豆豆小说阅读

The progenitors huffed and puffed. The action against Beelzebub might have only lasted for about 10 seconds, but to them, it felt like an eternity. Not to mention, it took almost everything they had within themselves to put him down. The trio stared at the crimson sphere, inside which Beelzebub had been imprisoned.

[Blood Prison] was a technique Dracula had developed especially for scenarios like this, where capturing the target took precedence over ending them. However, even if that, he did not get to use it often because of two reasons.

Most of the targets died instantly because of the impact of the [Spear of Destruction]. Dracula had tried to use the skill without the [Spear of Destruction] but only to realise it wasn\'t possible. Using the spear was a necessary part to trigger the [Blood Prison].

One could think of it as a necessary chemical explosion which is necessary to trigger a nuclear bomb. Without the [Spear of Destruction], [Blood Prison] would not get triggered. It was as simple as that.

As for the second reason... [Blood Prison] Skill was yet to be perfected. The crimson sphere needed a continuous supply, you guessed it, blood. The sphere continuously syphoned off the blood of the one trapped inside to sustain itself and it wasn\'t a small amount either.

In the dozens of times, Dracula had used the skill before, even if the target somehow survived the [Spear of Destruction], they would not able to survive the ridiculous amount of blood loss they\'d incur later.

At the same time, the Prison wouldn\'t disappear until the caster want to. Essentially, turning the prison into an execution site. However, considering Beelzebub was in his demonic form when the skill was triggered, he should be able to survive the skill.

"How long will it last?" Frank asked as his gauntlets turned into rubble.

"Long enough for us to recuperate while the bastard gets weaker and weaker." Dracula replied, "Don\'t sulk so much, you overgrown fur baby. We\'ll find the material to make those weapons again."

Lycaon nodded his head but otherwise remained silent. The weapons they lost were all made from the rarest of rare materials. Some of which were so rare, that they couldn\'t even be found in the intergalactic black market.

"Anyway, where is that kid?"

Now that the threat of Beelzebub had faded away, their focus turned towards Ashton. He was flung over by Beelzebub deeper into the forest, but it didn\'t seem like the Xyran intended on killing him. At first, they thought maybe Beelzebub knew that the one Lucifer had been helping was none other than Ashton.

But upon thinking about it closely, they realised if that were to be true, Ashton would have been killed long before they even arrived.

"But we can\'t deny that he might suspect something." Aamon who just got back to his sense, chimed in, "If he didn\'t, he would have once again killed all of them without a second thought."

"Since Beelzebub wouldn\'t talk for a while," Lycaon said, "talking to Ashton is our only choice. Aamon could you go, look for him-"

While they were talking, they heard a loud banging noise. Someone was banging their fists on something... and the sound was coming from within the sphere.

"What the hell? I thought he was supposed to be unconscious!"

Frank was bewildered. Their attack was the last arrow in their quiver. If it failed, nothing would be able to stop Beelzebub from destroying the entire planet in search of Astaroth.

"The prison should still hold him back, right?"

Lycaon tried his best not to show any signs of distress, but it was clear he was panicking as well.

"I-I don\'t know... It should!" Dracula replied.

Honestly, nothing was going according to their plan. However, since the prison\'s strength depended on the one being held inside, theoretically speaking, it should never break. However, that did not seem to be the case anymore.

Soon cracks began appearing on the sphere\'s surface and a moment later, it was shattered. What followed next was truly a sight of horror.

Beelzebub stood in front of them, a fountain of blood dripping through his mouth. His Demonic form was more or less gone, with only patches remaining here and there. His entire body appeared as if he had just come out of an experimental session with a mad scientist.

Huge chunks of his flesh were missing from his face, torso, and even one of his legs, exposing his body to the outer world. His left hand was missing, and so was his left wing. Yet, he was... alive and angrier than he had ever been.

It seemed the spear did not hit the centre like Dracula had planned and his aim was sightly a bit off.  It would explain why Beelzebub was still conscious since Dracula failed to do his job properly.

"You... are dead." Beelzebub hissed at them.

Suddenly, a sword appeared in his hands. It wasn\'t anything that any of them had seen before. However, the moment Aamon saw the sword, he recognised it.

"Good lord... no... not this..." He mumbled instinctively.

The low-ranking members of the Xyran society had only heard myths and stories about how the Xyran nobles were born with a small black and veiny sword with them. It was the only way of recognising who was a noble and who wasn\'t as being a Xyran noble was based on capability and not heritage.

The sword or the \'Mournblade\' was the only sign to point at this \'heritage\'. In stories, it was also said that even though the Mournblade was bounded to its user from birth, the owner could not use it whenever they wished.

Instead, soon after birth, the blade assimilated itself and became one with its owner. Only to reappear when their owner\'s life was in grave danger. Nevertheless, since the tale seemed to be too far-fetched, everyone except the nobles thought it was a myth.

The lower class was sure this myth about Mournblade was merely a trick to keep the commoners from entering the noble council. Aamon was one who believe that to be the case. It also made sense how Beelzebub was able to escape the [Blood Prison].

The Mournblade must have eaten away the curse, freeing Beelzebub from his captivity.