The Bloody Demon God

Rewind to a time before the extraordinary war even began.

Realizing there might be something wrong with the remains of Ian Crook that were being transported back to headquarters, Arthur entrusted his most loyal knight to destroy the bloody remains. The order was so firm and serious that even if the loyal knight sensed the turmoil of an invasion, he would carry out his leader's orders first.

He passed through heavily guarded and heavily protected gates and arrived at his destination.

Ian Crook lay on the cold stone platform.

Judging from appearance alone, it is impossible to identify this person.

This former Military Intelligence Section 5 official turned London upside down in a single day, leaving the government, the American Empire, and the Round Table in a state of chaos. His awakening had greatly excited the Round Table, leading them to decide to recruit this new member. His death, however, shocked and caught everyone off guard.

The terrorists who manipulated the black fire and kidnapped the United States ambassador have shed their skin and vanished, with preliminary analysis suggesting they were overwhelmed by an overwhelming force. This phenomenon has baffled the Knights of the Round Table, while research on their skeletons and other aspects has cast a shadow over the leaders of the Round Table.

According to the investigation, Ian Crook only awakened once.

But these things are no longer important.

Arthur's order was to destroy the skeleton—not to chop it up with an axe, not to smash it with a hammer, not even to put it in the incinerator, but to utterly destroy it.

The knight codenamed Bedivere stared at the bloody skeleton without changing his expression, closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his left hand and pressed it against his right shoulder.

Then his calm and handsome face became ferocious, twisting in pain.

A cruel, bloodthirsty glint appeared in his eyes. The Knight of the Round Table growled softly, his body hunched over in agony. With a beast-like howl, his right arm rapidly expanded, tearing through his sleeve. He swung it forcefully, and in a short time, the deformed and grotesque arm grew to half the size of his body. A terrifying single eye opened from his shoulder. His right arm resembled both a dragon and a demon, with black keratin and scales extending, intertwining, and growing in a tangled mess.

This is his power, a gift from his master, and a manifestation of the Round Table's favor.

Bedivere raised his massive claws high, flickering black Flame clinging to them. With a single blow, he could crush the remains into ashes—that was Arthur's mission.

But for some reason, the knight hesitated.

He suddenly felt an immense sense of beauty emanating from the remains of Ian before him, like a perfect work of art, magnificent, beautiful, and priceless, which should not be destroyed so carelessly.

... wrong.

The rumbling vibrations shattered his reverie; they were the sounds of explosions and tremors from an invading enemy. He had to carry out Arthur's orders and return to his side as quickly as possible to protect him.

The Knights of the Round Table raised their beast's claws once more.

He hesitated for the second time.

Arthur was worried that the remains might conceal Kang De's schemes... but the battle had already begun, and the skeleton remained completely still, indicating that Arthur's suspicions were unfounded. So, should he destroy this unique and potentially limitless work of art for the sake of this inaccurate guess?

... Wait a moment.

Bedivere looked horrified. He shook his head violently, his subconscious and reason battling within him. These were clearly bloody, ugly skeletons, not works of art. Why was he thinking this? Why couldn't he control his emotions? Who was thinking in his mind? Who was telling him these things?

He let out a roar, black flames spread, and his claws tore through the air.

This evil thing must be destroyed.

--The sharp claws came within millimeters of Ian's skull, then stopped.

Bedivere's body stiffened.

His eyes showed utter horror.

Because he saw Ian's head, devoid of flesh and with empty eye sockets, move slightly.

The skeleton lying flat on the stone platform turned to look at him.

The mouth, devoid of lips, cheeks, and even gums, opened and closed.

A hoarse voice, like a scream from hell, rang out. "You... who are you?"

The corpse is speaking.

Bedivere stared at the scene like a statue.

How beautiful, how pure.

He couldn't move his eyes, body, hands, or feet; he could only observe the scene unfolding quietly and closely, yet his heart was filled with an unprecedented peace and joy.

He gradually understood everything.

Why beauty? Why hesitation? Why inability to move?

Because the noblest part of my own body says that it is beautiful and should not be destroyed.

That's true.

The next moment, Bedivere felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and his body regained sensation. He looked down and saw that the skeleton's left hand had pierced through his body and dug out his heart.

What an honor!

The other person's voice was filled with hatred and rage. "You are... the Round Table..."

Life slipped away swiftly, signifying the end of everything. To die here, to die at the hands of a newly awakened corpse, yet Bedivere did not resist, did not scream, did not struggle. Even though he had regained control of his body, the only thing he did was... smile.

The Knight of the Round Table fell backward, his beastly, swollen right arm withering rapidly like a punctured balloon, and crimson light flowed continuously from his arm into his skeleton.

"I..."

Memories flooded my mind like a tidal wave.

The worst day.

The last scene at the airport.

"I am Ian... Ian Crook..."

"But..."

The skeleton withdrew its arm, staring at its bloodless, fleshless finger bones, its thin and terrifying arms, and its bare ribs. Beneath the blood-red membrane, its organs had lost their vitality. Finally, it looked at its empty pelvis. All of this was like a nightmare, defying all common sense of nature.

He was a tall, handsome, typical Caucasian, a pure Celt.

Now, he has become a chickenless creature.

The memories of the past returned, and the stark contrast made him roar. He howled in despair, staring at his body in disbelief—the vanished flesh and blood, his body, his skin, his face. He had become a monster. No one would believe him if he called himself Ian Crook. If he appeared before his wife and daughters with such a face, they would faint from fright.

He lost everything.

All of this is because... all of this is because...

--What's that China man's name? Who is he? Who is he?!

The thought of his life being wantonly manipulated and interfered with, the thought of himself becoming like this, and in the end not even knowing the name or identity of that China man, fueled his uncontrollable rage. He roared silently, he howled furiously, his insides burning, almost tearing his resurrected soul apart—his life was ruined, and he could no longer embrace his wife and daughters, all thanks to him!

... etc!

Vanessa! Shanna! My treasure!

Where are you!?

His devotion and love for his family even outweighed his hatred. Searching through the sea of memories, he recalled the events leading up to his death, and in that instant, he felt as if he had fallen into an icy abyss.

His wife and daughters were with him then, and he died, which rendered him useless to the China. In other words, at that time, he, who had threatened the Round Table and confronted the government, had died.

Only his helpless wife and daughter were left behind.

In front of the Round Table.

In that instant, scenes from the mission flashed through his mind: reports blacked out and altered, deleted records, piles of bones, mangled corpses, and bloody dismemberment scenes...

"No!!!!"

Round Table! Round Table! Round Table! Round Table! Round Table!

The world turned crimson, filled with blood, as all the rage and murderous intent surged and boiled over once more. He recalled the anger he felt at the airport, the madness and pain that welled up inside him transforming into pure power. In that instant, he even felt that he could tear the whole world apart—the whole world!

Round Table! Round Table!

Find them and rescue Shanna and Vanessa!

Kill them, defeat them, intimidate them.

--Ian was very familiar with the power and influence of the Round Table.

Powerful and enigmatic superhumans, wielding immense power—to defeat them...

More resources are needed.

Visible droplets of blood floated from the bodies of the fallen Knights of the Round Table.

The massive wound was torn open, producing a terrifying, grating sound.

A frail skeleton cannot provide immense power, just as a solid foundation requires sturdy stone to build a magnificent structure. Ian Crook gazed at his bloodied skeleton, and the instinct deep within his soul manifested as a primal craving—he needed a body, flesh and blood, and more...

The more the better.

The Knight of the Round Table's body suddenly exploded, the torn flesh shattering and reforming in mid-air, clinging to the grim skeleton and carefully wrapping it like an lining.

That's not enough.

Ian pushed open the heavy wooden door, passed through the dark, bloody dungeon, and then pushed open another large door. Several Oathkeeper turned around and then screamed in unison.

The crimson figure flashed like lightning, tearing the fragile human body in two. Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, and large chunks of flesh were kneaded and forged by an invisible and powerful force into stronger muscles, layer upon layer wrapping around the skeleton. One after another, offerings contributed their own flesh and blood.

Ian continued onward.

Find the place with the most flesh and blood, the place with the most Round Table, and eat them!

He relentlessly slaughtered and collected flesh and blood, breaking through the heavily sealed underground of the ancient castle, killing the Oathkeeper and preparing to defend themselves. The warriors of the Round Table could only watch as a bloodthirsty demon strode in unstoppable, like a demon crawling out of hell, devouring the flesh and blood of the Mortal World to build his own body. The broken flesh and blood of his comrades reformed and gathered on his body.

His terrifying appearance and demeanor shocked and terrified even the followers of the Round Table.

Beyond the inner lining, several layers of flesh and blood defense were forged and solidified, followed by the outer shell. In the center of the breastplate was a twisted, screaming human face. Heavy gauntlets constructed of bone plates revealed barbs. The heavy boots he wore rippled with blood-red light. The bloodthirsty demon donned an outer robe, and enormous bone spikes grew and extended from his back, reaching towards the sky, straight as swords. The flesh and blood on his neck, like a man-eating flower blooming, gradually closed up, enveloping the hollow skull and giving rise to a skeletal crown-like helmet, covered with sharp bone spikes.

The demonic monster, nearly three meters tall, removed the greatsword made of bone from its back.

The broad blade was a chilling, blood-red keratinous layer, the skulls on either side of the back of the sword were terrifying, and the hilt was wrapped with several twisted skeletal hands, tightly gripped by a horrifying killer.

This is a demon, Terminator, a killer, Avenger from hell.

A monster pieced together from flesh and blood.

Almost instinctively, the members of the British Round Table came up with a perfectly fitting code name, derived from a character depicted in a 19th-century United Kingdom novel, widely regarded as the world's first true science fiction novel... born from corpses, stitched together from flesh and blood.

Its name is...

Frankenstein!

The giant skeletal sword, carrying boundless, ruthless killing intent, crashed down!

The underground chamber of the Round Table is where the main members retreated with the Hand of Glory. It is Shelter capable of withstanding powerful attacks and a foolproof escape route. The Round Table began building this place after World War I, and it was used for annual drills, maintenance, and renovations until the 1990s.

They thought they would never need this place again.

"Don't panic."

Arthur looked at the uneasy Knights of the Round Table: "Isn't our master's command clear? He will protect us. We stay here, with the Hand of Glory, and our master's will will become a protective Bulwark, keeping us safe from the clutches of the invaders... Do not waver, believe firmly!"

Just then, an unfamiliar voice came through the still-functioning surveillance camera.

"Make way, let the professionals handle this—listen up, you inside, you're surrounded! Lay down your weapons and surrender now. You Westerners have this tradition, right? Don't be complacent. AWSL Company started out as an excavator; they can dig through underground structures thousands of meters deep. What's a few of you thinking you can just put down a three-meter-thick iron gate and surround it with granite?"

Kang De's mocking voice drifted in. "Let me tell you, if you keep resisting and make me go through all this trouble digging, then once we've dug through, I'll first connect your place to the entire London sewage system..."

Most of the warriors have returned to the White Mist World, leaving only a small number of elite warriors and small drones carrying space beacons around Kang De's side—mainly in case the villainous organization were to self-destruct; this isn't a movie, there's no time to defuse a bomb.

Rather than forcing these bastards to jump over the wall by force, it's better to let them come out obediently on their own.

"Don't worry, our China policies are excellent!" Kang De exclaimed. "I can sign a written agreement with the Grand Secretary Yue: if you surrender, I will never kill you!"

The knights were somewhat tempted, Arthur glanced around and said fiercely, "Don't harbor any illusions. The greatness we serve is far beyond what Kang De could compare to. If we bow down now, how will our master treat us?"

Someone said, "But..."

"But what?" the leader of the Round Table gritted his teeth. "Our master told us to wait here, that things might change. Maybe the government will intervene, maybe our allies will put pressure on Kang De. In any case, hold on, stay here, and wait for what our master says..."

"--Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!" A terrifying sound faintly came from behind the door on the west side of the hall. The door was violently kicked open, and a bloodied high-ranking Oathkeeper screamed as he tumbled and crawled, "Frankenstein!"

Before he could finish speaking, a greatsword pierced through the blood-red mist and pinned him to the ground.

A monster nearly three meters tall appeared before them, roaring, "The Round Table! Who is Arthur!"

Everyone turned to look at their leader, and the next moment, Arthur cried out in exasperation, "Enemy attack! Battle! Hand of Glory, grant me..."

The eulogy abruptly stopped, and Arthur turned in disbelief Hand of Glory of his master, which had granted them strength and the ability to offer sacrifices, rejected his request.

The wind howled fiercely, ghosts roared, and a bloodthirsty demon god charged forward with his sword drawn.

Blood splattered everywhere, and screams filled the air!

"What the hell is going on?"

A series of muffled screams and busy tones came through the loudspeaker, followed by a dead end and silence. Kang De scratched his head. "Could this be some kind of trap?"

"The United Kingdom film industry must be very developed."

"That's right." Kang De pressed his hands to the ground, "A full-scale assault—dig!"

The Shelter was a scene of carnage, with pieces of flesh scattered everywhere. Ian, clutching Arthur, roared, "Where are my wife and daughters! Where is my wife! Where is my daughter! Where is Shanna!?"

"You..."

Arthur stared at the other person in horror and confusion, then suddenly realized who they were.

"Ian..." The fear turned to surprise, the confusion to realization, "You..."

"--tell me!"

A flash of inspiration struck him. Perhaps it was the other party's resolute killing intent, or perhaps he realized something, but Arthur smiled and grinned, saying, "Dead. Killed by Kang De."

A surge of violent and agonizing killing intent erupted. "Kang De! Kang De!"

"Yes! That's him, he's your real enemy! He's the China man who controlled you. He thought you were useless, so he killed your wife and daughters to silence them forever. That's your true enemy. I'm not your enemy, Ian. We can join forces, we can avenge ourselves against Kang De..."

"No! You are my enemy too!"

The greatsword pierced Arthur's body in an instant. Ian said viciously, "You and Kang De will both die!"

I think I heard someone say I'm handsome.

Just then, a cracking sound resounded above the Shelter, and a piece of the solid dome suddenly disappeared, as if a corner had been bitten off by the dragon of the world. A sacred light lifted the Judge to descend.

One after another, power armors of various designs landed with a thud, surrounding him. Transformers that had detached from their war modules and switched to individual soldier mode flew through the air, the clanging of metal echoing incessantly. Like a steel eagle, clad in golden armor forged by the blazing sun, the Fire Thief descended from the sky, gazing at the flesh-and-blood, fallen, and frenzied soul of vengeance. The boundary between light and darkness was clear.

"Holy crap, that look is totally cool!"

Kang De asked, "Who are you, macho man?"

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PS1: Update... I feel like this version of Frankenstein is even more appealing. (Nods)