Creation Of All Things-Chapter 107: The True Might Of Wraith 2

Adam rolled his shoulders, taking a step forward. "Same."

"But unfortunately," he said with a smirk, "you won't be fighting me."

Before Malakar could react, Adam snapped his fingers.

Space twisted.

In an instant, both of them vanished from the Voidstrider, reappearing in the endless void of space.

Malakar barely had time to process the sudden shift before he realized something even more unsettling.

Adam took a deep breath—in space.

There was no air, yet he breathed like it didn't matter. More than that, his expression shifted slightly, like he had just tasted something he had been craving.

"So much more of it here…" Adam muttered to himself. Whatever "it" was, it clearly had nothing to do with Malakar.

But Malakar didn't care. His instincts screamed at him. This wasn't right.

Adam waved his hand, and a portal tore open in the void.

A pulse of sheer terror rippled through space. Malakar felt his entire body lock up as an aura unlike anything he had ever felt poured out of the portal.

Something was stepping through.

Malakar saw red eyes first. Cold. Predatory. Ancient.

And then he understood.

"A… vampire…?" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

No. Not just any vampire.

An Ancient.

The moment the figure emerged completely, the universe itself shuddered.

Malakar felt it. Every being within this sector of space felt it. This wasn't just a powerful creature appearing.

This was something far worse.

Malakar floated backward instinctively, his hands trembling as the realization hit him.

"The birth of a Monarch…"

His voice was hollow. He had seen powerful beings before. He had fought against the best. But this?

This was death incarnate.

---

The Stages of a Vampire's Power

Vampires were not simple creatures. Their power was not just measured by strength alone but by age—by how long they had survived and evolved past their natural limits.

Fledgling (0-100 years) – The weakest stage. Barely above humans. They needed to feed constantly and were vulnerable to most weaknesses.

Bloodborn (100-500 years) – More refined, faster, and stronger. They could begin to control lesser vampires and develop their abilities.

Elder (500-1000 years) – These vampires had transcended mortal limitations, their bodies near indestructible, their regeneration nearly absolute.

Ancient (1000+ years) – The rarest kind. Beings that had seen empires rise and fall. A single Ancient could topple civilizations.

Monarch – A title not given but earned. When an Ancient or any being of any species in the universe reached a power that even the universe itself recognized, they became a Monarch. A sovereign of vampires. A walking disaster.

And standing before Malakar was not just an Ancient.

The universe itself had confirmed it.

This was a Monarch.

And Malakar… was just another insect in his presence.

The air—no, the very fabric of space itself—trembled.

Malakar could barely move. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey. It wasn't fear. It was something deeper. Something primal.

It was submission.

The universe had acknowledged the being before him, and in doing so, had already declared his place beneath it.

Wraith stepped forward, and with that simple motion, the void itself seemed to warp around him. It wasn't teleportation. It was as if space itself was bending to accommodate him.

Then it began.

The transformation.

A pulse of energy burst from his body. Silent, yet deafening.

Cracks spread through the void like shattered glass, glowing with an eerie crimson hue. It was as if reality itself was struggling to contain what was happening.

Malakar's breath hitched.

Wraith's body shifted, his aura expanding, condensing, then expanding again—a storm of raw power breaking every law Malakar understood.

His skin darkened, shadows clinging to him like a living armor. His fingernails sharpened, morphing into obsidian claws. His hair lengthened, strands flowing like liquid midnight, glowing with streaks of deep red.

But it was his eyes that sent terror drilling into Malakar's soul.

Pure crimson.

They weren't just glowing. They were burning, like twin eclipses that swallowed all light.

A crown of black and red energy materialized above his head, shifting and warping like it was alive. Not a physical object, but a manifestation of his status.

His transformation wasn't just power.

It was recognition.

The universe had crowned its newest Monarch.

Malakar gasped as an unseen force pushed him backward, his entire body rejecting the very presence of the being before him.

It wasn't just fear anymore.

It was the realization that he did not belong in the same space as Wraith.

The Monarch had ascended.

---

The transformation was not just seen. It was felt.

Across the galaxy, beings of power snapped their heads up in shock.

In the Origin Academy, alarms blared as ancient sensors—ones that had remained silent for millennia—suddenly flared to life.

In forgotten corners of space, slumbering monsters stirred, their instincts warning them of a new predator.

Even the stars themselves seemed to dim, as if bowing to the presence of their new ruler.

And through it all, Wraith simply raised a hand, curling his fingers into a loose fist.

A test.

The void responded.

A gravitational force stronger than any black hole rippled outward.

Malakar's body folded in on itself for a moment, his bones creaking under an invisible pressure before Wraith simply—let go.

The force vanished instantly, leaving Malakar gasping, floating aimlessly in space.

His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

But deep down, he knew.

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He was already dead.

He just hadn't been killed yet.

And that decision?

It belonged to the Monarch of Vampires.

Wraith rolled his shoulders, feeling the surge of power coursing through him. His crimson eyes gleamed with a newfound brilliance, and his presence alone seemed to bend space around him. He exhaled slowly, savoring the moment.

"Ahh… it feels good to be back at full strength," he said, flexing his fingers as dark energy crackled around them like living shadows.

Then, he turned to Adam.

Adam was watching him—arms crossed, expression unreadable. But Wraith could tell.

Even with all his power, Adam wasn't surprised. If anything, there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Adam smirked.

A Monarch.

Wraith was on a different level now. And the best part?

He was Adam's subordinate.

"Yeah, yeah. Now go handle that guy," Adam said lazily, waving a hand in Malakar's direction. "And after that, clean up the rest of those Abyssborn Ravagers."

Without another word, Adam shifted his posture, floating effortlessly into a lotus position. His body hovered in the void, completely relaxed.

Wraith narrowed his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Adam closed his eyes, inhaling deeply—as if he were taking in something beyond the physical.

"There's something weird in this space," Adam murmured. "I've felt it before, back at the academy… but here, it's stronger. I'm trying to harness it."

He smirked. "And if memory serves me right, the best way to do that… is through cultivation."

For a second, Wraith just stared at him.

Then his expression darkened.

His frown deepened, crimson eyes flickering.

A chill spread through the void.

"Don't. Don't do it."

The weight in his voice wasn't a warning.

It was a command.

For the first time since Wraith's transformation, Adam cracked open one eye, looking at him with mild amusement.

"Oh?"

Something about the way Wraith said it…

Something about the way his energy shifted…

Even in his ascended state, Monarch or not…

Wraith was worried.

And that was interesting.

Very interesting.