Reborn As Noble-Chapter 434: Devour and Conquer ( )

Zephyra smirked, wiping the blood from the corner of her lips as she struggled to stand.

"Kenjirou…" she said breathlessly, eyes gleaming, "…give me your mana."

Kenjirou's grin widened.

"As you wish… my queen."

He stepped forward, and his cursed left hand—normally unstable, overflowing with a hunger for power, blood, and destruction—glowed softly.

It was unnatural.

The cursed arm, the very weapon that could destroy men and melt armor, trembled.

And yet, when Kenjirou gently placed it over Zephyra's chest—nothing happened.

No devouring.

No harm.

Only warmth.

Because the curse couldn't harm her. Would never harm her.

Only her.

"Take it all," he whispered.

"Everything I am… everything I've stolen… all the power, all the blood—take it, Zephyra."

Dark crimson mana began to flow from his palm, pouring into Zephyra like a raging current.

Her body lit up with red-black patterns. Her muscles tensed. Her aura exploded outward in waves.

BOOOOOM!!!

Dust and debris scattered as Zephyra stood tall once more, her spear pulsing with terrifying power.

"Perfect," she said with a dark smile.

"Now I can fight again."

Kenjirou licked his lips, stepping beside her.

"Let's destroy everything in our path, my love."

"Until the world kneels… or burns."

Zephyra stood at the center of the blood-soaked battlefield, the bodies of halflings and Amazarak warriors strewn around her like discarded dolls.

Smoke rose.

Flames crackled in the distance.

The stench of death was everywhere.

She looked around—her expression calm, her eyes gleaming with cruel intelligence.

"Kenjirou… my love."

He turned to her immediately, eyes glowing red, his chest heaving.

"Anything for you, my queen."

"Channel your power… into me."

Kenjirou smirked. Without hesitation, he pulled her close—

and kissed her.

Dark mana surged from his lips and fingertips—crackling, twisting, devouring—and poured into Zephyra's body like a flood.

The sky above them pulsed black for a moment.

The wind screamed as if the world itself rejected what was coming.

Zephyra pulled away from the kiss, her eyes blazing with darkness.

She raised her hand toward the fallen.

"Forbidden Skill…"

Her voice echoed unnaturally—layered with power and madness.

"Darkness Revival."

The earth trembled.

Every corpse—halfling or Amazarak—began to twitch.

Fingers curled. Eyes opened.

Mouths gasped without breath.

"Rise," Zephyra commanded.

And they did.

Black mist wrapped around the corpses, pulling them upright.

Their eyes glowed with dull crimson light.

Not alive.

Not dead.

Soulless. But obedient.

"They are mine now," Zephyra whispered, smiling darkly.

"My soldiers. My blades. My shields."

Kenjirou laughed with pure delight, spinning his sword and pointing it toward the horizon.

"March, my queen. I'll slaughter the living. You command the dead."

The newly risen army stood in eerie silence—awaiting the next command.

The war had just taken a darker turn.

Zephyra stood among her risen dead, black mist curling at her feet, her crimson eyes glowing like twin eclipses. The air around her pulsed with dark, forbidden magic.

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She turned to her lover—her weapon—Kenjirou, and whispered with a seductive smile,

"Kenjirou… we need more mana."

She ran her bloodstained fingers along his cursed arm.

"Feed me more. Devour them. Give it all to me. I need your power to maintain them… to command them."

Kenjirou's grin widened, eyes crazed and glowing as he licked the blood from his lips.

"Anything for you, Zephyra. Anything for my queen."

Without waiting, he pulled her close again.

Their lips met—

And the very air cracked.

BOOOOOOOM!!

The sky pulsed black and red. The earth beneath them trembled as if reality itself refused to witness their bond.

A storm of mana erupted from them—dark and consuming—twisting into the sky like a beacon of dread.

The dead army behind Zephyra jerked and stood straighter, infused with even more cursed energy.

The bond between them had become a conduit of destruction.

Kenjirou pulled away from the kiss, his aura rippling like flames.

"More. I'll get you more."

He turned toward the nearby remaining halfling scouts and retreating reinforcements—those foolish enough to remain within sight.

"I'll devour them all!"

With a roar, Kenjirou charged toward them, cursed arm glowing, sword raised high.

"EVERY SOUL I CONSUME—IS FOR HER!!"

Behind him, Zephyra stood like a death goddess draped in royalty.

"Go, my love… Make the world kneel."

In the Halfling Kingdom.

King Gurdan was furious.

"What!?"

Gurdan's voice roared across the war tent, the impact of his fury knocking over a stack of scrolls and war documents. Advisors and generals flinched, none daring to meet his gaze.

"You're telling me…" he growled, "…that the hundred thousand I sent to crush the Amazarak border are being pushed back?"

The halfling messenger fell to one knee, drenched in sweat.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. The Amazarak Queen has somehow… revived the fallen. They're fighting with undead soldiers now. And Kenjirou… he's—he's unstoppable."

Gurdan's fists clenched around the hilt of his great axe.

"And the four hundred thousand?"

His voice dropped, cold and lethal.

"They were supposed to wear him down. Drain him. Break him!"

"Your Majesty…" another general stepped forward reluctantly.

"It appears Kenjirou slipped away… during the shift in battle lines. We underestimated his mobility… and his unnatural regeneration."

Gurdan's eyes narrowed, a red glow beginning to seep into them—his celestial power rumbling with rage.

"He slipped out of a battlefield with four hundred thousand soldiers watching him?"

"You're telling me all of them failed!?"

"He's not human anymore, sire…" the advisor whispered.

"His mana presence… it's growing. Spiking beyond what our priests can measure."

Gurdan turned away, pacing. His cape swirled behind him like a storm cloud.

"And now he's with Zephyra. That cursed queen and her wicked pet."

He slammed his fist on the war table, cracking the wood.

"So be it. If the troops failed to break him…" he looked up, eyes blazing,

"…I'll break him myself."

He turned to his generals.

"Double the formation at our flanks. Increase priest activity to detect cursed mana. And begin assembling every elite adventurer party and magic battalion we have."

"We're going to strip that celestial from his body…"

"…even if we have to burn him and his queen to ash."

The halfling king stood silently, staring at the map with eyes that burned like coals.

Then—

A voice. Low. Ancient. Hungry.

"You should start consuming them…"

Gurdan froze.

"…the captured Amazarak warriors. They're already tainted. Weak. Desperate."

"Their souls will feed us."

He clenched his fists. "They're prisoners. Fodder. I should use them for labor, maybe as leverage…"

The voice chuckled.

"Foolish sentiment. We are beyond politics. Beyond mercy.

You want power, Gurdan? Then take it."

Gurdan gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. His breathing grew heavy.

"If you're too soft…" the celestial whispered, seductive and cruel,

"…then devour your elite instead. Their strength will become yours. Their skill, yours."

A flash of red glinted in Gurdan's eye.

A shiver ran through his spine as he felt the celestial's mana stir deep within him, clawing at his sanity.

"You've seen Kenjirou. He's lost everything—but look what he's become."

"He devours and grows."

"So must you."

Gurdan slammed his hand on the table again—this time hard enough to split it.

"Silence…" he hissed, but the voice only laughed—inside him.

"There is no silence anymore, Gurdan.

There is only war. Devour… or be devoured."

( End of Chapter )