The mess hall was a battlefield of shattered tables and stunned silence, the air thick with the acrid tang of blood and the fading wisps of the butlers’ defeated auras. Warren stood amidst the wreckage, his breathing steady, the Crown of the Abyss pulsing faintly beneath his skin. The inmates’ terrified whispers filled the void left by Killua’s departure, their eyes darting to Warren as if he were a specter risen from the Abyss itself. “The new demon,” they muttered, their voices trembling with awe and dread. Killua’s butlers, broken and limping, had vanished with their master, leaving Warren as the unchallenged victor of the hall. But the weight of his triumph was heavy—the Crown’s whispers grew louder: Dax. Hargrove. Victor. End them.Across the hall, in a shadowed corner near the rusted serving counters, Dax watched with a clenched jaw. He was a wiry man, all sharp angles and sharper eyes, his prison tattoos snaking up his neck like a noose. As Victor’s right hand in Blackthor

Warren returned to his bunk, not long after that, he sat down on the dirty floor with his legs crossed like a Monk about to cultivate his spiritual energy. Warren took a deep breathe and calmed himself down, feeling exhausted from the fight earlier, he shut his eyes and disassociated from the noise and everything external. He had just initiated the focus meditation technique. Suddenly, waves and waves of spiritual energy rushed towards him, covering him and attaching to his skin and body like a new invisible mesh of white skin. The next moment his ki extended over him such that if anyone tries to get close to him, his ki will pick it up and then wake him up at same instant. He needed to be at alert in case of any potential attack on him. He needed to be smart to survive. He probably has made lot of enemies. All the inmates, plants, small animals and even ants that had spiritual energy could feel their energy draining as Warren siphoned their spiritual energy. Not long after the ener

irled around, his face contorted with rage and disbelief. “You little *rat*!” he snarled, his voice echoing through the courtyard. His mana surged, dark tendrils of energy lashing out like whips, aiming to ensnare Warren. The air grew heavy, the oppressive weight of Dracula’s power making it hard for the onlookers to breathe.But Warren was unfazed. His focus meditation had sharpened his senses to a razor’s edge, and the spiritual energy he’d absorbed had pushed his body beyond its mortal limits. He danced through the tendrils, his movements fluid and precise, each step calculated to avoid Dracula’s attacks while closing the distance. The ring pulsed again, its voice calm and encouraging. *“He’s strong, but he’s reckless. Use his momentum against him.”*Warren’s eyes narrowed, locking onto Dracula’s. “You’re all power, no finesse,” he taunted, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Let’s see how long you can keep swinging before you tire out.”The crowd murmured, stunned by Warren’s bol

At dawn, he moved. The boiler room was unguarded, just as the ring had shown him. He pried open the grate, the ring’s faint glow illuminating the rusted bolts. The tunnel was a claustrophobic nightmare—damp, crawling with vermin, and reeking of decay. Warren pressed forward, the ring’s warmth against his skin a reminder of his purpose. Hours later, he emerged into a ravine beyond the prison’s perimeter, beyond the battalion of soldiers that he didn't need to fight for his escape, the morning sun blinding after years in the dark.He was free. Blackthorn’s curse had lifted—his crimes erased, his slate clean. But Warren’s war was just beginning. With Kane’s promised resources and Marco’s mafia backing, he would build an empire to rival Victor’s. The ring pulsed on his finger, a silent vow of vengeance. Victor had taken everything—his wife, his children, his parents, his life. Now, Warren would take it all back, and more.The horizon stretched before him, vast and unforgiving. Warren smil

"Dad! Mum!" Warren burst from his hiding spot the moment he heard the thud and his parents’ pained screams. He rushed to their side, helping them to their feet.Nico and his men snapped to attention, wary of the stranger’s sudden intrusion."Dad? Mum?" Nico muttered, stunned. He’d thought this old couple was childless—how could he have missed this?Warren’s icy glare swept over Nico and his men. "Amateurs," His ring sneered, glinting with menace."Son, no!" Eliza sobbed, clutching Warren’s arm. "You shouldn’t be here! Run, please, for your life! I can’t lose you again!" Her desperate hands tried to push him away."Don’t worry, Mum," Warren said, his voice steady and reassuring despite the odds. "I’m back now. I can protect us all. The power’s about to shift." His words carried a strange comfort, even as his parents eyed the six armed men facing their son.After settling his parents, Warren turned to face Nico and his crew, who were already drawing their battle axes.Nico’s eyes narrow