Supreme Bloodline Evolution System

Chapter 170: The Man Woven From Sunlight

He had never flown that fast before. The wind tore at his skin like invisible blades, cold and vicious, biting deep enough to make his flesh feel like it might split open. But Max did not care. Even if he were to lose a limb right now, even if the wind tore his flesh apart, he would not stop.

It had not even been that long since Max hated Agnia to the core. She had been his first enemy, the woman who wanted to kill him, the woman who had pushed him to the edge of insanity until every part of him wanted her dead. But now, he did not know what he felt for her. It was not love just yet, not something that pure or easy to name, but he saw her as his woman. He wanted to protect her. And he wanted to protect the life they would create together. The selfish part of him was also afraid of losing the Fire Dragon Bloodline, but as quickly as that thought came, it vanished, buried beneath the far more terrifying thought of losing Agnia and the child she carried.

The Fire Dragon lands were still far away, but he had already covered half the distance in only half a day. His body ached from the brutal speed, every muscle screaming as he forced himself forward without slowing down.

The army of spirit women followed roughly two kilometers behind him. Their stamina could not match his, and even though they pushed themselves to keep up, the distance between them refused to close.

The dragon army was ten kilometers behind, rushing in Max’s direction, afraid of losing his scent entirely. Yet they had already figured out where he was going, and that was what puzzled them the most.

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Agnia’s eyes shook furiously.

A man stood before her, holding her up by her long crimson hair as if she weighed nothing. His fingers were buried deep in those fiery strands, pulling her head back enough to expose her throat and force her gaze toward him. His face was hidden behind a smooth white mask, and across the place where his lips should have been, a long golden smile had been drawn with disturbing perfection.

There was no warmth in that smile, no humanity behind it, only a curved golden line staring back at her like a mockery of life itself.

"Where is the servant of the Forgotten Creator?" he asked.

His voice was almost robotic. Deep. Flat. Empty. It carried no anger, no impatience, no pleasure, and somehow that made it even worse. A man who enjoyed torture could be understood. A man who hated her could be resisted. But this thing spoke as if pain was nothing more than a process, as if cutting her apart was no different from asking the same question again and again.

Agnia had already forgotten how many times he had asked it.

Each time she told him she did not know such a person, his hand moved, and a blade made from pure light carved into her flesh. The injuries were faint compared to what her body could endure, and most of them closed quickly, sealing beneath the heat of her dragon blood. But even wounds that healed left behind pain. Even shallow cuts became torture when they came one after another, without pause, without mercy, and without even a change in his voice.

Her body was exhausted. Her knees almost gave beneath her, but his grip on her hair kept her standing.

She did not care if she died. Not really. Death had never frightened her the way it frightened weaker beings. She had been born with fire in her blood and pride in her bones. But now, beneath all that pride, beneath all that rage, she could feel the small life inside her womb.

And to Agnia, that small life made death terrifying in a way it had never been before.

Her motherly instincts screamed at her to keep the child safe no matter what. Even if she did not want to admit it, even if the thought made her pride ache, Max appeared in her mind again and again. His face. His eyes. His arrogance. His madness. The same man she had wanted dead not so long ago had somehow become the first person her mind reached for when fear swallowed her whole.

For the first time in her life, Agnia felt it clearly.

Without his protection, she was not the terrifying Fire Dragon woman others feared. She was a wounded woman carrying a child, trapped in the grip of something she could not understand.

"I told you," Agnia forced out through clenched teeth. Her voice trembled, but she refused to let it break. "Such a person has never stepped foot in my lands. I would have known."

She struggled in his grasp, her fingers clawing at his wrist as she tried to break free. A weak flicker of flame curled around her hand, but it died almost instantly, smothered by the golden radiance spilling from his body.

The masked man tilted his face slightly.

"You are lying."

His hand moved too fast for her tired eyes to follow. Blood splashed across the ground.

Agnia’s breath caught as a blade of light opened her shoulder in a clean, merciless line, cutting so deep that pale bone gleamed beneath the wound. The golden glow from the man’s clothes fell over it, making the blood look darker, almost black, while his outfit shimmered as if it had been woven from rays of the sun.

Pain crashed through her body. Her fingers curled over her stomach on instinct.

"He is not here. This is nothing but a land of dragons. There is no such being connected to whatever madness you are talking about," she screamed, her voice breaking beneath the weight of pain and fury.

The masked man tilted his head, silently examining her eyes again, as if her words meant nothing and only the truth buried inside her body mattered.

"Your eyes tell the truth. But I can feel his presence on you..." His gaze lowered to her belly, slow and unnatural. "His presence... is inside you. The father of this child. Where is he?"