The Second Supreme Monarch lifted his hand slowly, staring at it in pure disbelief. His once crimson pupils, now pitch black, studied his rough, darkened hand, the flesh coated in a faint sheen of chaos energy. His nails had stretched into wicked talons, curving like blades ready to tear through existence itself. He shifted his perception, letting his gaze sweep over his entire being. What stared back at him was not the proud figure of the Vampire Monarch he once was, but a monstrous reflection of despair and ruin.

He stood stunned, shocked, and utterly devastated.

He could feel it. The foreign, chaotic energy swirling restlessly within his core, waiting to be tapped, waiting to be commanded. Every beat of his heart, every breath, was a cruel reminder of what he had become. At this very moment, he was caught in a storm of existential torment. He had become the very thing he hated. The very thing he had sworn across countless centuries to eradicate.

What should he do now? End himself? Tear out his core and let his existence dissolve into the void? Should he commit suicide to escape this sick, poetic punishment?

His thoughts trembled back into the past. Memories flickered like dying embers, the era when he was still a vampire of unparalleled grace and power. He remembered the thrill of controlling blood with effortless majesty, the intoxicating feeling of draining life from his prey, the hundreds of vampire women who worshipped his stamina... name, the centuries spent bathing in pride, lust, and supremacy. He remembered his ascension to Supreme Monarch, the moment he transcended mortality to touch the stars.

Now, it was all gone. His legacy, his pride, his very identity, gone.

He had lost everything. Who he was. What he was. Why he was. None of it remained. Everything that defined him had been erased completely, rewritten by the will of a nineteen year old child.

The Second Supreme Monarch was sure that in all his existence, he had never encountered anyone as wickedly creative or vengeful as this boy, Anthony.

"WHY?" His voice erupted like thunder, raw emotion shaking the air. "Why would you do something like this?! How could you do something like this?! Not even the Demons are this wicked, yet you—"

His sentence ended abruptly.

Anthony's hand, which had never released his throat, tightened with chilling ease.

"Why ask stupid questions you already know the answer to, Demon," Anthony intoned, his voice cold and absolute.

The single word, "Demon," struck the Second Supreme Monarch like a divine curse. It reverberated in his ears, echoing like a thunderclap that shattered the remnants of his pride. Anthony, who had once called him "Second Supreme Monarch" or "Vampire," during their battle, now addressed him by what he had become.

It was no longer an insult; it was reality.

The Second Supreme Monarch's heart quivered, the weight of that word crushing his last shred of defiance. But Anthony's expression remained impassive, unfeeling, unreadable.

Without hesitation, Anthony activated Death Blesser. Instantly, a stream of glowing numbers, visible only to him, appeared above the Second Supreme Monarch's head. It was his lifespan, the measure of his existence.

Anthony's eyes narrowed. Then, without the slightest flicker of hesitation, he siphoned it.

A torrent of life essence and vitality slammed into Anthony's being. He felt it flood through him, warm, rich, and ancient. Within less than a heartbeat, his Beginning Of All Things Physique awakened, devouring the energy like an insatiable black hole, consuming every fragment of vitality and essence that poured from the former Vampire Monarch's existence.

The numbers above the Second Supreme Monarch's head began to plummet rapidly. One by one, the digits vanished, counting downward with merciless speed, from millions to hundreds of thousands, tens of thousands, thousands, hundreds, then mere decades. The years evaporated like mist before dawn. Yet the Second Supreme Monarch remained oblivious, unaware that the very threads of his life were unraveling before Anthony's eyes.

When the lifespan number reached one year, Anthony calmly deactivated Death Blesser, severing the connection.

Unlike before, when he had absorbed some vitality and broken through to a Planetary-level existence, this time, Anthony's rank did not rise. But that didn't matter. He could feel his lifespan stretching, lengthening beyond what it once was.

'At least my lifespan increased,' Anthony thought, a faint, cold smirk touching his lips.

The Second Supreme Monarch, ignorant of the power that had just been drained from him, remained still. Death Blesser was a silent thief, its siphoning so precise that no immediate physical effects could be detected.

"Aren't you done?" the Second Supreme Monarch asked quietly, his voice heavy, broken. "Haven't you done enough?"

He had accepted his fate. He didn't know what Anthony was doing, nor did he care anymore. The only thing that mattered was survival. As long as he was still breathing, there was still hope, somewhere, somehow.

Anthony, however, wasn't finished.

"I'm actually not done," he replied calmly.

Those words froze the Second Supreme Monarch's thoughts. His eyes narrowed in dread.

Without warning, Anthony once again activated Authority Of Severance. The space around him shifted as threads of countless colors bloomed into existence within his perception, each one a connection, a truth, a law, a piece of existence itself.

Anthony raised a finger, his expression cold as death, and snapped one thread.

Instantly, the Second Supreme Monarch felt a wave of change rush through him. His brow furrowed as confusion flooded his mind.

'That ability again?' he thought, dread creeping into his veins. He didn't yet know what Anthony had taken, but he would soon.

Reality answered before his thoughts could.

His cultivation began to collapse. His energy, the chaos energy that had replaced his mana, began to drain away at breakneck speed.

"Impossible! How can this be?" His voice trembled in shock and rage as he felt his strength fade. His once-godlike muscles began to lose power. His cells, once brimming with vitality and essence, withered as that same vitality drained away.

As his cultivation rank continued to fall, Anthony moved his hand slightly, erecting a space dome around the Second Supreme Monarch. Without it, the fallen being would have been crushed by the immense gravitational weight of the void around them.

"YOU WOULD EVEN TAKE THIS FROM ME?!" the Second Supreme Monarch roared, his voice cracking with fury and despair. "IT TOOK ME THOUSANDS OF YEARS TO REACH THIS LEVEL!"

His cry echoed through the endless dark as his cultivation plummeted lower and lower. Planetary level... transcendent... hyperion... emperor... paragon... grandmaster...

Until, at last, he was nothing more than a mere S-rank being.

He was now a mortal once more, a shadow of the greatness he once embodied.

Anthony watched the spectacle with calm detachment. A faint smile touched his lips as he spoke, his voice devoid of sympathy or warmth.

"I didn't know you were so naive to think I would let you live as a Demon Monarch," Anthony said coldly, his tone reminiscent of an executioner reciting a sentence.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Was I supposed to let you roam free with your Planetary-level power? That would be stupidity on my part."

The Second Supreme Monarch's knees hit the invisible floor of the space dome. His breath came in ragged bursts, his once-mighty aura now faint and fragile. The realization hit him harder than any wound could, Anthony had taken everything. His race, his power, his immortality, his pride, and now his future.

He had become nothing more than a shell of his former self.

And standing before him, Anthony, calm, merciless, unshaken, looked down not at a Supreme, not even at an enemy, but at a specimen.

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