SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God Chapter 715 What a cute little vampire

The Crown Prince suddenly snapped his eyes open. What happened...?

Hard, freezing stone pressed against his spine. His chest heaved as he drew in a ragged, desperate breath, overwhelmed by surging panic. He was breathing. He could feel it. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony, yet that very pain confirmed he was still tethered to life.

Such a thing should have been impossible. The memory of the blood-red scythe was crystal clear. The moment it descended. The absolute, cold certainty of his demise.

Suddenly, a translucent blue interface materialized before him—a slave contract.

As the Crown Prince looked up at Damon with a bewildered expression, Damon spoke with icy indifference. "Don't gaze at me like that."

"If I had my way, you would already be dead and forgotten, but unfortunately, your sister remains foolishly devoted to you, even after you attempted to end her life twice. What can I say? She is a fool, but she happens to be my fool, so I am indulging her whims. Sign the document, and you retain your life. Refuse, and you perish. Those are your only choices."

Damon loathed being forced into this, but he could hardly ignore the woman weeping inconsolably just a few paces away. What manner of husband would allow himself to slaughter this vermin while she suffered so?

Damon turned his back, signaling he was finished with the conversation. "Take your time. You won't require much of it." He exhaled a long breath and gestured with his hand.

Dozens of flickering blue panels manifested mid-air, hovering before the surviving C-rank experts scattered across the decimated hall. While it would have been simpler to erase them all, he recognized there were many talented individuals present.

The nine hidden orders had spent decades cultivating these people, and tossing away their potential—especially those who endured the initial onslaught—felt like a waste.

Damon specifically coveted the puppeteers renowned for their golem craft. He suspected the genius golem artisan was hidden among them, but he lacked the patience to sift through this mountain of trash to identify that lone treasure right now.

He chose to offer them all one final opportunity. Whether they seized it was entirely their own burden.

As the slave contracts pulsed before the C-ranks, a chorus of gasps filled the room.

"Slave contracts...?"

"Is he actually serious?"

"After what has happened, do you truly expect us to—"

Damon’s aura flared briefly, snuffing out their protests instantly. "I possess the power to kill every one of you," he remarked calmly, as if discussing the weather. "And quite honestly? That would be the much simpler path." Viscous blood still dripped through the air around him, hanging like a crimson mist.

"However, you hold value," he continued, his eyes sweeping over them with cold, calculated scrutiny. "The hidden orders invested decades into grooming you. Training you. Honing your skills. Pouring resources into you. It would be a grave waste to discard that potential."

The C-ranks traded glances, their eyes wide with terror. "I am presenting you with a second chance," Damon declared. "Not because you are worthy, but because it serves my ends. What you decide to do with that chance lies entirely with you."

A few of them reached out with trembling fingers toward the contracts. Others remained frozen, their faces drained of color and filled with a mixture of fear and deep-seated animosity. Damon did not rush them. He simply remained stationary, his blood aura simmering, silently biding his time.

Behind him, Alzara watched the scene in somber silence, the tears on her cheeks finally giving way to a flicker of relief. Even the Emperor appeared stunned, clearly caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events.

Down on the floor, the Crown Prince stared at the contract, biting his lip until he nearly drew blood. Pride warred with the instinct for survival. He found the humiliation impossible to swallow, and many of the C-ranks gripped their weapons with similar intense resentment.

Damon offered a slight shrug, sensing that a slaughter might be unavoidable after all. He raised a hand, and the blood began to churn once more. Sudden, melodic laughter echoed through the hall, and a woman stepped into the light, her form radiant against the backdrop of ruin.

Her emerald hair fluttered like autumn leaves in a light breeze as she approached, her bare feet hovering inches above the crimson-stained marble without ever making contact. Each step created a delicate ripple in the atmosphere. She possessed a stunning figure with opulent curves, and a mature, captivating presence that only enhanced her allure.

"My, my," she chirped, her voice clear and musical, creating a jarring contrast to the carnage. "Imagine arriving just in time to witness something so... exquisite."

Yet, no sane person would mistake her for merely a beautiful woman; her gaze betrayed a terrifying truth. She possessed the eyes of a true madman, lit with an undeniable, frenzied spark.

Her focus drifted across the shattered chamber, lingering on the corpses and the cowering survivors. She displayed no fear, only deep, unsettling curiosity.

"So, this is the Blood God everyone whispers about," she mused, her green eyes finally locking onto Damon. "I was beginning to suspect the tales were merely exaggerations."

The Emperor’s pupils narrowed into pinpricks. His hand moved reflexively, the instinct of a ruler detecting an uncalculated risk. Both he and Alzara cried out in unison: "Blood God! That is the mad witch Namina! Beware!"

Namina let out a joyous laugh. "Oh my. It seems my reputation remains quite pristine." She placed a hand over her heart in mock injury. "A mad witch? That is rather painful. I prefer the title of eccentric benefactor of the natural order."

The surviving C-ranks stiffened in unison. Suddenly, the vampire seemed far more appealing than this woman.

"Now, where were we?" She shifted her attention back to Damon. "You desire to be the new Emperor of these endless sands? You sweet, diminutive vampire... reaching for a prize larger than your grasp? Brat, you barely have enough years under your belt to have been properly nurtured. Why are you so insatiable?"

She ran her tongue over her lips, surveying Damon with intoxicating, lustful eyes, yet Damon felt an overwhelming sense of immediate, lethal danger.