Chapter 133: Death and Rebirth

A flash of realization.

Thinking of the secret reports brought by the Raven Spirit Envoys, the giant mouth on Zyra’s abdomen suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

Her entire body swelled noticeably.

“It’s you??? You actually used a *puff-puff* to impersonate the Demon King???”

Zyra stared at Jon, her voice shrill and piercing.

Jon said nothing.

He simply tore a heavy stone pillar from the banquet hall and held it like a convenient blunt weapon, preparing to smash Zyra into minced flesh.

Ever since experiencing Demon King Liana’s “one-thousand-seven-hundred-way escape route,” he had developed considerable patience and meticulousness when dealing with enemies possessing powerful regeneration.

However… before Jon could strike again, something unexpected happened.

As a massive amount of shadow power poured in wildly, Zyra’s shadow began expanding rapidly, showing signs of restless agitation.

At first Zyra could barely suppress it, but after the hero’s soul-shaking punch had just stripped away a large portion of her vitality, she discovered in terror that the shadow was breaking free from her control—turning the tables on her.

**Boom—**

Not a physical explosion, but a thunderclap that detonated deep within the soul.

The shadow beneath Zyra’s feet completely violated the laws of light and shade.

Like boiling black asphalt, it churned violently and flowed upward into the sky.

It was no longer a flat projection, but like a gate torn open to the underworld.

From that rift slowly rose a gigantic demon made entirely of pure darkness.

It was enormous—so large that it nearly filled the entire banquet hall.

Even Zyra, whose body had already swollen to four or five meters tall, looked like a dwarf before it.

She had to crane her neck painfully just to glimpse its full form.

Its body was built from countless twisted faces of suffering souls.

Every inch of its “skin” streamed with darker-than-night black mist, as if it wore a crown and robe woven from despair.

Upon its mountain-broad shoulders there was no head—only a vague mass of black fog.

And deep within the fog, two cold, emotionless pale ghostly flames slowly ignited, like beacons in the abyss.

It merely stood there, yet the surrounding space began to groan under the strain.

The ground cracked inch by inch.

Rubble defied gravity and floated upward, only to silently crumble into dust the moment it touched the black mist around it.

The gigantic shadow demon slowly raised one hand.

The pitch-black shadow claw did not reach for Jon.

Instead, it slowly extended toward Zyra.

Closing in, inch by inch.

Zyra stared at it in terror, her body trembling like a sieve as she forced out a final roar of defiance:

“No! You can’t do this! You are my shadow! You should obey my command! I am the demon who has regained eternal life!”

“No…”

From deep within the fog came a voice—Zyra’s voice, yet carrying a strange trace of mockery.

“I am Zyra. The real Zyra. Not a rotting piece of flesh about to decay.”

Zyra’s heart went cold.

Using Zyra’s tone, the shadow demon pronounced calmly:

“In this world, only death is eternal. Only the god of death lives forever. Death is the rebirth we must face—and the final step of this ritual.”

“I—”

Zyra suddenly broke down in tears.

If she had possessed the courage to face death, why would she have abandoned everything and pledged herself to the God of the Underworld?

The shadow claw did not violently pierce her chest.

Instead, it rested quietly against her forehead.

All her magical power—whether bestowed by the demon god or cultivated through her own effort—burst forth like a broken dam, greedily absorbed by her own shadow.

Her twisted, swollen body rapidly withered, weakened, and shrank.

Excess flesh turned to ash and merged into the shadow.

In the end, where Zyra once stood remained only a frail, emaciated old crone who looked as though a gust of wind could topple her.

The old woman wept uncontrollably, tears and mucus flowing together.

Her cloudy eyes trembled, and her pale cracked lips quivered—but she could not utter a single sound.

Meanwhile, the massive body of the shadow demon gradually compressed and condensed, finally transforming into a humanoid figure.

Like Maeve, the figure appeared strangely disjointed, as if made from layers of illusory light and shadow.

She possessed an appearance even more beautiful than Zyra in her youth.

Her thin lips curved upward in a faint smile, exuding a vibrant confidence and wicked charm.

The newly born shadow demon looked down at the old crone with pity, her face openly filled with mockery.

“Oh? Look at you—such a body. Hated by man and dog alike. How ugly. How pitiful.”

The old crone could only cry helplessly.

“Hehe~”

Shadow-demon Zyra laughed lightly, not even bothering to deal with this useless shell.

Within a few hours, without magical protection, the original body would simply die of old age.

She turned and walked toward Jon.

Her steps were light and graceful, her posture elegant, and her eyes brimmed with a dazzling yet frivolous enthusiasm.

“O handsome sir,” she said with a charming smile.

“I have no intention of being your enemy.”

Jon’s expression did not change.

He simply stepped back silently, widening the distance between himself and the shadow demon approaching deliberately.

Shadow-demon Zyra tilted her face upward, her voice turning pitiful and coquettish.

“I simply need these sacrifices. Would you be willing to make a deal with me? Trade these sacrifices… for me. My loyalty, my power, even…”

“My everything~”

She slowly extended her illusory slender hand, attempting to stroke Jon’s cold helmet.

But the next second—

Jon’s iron fist struck mercilessly, piercing through her chest.

However, that steady, powerful blow hit nothing.

It simply passed meaninglessly through light and shadow.

Shadow-demon Zyra looked down at Jon’s armored arm embedded within her phantom chest and laughed again.

This time, her laughter carried a biting chill.

“I acknowledge your strength.”

“But here—this is my domain. This is my ascension ritual.”

“And above the sky, watching you and me… is the god I serve!”

“Pay the price for your arrogance!”

Shadow-demon Zyra shouted sharply, striking a pose as if preparing to fight the hero to the death.

Surging shadows spread outward like a tidal wave, swallowing every source of light in an instant.

The entire castle plunged into pitch-black darkness.

Yet within this endless darkness, the shadow demon did not attack the hero.

Instead, she commanded countless shadow claws to frantically strike toward the sacrifices and her original body.

Kill the old “me,” and a new “me” will be born.

The ascension ritual will be complete.

When that happens, all things from the mortal realm that were swallowed here will be rejected by the rules and sent back to their original places.

—End the ritual quickly, and use the rules to send the hero back to the mortal world.

That was her true plan.

What a joke! She had only just been reborn, finally obtaining the eternal life she had dreamed of.

Only a madwoman would choose to fight this monster of a hero head-on!

**“Hehe~ I absolutely must survive!”**

In the darkness, the shadow demon couldn’t help revealing a sly smile of triumph, believing her plan had succeeded.