Chapter 1285. Helena Finally Snapped And Attack Me With Everything She Got!

Chapter 1285: 1285. Helena Finally Snapped And Attack Me With Everything She Got!

Helena’s scream was no longer human; it was the sound of a star collapsing. The sheer volume of her anguish combined with the raw magical output triggered something primal within her bloodline.

Her pupils vanished behind two twin suns of roaring crimson fury.

"DIE!" she shrieked, the word dissolving into a guttural roar. "DIE, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!"

She thrust both hands forward in a violent, desperate motion. The air itself seemed to ignite as she unleashed her signature spell, the Flame Lance.

A three-meter spear of compressed, white-hot plasma erupted from her palms, shrieking through the air like a wounded god. When it struck Rex, it didn’t just hit him; it detonated.

BOOM CRACK!

The sound was like a mountain splitting open. The velvet armchair didn’t just burn; it disintegrated into superheated splinters that flew outward like shrapnel.

Rex was caught in the epicenter, his body jerked backward with such violent force that his vertebrae audibly snapped and popped as he was hurled across the hall. The spear tore through the air, carrying him like a projectile.

He smashed into a massive marble pillar with a wet, bone-crushing thud, the stone spiderwebbing instantly before he punched through the far wall in a spray of pulverized masonry and ancient dust.

Silence fell for a heartbeat, punctuated only by the crackle of burning fabric and the distant, terrified whimpering of the women.

Behind the rubble, Rex lay sprawled in the dining room. His chest was a ruin of charred flesh and melted fabric.

The smell of burnt meat, his own, wafted through the debris. Inside his mind, the system hummed with cold efficiency.

His full potential adaptation remained dormant, a sleeping titan he refused to wake. He wanted this raw.

He wanted the humiliation of the pain to fuel the psychological torment he was crafting. Only his Infinite Regeneration flickered to life, a slow, pulsing warmth that began to crawl through his nervous system like molten gold, stitching together ruptured organs and fused bone at a deliberately sluggish pace.

The pain was exquisite, a white-hot agony that screamed through every nerve ending, reminding him he was alive. He welcomed it.

He needed Helena to feel the triumph of this moment, to believe her rage had found its mark, so that when he tore it away, the fall would be fatal.

’Let her believe she won,’ Rex thought, his consciousness drifting through the haze of pain. ’Let her feel the false warmth of vengeance.’

’The higher she climbs on that lie, the more devastating it will be when I drag her back down.’

With a wet, grinding sound, Rex began to move. He pushed himself up, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through his shattered ribs.

Crunch. Grate.

Blood seeped from his mouth as he spat a glob of crimson onto the broken plaster. He sat up slowly, the debris falling from his shoulders like snow.

The hole in his shirt was a blackened crater, revealing skin that was crimson, blistered, and already beginning to knit together with unnatural speed.

He stood, his legs unsteady but holding. Through the swirling smoke and the settling dust of the destroyed wall, he turned his gaze back toward the doorway.

His emotional insight flared to life, casting a cold, analytical light over the scene. Through the haze, he saw her: Helena, framed by the doorway like an avenging angel of fire, her chest heaving, her hands still wreathed in flames, her entire being vibrating with the terrifying, fragile hope that she had finally struck a killing blow.

Rex didn’t look like a man who had just survived a death blow. He looked like a man who had simply been inconvenienced.

Through the swirling haze of limestone dust and smoke, Rex activated his Emotional Insight, and the world transformed. Helena wasn’t just a woman screaming in rage; she was a complex tapestry of raw data streaming directly into his consciousness.

He could read her like a bloodstained page. Beneath the volcanic fury, beneath the paralyzing grief, and beneath the nauseating humiliation of seeing her legacy defiled, there was something else—something darker, deeper, and terrifyingly resilient.

Her desire level sat at a steady 63/100. It hadn’t wavered.

Not when she saw her daughters broken, not when she saw her mother complicit, not even when she unleashed a spell that should have turned a man to ash.

That desire was a coal buried beneath layers of ash, pulsing with a heat that was tangled inextricably with the sting of betrayal.

’Interesting,’ Rex thought, a cold, predatory satisfaction coiling in his gut. ’Rage and arousal, fused together by trauma.’

’A volatile cocktail.’

’She doesn’t just want to kill me; she wants to consume me.’

’She wants to erase the shame by destroying the source of it.’

He filed that information away in the dark archives of his mind. ’Not now. Later.’

’I’ll harvest that when she’s completely hollowed out.’

"Is that all?" Rex called out.

His voice was raspy, scraped raw by the superheated air, but it carried that same infuriating, mocking cadence. He spat a thick glob of blood onto the shattered marble between them, the crimson splatter standing out starkly against the white dust.

"I expected more from the third strongest mage in Aethelgard."

"I expected a catastrophe, but instead..." he gestured vaguely at the smoking hole in his chest, "...I got a parlor trick."

Helena flinched as if he had struck her again.

"Shut up," she hissed, but her voice lacked its earlier authority. It sounded desperate, frantic.

"Oh, what’s the matter, Helena?" Rex stepped forward, his boots crunching on debris.

The skin across his ribs was still visibly knitting, the wet squelch of regenerating tissue audible in the charged silence. "Did you miss?"

"Did the great Starlight matriarch finally realize she’s nothing more than a frightened housewife playing with matches?"

"I will burn you to nothingness!" she screamed, her flames intensifying until they turned from crimson to a blinding, sickly orange.

"You’ll try," Rex laughed, and the sound was like glass grinding against bone. "But we both know the truth, don’t we?"

"You’re not angry because I hurt them."

"You’re angry because you know I’m right."

"You’re angry because even as you stand there pretending to be righteous, your body remembers the way I touched them."

"Your body remembers how easy it was to break them."

He leaned his head to the side, studying her with the clinical detachment of an executioner. "Look at you... shaking. Trembling."

"Is it rage, Helena? Or is it the terror that if you stop screaming, you’ll realize how much you actually enjoyed watching me take what was yours?"

"YOU FILTHY, GODLESS MONSTER!" Helena’s voice cracked, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony.

The magical pressure in the room spiked so sharply that the remaining windows in the hall didn’t just crack; they exploded outward in a cascade of glittering shards.

"Monster?" Rex’s smile widened, becoming something truly demonic. "No, Helena."

"A monster would have killed you already... I’m something much worse."

"I’m the truth you’ve been trying to hide from yourself your entire life."

He spread his arms wide, exposing the raw, regenerating wound in his chest to her. "Come on then!"

"Show me that legendary Starlight fury!"

"Show me why everyone fears you! Or are you going to stand there and cry like the pathetic, broken bitch you’ve become?!"

Helena made a sound that wasn’t quite a word; it was a sob that had mutated into something feral. Her entire body convulsed with magical feedback.

The air around her began to warp and ripple from the sheer heat she was generating. Her eyes were no longer human; they were twin furnaces of molten hatred.

Slowly, deliberately, she raised both hands. The flames didn’t just dance around her palms; now they erupted, forming two massive, swirling vortexes of superheated energy that cast her shadow across the hall like a demon rising from hell.