The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Deiora’s cold gaze settled on Franc, the human who had dared to intercept his fist. A flicker of amusement passed through his face as he studied the trembling blade locked against his knuckles.

”You?” Deiora’s voice rumbled, low and dismissive. ”You want to stop me? Stop dreaming.”

He pushed.

The force was immense—a sudden, brutal surge of power that drove through Franc’s guard like a battering ram through rotted wood. Franc’s arms screamed in protest, his muscles burning, his bones creaking under the weight of the demon’s strength.

”Kuh—!” Franc’s teeth clenched, his internal voice a sharp, desperate cry. ’His strength is overwhelming! I can’t hold him—!’

The blade shattered.

Sparks of broken steel scattered across the clearing, fragments of Franc’s sword spinning through the air like dying stars. Franc’s eyes widened, his body still braced against the force of the impact—

And then Deiora’s fist drove through the remnants of his guard, slamming into his chest with devastating force.

Franc flew backward, his body tumbling across the blood-soaked earth before skidding to a halt near Reith’s feet. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps, blood already pooling beneath him, his arms bent at unnatural angles.

”FRANC!” Bianca’s voice cracked with panic, her hands already weaving through the air as she sprinted toward him.

Reith was already there, dropping to his knees beside Franc, his hands hovering over the broken soldier’s body with desperate uncertainty.

”Hey! Franc! Stay with me!”

Franc’s gaze was distant, unfocused, his voice barely a whisper.

”Reith... get them out of here...”

Reith’s hands clenched into fists, his voice cracking with fury.

”I’m not leaving you behind!”

Deiora’s footsteps echoed through the clearing, slow and deliberate, each one a countdown to the inevitable. His voice drifted over, low and mocking.

”How weak. Have humans still not evolved at all?”

Reith’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with defiant fury.

”Shut your mouth, you bastard!”

Deiora’s head tilted, a flicker of amusement passing through his cold eyes. His voice carried a note of genuine curiosity.

”You’re still eager to fight? Even after seeing what happened to your comrade?” He gestured at Franc’s broken form. ”He’s barely alive and you still want to challenge me? Your body is trembling, your mind is telling you to run and yet you stand there, ready to throw your life away.” He paused, his smile widening. ”Do all humans have such a death wish? Or is it just the ones who are too stupid to know when they’re beaten?”

Reith’s hands clenched into fists, his body trembling with rage.

’This bastard... he’s mocking us—’

A hand caught his shoulder.

Franc’s voice was barely a whisper, each word a struggle against the darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.

”Don’t... Reith... don’t be stupid...”

”But you—”

Franc’s grip tightened, just for a moment. His voice was steadier than it should have been.

”The commander... is still... counting on you. Get her out... and get out yourself. That’s... an order.”

Deiora’s voice carried across the clearing, low and mocking, each word a deliberate strike against the soldiers’ crumbling resolve.

”Truly, the spirit of a leader. But what a shame, it’s not backed by strength. You should realize by now that you are like this because you are weak.”

Reith’s hands trembled at his sides, his voice cracking with barely contained fury.

”Shut up.”

Deiora’s smile widened, his gaze sweeping over the broken soldiers with cold contempt.

”With that kind of power, you want to fight me? It seems this generation of humans has honed their cowardice more than their strength.”

”I said shut up!!!” Reith shouted.

His aura erupted in a blaze of silver light, a shockwave of pure will that sent dust and debris scattered in all directions. The ground beneath his feet cracked, and his eyes blazed with a fire that had nothing to do with skill or training.

It was the fire of a man who had nothing left to lose.

Deiora’s eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of genuine interest passing through his eyes.

”Ah... so you do have some fight left in you.”

Reith’s voice was low, steady, carrying the weight of absolute conviction.

”I don’t care if I’m weak. I don’t care if I lose. But I will not stand by and watch while you mock my comrades. If that makes me a fool, then so be it.”

He stepped forward, his aura blazing brighter, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

”I’m going to make you regret ever underestimating us.”

Deiora’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with interest.

”Then let’s see if that conviction can survive my fist.”

The distance between them vanished in an instant.

Deiora’s fist shot forward, aimed directly at Reith’s chest—a strike that had shattered shields, broken blades, and crushed the bones of warriors far stronger than the human before him.

Reith’s body reacted before his mind could catch up. He twisted, the fist passing inches from his ribs, close enough that he felt the wind of its passage ruffle his clothes. He retaliated, his own fist driving toward Deiora’s exposed side.

It struck and stopped.

Deiora’s hand had caught it. His massive fingers wrapped around Reith’s fist like a vice, the golden veins along his arm pulsing with contained power. His voice was low, almost pitying.

”Pathetic.”

He squeezed.

Reith’s breath caught, his vision swimming as pain lanced through his hand, his wrist, his arm. But he neither cried out nor begged. His eyes, blazing with defiant fire, met Deiora’s cold gaze without flinching.

Deiora’s grin widened.

”Good. Those eyes. That’s the look of someone who refuses to break, I like it!”

His other fist drew back, golden energy gathering at its core, ready to strike.

But Bianca’s barrier snapped into place around Reith just as Deiora’s fist descended.

BOOM!

The impact shattered the barrier, but it had done its job. The force of the blow was redirected, sending Reith stumbling back, his body still intact.

Bianca’s voice rose from behind him, ”Reith! Fall back—”

Deiora’s hand shot out, grabbing Bianca by the throat and lifting her off the ground before she could finish her sentence.

Her feet kicked uselessly in the air, her hands clawing at his grip.

”Bianca!” Reith’s voice cracked with fury.

Deiora’s gaze shifted to her, cold and dismissive.

”Mages are always the most annoying. Always hiding behind their barriers and spells, never facing the consequences of their actions.”

Reith lunged forward, his fist already cocked back, his voice a raw, desperate snarl.

”Let her go!!”

Deiora’s free hand shot out, catching Reith by the throat. Both of them now hung suspended, struggling against an impossible grip.

”Both of you,” Deiora murmured. ”So eager to die together.”

Then, a streak of crimson cut through the air like a blade, aimed directly at Deiora’s exposed flank. His eyes widened and he twisted, releasing both Reith and Bianca as he sidestepped the attack.

The two soldiers crashed to the ground, gasping, bloodied, but alive.

Deiora’s gaze followed the trajectory of the crimson strike, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him.

Lilith stood at the edge of the clearing, her fingers curled around threads that glowed with a faint, silver light. But it was what floated around her that caught his attention.

Fragments of Soulreaver, each one coated in a thin, shimmering layer of Isolde’s blood. The crimson liquid pulsed with dark energy, merging with the black steel to create something that hummed with both powers.

’What is that? I didn’t see it coming. Isolde’s blood... mixed with her threads and that black sword?’ Deiora thought.

Lilith’s voice drifted across the battlefield, light and mocking, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

”My, my... it seems you were quite afraid of my attack. Was it truly that terrifying that you doubted your Vajra Body?”

Her threads shot forward again, weaving a web of silver silk that wrapped around Deiora’s limbs, halting his movements for just a fraction of a second.

And in that fraction, the attack struck.

A deep gash carved across his chest, blood spraying from the wound. Deiora’s eyes widened, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips as he stumbled back, his hand pressing against the gash. The wound began to seal almost immediately, the flesh knitting together with a faint, sizzling hiss.

Deiora’s voice came out in a low, rumbling chuckle, his grin returning despite the pain.

”Haha! Attacks like this mean nothing.”

Lilith’s smile stayed in place. Her voice turned soft, deceptively gentle.

”I’m sorry, but that wasn’t the attack.”

Deiora’s eyes widened. His head snapped toward the source of the real threat.

’Shit! It was a feint!’

Isolde stood at the edge of the clearing, her Crown pulsing with dark, ancient light. The crimson flower at its peak had blackened, its petals shifting from deep red to an abyssal black that seemed to drink the light around it. Her hair, once crimson, had deepened into a rich, obsidian black that cascaded over her shoulders like liquid shadow.

She began to concentrate her ink into a single point, forming a chaotic vortex that distorted the space around it, while black petals swirled around the edges.

”[Black Rose Eternity].”