My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire-Chapter 470: Tiredness

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Dante knelt, his impassive hands gripping Morrigan’s empty body. His mind had been consumed by his demons, and now... her body was nothing but a vessel without a soul, the immortal form of a goddess of the end, lifeless and of no use.

The weight of the woman meant nothing to him; she was just another broken piece in his game, a sacrifice for the lesson he sought to teach.

He lifted her effortlessly, her body limp and inert, the expression of pain and despair still etched on her face.

The golden light that surrounded him intensified, making the scene around them distort once again, disintegrating space into a dizzying spiral of color and void.

With an almost imperceptible movement, Dante began to walk toward the edge of that abyss of nightmares. The world around him seemed to give way, space folding in on itself, while he, unchanging, carried Morrigan’s corpse with him.

The distance between them and Elysium dissolved like a fleeting shadow. In an instant, they were back. The thick, heavy air of Albion enveloped them, the sky, once clear and vibrant, now tinged with red, as if nature itself mourned the destruction that had unfolded.

"Disappear." Dante commanded, and the heavens obeyed his request, returning to their gentle blue hue, announcing the End.

The silence in the realm was profound, disturbing. The thunderous roar of battles had ceased, and now only the echo of a glorious past in ruins remained.

The palace, once towering in all its splendor, was now reduced to rubble, its towers collapsed and its walls cracked, as if the very heart of the earth had been torn away.

What had once been a symbol of power was now a monument to decay and the end.

Dante gazed at the wreckage around him, his gaze cold and impassive. He felt no loss. No compassion. All of this had been necessary. Morrigan, like so many others, was a page turned in his story, and he had no time for regrets.

"This is going to take work to fix..." Dante murmured, seeing that the enormous floating islands had all fallen over the Kingdom.

He advanced, his heavy, relentless steps echoing across the devastated land, the weight of the body he carried ignored by his superhuman strength. The shadows of destruction closed in around him, as if the realm, now desolate, was bowing before him. The ruins of what had once been a grand civilization were scattered about, remnants of an era of splendor now fading, like the ashes of a flame that had already gone out. When Dante finally reached the central square, where Morrigan’s throne had once stood, he carefully placed her body on the cold stone floor.

Morrigan’s body fell heavily, her expression frozen in the torment of her final hours. The suffering, now eternalized on her face, was a dark echo of her arrogance and failed attempt to challenge Dante. She was no more than a shadow of what she once was, a reminder of a woman who dared oppose the order Dante had imposed on the world. All that remained of her was the silence of death and the vastness of a destroyed legacy.

Dante took a step back, observing the body with a look of utter disdain. He no longer needed her. His objective was fulfilled, and the cycle of suffering she had experienced was just another chapter in his relentless pursuit of power and justice. Now, he had one last lesson to teach. Not only to Morrigan but to all who defied him.

"Ah... I’m tired..." Dante murmured, his voice resonating in the emptiness of desolation. He seemed to reflect for a moment, as if pondering something beyond the destruction. "It doesn’t really matter anyway," he said, as if the conclusion had already been sealed. In a single motion, his eyes gleamed with a threatening intensity, and his body began to transform.

He rose from the ground, his body growing and distorting, his wings spreading with a burst of uncontrollable power. The sky around him darkened, the atmosphere warping with the growing power. Dante transformed into a colossal Dragon, his presence radiating an overwhelming aura of power and authority. His roar shattered the silence like thunder, and the earth beneath his feet trembled in response to his divine power.

"Temporalis," he commanded in a deep, authoritative tone, his words imbued with ancient and incomprehensible magic. The air around him vibrated, and a massive magical circle appeared on the ground, expanding rapidly until it enveloped the entire kingdom. It was a spell so vast it seemed to consume the very horizon.

Within that magical circle, time began to distort. The flow of time reversed with an overwhelming speed, as if an entire timeline was being undone. The mountains in the distance began to restore themselves, their cracked forms closing, life returning to the trees and vegetation that had been destroyed. The fields, once burned and devastated, blossomed once more, flowers and rivers reconstituting in perfect harmony. Even the floating islands, with their waterfalls and crystal structures, rose into the sky, as if the very kingdom was being restored to its original form, before the opening of the Hell portal.

The landscape reorganized, as if everything that had happened was erased in a single act of destruction and recreation. The world, which had been marked by war and loss, was reborn, as if it were a new beginning, a rebirth. Dante’s forces, now fully mastered, controlled the very fabric of time.

Everything was restored. Every stone, every tree, every element of the kingdom returned to its previous state, before all the tragedies, before the cataclysm that had begun with the Hell invasion. But even with everything rebuilt, the shadow of destruction still lingered in the air, as a reminder of what could happen again at any moment, under Dante’s relentless gaze.

Dante slowly returned to his human form, the colossal dragon vanishing in an instant, as if it had never existed. His feet touched the devastated ground, and he collapsed onto the stone bench in the square, exhausted. The power he had just employed had drained all his energy, leaving him in a state of profound fatigue. Even with his immense resistance, that monumental temporal manipulation had left him empty, his aura of power now just a distant echo.

He looked ahead, at Morrigan’s lifeless body, still lying on the cold, hard ground of the square, her face marked by eternal pain. His expression was one of indifference, but inside, a strange feeling consumed him. She was no longer a threat, but something about her still bothered him, as if the weight of his actions extended beyond her mere destruction.

"I used all my energy... there’s nothing left..." Dante spoke, his voice low, laden with an exhaustion he rarely displayed. The words came from his lips with a sigh of deep fatigue, as if the weight of what he had done was finally beginning to reach his immortal spirit. His eyes briefly shone as he tried to gather strength for something more.

With a weak gesture, he raised his hand and tried to open the Hell portal, his magic trembling, wavering. He knew he needed his wives, who had been left in Hell during the conflict, but the effort to summon the portal was greater than he had anticipated. The energy he had mentioned spending to restore the kingdom had drained him in a way he had never experienced.

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The air around him began to ripple as the infernal energies concentrated in his hand, but the portal opened slowly, as if resisting his will. The darkness of Hell was there, but the strength to pull it back with the same speed as before seemed beyond his reach. He pressed harder, his fingers clutching at the air, trying his best to invoke what remained of his power, but the energies dissipated without enough force.

"Damn..." Dante murmured to himself, frustration evident in his voice. But then, something made him stop for a moment. His gaze intensified, fixing on the emptiness ahead, where an unusual sensation began to form. Two penetrating gazes, ones he knew well, watched him with silent curiosity. He felt their pressure as if they were there, invisible, waiting for the right moment.

"If you’re going to keep staring at me like that, why don’t you come down here and let’s talk? You bastards." Dante spoke with disdain, challenging the silhouettes in the sky with an acidic tone in his voice. He knew he was being watched, and there was no patience in his words.

A soft laugh echoed, followed by a feminine voice Dante didn’t want to hear again.

"Hm... it seems you really did regain your authority, young Dragon God." The White Administrator’s voice sounded, gentle, but with a tone of curiosity that only heightened his irritation.

"Well, considering how much power he stole from others, it’s clear he’d come back." The Black Administrator’s masculine voice joined in, laden with a sarcastic tone. His silhouette began to form in the darkness, barely visible, but the presence was palpable.

Dante grumbled and leaned back on the bench, trying to relax as his energy gradually restored. "Ah, seriously... both of them can go fuck themselves." He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the frustration their presence brought. Even with his exhaustion, irritation seemed to be the only thing keeping him in control.

"Where was all that attitude, huh?" The Black Administrator said, his voice emerging from the darkness, accompanied by a disturbing white smile that cut through the shadows.

"Ah, the playground sector you used? Please, stop with that crap." Dante retorted with a scornful grin. The memory of that sector, how the high beings played with the lives there, deeply bothered him. He had no patience left for their dirty games.

The White Administrator simply watched, unhurried, her presence like a silent fog. The Black Administrator, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the tension, Dante’s words only feeding the game.

"Let’s talk. Azi Dahaka," The Administrators said together.