The Strongest S-Ranker

Unique Gate [17]

The last echoes of the explosion faded into the night, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. The ruins smoldered beneath Zenon’s feet as he landed gracefully, his breath steady despite the c*****e around him.

The Gate Boss observed the aftermath, unfazed by the loss of his minions. If anything, his smirk only deepened. "Impressive," he mused, stepping forward. "It’s been a long time since a human gave me such an exhilarating performance."

Zenon didn’t respond. His mind was already calculating his next move. His earlier attack had thinned the enemy’s numbers, but the real threat remained. The Gate Boss was still standing, and those elite vampires at his side hadn't made a move yet. That alone was cause for concern.

“I guess it’s time for the real deal,” the Gate Boss sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the tension of a warm-up.

Then, his gaze shifted to his minions.

“For the sake of our clan’s legacy, offer your lives to me.”

The moment his words fell, the elite vampires turned to their master, their lips curling into wide, almost ecstatic smiles. Without hesitation, they plunged their claws into their own chests, tearing out their hearts in a gruesome display of devotion.

Their bodies collapsed to the ground, lifeless—but their expressions remained frozen in eerie satisfaction.

Even Zenon, hardened by battle, found himself momentarily stunned. What kind of madness was this?

In an instant, the battlefield trembled as blood from the fallen vampires surged toward the Gate Boss, forming a swirling crimson vortex around him.

“The key you possess will unlock the mysteries of our clan,” he declared, his voice carrying an almost reverent weight. The storm of blood raged, crackling with raw power as it coalesced around him.

“Our lives have been devoted to uncovering that truth. Why was our history erased? Why were our memories sealed? And most importantly…”

His piercing gaze locked onto Zenon.

“Who was the true enemy all along?”

The Gate Boss spread his arms wide as the swirling blood storm grew more violent, tendrils of crimson energy crackling in the air like living shadows. The very atmosphere shifted, thickening with an oppressive weight that sent a chill down Zenon’s spine.

His voice rose, echoing across the ruined battlefield like a prophet delivering a long-forgotten truth.

“For centuries, we have wandered in darkness, forced to forget who we once were. Pieces of our past—stolen, buried, erased by unseen hands! But no more!”

The storm of blood bathes him. For a moment, his expression went blank—void of emotion, as if the weight of countless lost memories had settled within him.

Then, his eyes snapped open, glowing with an eerie crimson radiance. A pulse of energy erupted from his body, sending shockwaves through the air, forcing Zenon to brace himself against the sheer force of it.

“Bear witness,” the Gate Boss intoned, his voice layered with something ancient, something beyond his own.

“The weapon forged by the Vampire’s greatest sorcerer… The Endless.”

The pool of blood beneath the Gate Boss pulsed like a living entity, expanding outward as a thick crimson mist enveloped the battlefield.

[ The Endless ]

[ Activation Requirements ] Requires at least 10 liters of blood during combat to activate.

[ Effects ] A crimson pool forms around the caster with red mist, serving as both a weapon and ammunition—allowing them to create all sorts of arsenal at the cost of stored blood. The more blood available for an attack, the stronger it is.

[ Restrictions ] The weapon is a formless mass of blood that can transform into different weapons or attacks, but each attack drains a set amount of blood from the pool. This weapon can be used as long as the user has Mana and enough blood.

Zenon tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel it—this wasn’t just any weapon. It was an ability forged through the sacrifices of an entire elite force, fueled by a history steeped in mystery. This battle was about to reach its peak.

The Gate Boss vanished in a blur of movement, dashing toward Zenon with unnatural speed. In his grasp, the blood twisted and solidified into a scythe—its blade so honed that the very air screamed as it sliced through it.

Zenon reacted instantly, raising his sword just in time to intercept the strike. The impact sent sparks flying, a shockwave rippling through the battlefield. But the Gate Boss didn’t relent.

With fluidity and precision, he launched a relentless assault, his movements refined by centuries of battle. Each swing of the scythe carried an eerie grace, its crimson edge shifting unpredictably—extending, curving, changing forms mid-attack.

The Gate Boss pressed forward, his every strike precise and calculated. His scythe twisted mid-swing, the handle elongating as the blade curved unnaturally, shifting into a massive greatsword in the blink of an eye. The sudden weight forced Zenon to brace himself as their weapons clashed, sending another shockwave across the battlefield.

Zenon gritted his teeth. He can change its form instantly?

Before he could counter, the greatsword shrank, twisting into a spear that shot forward like a viper. Zenon barely managed to sidestep, feeling the sharp edge graze past his cheek. But the attack didn’t stop.

The moment the spear missed, it melted back into the crimson mist, reshaping into a set of blood-forged daggers that shot toward him like homing projectiles.

Zenon twisted his body mid-air, slashing two of the daggers aside, but one cut across his shoulder, drawing blood. He landed in a crouch, eyes narrowing. He can attack from any angle at any time.

The Gate Boss chuckled. “Impressive reflexes. But how long can you keep up?”

Raising his hand, the blood mist swirled, forming multiple tendrils that surged forward like whips. At the same time, weapons emerged from the mist—lances, swords, and even chains, all striking in unison from different directions.

Zenon leaped backward, dodging the first wave, but the chains snapped toward his ankle, forcing him to s***h downward to break free. As he did, the Gate Boss closed the gap, forming a twin-bladed axe and bringing it down with overwhelming force.

Zenon barely managed to parry, but the sheer power sent him skidding back. He exhaled sharply, his mind racing. He's not just changing weapons randomly—he’s adjusting to my every move.

The Gate Boss smirked, his weapons shifting again, this time into a massive spiked flail. With a flick of his wrist, the chain extended unnaturally, the heavy spiked head whipping toward Zenon with crushing force.

Zenon dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding the ground-shattering impact. But as soon as he did, a thin crimson rapier formed in the Gate Boss’s other hand, stabbing straight at him.

Zenon barely managed to block, but the moment their weapons connected, the rapier melted, reshaping into a clawed gauntlet that clamped onto his sword, locking them together.

“Checkmate,” the Gate Boss whispered.

From behind Zenon, the blood surged, forming jagged spikes aimed directly at his back.