[Location: Central Park, New York]

[Third Person's POV]

"I wonder, what expression your Silver Maid will have when she sees your broken body? Will she cry? Get angry? Leash out? Or she will be broken too from sheer shock? Oh, I cannot wait to see the face of the bitch who dared protect you for over a millennium," Barbaras taunted, each syllable a physical blow against Dominic's mind, intent to crush not just body but spirit.

Cough! Cough!

The previously sealed wound opened again as the Armament Core retreated from that area, as blood sprayed across the dirt, black under the moonlight, as Dominic forced a laugh through ragged breaths. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, but his eyes—those silver flames of defiance—never dimmed.

"Heh… that's all you've got, Barbaras?" His voice cracked, but the mockery carried, barbed and deliberate. "You talk too much for a beast who only knows how to swing claws."

Barbaras's grin widened, jagged teeth glinting. He pressed harder, claws grinding Dominic into the ruined earth. The ground caved, spiderweb fractures racing outward. "Still wagging that tongue while pinned like prey. You really are Daemon's brat." His tone dripped with amusement and disdain. "But that maid of yours? I'll rip her spine out in front of you."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. Grayfia… The name burned inside him, a vow unspoken.

Before Barbaras could lean closer, the air shrieked. Artemis's arrow streaked from above, divine light tearing the night apart. Barbaras jerked his head aside; the shot grazed his cheek, sizzling flesh. He roared, fury shaking Central Park's trees.

"You dare, huntress?!" Barbaras's voice was thunder.

Artemis descended, landing lightly yet with killing intent coiling around her like a drawn bow. Her silver gaze pinned the Red Claw. "Touch him again, and I'll scatter your carcass across the Hudson."

Just then, the air behind Barbaras picked up as if resisting something and failing at it spectacularly. Zeraphira's wrathful form materialised beside him, her jagged halberd larger than her own body, its veins pulsing with compact eerie blood-light that dripped like molten iron. Her crimson hair whipped madly in the storm of her own killing aura, her pupils narrowed to slits as if the very world offended her existence.

"Barbaras," she hissed, each syllable trembling the ground, "move your filthy claws from him… or I'll peel your hide inch by inch."

The berserker only laughed, shoulders shaking, claws still pressing Dominic down though his gaze slid toward her. "So the mad dog comes sniffing. What now, Zeraphira? Going to weep over your precious fiancé while I split him in two?"

Her halberd slammed into the earth beside his head, carving a crater that hissed with corrosive blood-steam. "Try me."

The collision of wills was instantaneous. Wrath and Wrath. Her storm lashed against his crimson tide, the clash audible as a howling resonance that cracked lamp posts and toppled trees around them. Central Park quaked as if caught in the centre of an earthquake born of hatred itself.

"Zera, keep him busy. While I take care of Ares's dog, as for your reward, what do you want—"

Before Dominic could even complete, Zeraphira's eyes lit as if Christmas was here.

"A kiss~" she squealed, dragging out the last syllable like it was the sweetest nectar, her tone shrill with obsession. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, not from exertion, but from sheer anticipation. "A kiss from you, my love. With tongue and all~ and don't worry, darling, while you take care of that dog, I will be wiping the ground with that filthy mug of a barbarian."

Dominic blinked slowly, crimson eyes narrowing as his grin deepened into something wickedly amused. "A kiss, you say?" His voice dripped mockery, thick with predatory amusement, every word weighted with Conqueror's Will. "You're… too eager, my dear Zeraphira."

Zeraphira spun her weapon in a bloody arc, sending sparks against the earth. "Don't act shy, my prince~! You said reward, I said kiss. Fair trade. Now—" Her aura flared, scarlet lightning exploding across the ruins of Central Park. "—watch me EARN it!"

She launched herself at Barbaras like a storm given flesh, halberd howling in her grip. The ground split under her charge, crimson light scarring the soil. Barbaras met her with a bellowing laugh, releasing Dominic to swing both claws forward. The shockwave of their collision boomed like a cannon, air pressure flattening the nearby trees.

Dominic rolled to the side, coughing blood, but forcing his battered body upright. His arm trembled as he wiped his mouth, eyes flashing silver fire. "Tch… damn it. They'll tear the whole city apart if this keeps up."

Artemis was suddenly at his side, her bow drawn, divine arrows humming like starlight. "Then stop wasting time," she said sharply, her voice cold but her eyes fixed on him. "That beast won't wait for you to recover."

Dominic's lips curled into a bloodstained smirk. "Heh. Don't worry, my goddess. I wasn't planning on waiting either."

"W-Who is y-your goddess?"

Leaving a streaming goddess behind, Dominic's gaze locked onto the Champion of War, who was currently tearing the armour he wore, as his eyes too were aflame with both desperation and rage. Every muscle in his divine frame strained, veins pulsing with the faint glow of residual aether, yet even now, he could not deny the creeping corruption gnawing at his reflexes. Each breath was heavier, each heartbeat a drumbeat against his discipline. The Chains of Enkidu had left a mark, subtle but undeniable—a wound in his certainty, a crack in the foundations of centuries of unbroken mastery.

...

[Dominic's POV]

'System, open one blessed loot box!'

[Opening Random Loot Box...]

A swirl of darkness with a hint of crimson light flared as something directly landed in the system inventory.

[Item: Lineage Factor]

—Rank: Unknown

—Effects: A vial for unlocking bloodline, unsealing, and releasing the suppressed state of bloodline and has 0.5% of elevating the bloodline further.

—Limitation: Only one bloodline applicable.

"..."

My gaze shifted to my status window, especially my race—

[Race: Demon (Suppressed) / ???]

I don't know anything about what '???' means, but the demon side was very much on the table.

I clenched my jaw, letting the faint burn of pain from my shoulder anchor me in the moment. The chaos around me—the storm of Zeraphira's violet arcs, Barbaras' furious red aura, Artemis' poised focus—was nothing more than background noise now. My eyes narrowed at the line of crimson light in my system window.

Lineage Factor…

A vial. A simple container, almost laughably unassuming, yet the implications were staggering. The suppressed potential of my demonic bloodline—not just unlocked, but with the possibility of evolution? That wasn't just power. That was the kind of leap that could turn this entire battlefield upside down, make even a berserker lord pause mid-lunge.

I could feel it already, coiling beneath the surface of my suppressed self. The faint pulse flickered, restrained for centuries, whispered like a predator's growl in my veins. Even the tiny percentage of elevation promised by the vial carried enough potential to nudge the scales in my favour if applied carefully. But bloodlines weren't something to toy with. One wrong release and… well, let's just say disasters didn't even begin to describe it.

I glanced at the battlefield. Zeraphira was dancing dangerously close to Barbaras, her storm arcs tearing through concrete and earth. The Red Claw was snarling, but his strikes had become erratic, fueled by frustration rather than calculation—a good sign. Artemis kept her distance, striking from above, her silver arrows chaining together with surgical precision. And the Champion of War, though free now, was faltering ever so slightly, corruption gnawing at his divine essence.

Perfect.

I slipped my hand inside my coat, feeling the vial hum faintly against my palm. The Lineage Factor wasn't just a tool—it was a gamble. But one that I was willing to take. After all, survival had always demanded risk.

My hand slipped inside the system inventory, my index finger glazing around the vial like a living thing, pulsing faintly with dormant power. My fingers wrapped around it, feeling the subtle vibration against my palm, as if the suppressed blood of my ancestors themselves were whispering permission. The black-and-crimson swirl inside the vial reflected my own aura, beckoning, teasing, promising liberation.

A deep inhale. My shoulder burned, my ribs ached, and yet the grin never left my face. This was what domination felt like—the sweet taste of choice, of escalation, of control. One sip, one release, and the scales would tip. Not because I wanted mercy, but because I demanded existence on my own terms.

"Time to wake up," I murmured to myself, voice low but carrying an undertone that shook the air. Muramasa hummed faintly, as if sensing the resonance of what was about to happen, black lightning snaking along the blade in anticipation.

I uncorked the vial, the subtle hiss of suppressed centuries sighing into the night. The crimson liquid shimmered, reflecting fragments of Central Park's ruined skyline like blood on glass. My palm tilted, and I let a single droplet brush against my tongue. It burned—not painfully, but like a spark igniting a dormant forge within. My vision blurred for a heartbeat, then clarity slammed back like a tidal wave.

Lineage Factor activated.

I felt it first in my spine—No, it was bone marrow. All the blood flowed in my reserve.

And suddenly it picked up speed, the fiction caused by it started burning. Boiling the blood as if a volcano is preparing to erupt. Heat surged from my chest outward, veins flaring with crimson light beneath my skin, black lightning crawling over Muramasa and along my arms like living ink. Every cell in my body vibrated with the memory of millennia suppressed, the echoes of Lucifer's pride, Lilith's sin, and the bloodline's unbroken chain calling out in unison.

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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