The explosion swallowed everything.

For a long moment after that deafening impact, there was nothing left to see, nothing left to hear except the echo of power fading into silence. The red planet had collapsed inward and burst outward in a way that no ordinary spell could imitate, tearing through space, crushing everything in its path, and leaving behind a field that no longer resembled the arena that had once stood there.

GrandLord Dreath stood at the center.

Still.

Unmoving.

His hand remained raised for a few breaths longer, as if his body had not yet caught up to the fact that the spell had already been released.

Then—

Slowly—

He lowered it.

The air around him felt hollow now, drained, as if something essential had been taken away along with that final attack.

His eyes remained fixed forward, staring into the fading cloud of crimson dust that still hung thick in the air.

"...It’s over."

The thought came quietly.

Not triumphant.

Not satisfied.

Just... accepted.

And then—

Something else followed.

A feeling he had not expected.

"...It seems..."

His gaze lowered slightly.

"...this was my fault."

The realization settled heavily.

Because he knew exactly what had happened.

His suppression.

His pressure.

The way he had forced them, again and again, to endure something far beyond their limits.

That had triggered it.

That had awakened whatever ability lay hidden within them, whatever strange force in their blood had allowed them to adapt, to grow, to push beyond what should have been possible.

"...If I had not pressed them..."

"...if I had ended it earlier..."

"...this would not have happened."

He exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him heavier than before.

"...A pity."

The word did not carry mockery.

It carried regret.

Not for himself.

But for what had been lost.

"...Such blood..."

"...Such potential..."

"...Wasted."

He glanced around.

There were still members of the Moonshade family who had not been affected, those who had not turned red, those who had not been drawn into that violent transformation.

They remained.

Alive.

Unchanged.

"...At least..."

"...something remains."

The acceptance came slowly.

Reluctantly.

But it came.

Because no matter how valuable the ones he had just destroyed were, there were still others.

There was still something to salvage.

"...I will study the rest..."

"...I will understand this..."

"...I will—"

His thoughts stopped.

Because something felt wrong.

His body—

Felt wrong.

A strange sensation crept through him.

At first, it was faint.

Barely noticeable.

But then—

It grew.

His skin tightened.

His blood—

No.

His blood mana—

Weakened.

"...What...?"

His brows furrowed slightly.

He lifted his hand.

And what he saw—

Made his expression freeze.

The rich tone of his skin was fading.

Draining.

The deep presence that had once filled him began to thin, as if something inside him was being pulled away, stripped from him without his consent.

"...No..."

His voice came out low.

He could feel it clearly now.

The energy within him—

Was being consumed.

Not by an external force.

But by something deeper.

"...The spell..."

The realization struck.

Ultimate Blood Magic.

That level of power—

Demanded a price.

A heavy one.

He had paid it.

But—

This...

"...This is too much..."

His arm trembled slightly as he watched the change continue.

His skin pulled tighter.

His veins flattened.

His flesh—

Seemed to recede.

"...Impossible..."

His voice cracked faintly.

Because he had used that spell before.

He had endured its cost before.

But this—

Was different.

Far heavier.

Far deeper.

"...Why...?"

The answer came immediately.

Because of what he had faced.

Because of how far he had pushed it.

Because of how much power he had poured into it to ensure the result.

"...I overused it..."

His breathing slowed.

Not by choice.

But because there was less energy to sustain it.

His body continued to change.

His skin lost its fullness.

His muscles shrank.

His form thinned.

Until—

What remained—

Was barely more than bone wrapped in dry remnants of flesh.

A skeleton.

Standing.

Still upright.

But drained.

"...So this..."

"...is the cost..."

He whispered the words.

Not in fear.

But in understanding.

He had pushed too far.

And now—

He was paying for it.

The dust began to settle.

Slowly.

The red haze thinned.

The battlefield became visible again.

And Dreath’s eyes—

Lifted.

Expecting to see nothing.

Expecting to see only ruin.

Only silence.

Only the aftermath of something that had ended everything.

But then—

He heard it.

A sound.

Low.

Rough.

Faint.

"...No..."

His body froze.

Because that sound—

Should not exist.

Not after that.

Not after everything he had just unleashed.

"...That’s..."

He listened.

Again.

There it was.

A growl.

Familiar.

Impossible.

"...Still...?"

His eyes widened.

Not slightly this time.

But fully.

Because now—

He understood what he was hearing.

And it did not make sense.

It could not make sense.

"...That was my Ultimate Blood Magic..."

His voice trembled.

For the first time.

"...That spell..."

"...I spent centuries..."

"...centuries refining it..."

His mind flashed back again.

To the countless years.

The endless attempts.

The failures.

The adjustments.

The mastery.

"...It is beyond Grand Blood Magic..."

"...far beyond..."

"...it cannot be resisted..."

He knew it.

He understood it.

He had proven it countless times.

"...And yet..."

The dust continued to clear.

Slowly.

Revealing shapes.

Dark.

Broken.

Moving.

"...No..."

The word came out weak.

Because what he saw—

Defied everything.

They were there.

The reddened Moonshade family.

Still—

Alive.

Their bodies were no longer whole.

Some lay on the ground.

Completely still.

Unable to rise.

Their forms torn apart, barely holding together.

Others—

Moved.

Slowly.

Struggling.

Pushing themselves up.

Only to fall again.

Their limbs trembled.

Their bodies failed to support them.

Yet—

They tried.

Again.

And again.

"...This..."

"...cannot..."

Dreath’s voice faded.

Because there was no explanation.

No logic.

No reason.

The ones who had charged into that explosion—

Who had taken the full force of that ultimate spell—

Should not exist anymore.

Yet—

They did.

Weakened.

Broken.

But alive.

"...You survived..."

His eyes trembled slightly.

"...Even that..."

The battlefield was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that came after something impossible had just happened.

The kind of quiet that pressed against the mind, forcing it to accept what it could not understand.

One of them—

Moved.

Slowly.

Painfully.

A reddened member of the Moonshade family pushed himself up from the ground, his body shaking, his limbs barely responding, his form struggling against damage that should have ended him.

He rose—

Halfway.

Then fell.

Then—

Rose again.

His head lifted.

His eyes—

Still burned.

Even now.

Even after everything.

And then—

He screamed.

Not weak.

Not fading.

But filled with something that refused to die.

"ROOOOOAAAR!!!"