[Location: Central Park, New York]

BADUM!

BADUM!

BADUM!

A war drum-like sound echoed, not from the skies, not from the earth, but from Dominic himself. His heartbeat struck like a hammer against the silence that had momentarily swallowed Central Park. Each thrum reverberated outward in invisible shockwaves, rattling leaves, bending lamp posts, and setting the very mana in the air into chaos.

The crimson glow that threaded his veins expanded, pulsing under his skin like molten rivers. His body trembled—not from weakness, but from the sheer violence of something ancient clawing free from centuries of suppression. His aura swelled, first in ripples, then in crushing waves.

Barbaras froze mid-laugh, claws raised but no longer descending. His crimson eyes widened, not in fear—no, the berserker lord did not fear—but in something even more primal. Recognition. The recognition of a predator sensing another one emerging, something older, darker, hungrier than even him.

"...Impossible," Barbaras muttered, voice low, a growl rolling through clenched teeth.

Artemis shifted her stance, bow drawn but her arms rigid. Her silver pupils quivered, catching the flickers of power leaking from Dominic's frame. This was not just demonic energy—it was something purer, something before categorisation, before definition. Something primordial.

Zeraphira… oh, Zeraphira trembled. Not in fear, never in fear, but in a frenzy. Her halberd dug into the dirt beside her as her body shook with delirious anticipation. Her crimson eyes dilated, her lips parting in a fevered gasp. "My prince…" she whispered, her voice cracking into a manic giggle. "You're waking up. You're finally—finally showing me that side. The real you. The one only I should see~!" Her laugh spiralled, caught somewhere between bloodlust and orgasmic worship.

Dominic staggered once, then straightened, shoulders broadening as the pulse of his bloodline rewrote his body. His black hair darkened further, silver streaks burning through like living light. His eyes, already silver fire, ignited brighter, the glow searing, impossible to stare into for long. Faint shapes flickered behind him—horns curving from his temples like shadows refusing to stay hidden, wings unfurling only to vanish again, tails of smoke and lightning writhing in defiance of the physical world.

The System whispered, unheard by anyone else:

[Lineage Factor consumed.]

[Suppressed Bloodline unlocked: Primordial Demon (Fragment).]

[Race updated: Demon (Primordial Fragment).]

[Passive trait acquired: "Blood Sovereignty."]

Dominic clenched his fist. The ground beneath his feet shattered like glass. Energy bled from his palm, thick and suffocating, pressing down on everything in range. Barbaras staggered back one step, not from the physical force but from the weight—the sheer authority spilling from Dominic's veins. Artemis's breath caught; her divine aura wavered. Even she, a goddess, felt her spine stiffen as her instincts screamed to kneel or break.

Only Zeraphira laughed, her halberd trembling in her grip as she slammed it against her chest in a manic salute. "YES! YES, THAT'S IT! More, my prince! MORE! Tear it all open! Let me drown in you!"

Dominic tilted his head, blood trickling from his mouth, but his grin stretched, wolfish, predatory. "...So this is what you bastards locked away." His voice was deeper now, layered, each syllable dragging shadows across the air. "Not just demonic power… but the origin. The birthright."

He stepped forward. The park screamed. Trees bent backwards, their trunks cracking. The soil caved as if crushed by an invisible mountain. Every heartbeat was a war drum, every breath an executioner's call.

Barbaras roared, both in rage and exhilaration. "PRIMORDIAL—?! Do not mock me, boy!" His claws ignited in bloody flame, aura swelling, trying to crush the tide. "I'll grind your awakening into dust!"

Dominic's grin sharpened, eyes locking onto the Red Claw with scorn dripping from every word.

"Then try."

And with that, the storm truly broke—or was about to as...

[ERROR! ERROR!]

[Demonic heart is missing!]

Demonic heart... but in my case, hearts, a crystallised core of a demon. A demonic heart is as important for a demon as a draconic heart for Dragons. It's very much the anchor of their existence. Without it, a demon is incomplete, a shadow of what they could be.

And mine were ripped out of me in that ceremony, my seven demonic hearts—each contained a sin affinity, each stolen and bound into the bodies of my seven fiancées. That ancient contract, that cruel theft, had left me nothing but a husk for over a millennium. Even now, as the Lineage Factor surged through me, the absence of those hearts roared like voids in my chest, echoing louder than the war drums of my bloodline.

[Warning: Bloodline potential restrained.]

[Core incomplete: Seven Demon Hearts missing.]

I gritted my teeth, the silver blaze in my eyes flaring hotter. "Of course… those damn Satans didn't just strip me—they caged me."

The ground beneath my boots fractured again, spiderwebbing outward in a storm of black and crimson light. My aura lashed in wild arcs, half-born wings flickering, horns shimmering in and out of existence. Power roared, but it was chained, clawing against the missing pieces of myself.

Barbaras's grin split wider, feral and taunting. "HAH! Look at you, brat! A prince without a heart. A body without its anchors. You're nothing but a broken relic trying to roar louder than its grave!" His claws clashed together, sparks igniting. "That's why your maid locked you away. That's why your blood will never rule."

Artemis's gaze tightened, her bow trembling in her hands, the light of her arrows faltering as she stared at me. Even incomplete, even fractured, the presence flooding from me eclipsed the battlefield. She whispered, almost to herself, "This… this is not supposed to exist."

Zeraphira's reaction was the opposite. She collapsed to her knees, not in submission, but in ecstasy. Her halberd clattered against the broken ground, forgotten as her hands clutched at her chest, nails digging until blood streaked her pale skin. Her laughter spiralled higher, unhinged, echoing through the ruins of Central Park like a hymn to madness."My prince, incomplete or not—you are MINE! Hearts? Anchors? Who cares?! You are the world's anchor! You don't need them—you don't need ANYTHING! Let the heavens weep, let hell burn, let the gods choke on their own divinity—I will complete you with my own soul if I must! All of you, every fragment, every shadow, every drop of blood—mine!"

Her devotion burned as bright as her madness, and for a heartbeat, I almost pitied her. Almost. But her words carved something deeper inside me, something I had refused to face until now.

I remembered the ceremony, the agony of being stripped bare while my fiancées stood, their young bodies shaking as they were forced to take what was mine. I remembered their tears, their screams, their fathers looming behind them like puppeteers yanking strings of flesh and blood. They hadn't chosen to rob me. They had been bound as tightly as I was. Victims, as much as thieves.

And now… those seven hearts were not simple treasures to reclaim. They were fused to my fiancées, part of their essence, their souls. To tear them out would not be like retrieving stolen gems. It would be tearing out lungs, ripping out a mind, extinguishing a soul. It would mean killing them.

For this past week, I dreamed of ripping them back, of taking back what was mine regardless of cost. In the darkness of my slumber, I promised myself that I would return what was stolen—even if the path to wholeness was painted in blood. But now, after seeing Zeraphira again, seeing her frenzy and obsession not as the cruelty of a thief but as the wound of a victim, I could not dismiss the truth so easily.

The Satans orchestrated everything. They cut me apart. They fed my fragments to their daughters. They broke us all, then left us to rot in the cages they had built.

Barbaras's laughter rang again, but this time I was not listening to him. I was listening to the storm inside me, to the half-formed wings that flickered and cracked the air, to the horns that shimmered and then receded, to the power clawing at my veins, begging to be unleashed fully. My seven hearts were missing, but my will—my will was not.

BOOOM!

Su~ Su~ Su~

The world cracked. The earth, the trees, the sky itself—it all seemed to recoil as my Conqueror's Will burst forth, unchained, no longer restrained by hesitation. It wasn't polished, it wasn't tempered—it was raw, jagged, and absolute. A tidal wave of dominance that bent the battlefield to my existence.

Barbaras staggered, his bellow caught in his throat for the first time. His crimson aura flared in defiance, but it faltered under the crushing weight pressing down from me, as though the Red Claw's fury had been caged inside his own skin.

Artemis gasped, knees buckling before she forced herself upright, her divine frame trembling. The silver glow of her arrows guttered, starlight smothered by a deeper, older sovereignty. Her lips moved in disbelief: "This… is beyond divinity…"

Zeraphira screamed. Not in pain, but in ecstasy. Her nails raked bloody trails down her arms, her body writhing as if every drop of my unleashed will was a caress. "YES! CRUSH THEM, MY PRINCE! BREAK THE WORLD, BREAK THE GODS, BREAK ME—BUT DON'T STOP!"

Black lightning surged from Muramasa, resonating with my aura. The sword howled like a beast awakening with me, arcs crawling across the ruined park as lamp posts bent like reeds and cars shattered apart under invisible pressure.

My half-born wings lashed once, flickering between shadow and flame, and every tree within fifty meters was uprooted in silence before crashing down.

I tilted my head, blood dripping down my chin, eyes burning crimson fire as I fixed them on Barbaras. My voice cracked the air, layered with something ancient, something more than demonic:

"Bow… or be erased."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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