86: Chapter 86 The Supreme Demon

The moment the dagger pierced his eye socket, Morpheus felt no pain.

There was only a sense of relief, suppressed for far too long, finally released.

His violet iris was punctured by the blade tip, the eyeball ruptured, and the fluid that surged out flowed down his cheek.

Then, he pulled out the dagger, aimed it at his own heart, gripped the handle with both hands, and thrust it in with force.

The sound of ribs shattering under the tip of the blade was crisp and short.

His heart was pierced; this injury, which was nearly equivalent to death, only made him smile...

The evil ancient ritual continued, and after stopping for a few minutes, his heart began to beat again from the deepest part of his chest cavity.

It even forced the dagger out of his body.

An invisible force surged from the void, lifting his body off the ground.

His feet hovered a few inches above the cabin floor, and his long, silver-white hair floated upward in the still air.

His robe was shaken off the iron hook by some force and drifted silently onto the floor.

The end of his spine exploded; skin and flesh tore, and bones elongated and deformed.

A long, pitch-black tail with bone spurs broke free from his tailbone, whipping a sharp arc through the air, its tip as sharp as a spearhead.

Then came his back; his shoulder blades split open from the inside simultaneously, and two pairs of massive wings unfurled violently from the torn flesh.

They were not the wings of an angel, nor the rough membranes of a demon.

The wing bones were pitch-black and sturdy, while the wing membranes presented a sickly pallor, like that of a fallen morning star.

A sharp, intense pain came from both sides of his forehead.

Immediately after, a pair of black horns, winding backward, broke through his skin, their surfaces covered in natural spiral patterns, resembling a twisted crown.

When he opened his eyes, the left eye socket that had been pierced had already regenerated.

But what regenerated was not the original amethyst-like eye.

That eyeball had turned into a burning molten gold, the pupil elongated into a vertical slit, like a reptile, like an evil dragon.

His right eye remained purple, as if he had not completely abandoned his self.

He hovered barefoot above the cabin floor, slowly exhaling a breath.

The Demon Scripture on the table had already turned into a pile of fine ashes, dissipating as the sea breeze drifting in from the window blew gently.

All the dark knowledge, every word, every incantation, every demon's true name, had already been deeply branded into the depths of his newborn soul.

He extended his long, slender fingers; the nails at his fingertips sharpened slightly, with a layer of pale golden magic energy flowing across their surface.

He looked at his hand and burst into laughter.

The smile still looked gentle and refined, but it lacked any human emotion.

"Mortals..."

His molten golden vertical pupils slowly turned toward the cabin door, as if he could see everyone sleeping through the door panels.

"Feel despair and fear... The Demon Sovereign has descended upon this place."

The night shift sailors on deck were changing guards.

On the midnight shift were three old sailors and the captain's first mate.

The sea was calm, and moonlight leaked through the gaps in the scattered clouds, spreading a layer of pale silver light across the deck.

The first mate sat on a wooden crate next to the helm, a logbook spread across his knees, recording tonight's wind direction and sailing speed with a charcoal pencil.

Three sailors were squatting under the mainmast rolling dice, the sound of the dice landing on the deck was very crisp.

A sailor sighed, "It really lives up to its name as Demon Island, there really are demons, it's terrifying."

"Yeah, it's a good thing I didn't go on the island, otherwise I'd be dead for sure! Hey, hahaha, I won this round!"

One of the sailors had just rolled a pair of max points and was grinning as he prepared to collect the money.

The next second, his body suddenly rose from the ground silently, as if lifted by an invisible giant hand.

The other two sailors hadn't yet recovered from the dice game when their bodies were simultaneously lifted by the same force.

The three sailors hovered in mid-air, limbs struggling frantically.

Their mouths were wide open, wanting to scream, but their vocal cords felt as if they were being choked by something, unable to make any sound.

Morpheus slowly rose from the cabin stairwell.

His wings were fully unfurled behind him, the wing membranes shimmering with a cold, eerie light under the moonlight.

His tail swayed elegantly behind him, the bone spur at the tip grazing the deck planks lightly, leaving a very shallow scorch mark.

His feet did not touch the deck; he hovered above it, his long silver-white hair fluttering slightly in the night breeze.

He reached out toward the three sailors and gently clenched his fingers.

The three men's bodies were instantly compressed from all directions by an irresistible force, the sound of bones shattering as dense as firewood being snapped.

The three corpses were compressed into three irregular mixtures of flesh and bone fragments.

Dark red blood splattered out from the gaps of the compression, sprinkling onto the deck.

Then, these three mixtures of flesh and blood floated closer to each other, merging like iron filings attracted to a magnet.

Eventually, they formed a massive meatball floating in mid-air.

The surface of the meatball constantly writhed, occasionally squeezing out a broken finger bone, only to swallow that finger bone back inside again.

The first mate rolled off the wooden crate, the logbook slamming onto the deck.

"Someone, help..."

He scrambled and crawled toward the alarm bell at the stern, but just as his hand touched the bell rope, his body was also lifted up.

A few seconds later, the first mate's flesh and blood also merged into that meatball.

Morpheus waved his hand gently.

The meatball slowly moved down the cabin corridor; every time it passed a cabin door, the sailors behind the door would be killed in their sleep.

The corpses were dragged out of their beds by an invisible force and merged into the constantly expanding meatball.

There were no screams, no struggles.

Only the extremely brief sounds of bones shattering occasionally transmitted from behind the wooden partition walls, and soon everything returned to silence.

Cecilia was the first to notice the abnormality.

Her blood perception captured an extremely strong scent of blood in the darkness.

It wasn't just a few drops of blood, not a single wound, but the smell of a large amount of blood flowing out of living bodies simultaneously.

That smell made her spring up from her bunk instantly, her right hand already gripping the Enchantment sword placed by her pillow.

She rushed to the door of Richard's cabin, tapped three times with the hilt of her sword, and said in a low, rapid voice, "There's a problem in the cabin; there's a massive scent of blood, at least several people have died."

Richard hadn't even had time to put on his breastplate, nor did he put on his helmet; he merely gripped the dwarven roaring battleaxe in his right hand.

When Selina rushed out of her own cabin, her face turned pale in shock the moment she saw the massive meatball slowly rising at the end of the cabin corridor.

"Everyone! Run to the deck!"

Richard roared. He grabbed Jinbao by the back of his collar while the Gnome was still dazed in his bedding, and threw the Gnome toward the stairs.

While in mid-air, Jinbao instinctively pulled two smoke bombs from his waist pouch and threw them toward the corridor.

The smoke bombs exploded in the corridor, and the dense, grayish-white dust temporarily obscured the view of the corridor in the direction of the meatball.

But the dust lasted only a few seconds before being dispersed by a force.

The black cat had already stepped onto the stairs leading to the deck, and a few surviving sailors were also fleeing toward the deck.