The silence that followed the second death was absolute, broken only by the soft dripping of blood onto scorched earth.

Hundreds of eyes stared at the white figure standing in the center of the battlefield, that cruel smile still playing across features that looked like Akhil's but somehow weren't. The resemblance was there—the build, the hair, the face—but everything else was wrong. The posture, the expression, the cold malevolence radiating from every movement.

This wasn't their leader. This wasn't their friend.

This was something else entirely.

"We need to get him back," Aria breathed, her hand instinctively moving toward her blade. Her voice trembled slightly, caught between fear and desperation. "We need to wake him up. There has to be a way to—"

"Don't." Nyla's voice cut through the tension like a knife, sharp and absolute. Her eyes never left the Blood Monarch as she spoke. "Don't even think about approaching that thing."

Aria turned to her, confusion and protest written across her face. "But Akhil is—"

"That is not Akhil," Nyla interrupted, her tone harder now. "Look at him. Really look. That's not the person we know. That's not the leader who fought beside us, who protected us." She gestured toward the notification still burning in everyone's vision. "The system told us exactly what we're dealing with. Akhil... Akhil has been turned into a Titan."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

"She's right," Ryan added, his voice grim as he stepped forward. His fists were already clenched, body tense and ready despite the fear evident in his eyes. "This isn't a rescue mission. Not right now. Not like this." He looked around at the gathered adventurers, then back at Aria. "This is a survival scenario. And if we want to live through it, we need to face reality."

Aria's jaw tightened, her hand still gripping her blade's hilt. She turned back to look at the Blood Monarch, and something in her expression shifted—understanding mixing with heartbreak and fear. Her shoulders trembled slightly, the weight of Ryan's words settling over her like a heavy cloak.

"I know," she whispered, so quietly it was almost lost. "I know that's not him. I just... I don't want to believe it."

"None of us do," Nibo rumbled, his massive frame tense as he readied his war axe. "But believing doesn't change what's standing in front of us."

The Blood Monarch tilted its head, watching their conversation with detached amusement, as if they were children arguing about inconsequential things. That smile never wavered.

"The arrays..." James muttered, his sickle chains jingling softly as he prepared them. "Even if we wanted to attack, we can't get close. Those things drained a Titan's power in seconds. They'd tear through us like paper."

It was true. The blood array still pulsed beneath the Monarch's feet, tendrils writhing lazily but no less threatening for their apparent calm. Everyone had seen what those tendrils could do—how they'd brutalized the Titan of Wrath, how they'd consumed Langdon's attacks without effort.

Getting close would be suicide.

'So what do we do?' The question echoed through every mind present. 'How do we fight something we can't even approach?'

The Blood Monarch observed them for another long moment, that ancient gaze seeming to pierce through flesh and bone to the fear trembling in their hearts. Then, almost casually, it looked down at the crater of blood and viscera that had once been a living person.

It crouched slowly, extending one pale hand toward the crimson pool.

The tendrils responded immediately, drawing the blood toward the Monarch's palm, pulling it up in thin streams. But as the blood touched skin, nothing happened. The liquid simply ran down the arm, dripping uselessly back to the ground.

The Monarch's smile faltered. Its eyes narrowed, confusion flickering across those alien features.

It tried again, pressing its hand directly into the blood, attempting to absorb it as Akhil had done countless times before. But the transformation prevented it—the prime Genus form that gave such power also blocked the very sustenance it needed.

A low growl rumbled from the Monarch's throat, frustration evident in the sound.

The arrays pulsed once, twice, and then—

They began to dissolve.

The tendrils writhed and twisted as they slowly faded, the blood array beneath the Monarch's feet dimming and breaking apart. The suffocating pressure that had dominated the battlefield gradually lifted, dissipating like smoke in the wind.

"The arrays..." someone whispered from the crowd. "They're gone!"

"We can attack now!" another voice called out, hope creeping back into their tone. "Without the arrays, we have a chance!"

"We can save him!"

But even as relief began to spread, even as adventurers started to ready their weapons with renewed determination, those who knew Akhil best felt a different realization settling over them.

Ryan's eyes widened slightly. "Wait. Why would it—"

The Blood Monarch moved.

One moment it was standing over the blood pool, the next it had crossed fifty feet in a blur of motion so fast most eyes couldn't track it. An adventurer—a woman who'd been standing near the back, just beginning to smile with relief—didn't even have time to scream.

The Monarch's hand pierced through her chest.

Blood erupted, spraying outward in a crimson arc. The woman's eyes went wide with shock and pain, her mouth opening in a silent gasp. Then the Monarch pulled its hand back, and her body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

But the Monarch wasn't done.

It placed its palm over the spreading pool of blood, and this time—without the transformation blocking it—the blood responded. It flowed upward, drawn by an invisible force, streaming into the Monarch's body through its skin. The creature's eyes rolled back slightly, a expression of pure ecstasy crossing its face.

Then it laughed.

The sound was terrible—high and wild and utterly inhuman, filled with dark joy and hunger finally satisfied. It echoed across the battlefield, making everyone's skin crawl.

"Oh," the Monarch purred, its voice a twisted mockery of Akhil's. "Oh, that's better. So much better."

It stood slowly, blood still dripping from its hand, and everyone could see it now—could see the slight changes. The way the Monarch stood straighter, moved easier. Could see the blood trickling from Akhil's nose, the dark circles under his eyes, the trembling in his limbs that spoke of complete exhaustion.

The body was failing. Pushed too far, drained too completely. Even the Monarch couldn't hide that fact.

But it was still far too dangerous.

"No more arrays," James breathed, his chains rattling as his grip tightened. "But it's still—"

"Still a Titan," Ryan finished, his jaw set. He turned to face the others, his expression grim but determined. "And now it can move freely. Can kill freely. Can feed."

The implications settled over everyone like a funeral shroud.

"The mission is clear," Ryan continued, raising his voice so all the nearby adventurers could hear. "We survive. And to do that..." He paused, the words clearly paining him even as he spoke them. "We have to put him down. We have to beat Akhil."

Aria's hand tightened on her blade until her knuckles went white. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to find another way, to save the person who'd saved them so many times before. But she'd seen what this thing could do. Had watched it kill without hesitation, without mercy.

Ryan was right. This was survival.

Slowly, deliberately, she drew her blade. The metal sang as it left its sheath, catching the dim light. "For Akhil," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We save him by stopping this thing."

Beside her, Ryan's fists began to glow with a soft red aura as he channeled his power. His stance widened, muscles coiling like springs ready to unleash.

Nyla's entire body temperature dropped, frost beginning to form in the air around her. The cold was palpable, spreading outward in waves, her eyes glowing with icy power.

Nibo hefted his war axe, the massive weapon looking almost light in his enormous hands. His jaw was set, determination etched into every line of his face.

James's sickle chains began to move, spinning in complex patterns, the metal singing through the air. His expression was focused, calculating, already planning attack patterns.

Around them, dozens of other adventurers readied their weapons. Swords, spears, bows, magic—every available power gathering for one purpose.

"ALL TOGETHER!" Ryan roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "We hit it with everything! Don't hold back! This is our only chance!"

Energy began to build, so much power gathering in one place that the air itself seemed to vibrate. Colors swirled—red, blue, green, gold—as dozens of abilities activated simultaneously. The ground trembled under the weight of so much concentrated force.

The Blood Monarch watched them all calmly, that terrible smile still playing across its lips. It stood relaxed, almost casual, as if facing an army of enraged adventurers was nothing more than mild entertainment.

Its black eyes swept across the gathering forces, counting them, measuring them, dismissing them.

A lot of people. Dozens of powerful abilities. Desperation and determination combining into a coordinated assault that could level buildings, that could bring down monsters, that should be overwhelming.

And the Monarch smiled wider.

Then it grinned—wicked and wild and utterly unafraid.

That grin said everything. It said: 'You think you're enough? You think these numbers matter? You think this power is sufficient?'

That grin said: 'I am a Monarch, and you are insects beneath my feet.'

That grin said: 'I'll drown myself in your blood.'

The Blood Monarch spread its arms wide, as if welcoming them, inviting the attack. As if it couldn't wait to show them all just how powerless they truly were.

And in that moment, every adventurer present felt it—that cold certainty settling into their bones.

They were about to attack a god.

And gods did not fall easily.

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A/N: Poloneus I see you! Thanks so much for your support!💜 Y'all are so awesome!

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