The Strongest S-Ranker

Unique Gate [18]

An average adult human has approximately 4.5 to 5.5 liters of blood in their body. But vampires are different.

Their bodies contain a vast reservoir of blood—nearly four times that of a human.

With that advantage, the Gate Boss possessed an immense pool of blood to fuel his ever-shifting arsenal.

Zenon barely evaded the jagged spikes surging toward him from behind, twisting his body at the last second to avoid being impaled. The Gate Boss wasn’t just a brute—he was adapting, controlling the battlefield with his shifting weapons and relentless attacks.

Zenon exhaled sharply. Guerilla tactics won’t work anymore. His weapons are too unpredictable.

His grip on his sword tightened. No choice, then… I’ll strike back.

He lunged forward, blade gleaming under the bloodstained sky.

Zenon charged, his blade flashing as he closed the distance in an instant. The Gate Boss responded just as swiftly—his scythe of blood morphed, shifting from its curved form into a massive greatsword, meeting Zenon’s strike with a deafening clash.

Sparks flew as steel met hardened blood, the sheer force of their collision sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Zenon pushed forward, his muscles tensed with raw strength, but the Gate Boss grinned, his weapon already shifting again.

The greatsword fractured into countless crimson shards, scattering like razors in every direction. Zenon barely had time to react—he twisted his body mid-air, his sword deflecting as many projectiles as possible, but a few managed to graze his arm and leg, drawing thin trails of blood.

The Gate Boss pressed his advantage. He raised a hand, and the scattered blood responded, forming into twin spears that shot toward Zenon like crimson bolts.

Zenon spun, his blade a blur as he cut through one spear and sidestepped the other. His foot slammed into the ground, propelling him forward with explosive speed. Closing the gap, he feinted left before twisting his sword into a precise upward s***h aimed at the Gate Boss’s chest.

For the first time, the vampire flinched.

Zenon’s blade struck true—only for it to be stopped by a shield that formed from the Gate Boss’s own blood at the last second. The impact sent ripples through the crimson mass, but the shield held.

The vampire laughed. “Good! That’s more like it!”

Without warning, the shield reshaped into dozens of writhing tendrils, snapping toward Zenon like striking vipers.

Zenon gritted his teeth, slicing through them with rapid, precise movements, but for every tendril he cut, another took its place. The Gate Boss was relentless, his arsenal limitless as long as he had blood to manipulate.

Zenon narrowed his eyes. Then I’ll just have to drain him dry.

With a burst of mana, he dashed past the tendrils, his sword cloaked in energy as he aimed a powerful strike straight at the Gate Boss’s core.

Zenon took a deep breath, gripping his sword tightly. If he couldn't rely on guerilla tactics, he'd have to overwhelm the Gate Boss with sheer speed and precision.

He shifted his stance, tapping into a technique from his past life.

“Ghostblade Technique: Rising Storm Cloud.”

A surge of silver energy formed around him, condensing into wisps of swirling clouds. In a single swift motion, he swung his sword upward—crescent-shaped energy blades erupted from the arc, slicing through the air with incredible speed toward the Gate Boss.

[ Ghostblade Technique ]

A sword technique that relies on overwhelming speed, allowing the user to strike with relentless precision before the enemy can react.

The crescent blades of energy streaked through the battlefield, cutting through the crimson mist like a storm tearing through the night.

The Gate Boss narrowed his glowing red eyes, raising his hand. The blood around him surged in response, twisting into a jagged barrier of hardened crimson. The energy blades clashed against it, sending ripples of force through the air. Some broke through, slashing past his defenses and carving deep gashes into his body.

But the Gate Boss didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned.

"Not bad," he mused, stepping forward as his wounds sealed almost instantly. "But you’ll have to do better than that."

With a flick of his wrist, the pool of blood beneath him shifted once more. A massive greatsword formed in his grip—its surface rippling like liquid yet as sharp as the finest steel.

Without warning, he lunged, bringing the colossal blade down in a crushing arc.

Zenon barely managed to sidestep, the sheer force of the strike shattering the ground where he stood moments ago. The shockwave sent debris flying, but Zenon didn't waver. Instead, he used the opening to counterattack.

He vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing behind the Gate Boss with his sword already swinging.

"Ghostblade Technique: Piercing Wind!"

A concentrated thrust shot forward like a silver lance, aiming straight for the vampire's heart.

But just before it could land, the Gate Boss twisted unnaturally, his entire form liquefying for a split second. Zenon's attack passed harmlessly through a shifting mass of blood.

The Gate Boss reformed behind him in an instant, his greatsword morphing mid-swing into a long, serrated whip. It lashed out at Zenon, the bladed tendrils moving with lethal precision.

Zenon barely managed to parry the first strike, but the whip’s ever-changing shape made it difficult to predict. A second lash caught his arm, slicing through his coat and drawing blood.

"Tch…" Zenon clicked his tongue, leaping backward to create distance.

The Gate Boss chuckled. "You're fast, but The Endless is ever-changing. No matter how sharp your blade is, can it cut through something with no fixed form?"

The blood weapon coiled and shifted again, transforming into a rain of countless crimson needles that shot toward Zenon like a storm of daggers.

Zenon exhaled sharply, gripping his sword tighter. The crimson storm of needles hurtled toward him, each one laced with deadly precision.

"Spatial Rift."

A fracture in space cracked open before him—a shimmering diamond void that swallowed the incoming attack whole, nullifying the deadly projectiles before they could even reach him.

The Gate Boss raised an eyebrow. "Interesting…"

Zenon didn’t give him time to react. He leaped into the air, his sword flashing as he swung multiple times, each s***h sending out massive crescent-shaped blades of energy.

The Gate Boss responded instantly, his control over [ The Endless ] is absolute. The pool of blood beneath him surged upward at his command, forming towering spikes that shielded him from the oncoming barrage. The crescent blades struck the crimson barrier, carving deep gouges into it, but the defense held firm.

Zenon landed atop one of the hardened spikes just as the Gate Boss dispersed his shield, allowing the blood to return to its liquid form.

For a brief moment, both warriors stood still, catching their breath. The toll of their relentless attacks was evident—both had expended immense amounts of magical energy, and while neither would admit it, fatigue was creeping in.

The silence stretched between them, the air thick with tension. Then, Zenon broke it.

“What happened to you?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it. “And why do you know about the Devil Possessed?”

The Gate Boss, still catching his breath, smirked but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at Zenon, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“To be honest…” He paused, as if searching for the right words.

Zenon narrowed his eyes.

“To be honest, I don’t know.” The Gate Boss replied.

Zenon’s grip on his sword tightened. “You don’t know?”

The Gate Boss let out a slow breath, his usual smirk giving way to something more solemn. “I remember fragments… echoes of something long forgotten. But the full truth? It’s like trying to grasp mist with my hands.” He glanced at the blood dripping from his fingers, then back at Zenon. “We were erased. Our memories, our past—sealed away by something far beyond our understanding.”

Zenon narrowed his eyes. “Who sealed them?”

The Gate Boss chuckled darkly. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He gestured vaguely to the ruins around them. “Centuries have passed, and yet no matter how much we dig, the truth remains buried. But you…” His crimson gaze locked onto Zenon. “You have the key. The way you fight, your knowledge… I can feel it. You’ve seen more than you let on.”

Zenon remained silent. This vampire wasn’t just strong—he was perceptive.

The Gate Boss tilted his head. “Tell me, warrior… Do you believe in fate?”

Zenon scoffed. “Fate is an excuse for the weak. The strong carve their own path.”

The vampire grinned. “A fine answer. But what if that path has already been decided for you?” His voice grew quieter, almost distant. “What if we are all just pieces on a board, moved by unseen hands?”

Zenon exhaled, his mind drifting to the past—to his world, to the Seven Kings of Hell. The strings they pulled, the lives they toyed with. The sheer power they held.

“…I’ve seen what happens when beings beyond human comprehension decide to meddle in fate,” Zenon said, his voice steady. “And I’ve seen how those who defy them are erased.”

The Gate Boss’s expression flickered, a shadow of recognition passing over his features—but it was gone before Zenon could place it.

“…Then you understand,” the vampire said, gripping his weapon. The Endless pulsed, shifting into twin blades. “If you truly wish to defy that fate, show me.”

Zenon’s stance hardened. The brief moment of conversation was over.

This battle was no longer just about survival.

"Let's wager our souls and see who claims the truth," the Gate Boss declared, his crimson eyes gleaming. His words carried an unspoken challenge—whoever emerged victorious might be the one to uncover everything.