Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

"No, no, no, this thing cannot be released in Brilda." Lanci firmly rejected the suggestion. The current Nuclear Fusion Wolf Transformation, if detonated by Talia, would also benefit from the double enhancement of the Sealing Stone Tablet and the Fire Tablet; even he himself could not estimate its power. At best, it could be used to threaten the enemy in a pinch. Sometimes, a bomb that hasn't exploded is the most useful. "..." Just as Talia was about to say something, she stopped herself; although this kid had principles, his thinking was still that of a terrorist. At this moment, several tangible strands of Magic Power suddenly locked onto Lanci. His casting of Magic had alerted the Ancestors of the Blood Clan underneath Saint Trier. "As expected, it's time for me to be let in." Lanci looked towards the scorched land of Saint Trier from afar and silently muttered. He didn't have to wait long before the scenery around him suddenly changed. With a dizzying whirl, he fell into a bizarre Barrier space. The buildings and trees around him seemed to fly upwards, while the whistling of the eerie wind resounded in his ears. He began to fall at an extreme speed, the landscape of the upside-down city filling his view. Countless buildings were thrust into the pitch-black night, wantonly defying the laws of gravity, with intersecting buildings fitting together like a meticulously arranged three-dimensional Magic Cube maze. The entire city stretched desperately towards the sky, yet it also helplessly plummeted towards the core of the earth. "Your Holiness, feeling quite fiery today?" The mocking voice echoed around Lanci, like a proclamation from a deity. Lanci, under his silver-white mask, smiled without reply. He hung upside down, his white robe fluttering, freely falling towards the direction of Blood King Palace. "Lankros, I've really been looking forward to seeing you these past few days; you came without notifying me in advance, making me feel so left out." The Third Ancestor, Rashar, mocked from within the darkness. After an indeterminate time floating, Lanci was enveloped by a palace. The expansive corridors in front of him would occasionally disappear and reappear elsewhere, doors of rooms continuously shifted, leading to completely different spaces, staircases snaked upwards endlessly, and the doors along the narrow corridors constantly opened and closed, pouring out churning Blood Sea as if capable of devouring everything. Suddenly, a splendid sliding door opened slowly in front of Lanci. Without any hesitation, he passed through it, and his fall began to slow. Lanci looked around as he landed softly at the very center of the circular courtyard of Blood King Palace. "Welcome to Blood Moon City, Saint Polante Pope." A handsome young boy emerged from the blood mist, the owner of the voice, bowing to Lanci as if for a curtain call performance. His features were delicate, his skin porcelain-white, with soft brown hair falling to his shoulders. The pure black velvet suit accentuated his ethereal demeanor, with the Honing noble family crest embroidered in gold on its lapel. At first glance, he appeared to be nothing more than a pampered wealthy young master, but as one locked eyes with his ruby-like depths, they would discern a wisdom that far surpassed what his outer appearance suggested. "Now that you have successfully made it to Blood Moon City, you might have also learned some things about the Demon People, how does it feel?" Duke Rashar had a slight uptick at the corner of his mouth, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "I feel very good." The Pope under the silver-white mask stared intently through the mist behind Rashar, pinpointing the positions of the other Ancestors. He unleashed a blazing arc of red fire from his palm, shooting straight into the sky, instantly lighting up the entirety of Blood Moon City as bright as Purgatory. Countless dazzling sparks converged in the void to form a Purgatory Net, overwhelming Blood Moon City as it descended. "Don't start with a grand show of force, Your Holiness; there are plenty more surprises in store." Duke Rashar said with a cold laugh. A purple-red tortoiseshell-shaped Magic Barrier quickly formed around Rashar, keeping the fiery net at bay. The two forces of Magic Power collided mid-air, causing a deafening boom. Lanci stood motionless, his hands continually drawing forth the Light Fire Spell. Gradually, however, this clash seemed to reach a stalemate. On the ground covering several kilometers, a grand Magic Formation took shape beneath the feet of Rashar, the Third Ancestor, the Magic Power radiating from it far surpassing the might the Pope unleashed moments prior. Purple-red specks of light whirled frantically within Blood King Palace, turning into blood-red serpents that hissed toward the Pope's Array of Light, making the very air stagnate. Lanci stayed silent, increasing his Spell output, rapidly constructing a rocky Sealing Shield before him. Even faced with Duke Rashar's all-out assault, the stone shield remained unyielding, though fine cracks began to spread across its surface like a spiderweb. The next second, innumerable dazzling lights burst forth from the Pope, intertwining into thousands of rings of light mid-air, carrying the weight of a thousand jun, crushing directly towards Rashar. The two cataclysmic forces collided fiercely in the void, causing an earth-shattering boom throughout Blood King Palace. In an instant, both sides' offensives were nullified, and the situation returned to a quiet equilibrium. "Ah, Lankros, even though you're this weak now, do you still think you're the invincible Saint Polante Pope of the past?" After the fierce exchange, Rashar appeared to be quite at ease, his face bearing a sly smile. The Pope slowly lowered his hand, his expression under the mask dark and indiscernible. "Lanci, have I seen this scene three times already?" Although Talia believed that the details were different each time, the beginnings of the three simulations were similar. Except for the first time when it truly was unbeatable.