In the wake of his battle with the Hobgoblin King, Daimon's body lay on the ground, slowly regenerating from the injuries he had sustained.
His chest rose and fell with each measured breath, and his wounds were healing at an astonishing rate.
The wounds that should have been fatal were now closing, and the vitality within him pulsed with renewed vigor.
What the Hobgoblin King had failed to anticipate was Daimon's unique power—a gift stemming from the fusion of his vampire blood with the tower's Vampire Core.
This combination granted him more than just strength; it bestowed upon him an eternal life force that defied the limitations of mortality, even for vampires.
As the battle wounds healed and his body knit itself back together, Daimon's consciousness returned. He blinked his crimson eyes, the color vibrant and alive.
A smile curled upon his lips, a mixture of amusement and triumph dancing in his gaze.
His Eternal Blood had proven its worth once again, rendering him nearly invulnerable to even the most devastating of injuries.
The Hobgoblin King's attacks had been fierce, its strength immense. But its efforts had been in vain against Daimon's unparalleled resilience.
Each strike, each wound inflicted, was now fading into obscurity as his body healed itself at an accelerated rate.
The Hobgoblin's strength, once a looming threat, had been reduced to nothing more than a fleeting memory.
Daimon's laughter resonated through the arena, a sound that echoed with both satisfaction and exhilaration.
His voice, rich and filled with mirth, carried the weight of his victory. His crimson eyes once clouded with pain, now gleamed with the knowledge of his invincibility.
The scene around him seemed to shimmer with a newfound brilliance. The colors of the arena were more vivid, and the air charged with an electric energy.
Daimon's laughter seemed to ripple through the very fabric of his surroundings as if the tower itself acknowledged his triumph.
As he rose to his feet, his movements were fluid and assured. He flexed his fingers, feeling the strength coursing through him.
Every inch of his being was suffused with a revitalizing energy, an energy that would not be extinguished easily.
Daimon's laughter subsided into a confident smile. He had faced the challenge, overcome the odds, and emerged victorious.
The Hobgoblin King's reign of terror had come to an end, shattered against the unyielding resilience of his Eternal Blood.
Daimon's smile shifted as his gaze fixed on the panel that materialized before him:
[Congratulations on killing the Hobgoblin King]
[The gate to the second floor has been opened]
[Time before the world's destruction increased by 3 months]
[Time left before the world's destruction: 4 Months 15 Days]
A wry smile graced Daimon's lips as he absorbed the significance of the information presented.
The world's impending doom was of little concern to him. Having traversed the annals of time for an extensive span, the impending destruction held far less sway over his emotions.
Yet another panel shimmered into existence, its contents revealing his well-earned reward:
[Reward for Killing the Hobgoblin King: B-Rank Custom Skill]
Daimon's smile broadened, revealing a hint of his enigmatic nature. His words, though soft, carried an air of confidence and anticipation. "Ah, the pursuit of power. How it fuels the desires of mortals and immortals alike."
With a subtle chuckle, he continued, "But for me, power is but a means to an end. And this skill... ah, yes, it aligns perfectly with my ambitions."
His eyes, once veiled by pain but now gleaming with invigoration, bore the mark of a soul who had walked through ages and emerged with an understanding that surpassed ordinary comprehension.
Meanwhile, outside the arena, Astrid and the others awaited the outcome with bated breath. What they witnessed had surpassed their wildest expectations, leaving them shocked beyond compare.
Outside the arena, the scene was one of anticipation and tension. Each leader of the allied forces had gathered, their eyes fixed on the towering gate that led to the second floor.
Yet, their attention soon turned to the system panel that materialized before them, casting a luminescent glow on their expectant faces.
One by one, their eyes scanned the words that appeared on the panel, and shock rippled through the group. The message was clear and undeniable:
[Congratulations for killing the Hobgoblin King]
[The gate to the second floor has been opened]
[Time before the world's destruction increased by 3 months]
[Time left before the world's destruction: 4 Months 15 Days]
The news was astonishing enough, but what truly baffled and enraged them was the fact that none among them had received the reward for the Hobgoblin King's defeat.
The B-Rank Custom Skill seemed to have eluded them, and the realization ignited a torrent of anger within their hearts.
Astrid, her usually composed demeanor shaken, stepped forward and slammed her foot against the ground in frustration.
The others exchanged bewildered glances, their anticipation soured by the absence of the anticipated reward.
"What madness is this?" Alexander of Serenith exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "We were all here. We fought for this victory together."
Carlos of Dracoria clenched his fists, his anger evident in the tension of his muscles. "This is outrageous. To have it slip through our fingers after all we've done..."
Liam of Solara shook his head, his normally calm expression marred by irritation. "It's as if the tower is toying with us, rewarding someone else for our triumph."
Sophia of Glaciera's icy demeanor was now replaced with a simmering rage. "This is an insult. We are the ones who should bring down the Hobgoblin King. We are the ones who should be reaping the rewards."
Aiden of Terranheim's grounded demeanor wavered as he voiced his frustration. "The tower's tricks are testing our unity. To deny us what we rightfully earned..."
Isabella of Mariposa's agility was now accompanied by fiery wrath. "We can't let this stand. We must confront the tower about this injustice."
Gabriel of Celestia, whose serenity was punctuated by his resolve, added, "Our unity is our strength. We cannot let the tower sow discord among us."
Their voices overlapped, a chorus of indignation that reverberated through the clearing. Each leader of the forces felt the sting of being denied their due reward, and their collective anger seemed to bind them even more tightly.
As their frustration found a common target, their camaraderie transformed into determination. The panel's injustice was a challenge they could not ignore.
With grim expressions, they exchanged resolute glances. The battle for victory over the Hobgoblin King might have been won by another, but the fight for their rightful rewards had only just begun.
As the leaders of the allied human forces expressed their anger and determination to rectify the injustice, not far from them, the leaders of the werewolf and vampire forces were experiencing a similar surge of frustration.
Magnus, the imposing leader of the werewolf force, stood with his arms crossed and a deep scowl etched across his rugged features.
His eyes, usually fierce and focused, now held a glint of simmering anger. The news of their victory being overshadowed by another was a blow to his pride.
His grip on his sword's hilt tightened, his claws digging into the leather. The veins on his forehead pulsed with the effort of containing his rage.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, a manifestation of his pent-up frustration.
Valerius, the enigmatic vampire leader, was equally affected, though his anger was veiled beneath a veneer of calculated calmness.
His pale fingers curled into fists at his sides, the nails digging into his palms. The usually composed and eloquent vampire now struggled to contain his emotions.
His crimson eyes, normally filled with an alluring charm, now reflected a mixture of ire and determination.
He turned his gaze towards Magnus, and their eyes met in silent acknowledgment of their shared indignation.
Though their forces had once been enemies, the alliance had united them against a common enemy, and their efforts should have been rewarded fairly.
To be denied that reward was a slight that cut deep, igniting a fire within both leaders.
As the leaders of the human forces continued to voice their grievances, Magnus and Valerius exchanged a knowing glance.
The leaders of the vampire and werewolf forces might have their differences, but at this moment, their shared sense of injustice created a bond between them.
The anger that simmered beneath their surfaces was a driving force, compelling them to take action.
The time for negotiation and diplomacy had passed; they now faced a common foe in the form of an unyielding tower that seemed intent on testing their unity and resolve.