The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Seraphina’s blade met Celine’s in another shower of sparks, the impact jarring up her arm. She gritted her teeth, her feet sliding back as she absorbed the force of the strike.

’Her attacks are wild. Unpredictable. There’s no rhythm I can lock onto and no pattern to exploit. It’s like fighting a storm.’

She deflected another blow, the crimson edge passing close enough to ruffle her hair. Her internal voice sharpened with recognition.

’This is exactly like fighting my instructor. The same chaotic, instinctive style—the kind that doesn’t follow any school. Just pure, brutal experience.’

Celine’s laugh cut through the clash of steel, breathless and wild.

”Hm? I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this.”

She lunged forward, her blade carving a vicious arc aimed at Seraphina’s chest.

Seraphina’s sword came up to block but she was too slow. The tip of Celine’s blade slipped past her guard, slicing through her armor with a sharp, grinding screech.

A line of crimson bloomed across Seraphina’s chest.

She stumbled back, her free hand pressing against the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining the torn edges of her armor. Her vision swam for just a moment—but she forced herself to stay upright, to keep her grip on her sword.

Celine straightened, her blade dripping with Seraphina’s blood.

”Not bad. You almost blocked that one.”

Seraphina’s breath came in sharp, controlled bursts as she pressed her hand harder against the wound on her chest. The blood was warm and slick between her fingers, but she forced herself to focus, to push the pain to the back of her mind.

’She’s faster than I anticipated, and her attacks are too erratic to predict—it’s like she’s fighting on instinct alone.’

She shifted her stance, lowering her center of gravity. Her blade, still blazing with golden light, moved into a low guard—a defensive posture that would give her more time to react.

Celine’s smile sharpened as she watched the shift.

”Learning on the fly, are we? Cute.”

She lunged again, her blade carving a serpentine path through the air. Seraphina’s sword snapped up to meet it, but Celine’s attack was a feint—at the last moment, her blade reversed direction, aiming for Seraphina’s exposed side.

Seraphina twisted, the blade grazing her ribs instead of piercing them. She hissed through her teeth, but didn’t retreat. Instead, she drove forward, her shoulder slamming into Celine’s chest.

Celine stumbled back, her eyes widening with surprise. The impact knocked the wind out of her for just a moment, and Seraphina pressed the advantage.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Her blade became a blur of golden light, each strike faster than the last, each one aimed at a gap in Celine’s guard. The rhythm was relentless, a cascade of steel and will that forced Celine onto the back foot.

Celine’s smile flickered, her eyes narrowing as she deflected strike after strike. Her voice, when it came, was breathless but sharp.

”Hah. You actually managed to surprise me.”

She planted her feet, her blade sweeping up in a vicious arc that forced Seraphina to leap back. They circled each other, both breathing hard, both searching for an opening.

Celine’s voice dropped, a note of genuine interest creeping into her tone.

”How long can you keep this up, knight? How long before that wound slows you down?”

Seraphina’s grip tightened on her sword. The golden light along its edge blazed brighter, defiant.

”As long as it takes.”

--------×--------

Franc’s legs burned with the effort of running while carrying Kloss’s dead weight over his shoulder. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, each one a reminder that he was pushing his body far beyond its limits.

Behind him, Bianca stumbled, her foot catching on a jutting root. She hit the ground hard, a sharp cry of pain escaping her lips as her palms scraped against the rough earth.

”Ahh!”

Gilbert’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. ”Get up! Keep moving! We can’t stop!”

Reith was already there, his hand closing around Bianca’s arm and hauling her to her feet. He pulled her arm over his shoulder, taking her weight without breaking stride.

”I’ve got you. Just keep running.”

Bianca’s voice came out weak, breathless, but carried a note of genuine gratitude. ”Thank you... Reith...”

Franc’s gaze snapped toward Gilbert, his voice strained with urgency and doubt. ”Gilbert—is this the right way?! Are you sure?!”

Gilbert didn’t look back, his eyes fixed on the winding path ahead.

”I’m sure. I’ve memorized the routes around here. This is the fastest way out.”

Then a low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows ahead.

The group skidded to a halt. A massive creature stepped into their path—a tiger. Its fur was a deep, shadowy grey, streaked with jagged patterns of silver that seemed to shift in the dim light. Two curved horns swept back from its skull, their surfaces gleaming like polished obsidian. Its eyes burned with a faint, amber glow, and its massive paws ended in claws that could tear through steel.

Gilbert’s voice dropped, tight with recognition. ”That’s a Crimson Maw Tiger. I can’t take it alone—I’ll need your help.”

Franc lowered Kloss carefully, laying him against a rocky outcropping. He straightened slowly, his gaze fixed on the creature. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, and he drew it with a slow, deliberate motion.

”Sorry,” Franc said, his voice low and steady. ”But we’re in a hurry. So don’t get in my way.”

The Crimson Maw Tiger let out a low, rumbling growl. Its muscles tensed, coiling like springs ready to release.

Franc lunged forward, his sword carving a clean, horizontal arc aimed at the tiger’s flank. The creature twisted, its massive body moving with surprising speed, and its claws swept toward Franc’s chest in a brutal counter.

Franc ducked, the claws passing inches above his head. He rolled, came up in a crouch, and drove his blade toward the tiger’s exposed side—

CLANG!

The blade met the creature’s hide, and sparks flew. The Crimson Maw Tiger’s fur was tougher than it looked—like striking stone wrapped in shadow. Franc gritted his teeth, pushing harder, but the blade wouldn’t bite deeper.

”Tch!” He leaped back, reassessing.

As the tiger lunges toward Franc, Gilbert moves from its blind spot.

His dagger flashed in the dim light, a silver blur aimed at the creature’s eye. The tiger roared, twisting to avoid the strike, but Gilbert was faster. The blade carved a shallow line across its brow, and the creature recoiled, blinking rapidly.

Its guard dropped just for a moment.

Franc saw his chance and took it.

He surged forward, his sword driving deep into the tiger’s throat. The creature convulsed, a wet, gurgling sound escaping its jaws, then crumpled to the ground.

Franc stood tall despite the burn in his lungs. His voice was harsh, yet steady as stone.

”Let’s move.”

They bolted, leaving the carcass behind.

The path wound through jagged rocks and sparse, twisted trees, the ground uneven and treacherous. Their footsteps pounded against the earth, each breath a sharp, desperate gasp.

Then they felt it, a pressure dense and suffocating, pressing against their senses like a physical weight. Reith’s steps faltered. His voice cracked, sharp with alarm.

”What... what is this aura...?”