The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Chapter 395: Soul Reaper I

Greg’s eyes narrowed at Adam’s words, his grip tightening around his staff. A cold, sharp smile spread across his face as he raised his free hand, the dark energy at his fingertips crackling with deadly intent."Very well. If that is your choice—then die."

The demon mages moved as one, their chants rising in perfect synchronization. Flames erupted from their palms—concentrated, high-level fire magic that converged on Adam in a blinding torrent of searing heat. The fire engulfed him, casting the clearing in a harsh, flickering light that illuminated the faces of soldiers and demons alike.

For a moment, the flames raged, consuming the space where Adam had stood.

Then a shape moved within the fire.

Adam stepped forward, his form untouched, the flames washing over his body like water over stone. His scales gleamed faintly beneath the flickering light, and the air around him shimmered with the faint, translucent barrier of [Aegis of the Colossus].

The demon mages’ chants faltered. One of them, a younger demon with wide, disbelieving eyes, stumbled back, his voice cracking.

"That’s... that’s high-level fire magic! How is he still standing?!"

Greg’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing with cold assessment. His voice carried a note of grudging respect, though his grip on his staff remained steady.

"It seems he is more dangerous than he appears." His gaze shifted to a tall, lean demon standing at his side—Siva, his second-in-command. "Siva. Organize the mages. Wait for an opening before striking. The front line will hold until I give the command."

Siva inclined his head, his voice low and sharp.

"Understood, Commander."

Greg turned back to Adam, his staff crackling with renewed dark energy. Behind him, the demon soldiers shifted, their formations tightening, their eyes fixed on the human soldiers who were still regrouping and fighting against the cat girl and the elf. His voice carried a note of cold authority, meant for his entire force.

"We must also anticipate the human soldiers. They will strike when they see an opening."

Then, without warning, the entity’s form behind Greg convulsed. A guttural sound erupted from its core—a shriek that was not quite a roar, nor quite a scream, but something far worse. It tore through the clearing like a physical force, rattling bones and chilling blood—a sound that seemed to bypass the ears and claw directly at the mind.

"KHRAAAAAAAHGGH—!!"

The demon soldiers flinched, their postures stiffening. The human soldiers stumbled, hands flying to their ears as the sound reverberated through their skulls. Even the mages faltered, their chants breaking for just a moment before they forced themselves to continue.

Greg’s voice carried a note of dark satisfaction as he raised his staff, the dark energy at its tip flaring with renewed intensity.

"Then let us show them our true horror."

Adam’s lips curved into a faint, amused smile as he watched the demon forces reorganize. His crimson eyes gleamed with dark amusement, and his voice carried a note of genuine, almost theatrical appreciation.

"I’m touched. The commander is personally coming after me. I must be a very important guest."

Greg remained silent, his cold eyes fixed on Adam with unwavering focus. He didn’t respond to the taunt.

Adam tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You said you wouldn’t attack without thinking—so is this you thinking? Or are you just stalling?"

A muscle twitched in Greg’s jaw. He let out a slow, controlled breath, his grip on his staff steadying. His voice came out low, measured, carrying the weight of a commander who had already calculated every possible outcome.

"I have already thought through my attack. I have already taken the steps necessary to defeat you. It will happen quickly."

Adam let out a low, amused chuckle, shaking his head slowly. "That sounds complicated. Let me simplify things for you."

The earth cratered beneath Adam’s feet as he launched himself forward, a shockwave of dust and shattered stone blooming in his wake. His fist, wreathed in writhing dark energy, drove toward Greg’s chest like a meteor—the air itself screaming as it was torn apart by the sheer velocity of the strike.

"[Monarch’s Pierce]!"

Greg’s reaction was instant. His staff swept up, meeting Adam’s fist with a sharp, resonant CLANG that echoed through the clearing. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, forcing nearby soldiers and demons to stagger back.

Adam’s smirk widened as he pressed against the staff, his crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

"Did I hear wrong? They call you the Soul Reaper, but you’re using a staff. That doesn’t seem very... reaper-like." He pulled back and struck again, his blows landing like hammer blows against Greg’s guard. "It feels like a mismatch."

Greg’s expression remained cold, his staff deflecting each strike with practiced precision. His voice came out flat, carrying a note of dry irritation.

"Do you always talk this much during a fight?"

Adam’s grin widened, his voice carrying a light, almost playful note as he continued his assault.

"Only when it makes things more interesting. A silent fight is a boring fight."

He leaped back, raising his hand as prismatic light gathered in his palm. A lance of rainbow radiance erupted from his hand, streaking toward Greg’s chest.

"[Prismatic Beam]!"

Greg’s eyes narrowed. Before the beam could strike, the entity behind him convulsed, its form surging forward to intercept the attack. The prismatic light struck the entity’s body, and the creature absorbed the blast without so much as a flinch.

Greg’s voice came out low, cold, carrying a note of dark promise.

"Very well. I will show you why they call me the Soul Reaper."

His staff began to change.

The wood darkened, blackening as if charred by an unseen fire. It twisted, the surface rippling and bulging like living flesh, the bark peeling away to reveal sinew and muscle beneath. The staff elongated, curving into a wicked arc, and at its tip, a blade of hardened, crimson bone emerged—jagged, slick, throbbing. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic heartbeat, as if the weapon itself was a living wound.

Adam’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his face.

"Now that’s more like it."