Barbatos POV
Barbatos reappeared in the jungle with a flicker of spatial light.
The air was humid, thick with the scent of overgrown foliage and the muffled sounds of distant beasts.
In the center of a flattened clearing, Zagreus sat on a large stone.
He looked up as soon as Barbatos who arrived alone.
“Did you let them run on purpose?” Zagreus asked. His voice was far from calm.
Barbatos dropped to one knee without hesitation.
“I’ll accept all punishment,” he said.
Zagreus didn’t move.
His expression was cold, and unreadable, as if carved into stone.
Before this, he had been prepared to chase after Nameless Death himself. But Barbatos had stopped him. Told him to trust him. Said he would bring them both back.
And now, he had returned with nothing.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched.
“Search every single Space-Time Prison in the Site,” Zagreus finally said. “Find out which one they’re using to hide.”
Barbatos gave a short nod, stood up, and vanished again.
Once he was gone, Zagreus tilted his head back and stared at the cloudy sky.
The jungle seemed quiet, but not peaceful.
His hands curled into fists.
Perched on his head, the demon octopus shifted slightly. Its tendrils twitched, and a voice echoed in his mind.
‘Why are you so angry? Don’t you trust Nameless Death?’
Zagreus didn’t respond. His thoughts churned like a slow-moving storm.
‘You should’ve known there was little chance of rescuing your mother’s soul. Berserker could’ve used her as a leverage against us. Maybe Nameless Death betrayed you and sided with Berserker just to save her so as she wasn’t put in danager—’
“Or maybe,” Zagreus cut in aloud, “he was playing us from the beginning.”
The demon went silent.
Zagreus didn’t speak again either.
He simply sat there, staring upward, feeling the uncertainty pile onto his shoulders like heavy armor.
He didn’t know who to trust anymore.
Nameless Death had seemed like his brother.
Even without that, his story about how he ended up at the Site, what he was doing, why he’d wanted to escape this hell… it had all sounded real.
But the betrayal—if that’s what it truly was—left Zagreus with too many questions and no good answers.
Footsteps approached.
Asmodea stepped into the clearing.
Her usual composed demeanor was softened by sorrow.
The female Grim Reaper had always acted strict, but anyone who knew her well could see the difference now.
Leonora wasn’t just a disciple to her. She was like a daughter.
Not being able to protect her made Asmodea felt like she was being drowned with guilt.
Asmodea stopped a few steps away.
“Prince. Please give your next orders.”
“We’ll have to fight them when we find them.”
Asmodea’s gaze dropped. She said nothing, her thoughts likely spiraling toward Leonora.
Zagreus continued, “I still have this octopus bastard with me. But as you saw… Nameless Death had the ability to prevent me from asking for more strength. If he can block that now, he might eventually learn to take away borrowed strength altogether.”
That snapped Asmodea out of her melancholy.
She looked at Zagreus, realizing why she hadn’t been sent with Barbatos earlier. He wanted to ask for ‘it’.
“Prince, I can’t—”
“Tell me how to use my dragon blood.”
Asmodea froze.
“…Prince…”
“Why do you always refuse to teach me?” Zagreus sighed.
Asmodea looked torn.
For years, she and other Grim Reapers had deflected or given half-truths.
This time again, she opened her mouth to speak, but paused as a new voice echoed in her mind.
‘Tell him.’
It was Barbatos. Even though he had left, he was watching to make sure a mistake like last time was not repeated.
Asmodea closed her eyes for a moment. Then, when she opened them again, her voice was steady.
“Your blood… it’s the blood of ancient dragons, and you are the last ‘known’ Ancient Dragon to exist.”
“I know that much.”
“Have you ever thought where the other ancient dragons have disappeared? Why no one has seen them in any Eon since the Universal Creation Era?”
Zagreus frowned. “I thought they were extinct.”
“They’re not. They went into hiding near the end of the Universal Creation Era. Because they were being hunted down, and were almost wiped out by the Monarch.”
“…What?”
“The ancient dragons had become arrogant, and oppressive. They believed themselves untouchable. So the Monarch of Death decided they were a threat to the balance of creation. And he decide to erase them.”
Zagreus leaned forward slightly.
“What does this have to do with me using my dragon blood?”
“The surviving ancient dragons want revenge. For the humiliation they suffered. For their near-extinction. If you awaken your draconic blood, they will come for you. No matter where you are.”
He fell silent, trying to process the implications.
“Is it really that easy to track an awakening of dragon blood?” he asked.
“No. It’s extremely difficult. But these ancient dragons aren’t normal beings. These are survivors of the Universal Creation Era. They are beings who were once among the strongest in existence. They’ve spent countless years preparing ways to track your bloodline.”
Zagreus narrowed his eyes.
“But Grim Reapers use my father’s blood too. Why haven’t they been targeted?”
“They can track us,” Asmodea admitted. “But they’re afraid.”
“Afraid of my father?”
“No. They know he’s disappeared. They no longer fear him… but they still hesitate.”
“Why?”
Asmodea exhaled slowly. Her lips pressed together for a moment before she finally said the name.
“Because of the Deathbounds.”
Zagreus stiffened. That name wasn’t unfamiliar. The mention alone made his posture straighten.
“As you know, when a Grim Reaper takes a disciple, that disciple is meant to inherit their position. Once that happens, the old Reaper must step down. They have three choices: true death, reincarnation, or Chrono Sleep.”
“But no Grim Reaper chooses reincarnation,” Zagreus muttered.
“Indeed,” Asmodea agreed. “It’s never happened. Most choose erasure. A final end. It’s not something to mourn. For us, true death is a form of release, and a reward.
“Those who choose to sleep are called Deathbounds.”
Zagreus nodded.
He’d heard of Deathbounds.
They were warriors of legend.
He had never met one, but the stories he heard about them were known to even him.
“Most of the Grim Reapers who served the Monarch during the Universal Creation Era are now Deathbounds,” Asmodea said. “They were the ones who led his Legions of 81.
“They are the one who stood at the front of war, those who shaped the spread the name of Monarch, and the ones who brought glory to the Monarch. None of them chose erasure. They chose enter chrono sleep,” explained Asmodea.
“Why?”
“To protect us,” she said. “Because they knew something like this would happen.”
Zagreus leaned back against the stone outcrop behind him, arms crossed, brows furrowed.
“Ancient dragons,” he said under his breath.
“They have attacked us before,” Asmodea confirmed. “They struck from the shadows. Ambushed our strongest during isolated missions. But every time… a Deathbound woke up.”
“…what?” he asked. “I thought the Deathbound are sleeping in a place no one knows about. How did the know an ancient dragon attacked?”
“We don’t know. There is almost no known information about Deathbound. We do not even know where they sleep.”
She continued.
“All we know, all we’ve seen is, if a Grim Reaper is attacked by an ancient dragon… or by someone carrying hatred toward the Monarch… then a Deathbound will awaken. That’s the only time they move. They won’t help us against rebellions or invasion. They won’t come even if the Underworld is burning.”
Zagreus thought about her words.
“So they’re like tripwires. You can’t call them. You can’t rely on them.”
“Exactly. That’s why we never bring them up. They’re not reinforcements. They’re… deterrents.”
It made sense.
The ancient dragons had been quiet for an unusually long time. Some even thought they had gone extinct.
But now, learning that they were just biding their time—careful not to awaken sleeping monsters—shifted his entire view of the balance.
“So the ancient dragons avoid you. But they’ll hunt me with everything they have?”
“Yes.” Asmodea nodded. “The ancient dragons never attacked us with full force due to the Deathbounds. We are, in the end, only Angels of Monarch.
“But you are different. You are his son. The ancient dragons will attack you as soon as they sense you, even if that mean facing a Deathbound, and possibly dying in the process.”
The words fell heavy between them.
It wasn’t just normal hostility. It was pure, malevolent hatred.
The ancient dragons hadn’t simply feared the Monarch.
They had been humiliated by him. Destroyed, scattered, driven to the edges of the universe.
His existence had robbed them of everything they believed they owned.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” Zagreus asked, tone flat.
Asmodea didn’t answer immediately. She looked away, her eyes focused on the shifting shadows at the edge of the trees.
“Because we hoped it wouldn’t matter,” she finally said. “You never awakened your bloodline. You kept dying and reincarnating before reaching that point. There was no reason to burden you with more knowledge.”
Zagreus clenched his jaw.
He had awakened his Trait in this life.
Unlike previous lives, this time, his body had quite a bit talent.
It allowed him to master his [Death] skill in just one death, then resurrect himself with [Immortal] skill.
However, in this end, this was a Trait.
An ability drawn from his [Monarch of Death] bloodline by the Path of Awakener.
The true power of the blood, the power of an ancient dragon, was still lying dormant within him.
“Once you awaken your dragon blood, there’s no going back,” Asmodea said. “You’ll become a beacon that the ancient dragons have spent eons watching for.”
“How much time will it take for an ancient dragon to locate me? Can they even locate me inside this Site?”
“I apologize, Prince. But I do not know the answer of your question.”
Asmodea lowered her head.
“However, the risk associated with your awakening is too high. Even if there is a high chance the ancient dragons cannot sense you inside a Site, we cannot risk it.”
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