The land beneath Kiaria was no longer still.

It did not crack.

It did not collapse.

It shifted–as though the ground itself had begun to breathe.

A deep, layered vibration rolled outward through the crystal field, slow at first, then accelerating. The pitch-black hexagonal spikes trembled faintly, their mirrored surfaces rippling as something vast moved beneath them.

This place was no ruin.

It was an anthill.

From every direction, figures emerged.

Not bursting forth in rage.

Not charging.

Not hunting.

They came walking.

Humanoid Yakshas stepped into the open–four-armed, tall, broad-shouldered. Their features were sharp and symmetrical, bodies honed like living weapons, yet marked by an unsettling calm. Some were male, others female, and among them were forms that could only be described as beautiful.

Too beautiful.

Their presence alone bent the air. Each step pressed invisible weight into the ground, spreading outward in layered waves that reached even the hidden chamber where Hylisi stood watching.

She froze.

This was not killing intent.

This was protection.

"They are not here to fight," Kiaria realized quietly.

They were here to see their hatchlings.

The crystallized eggs pulsed faintly behind him, milky white fractures spreading along their surfaces like veins beneath skin. The Yaksha Army Ants gathered around the crystal field, forming rings upon rings, their gazes drawn not to Kiaria–but to the eggs.

And yet–

That made him an intruder all the same.

For a species that guarded its young above all else, timing was everything. Any foreign presence near the hatchlings was treated as contamination.

Punishable by death.

They were many.

Not dozens.

Not thousands.

Lakhs.

The crystalline field stretched far beyond what the eye could measure, and Kiaria understood immediately–such a vast nesting ground could not exist without an army counted in hundreds of thousands… or more.

"Lakhs," he thought calmly. "Possibly millions."

The Yakshas did not speak.

They did not rush.

They simply closed in, their formation tightening as instinct and hierarchy aligned toward a single conclusion.

Kill the intruder.

From the chamber, Hylisi felt the pressure climb another level.

Her breath grew shallow.

Even sealed behind formations and authority, the sheer presence of the Yaksha Army Ants pressed against her senses. This was not cultivation alone. It was racial dominance–an existence shaped by war, numbers, and absolute obedience.

At the center of it all, Kiaria stood still.

Too still.

His silence was not composed.

It was… crooked.

He lifted his gaze slightly, eyes passing over the encircling Yakshas without urgency.

"Grandfather," he said evenly, "I want to see their rage form."

The response did not come immediately.

When it did, the voice carried no warmth.

Only certainty.

"If that is your choice," the Azure Dragon Emperor said slowly, "then survival will demand instant kills."

A pause.

"To force their rage, break one of the crystals."

Kiaria's gaze shifted–just a fraction.

"One hatchling will die with it," the Emperor continued. "Their rage will ignite immediately."

Cruel.

Deliberate.

Necessary.

Kiaria exhaled softly.

"Hm."

"That's quite cruel."

Then, without hesitation–

"But I had the same idea."

The ground trembled again.

And the Yaksha Army Ants took one synchronized step forward.

Kiaria observed them.

Fierce in intent.Empty in expression.

The formation alone was enough to command respect.

They encircled him from all directions, not chaotically, but with layered precision. Four primary fronts closed inward, each subdivided into three staggered troop lines–angled, overlapping, leaving no clear escape path. This was not instinctive aggression.

It was doctrine.

Above them, the air belonged to the elites.

Winged Yaksha Ants hovered in controlled patterns, maintaining altitude and spacing with mechanical discipline. Every one of them was female. Their upper forms were armored, their lower bodies exposed–not vulnerability, but purpose.

Final hatching.

Their antennae swayed continuously, heavy at the tips like weighted hammers. Each vibration carried instruction, alignment, correction. No words were spoken, yet the army moved as one.

Closest to Kiaria stood twelve leaders, forming the inner ring. Behind them, the ranks thickened–lean forms in front, heavier bodies layered behind, and the most physically dominant bracing the rear. A living formation built for attrition and replacement.

Kiaria's gaze lifted.

He rose slowly, ascending until he stood level with the nearest crystal's peak. The towering structure loomed over him–twice his height, its surface smooth, polished, warm.

He extended a hand.

The tip was soft.

Warm.

Alive.

This was the feeding point. The hatching nexus. Where elites perched, where virgin blood was meant to be offered to break the shell without harming what lay inside.

Kiaria pressed down.

Not gently.

Not hesitantly.

The full force of his Immortal Dragon Body surged through his palm.

The crystal shattered.

Black fluid cascaded downward as the shell collapsed inward. Within it, a hatchling lay exposed–unfinished, malformed, lifeless.

Dead.

The effect was immediate.

The anthill screamed.

Not with sound–

With transformation.

The humanoid forms convulsed. Limbs twisted. Chitin burst through skin as their true shapes emerged. Massive ant bodies unfolded, nine to twelve feet tall, exoskeletons grinding against the crystal field as space itself resisted their expansion.

Rage had been triggered.

Kiaria smiled faintly.

"Succeeded."

He had already calculated it.

In humanoid form, they were efficient. Compact. Precise.In true form, they were powerful–but constrained.

This place was a tunnel system.

Crystals crowded every path.

Their size became a disadvantage.

They charged.

From every direction.

Eyes boiling with black fumes, limbs tearing through crystal and stone alike. Kiaria moved–not retreating, not advancing–slipping between attacks by margins no wider than a blade's edge.

He activated his sword intent.

Monochrome authority spread outward.

Within its range, motion slowed–not frozen, but delayed, as though the world itself hesitated to complete their actions.

He shifted toward the center.

Toward the elites.

Acid gathered in their mandibles.

He did not evade.

An elite dove, wings slicing downward. Kiaria caught her mid-flight, bare-handed, fingers closing around the wing joints. Tyrant Dragon Scale Shield, Immortal Dragon Body, Shadow Ghost state, Patron physique, Divine Robe–layered protections rendered resistance meaningless.

He turned her.

The acid strike came.

The elite absorbed it.

Her exoskeleton melted. Organs boiled. She shrieked only once before collapsing.

"Oops," Kiaria said calmly, glancing at the spitter. "That was terrifying."

He seized another.

Then another.

Using them as shields. As bait. As weapons.

The Star-Feather Technique activated silently. In Shadow Ghost state, his body moved with unnatural lightness–flexible, formless, untouchable. He redirected attacks, guiding kin to kill kin, feeding rage exactly as he intended.

The antennas vibrated.

Uniformly.

A high-frequency pulse erupted.

A mental assault.

Kiaria's vision blurred. His body dropped from the air.

But the crown above his head flared once.

The stun shattered.

"Then I'll respond properly," he murmured.

Before his body struck the ground, he closed his eyes.

Everything stopped.

Not slowed.

Stopped.

The anthill froze.

The chamber froze.

Far away, treasure hunters froze mid-motion.

Only Diala remained untouched.

"Empty."

The word carried no volume.

Yet it reached everything.

Life suspended.

Winged ants fell from the air like rain–across the entire anthill, not only here. Wherever flight existed, it ended.

Kiaria opened his eyes.

The Sky Crystal–Shadow Severer Sword emerged from his sea of consciousness.

"HOLY RADIANCE FORM I–

Shadow-Severing Silent Light."

Nothing appeared to happen.

Then–

"HOLY RADIANCE FORM II–

Sky Crystal Silver Seal."

He snapped his fingers.

The "Empty" state released.

Time resumed.

But the timeless residue remained, clinging inside every mind like frost.

Within each Yaksha Ant, something ignited.

Not flame.

Judgment.

Their hearts–once black with evil intent–burned in monochrome white fire. The essence condensed, crystallized, freezing mid-beat into gleaming silver cores.

Sky Crystal erupted outward.

Bodies stiffened.

Chitin crystallized.

Every Yaksha Ant–throughout the entire anthill–stopped moving.

Hearts ceased.

Dead.

All of them.

Silence returned.

Kiaria stood alone.

His trial token flickered.

–1,000,000–998,420–942,117–901,336–856,950

The numbers slowed.

Then steadied.

Kiaria exhaled.

The hunt had only begun.

Kiaria did not stop.

He never had.

Everything until now–the extermination, the rage trigger, the crystallized deaths–had been deliberate. Calculated. Necessary. The Evil-erasing radiance had only completed half of what he intended.

He rose.

Slowly.

The air bent as Kiaria levitated above the crystallized battlefield. Beneath him, the frozen remains of the Yaksha Ant colony glimmered like a field of broken statues.

Then–

He released restraint.

The Patron Ascend Body unfolded.

Reality seemed to recoil.

From the relic bound to his existence, the Spiritual Spring Embryo emerged. A colossal soul-form rose behind him, mirroring his posture, its presence so immense that the ruins themselves felt diminished. When its eyes opened, the monochrome world deepened–layers of truth peeling away.

Kiaria issued a silent command.

Within the milky-white crystals, change began.

The Half-Demon Yaksha Ants–those sealed within–reverted. Their monstrous forms collapsed inward, reshaping into humanoid bodies suspended in crystal wombs. What remained was something human eyes should never pry into. The manifested state had collapsed in the transition, and instinct alone forced his gaze away.

He closed his eyes.

At once, the crystals turned opaque.

Kiaria raised his right hand.

The soul-body behind him did the same.

The elites–female commanders, untouched by physical destruction–were lifted from the crystallized mass, levitating in ordered silence. This separation was intentional. Precise.

A voice thundered within his mind.

"What are you planning, boy?"

The Golden Dragon Emperor's tone sharpened. "If this is sentimentality, you will be stopped."

Kiaria did not hesitate.

"I am using their virgin blood to hatch the eggs."

Silence followed.

"With the Blood Moon Wolf bloodline," Kiaria continued evenly, "all blood–once spilled, once severed from will–must obey my command. The Holy Radiance erased impurity. The Silent Light severed evil intent. Their deaths were untouched. No blood pact. No taming mark. No domination."

"They died clean."

His hand remained raised.

"I will use their purified heart blood to awaken the next generation."

A pause.

Then the Dragon Emperor exhaled slowly.

"You are becoming unreadable," he admitted. "Do not mistake success for invincibility. This time, you encountered them unprepared."

Kiaria acknowledged nothing.

He closed his raised palm into a fist.

Instantly–

From every levitating elite, heart blood was drawn–thin, luminous streams pulled free without resistance. The blood curved through the air, guided by will alone, and descended toward the vast crystal field.

It penetrated the semipermeable tips.

Entered the eggs.

Within the shells, life ignited.

A Yaksha emblem formed upon each hatchling's forehead as their eyes opened for the first time. The crystals shattered gently, dissolving instead of exploding.

More than ten thousand newborns emerged.

They did not scream.

They did not scatter.

Their gazes locked onto Kiaria–and the towering soul-form behind him.

Recognition.

Bond.

To them, he was origin.

He released a single drop of Spiritual Spring.

It split endlessly.

Each hatchling received only a fraction, enough to stabilize existence. Their bodies cocooned instantly in liquid light, entering forced dormancy.

Kiaria gestured.

All were transferred into the relic's inner world.

There, they would grow.

Time would pass.

Loyalty would not be imposed–it would be instinct.

Only then did Kiaria descend.

–

In the chamber beyond reality, Hylisi stood frozen.

She did not tremble from fear.

She trembled from comprehension.

She finally understood what kind of existence she had guided. Not a protector. Not a hunter.

Her throat tightened as she swallowed.

And for the first time–

She was grateful the chamber could no longer evaluate him.

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