Demon Bible

Chapter 167: No One Can Deny That a Bud Is Still a Flower

"I don't want to die!" his will to live roared.

Even though he had practically thrown himself into death's embrace, Fass realized in this fleeting moment that he absolutely refused to die. At the very least, he shouldn't die like this.

Aside from his own desperation to survive, Fass sensed other wills to live.

They belonged to the fragmented souls existing within their collective symbiosis.

These fragments existed in a symbiotic state with Fass, their very survival entirely dependent on the Berserk Accessory.

If Fass perished, so would they.

Their shared desire to live resonated deeply within him. In that split second, it felt as though Fass had finally found the key to shatter the barrier holding him back.

The key slid into the lock. His Mental Power rapidly resonated, desperately searching for a path to the future.

Yet, in the final fraction of a second before success, something went wrong.

The deeper the Mental Power resonated, the more intense the exchange of information became.Those fractured souls lacked the capacity for complex thought, but through their mental exchange with Fass, they suddenly realized a glaring truth: they were already dead.

They were nothing more than residual fragments. In all likelihood, they had once been Fass's enemies. Their primary consciousnesses had long since departed, leaving only lingering husks drawn in by the Berserk Accessory.

Since they were already dead, why should they cooperate with him?

This stray thought acted as an impurity. At the most critical juncture, the metaphorical key forged from pure instinct became flawed.

With a sharp snap, it broke.

The Source Origin of power that had been opening up to Fass immediately severed.

In the physical world, the Dark Aura enveloping Fass had been rapidly transforming, shifting from a dull black into a brilliant, metallic obsidian.

But in the next instant, the transformation completely stalled.

Following that, a torrential barrage of Spells rained down upon him.

First came a blinding pillar of light crashing down from the heavens.

The Dark Aura clinging to his flesh was instantly purged. Then, glowing swords shot through the air from a distance, ruthlessly impaling his body.

Fass's survival instincts screamed at him to flee, but the Ascetic Paladin, despite being caught in the crossfire of the Spells, violently suppressed his own natural reflexes and swung his sword once more.

There was nothing exceptionally flashy about the Blade Edge; it was just a pure, unadulterated horizontal slash.

"Argh!" Fass barely managed a single cry before an agonizing hollowness registered in his mind. A piece of his body was missing.

His leg had been cleanly severed.

Perhaps the sheer agony managed to squeeze out the last dregs of his potential. A sudden burst of Mental Power propelled his mutilated body forward, launching him several meters away.

Behind him, the Ascetic Paladin prepared to press the attack, only to suddenly feel an agonizing pain wracking his entire body.

He glanced down. A dense cluster of Steel Orbs was physically tearing its way out from inside his flesh.

During that critical exchange, Fass's Mental Power had forcefully expelled the masked enemy's control over the projectiles. He had hijacked the Steel Orbs, driving them into the Ascetic Paladin's back and thoroughly perforating his internal organs.

The Ascetic Paladin gripping his Longsword did not utter a single sound. He stubbornly raised his blade again, but before he could swing, he collapsed heavily to the ground.

The Steel Orbs immediately zipped back, swirling around Fass to form a makeshift protective barrier.

"Am I... going to die here?" Fass muttered as he dragged himself backward. For the first time, he could acutely sense the chilling Aura of Death breathing down his neck.

Up until now, he had certainly been walking a tightrope, but Spells and raw power had buffered the true peril. It had granted him a false sense of security—a delusion that as long as he made the right moves, he would achieve victory and survive.

Even when he realized his enemies might summon a Golden Rank powerhouse, that looming death had still felt like a distant, future problem.

But right now, at this very second, the reaper was standing right in front of him.

From his heavy injuries to his severed leg, his Mental Power had been bled completely dry.

He was in abysmal shape.

The pillar of light had purified a significant portion of his symbiotic souls.

With the loss of those entities, his Attribute Value had plummeted, and his Mental Power simply wasn't enough to sustain him anymore.

"And I still have so many enemies left." His vision began to blur and double. The black-masked figures multiplied from three to six, and then to a dizzying swarm.

In the distance, even more reinforcements seemed to be closing in.

Fass finally understood. He wasn't some protagonist favored by Heaven's Mandate. He couldn't manifest miracles out of thin air.

Or rather, managing to defeat the Iron Rank masked enemy earlier was the only miracle he was ever going to get.

Being overwhelmed and defeated by these elite Ascetic Priests was, realistically, the only logical outcome.

He just failed to pull off a second miracle.

Suffocating despair crushed his heart.

"I failed," Fass whispered, his spirit completely broken.

"I am aware," Nemus's voice echoed in his mind at that exact moment.

"Lord Nemus... have you come to collect my soul?" Fass asked softly.

"No. I am simply here to witness the withering of a flower," Nemus replied without hesitation.

In that moment, Fass truly understood what Nemus meant by that.

"Does a failure like me even count as a flower?" Fass wasn't even sure if his body was still dodging or blocking the barrage of attacks from the masked enemies.

The deafening roar of the battlefield had faded into complete silence.

"You merely failed to bloom," Nemus stated, his firm voice piercing through Fass's clouded mind.

"But no one can deny that a Bud is still a flower."

With just those few words, Fass felt a sudden jolt. His slipping sanity began to anchor itself once more.

He might have failed, but that didn't mean he had lost.

At the very least, he hadn't surrendered his own life.

"Thank you, Lord Nemus," Fass murmured. He tried to open his eyes, only to realize his vision was entirely gone. His eyes had been completely ruined.

Forced to rely on his mind, Fass pushed out a battered wave of perception from his mangled body to grasp his surroundings.

"Stop!" Isabella's desperate shout echoed in the distance.

The agonizing sear of scorching flames licked at his skin.

He was already knocking on death's door.

Gathering his final drops of Mental Power and the lingering remnants of his symbiotic souls, he initiated one last, desperate resonance.

That meager spark of Mental Power suddenly erupted into a violent, turbulent shockwave.

The sheer intensity of the disturbance instantly drew everyone's attention.

"What I will display here... is the resonance and Evolution of the soul!" His trembling spirit translated his sheer will into a final, resounding roar.

What followed was true Evolution, born from the absolute resonance of Mental Power.

The thin veil of Dark Aura surrounding Fass instantly transmuted, shifting into a heavy, metallic black.

The exact moment anyone laid eyes on it, a single indomitable word seared itself into their minds—Iron.

Hovering constantly on the precipice of life and death, tempered through absolute blood and hellfire, Fass utilized his indomitable spirit to finally unify every single entity within his collective symbiosis.

The fractured key slid perfectly into the equally shattered lock.

And with a resounding click, it turned.

Blind in both eyes, missing a leg, and coated in his own blood, Fass stood at the absolute epicenter of the battlefield.

The masked executioners, along with Isabella and the others who had rushed to the scene, were all reduced to mere spectators.

Forced to witness Fass's final, magnificent bloom.