Void Beetle Evolution Guide

Whispers like metal scraping came from the deep well, and a gust of wind filled with the smell of rust burst forth from the great well of souls, howling and swirling around it, filled with the cries of ghosts.

Cassiopeia screamed and buried her head in Wild Hunt's arms to escape the fierce wind. The wind blew her red hair, which seemed to be mixed with some impurities, cutting a shallow wound on Wild Hunt's face.

Wild Hunt simply stretched his hand into the wind, yet felt as if he were plunging his hand into flowing iron sand.

He caught a gust of wind, and when he opened his fingers, sure enough, some iron filings flowed from his palm, but more were rusty and sharp metal fragments that pierced his hand.

"Oh dear, how could you be so careless?" Cassiopeia grabbed Wild Hunt's hand and meticulously picked out the metal fragments from his palm, ignoring the bleeding wound on her own face.

"Aren't you going to do it yet?" Wild Hunt gently pressed his thumb on the wound on the pretty face, then absorbed all the blood, and the wound healed completely where his fingertip touched.

“I’ve never heard of any monarch taking the lead. Let’s wait a bit longer, and I can start after I’ve finished picking through all this iron filings,” Cassiopeia replied patiently.

In her seductive, serpentine eyes, the mighty Lord of the Underworld seemed less important than currying favor with the Wild Hunt at this moment. Or rather, all she did was ultimately to curry favor with her master.

Chapter 771 Demon Hunter

The demon, who had been welcoming the King of Life and Death back from the well, no longer resembled a human.

Its white hair turned into jet-black raven feathers, its scarlet cross-shaped pupils lined both sides, its outstretched wings were whipped by the shattering iron wind, and its legs had transformed into the reverse joints of a bird.

Thresh, wielding his scythe, approached the well and watched the whirlpool at the bottom ripple. A tower covered in vengeful spirits was rising from the ground, transforming into a ladder connecting the two worlds.

He burst into hearty laughter, laughing at his victory.

First, they made a big show of it, luring Swain to the Well of Souls, then drawing out his true demonic form. Even though LeBlanc had planted spies around Swain, she couldn't defeat the two of them.

If you are strong enough, you don't need to scheme like LeBlanc; you can achieve your goal with just a little trickery.

"Come here!" Thresh swung his scythe, and the chain snaked out, wrapping tightly around LeBlanc's body before she could react, and pulled her close.

The hook tore through her robe, probing into the flesh beneath. LeBlanc's face turned ashen; she felt the hook dig deep into her body, a pain more piercing than the northern ice, and doubly excruciating.

The Soul Warden's hand gripped her throat, the touch burning her skin. She felt her power rapidly draining away; he was absorbing her necromancy.

“When he returns as king, I will personally present you, traitor, to him.”

Thresh lifted LeBlanc off the ground with one hand to prevent her from causing any more trouble. The lantern he held aloft with his other hand emitted a violently churning eerie light, and the faces and hands of countless wandering spirits pressed against the inner wall of the lantern were clearly visible, emitting mournful cries.

"Now, how can you stop me?" The warden laughed maniacally, the sound like a file scraping against the ground.

LeBlanc gritted her teeth and looked up at Thresh's mangled face. His empty eye sockets seemed like black holes leading to nothingness.

The laughter continued unabated, until even Thresh himself began to sense that something was wrong.

He had clearly finished laughing, but his jaw continued to open and close, emitting loud laughter.

"Not good!" Thresh suddenly turned around as if he realized something, only to see the Netherworld Prison shattering inch by inch, and a long whip made entirely of solidified water slashing down on him.

With a cracking sound like a whip, Thresh was sent flying backward, plunging into the Great Well of Souls. Through the ever-widening opening of the well, he stared incredulously at the eternally smiling face. He should have felt fear, but instead, a strange joy filled his heart.

"No! My era has only just begun, I cannot fall now!" Thresh swung his scythe with all his might, watching as it hooked onto the edge of the well, a skull twitching incessantly. He wanted to laugh but was afraid of attracting the man's attention.

"That's right, I have to hold back! I can settle the score with her after I climb back up." With that thought, Thresh glanced back at the turbulent sea of ​​the dead below, stretched out his claws to grip the chains tightly, and carefully began to climb upwards.

Outside the giant well, Nira, who arrived late, immediately turned and attacked the demonized Swain after throwing Thresh into the well.

She wasted a lot of time trying to find this place. If she hadn't seen all the crows gathering below the Immortal Fortress, she would never have dreamed that there was such a large space below.

With a swift, rapid movement, Nila transformed into a torrent and leaped down the stone steps. Holding a spell in her left hand, she chanted incantations, channeling the power of the spell into her whip-sword.

In an instant, the water-like whip sword extended several times over, the flowing water forming two sharp, pointed forks that danced in the air, emitting a ghostly glow, before lashing heavily against Swain's body. (The rest of the text appears to be gibberish and unrelated to the preceding narrative.)

Swain was struck as if by a heavy blow. With a single lash of his whip, the demonic shadow burst forth from his body! Countless crows escaped from Swain's body, transforming into a rolling black cloud that scattered in all directions.

Nera swung her whip sword again, slicing through a crow that was charging at her. The crow turned into black smoke and vanished, leaving behind a single crow feather. It was just an avatar; her true form was hidden among the flock of crows.

"You can't escape!" Nera chanted rapidly, her hands constantly shifting between hand gestures, a sinister smile spreading across her face in the darkness.

Pairs of blue phantom hands appeared around Nera, plucking crows from all around at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. All the plucking crows were crushed and vanished into thin air.

Nera scanned the flock of crows, but still couldn't find the demon's true form. She raised her whip sword above her head and swung it faster and faster. Seawater flowed from the empty space, gathering into a turbulent whirlpool above the giant well, constantly sucking in and enveloping the crows.

The crows, their feathers soaked, drowned, their bodies turning into a streak of ink that spread across the water, gradually staining the clear water black.

"Still hiding! I am Nera of the Seventh Hell, you demon, just accept your fate!" Nera smiled and closed her eyes. Since the demon was using thick ink to block her vision, she would use her heart to see!

The Seventh Hell isn't just some strange title. As the organization that guards Osiris, the members of the Seventh Hell are experts at dealing with demons. Exorcism—they're professionals.

Deep within Nera's body, a hungry pleasure began to surge, a desire from Osiris.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw a crow that was different from the others. It was discreetly hidden in the storm of crows and had two more pairs of eyes than the other crows. Its blood-red pupils were in the shape of four-pointed stars.

What happened next occurred in a blurry afterimage. Nera darted through the air at terrifying speed, cutting through the storm of crows that blocked her path, her face still bearing that joyful, unchanging smile.

Each strike of her whip carried the power of a tidal wave, and the surging water whip was as sharp as a polished stone. Nera wielded her whip and leaped, her movements graceful yet deadly, shattering the demon's clones one by one.

A few seconds later, she parted the dark clouds and found the Three-Eyed Raven. The demon tried to escape, but Nera leaped onto its back and subdued it with a light touch of her toes, her invisible water blades reflecting light in the black water.

“Three-eyed raven that devours secrets, I see the true name in your eyes.”

The true name contained immense power. Nera used her whip as a pen and water as ink to write a strange rune in the air before her. Although the Wild Hunt couldn't understand the characters, he could sense through the power emanating from the rune that Nera had written the demon's true name—Ramo.

At the same time, Swain, lying on the ground, suddenly began to struggle to breathe. He quickly covered his chest with his hand, but there were no wounds or scars. Even stranger, he felt lighter, as if some burden had been shed from his body.

When he looked up, he saw a barrier made of sharp beaks and fangs charging towards him. He tried to defend himself, but his usual demonic hand was now empty.

Chapter 772 Taking Action

The sound of the whip cracking rang out as the woman in yellow stood in front of Swain, her whip-sword blocking the monster's huge, pale fangs.

Every fight between the monster and the stranger made him feel his soul wavering and collapsing; their very existence gave him a sense of power.

The ferocious monster roared furiously, its tangled fur, sharp claws, and massive body forming a gigantic raven demon form.

"You dare take what belongs to me? It's mine!"

“Nothing in this realm belongs to you.” Nera’s whip-sword wrapped around the monster’s neck, acting as a rein to keep her afloat on its back. “Fear, Lamor!”

The Raven Demon's feathers stood on end, and it let out a piercing shriek. Twisting muscle fibers enveloped its pale white teeth and claws. Six scarlet eyes gleamed with malice on its terrifying face, and its massive, gray-furred body shimmered and materialized, the ethereal will-o'-the-wisps transforming into flesh and bones.

“I have called out your true name,” Nera said, standing there chanting a spell. “You are now fully exposed.”

A heart-wrenching scream shook the earth. She yanked hard on the whip sword in her hand, and the ever-shrinking water stream cut into Ramer's neck, slicing through thick feathers and piercing into flesh, staining it with blood.

However, with a strange metallic hum, like a blade scraping against a whetstone, a huge iron claw rose from the well and seized the demon Rammer.

"King, save me!" the Raven Demon cried out. Its iron claws grabbed Ramer and then retreated back into the well, but Nila not only did not release her whip sword, but also rushed into the bottom of the well with it.

"Demon! I told you, you can't escape!!" Nera pulled hard, and the whip sword cut through the bone like a high-speed water jet. The monster was instantly decapitated, and foul water splattered from the clean wound on its neck. The severed head roared and then gradually fell silent.

"Perfect, let me test your strength!" Nera eliminated Lamer, but she herself fell into the underworld, never to return. The next moment, a soul-shaking roar came from the bottom of the well, like the clash of metal. It was clear that Nera's actions had thoroughly enraged Mordekaiser; she dared to forcibly kill the person he had protected.

"Is this woman crazy? Why won't she let go?" Cassiopeia took a few steps to the well and peered down. Nera was nowhere to be seen; only countless ferocious demons were climbing the towering iron tower, getting closer and closer, as if the spire would burst out of the well at any moment.

She gasped. Everything had been going according to plan, except for Nera's actions, which had completely surprised her. "Isn't this incredibly arrogant? The Underworld is the domain of the dead. Even with the World Rune, I haven't considered going down there. Isn't she, a living person, just courting death by rushing in?"

“If she weren’t arrogant, she wouldn’t be Nera.” The Wild Hunt followed unhurriedly with his hands behind his back. “Osilesh is the embodiment of pleasure. In pursuit of thrills, it dares to defy even the heavens of the prime plane, let alone a small underworld.”

When the Wild Hunt arrived at the well and began to explore, a massive number of undead had already begun climbing up the well walls. Leading the charge were some weak undead, insignificant cannon fodder, whom Mordekaiser did not incorporate into his army.

The real threat comes from the headless undead soldiers. They are armored figures driven by spirits, carrying ancient weapons of various shapes on their backs. They look unsharpened but are incredibly heavy, and a mere graze could probably obliterate a person's soul.

"If we don't act soon, these undead will break out," Wild Hunt said.

"Then I'll trouble you, Master, to make the first move. I'll save my energy to deal with that tyrant," Cassiopeia said with a chuckle, her tone rather unkind.

"You're being a bit shameless." Wild Hunt was starting to get annoyed, but looking at Cassiopeia's fawning face, he couldn't get angry. He shook his head and pulled a sword from the hive.

The sudden appearance of a figure by the well caught the attention of the others. Swain opened his mouth wide, speechless, while LeBlanc's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at them.

“It’s you… Cassiopeia! And you… Wild… Hunt…?” LeBlanc had never seen Wild Hunt before, nor had she received any information about his appearance, yet she immediately guessed his identity from his female companion.

“Cassiopeia? Du Kcao’s daughter?” Swain heard the Pale Lady’s voice and his mind raced.

He knew Cassiopeia was a member of the Black Rose, but judging from the Pale Lady's shocked reaction, things were probably not that simple. This was good news for him; at least the other party wasn't with the Pale Lady.

"This is... the Blade of the Ruined King!! You actually stole it!!!"

Karthus's fanatical and terrified scream brought the two to their attention, making them notice the chilling, cursed power emanating from the greatsword in the Wild Hunt's hand, even more malevolent than the undead. This confirmed LeBlanc's suspicions; the person before them was indeed the Wild Hunt who had resolved the Shadow Isles curse, the one behind the Void Maiden who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Are you surprised, Karthus? I didn't run into you when I went to the Shadow Isles, and you escaped. This time, let's see where you can hide?"

Wild Hunt coldly pointed his sword at Karthus. This sword was the source of the Curse of Ruin, possessing absolute power over the undead. Just being pointed at by the sword tip was enough to make Karthus fall to the ground in fear.

"No! Don't kill me! I haven't yet spread the gospel of death throughout the world! No—"

The Deathsinger's scream abruptly ceased, and the Blade of Ruin unleashed tendrils of black mist that tightly bound Karthus, forcibly dragging him into the blade. The black mist spread in all directions, converging into a vortex of wraiths that swept away all the undead Thresh had released.

A deathly silence fell over the surroundings, but Wild Hunt could hear the wails of the undead growing ever closer, interspersed with the sound of steel striking the well walls.

Looking down, the souls of the underworld were already close at hand. Countless ugly faces and twisted limbs filled the field of vision, tearing and squeezing each other, almost overflowing. Among them, a general led the way. He was a giant among the dead, with dozens of slender ghostly arms extending from his neck on his headless iron armor, dragging his heavy body up rapidly.

This scene was like hell.

In the world at the bottom of the well, the roars of colossal beasts could be faintly heard. Through a fleeting gap between the limbs of the undead, he seemed to glimpse the enormous phantom of Osiris, battling a massive suit of iron armor.

"Who are you?" Swain asked, his voice filled with surprise and uncertainty.

Wild Hunt glanced back at him. "You want to ask which side I'm on, right? Don't worry, we're not enemies."

He continued to summon the Broken Blade, the greatsword hovering above the Well of Souls like the Sword of Damocles. Soul-devouring black mist billowed forth, coalescing into a pillar that plunged downwards, frantically devouring the surging undead.

"Bring it on! You're not good enough!"

Chapter 773 Winning Over

The Blade of the Ruined King spewed forth billowing black mist, relentlessly washing over the Great Well of Souls. Weak souls were instantly devoured by the mist, while powerful steel soldiers were able to move against the current within it.

As the undead general led his steel soldiers up the well wall, Wild Hunt reached out and touched it. His greatsword immediately spun, releasing a chilling aura that froze souls.

Frost spread down the well walls, freezing the steel spirits along the way into icicles that plummeted towards the underworld. They crashed onto the iron tower below, knocking down the spirits that had climbed it along with them, like a splash in a sea of ​​the dead.

The chilling black mist continued to surge, sweeping along the iron tower and turning the entire tower into a giant ice pillar, reaching to the sky and freezing countless souls within.

The underworld army's offensive eased somewhat, but with a resounding thud of a heavy hammer, the ice pillars shattered inch by inch, and a massive number of undead burst forth from the ice, their offensive becoming even more ferocious than before.

A massive battle seemed to be raging below, but the giant well restricted the Wild Hunt's angle, preventing him from getting a glimpse. To witness the battle, he would have to descend into the underworld, but that would inevitably unleash the undead.

Wild Hunt glanced at the group, who were now powerless to resist, and decided to go through the trouble anyway. He wanted to recruit more familiars; he had been coveting the Pale Lady for a long time.

"Do you think Nera can come back?" Wild Hunt asked while activating the Broken Sword.

“They will come back, but whether their bodies will be intact is unknown,” Cassiopeia replied. She seemed to know the Wild Hunt's intentions and had already arrived at LeBlanc's side.

As LeBlanc watched her approach, and then glanced at Vladimir lying unconscious in a pool of blood, she quickly propped herself up on her arms and assumed a defensive posture.

"What do you want to do?" LeBlanc couldn't help but speak first, her eyes filled with wariness as she looked at Cassiopeia.

She knew very well that the vast majority of those who joined her Black Rose were ruthless and heartless, capable of betraying even their closest relatives for profit. Even as the founder, she was constantly on guard against her own people, never daring to expose her weaknesses in public and become a target of criticism.

Given the current situation, she had no doubt that Cassieopea would seize the opportunity to strike, just like her mother, Soleanna, who dared to use her family for personal gain.

“LeBlanc.” Cassiopeia uttered LeBlanc’s real name, which she had never told anyone before, with a hint of flippancy. The latter frowned, feeling a surge of apprehension. “I didn’t expect you to be in such a sorry state the first time we meet. It’s quite a pity.”

Hearing this understated sarcasm, LeBlanc scoffed, "First time meeting? I doubt it."

“Oh?” Cassiopeia showed an interested expression, and with a flick of her fingers, she pulled an invisible red thread from LeBlanc, tracing back to the source of the anomaly hidden in her memory. “Among the servants that Mother dismissed back then, there was one you in disguise, and the teacher she later hired for me… no, not you, but another LeBlanc.”

Seeing that Cassiopeia had calculated the result so quickly and accurately, LeBlanc was also astonished by her monstrous divination ability. Even she, who was well-versed in this art, did not possess such skill.

Why hadn't she noticed before? Soleanna's daughter had never shown anything noteworthy before. It wasn't until she returned from the desert and latched onto the Wild Hunt that she became so enigmatic.

In just a few short years, it has grown to such an extent, becoming something she can't even comprehend. Its power is truly excessively thick. Thinking of this, LeBlanc couldn't help but glance a few more times at the Wild Hunt not far away.

"What are you looking at?" Cassiopeia reached out and grabbed LeBlanc's throat, turning her gaze back to herself. "If you want to see, then submit to our master, and we'll let you see as much as you want."

"How would Soleanna thank you if she knew you betrayed the Black Rose?" LeBlanc said, but in her heart she was thinking about what the Wild Hunt was capable of that made Cassiopeia dare to betray even the Black Rose.

Moreover, it seems that Cassiopeia looks down on all the resources, connections, and power she possesses. Instead of thinking about replacing her as the leader of the Black Rose, she instigates her to join them, which is truly going against the grain.

“She won’t know. Besides, do you really think you have a choice?” Cassiopeia tightened her grip on LeBlanc’s chin slightly. “That demon hunter won’t last long. Ironclad Wraith will soon emerge from the well, and the first person he’ll target is you, the traitor. Only by siding with our master will you have a chance to survive.”

"I'm already dead, what way do I have to live?" LeBlanc said disdainfully, not believing in the Wild Hunt that he could be Mordekaiser's match. Only those who had faced him knew the despair he felt. "A broken sword thinks it can stop him? Wishful thinking."

"If you don't want to live, then why are you going to such lengths to delay his arrival?"

“Do you think I don’t want to die?” Painful memories flooded back, and LeBlanc’s eyes widened in fury: “He turned me into a lich, taking away even my right to die.”

“Such a thing exists.” Cassiopeia had never heard of anything that could strip death from a person before; it sounded like the power of the Resilient Foundation. She changed the subject, “What if I told you that the source of Ironclad Wraith’s power is in my hands?”

"What?" LeBlanc was slightly taken aback. What was the source of power for the Iron Armored Soul? Was it the soul, or the iron armor? She couldn't be sure.

As she pondered, Cassiopeia slightly raised her chin, her fingertips gently tracing the golden tear stains shaped like fangs, a hint of pity in her expression.

"LeBlanc, I think we have a lot in common, even more than my sister and I. Join us, and maybe we can become best friends."

Cassiopeia's voice trailed off with a slight hiss, and the scene of the two staring at each other at close range was like two venomous snakes facing each other, flicking their tongues and exchanging pheromones.