in the sky—far more than Alicarde had ever seen. And from that abyss, he heard it.

That voice.

The same voice he had heard when he received his true name.

The voice of the universe itself.

[THE ******** HEARS YOU… VINCTUS.]

[You have been given a trial….]

[You have received your second name… Quaerens … Seeking.]

[You have been bestowed your third name… Esse… 'To be, to exist.']

[You have been bestowed your final name… Supernus… Above.]

[Your fable grows. You have received your boon.]

[Vinctus Quaerens Esse Supernus… Receive your trial. Slay Aeternus.]

[You have been bestowed the attribute: Immortal Slayer.]