The Golem Mage Chapter 1091: Chaotic Countdown 3.

Brandon swiftly closed the gap between them before thrusting his left fist in a sharp backhand martial strike, stripping Carmilla of her weapon and flinging her blood scythe whirling skyward.

He pressed the assault without pause.

Seamlessly transitioning, his right fist blasted out in a full-force punch, the arm's hand guard shining with white light as it unleashed the energy absorbed from Carmilla’s earlier strikes in one destructive blow.

All the pent-up power erupted simultaneously—

Boom!

The fist crashed into her abdomen, the force rippling through her frame and bowing her back sharply from the sheer impact.

Although she endured the hit somehow, she hung utterly vulnerable, held aloft by the strike's immense momentum.

As soon as she plummeted downward, Brandon lunged forward without delay, landing a crisp, straight kick that hurled her from the rooftop.

Puchi!

On the ground below, preparations were set; Brandon clenched his right fist high overhead, reshaping the landscape in that motion to raise jagged earth spikes over the area.

Carmilla slammed down amid them, her form pierced from every side, blood gushing out in torrents right away. No chance of survival remained, her body dissolving into motes moments later.

Simultaneously, Dragov and Damien got the alert—this marked her second death, one final one and she’d be fully eliminated from the contest.

Dragov charged ahead resolutely, deciding that removing Alec would shatter the War God Mage Team, so he pushed his emotions aside.

The squad centered entirely on Alec; he formed their heart, their driving force—cripple the leader, and they’d collapse. That was Dragov’s strategy, yet right as he neared—

Alec extended his right hand casually behind without glancing back; the blood scythe whirled through the sky, soaring directly into his waiting palm.

Once gripped firmly, he struck without restraint, swinging the scythe upward as Dragov’s plunging greatsword clashed against it—

Clang!

A single collision.

In that instant’s clash, both regained their stance, restoring the fight’s equilibrium anew.

He unleashed a flurry of swift cuts next, yet now he couldn’t dominate Alec anymore. Worse, faint scratches appeared on his dragon scales, building rapidly per clash, threatening to become serious wounds if he slipped.

As Dragov battled Alec fiercely, Damien stared in disbelief; just before, he’d unleashed a Blood Explosion spell, taking out Lucas.

It struck in a flash—more a surprise assault. Lucas charging ahead never spotted it; post-Carmilla’s downfall, Damien propelled his hovering blood pool forth and triggered its full detonation.

Boosted by his Qi, the blast proved catastrophic, shredding Lucas’s body into pieces; Damien aimed to claim his sister’s former blood scythe.

Post-demise, the scythe lost form, melting to liquid blood and dropping from above; then Damien reached out, trying to seize and draw it to him mid-fall.

Yet prior to his grasp securing it, the blood halted abruptly aloft, shunning the earth as it swiftly reshaped into a blood scythe, rotating while advancing—

Straight into Alec Gordons’ extended hand it flew; that sight banished Damien’s lingering uncertainty. When Alec first unveiled his shift, Damien had wavered, unclear on the sight.

Now certainty gripped him: Alec wielded a vampire bloodline, an ancient mighty variant potent enough to supersede Damien’s own blood mastery.

Briefly, Damien yearned to rush and aid Dragov against Alec, yet restraint held him.

Priority unchanged, they must claim the central rune and narrow the points divide; but entering its perimeter—

Danger’s icy chill washed over him once more.

[ Mid-Tier Spell – Quicksand Trap ]

From the rooftop perch, Brandon thrust his right hand at the rune; instantly, Damien’s footing crumbled anew into a churning sinkhole pulling him under.

“Not this again!” Pale cursed.

He instantly lifted his right index finger, slashing his left palm to spill blood; the drops defied gravity, orbiting him in suspension.

Reserves drained, self-blood was his sole option for the next incantation.

_ _

Meanwhile, Alec moved to end it, sidestepping left so Dragov’s slashing blow whistled mere inches away.

Fluidly, Alec whipped his blood scythe backhand, hooking Dragov’s neck with its curve and hauling him off-balance into a forced stagger past.

Turning, Alec’s brow furrowed faintly—Dragov hadn’t lurched fully into the ideal spot.

Thus, Alec lifted his left hand; its guard morphed and reformed into a shotgun-style barrel, pitch-black with an undergrip, while the scythe liquefied anew, condensing to a thick blood orb.

Swiftly, he jammed the orb into the weapon—fashioned via mental imprint on the nano cubes, visualizing the design precisely.

The armament throbbed softly, dark metal veining with faint crimson glow like pulsing blood channels; unhesitating, Alec leveled it, targeted—and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A packed blood slug ripped forth, smashing Dragov despite his wind veil’s rise; insufficient defense this round.

The shot pierced clean, inflicting raw harm.

Impact reeled Dragov back, but Alec advanced steadily, racking the gun—forward, back—chucking the used shell and chambering fresh.

[ Mid-Tier Spell + Skill – Marked Execution Round ]