Immortal Path Space - Chapter 548: Eighteen Demon Clans

Corvin Blackmoor was a man carved by war and betrayal.From the blood soaked deserts of Afghanistan to the shadowed corridors of British Intelligence, he served and watched ideals crumble into lies.Patriotism. Honor. Loyalty.He buried them all long before a Quds Force assassin silenced his final breath.But death was only the beginning.Dragged from the ruins of a dying world, Corvin awakens in Valtheris. A savage world ruled by magic, where gods are myths, and survival is written in blood.He is no longer human.He is the last of the Dark Parasytes, an extinct race once so feared that every kingdom, every empire, and every mage order hunted them to extinction.Armed with Shadow Siphon, the power to replicate the strengths of others, Corvin stands alone at the bottom of an alien food chain.Weaker than a wild beast, with enemies and predators lurking in every forest, every court, every throne.Weakness is temporary, patience is eternal.In a world fractured by ancient wars, between noble Elves, scheming Demons, ruthless Humans, primal Feralis and Aetherborn Corvin will climb.He will feast. He will conquer.And in the shadows of Valtheris, the last predator will rise.No gods. No masters.Only the cold ambition of a man who has nothing left to believe in… but power itself.

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

Every hero starts with power. He started with dust.One moment, the classroom buzzed with teenage chatter. The next, silence fell. Students blinked—and opened their eyes in an ancient hall carved from gold and marble. The air shimmered with divine magic. And at its center stood a goddess—flawless, proud, unbelievably beautiful and wrapped in flowing white.It was a divine summoning performed by a divine goddess.Among them was Vritra… and his stunningly beautiful mother.While others received blessings, powerful physiques and grand titles, Vritra was given a skill so pathetic it made even the goddess wrinkle her nose. An ability—so pitifully weak that it drew laughter, scorn, and even disgust. But that wasn't the worst part.Betrayed and cornered inside the labyrinth, Vritra had two choices: die… or fall into the death trap.A death canopy with no exit and no chance of survival, the only option was to slaughter the demons endlessly for months.Finally!! He forced his dormant skill to awaken, after killing thousands and hundreds of thousands demons and devouring them, becoming a broken ability.******White robes. Cold arroganceA sinful revenge.White robes can stain. And in the dark, even divinity can moan.And then there was his mo— guilt in her breath, shame in her eyes, whispering apologies between gasps in her son's ear, doing what had to be done… for both their sakes.