The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 53: The Book of the Damned

Atlas tried yanking away from the demon’s grip, his small frame shaking with fury as he spat venom. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU SHITTY ASS!"

"Fuck! Calm down!" the crimson demon growled, tightening his hold on Atlas to prevent him from squirming free. "She’s safe. That cunt already said he won’t harm her. This is a chance for us..."

Atlas glared back at the demon, his golden eyes blazing like molten metal. The thundering echoes of Lara’s battle still reverberated through the air, each clap a reminder of how far she’d come—and how fragile this moment truly was.

"Why did he get triggered after your annoying huh?" Atlas snapped, his voice dripping with accusation. "I know your shitty ass wanted to distract him, but that GUIDE shit ticked him off BADLY!"

The demon smirked, clearly amused by Atlas’s outburst. "In time, you’ll know everything, Atlas. Let’s just focus on you surviving."

Atlas turned sharply, his expression darkening further. "You think your soft talking will fool me? I only have the body of a child—not my mind, you fucker. Don’t try saying you wanna save me while it’s YOUR ass you wanna fucking save—"

Before he could finish, the crimson demon suddenly released him mid-air, letting gravity take over as they plummeted toward their destination below.

"Cuuunnttt!!" Atlas screamed, landing hard on the ground. The acrid stench of sulfur filled his nostrils as he scrambled to his feet, pacing near the massive rip in reality created by his summoning spell.

Like a sore thumb against the suffocating darkness, the crimson flames illuminated the abyss around them. Atlas gazed at his creation, awestruck despite himself. He hadn’t known he possessed the mana to tear open reality itself—but deep down, he’d always suspected the truth. It wasn’t just skill—it was his new heart, raw and untamed, that fueled such power. He knew it, but refused to accept it still.

Flap! Flap!

The demon landed beside him, his wings folding neatly against his back as he peered into the humongous crack.

"Time’s ticking," the demon muttered, his tone unusually serious. "You know what to do, right, Atlas? You’re the only one in history who can dream and still carry the blood of a demon. An anomaly among anomalies. You want safety; We want the dreaming. What about it?"

Atlas kept glaring at the rip, his finger tapping absently on his chin. "Could not have said it better.... but answer my question first."

The crimson demon glanced back briefly, checking the ongoing battle between Dracula and Lara. "...Alright, I know what you’re gonna ask. You’re still curious about the GUIDE?"

Atlas nodded curtly, his gaze locked onto the demon. "No..... Why is it always ME? Why are you after me? Why do you seek me and After this shit is done and gone. I want you dead—or at least gone. Leave me and my loved ones alone."

The demon fell silent, his hand glowing faintly as fire coalesced into the shape of a book. From the flames emerged a charcoal-covered tome, ancient and pulsating with energy.

"It’s the same reason why I call you GUIDE," the demon said softly, presenting the book to Atlas. "The world has plans for you, Atlas. You just don’t know it yet.

"You... you are among the rarest of the rare. Not just because you defy the laws of creation, but because you possess the arrogance to do so. These are not mere rules, Atlas—they are the foundation stones of existence itself, forged by the gods to serve their whims. Just like that undead abomination your sister battles now—a mockery of life, permitted only because the divine wills it so."

"Tell me, do you truly believe matter simply was? That love and hate were stumbled upon like pebbles on a shore? That the mountains and oceans merely appeared? Fool! These are not accidents of creation—they are impositions. Manifestations of a will so vast, it carved its ego into the fabric of reality itself. These so-called ’laws’ are nothing but chains, binding the cosmos to the desires of those who call themselves gods— blurring the greater truth with their petty designs!"

"But this..." (The ancient tome trembles in his grip, its pages humming with forbidden power.) "This book is the only truth. The sole unshackled reality in all this gilded illusion of a world. It does not bow to fate. It does not kneel to destiny. It devours them."

The moment Atlas laid eyes on the book, his entire body vibrated with an inexplicable pull. His heartbeat quickened, drowning out all other sounds as the world around him faded into numbness. His fingers twitched involuntarily, reaching toward the book like a magnet drawn to its pole.

"What is this...?" Atlas whispered hoarsely, his hand trembling as it neared the mysterious tome.

The crimson demon smiled—a wild, erratic grin—as he watched Atlas’s reaction unfold. "I should’ve shown you this sooner. My apologies.....GUIDE."

[Demon King’s Heart Resonating...]

Atlas quaked, his hand shaking violently as sparks of red light erupted from the book.

[Jörmungandr’s Blood Is Resonating...]

[Yggdrasil’s Seeds Are Resonating...]

The demon felt it too—the book yearning to escape, alive with a will of its own. With a startled gasp, he let go, watching as the book flew toward Atlas.

As Atlas reached out to grasp the incoming artifact, his heart surged with an overwhelming joy, almost unbearable in its intensity.

{{{{STOP!}}}} Dracula bellowed, his voice shattering the atmosphere like a divine decree.

Like light speed, Dracula descended upon them. With a single flick of his hand, he pushed the book away, hurling it into the abyss of the cracked rip as though it were nothing more than an insignificant trinket.

And just like that—Atlas froze. His body stopped moving altogether, every muscle locked in place as though time itself had betrayed him.

{{{You thought I would let you have that moment ...again? I stopping this cycle of destruction.}}} Dracula’s voice boomed, cold and clinical, each syllable dripping with disdain. Without hesitation, he seized the crimson demon by the neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

{{{Pitiful... You creatures, created by the One Below All. Born from sadness, regret, anger, and frustration. I actually pity you demons.}}}

Spit!

The crimson demon spat directly at Dracula’s face, but the globule of saliva hovered mid-air before it could make contact, defying gravity as if mocking its own creator.

"You think you’re some smuck, huh? I don’t fear you. No demon does. You lazy fucking cunt of a bastard—" the demon growled, his words choked out through gritted teeth.

Dracula tightened his grip, cutting off any further protests.

"....We only asked... for the gift of dreams... but..." the demon wheezed, his voice fading into silence.

With deliberate cruelty, Dracula grabbed the demon’s legs with his other hand, hoisting him high above his head. One hand clamped around the demon’s neck while the other twisted mercilessly at his torso. The demon writhed in agony, clawing desperately to free himself—but his efforts were futile against the ancient being’s unyielding strength.

{{{I remember you shits doing this to me once. So let me return the favor.}}} Dracula sneered, twisting harder, his movements precise and calculated. He gazed impassively at Atlas as he tormented the creature, watching the boy’s golden eyes widen in horror.

Then, with one final twist, he tore the demon apart. Blood sprayed everywhere, drenching Dracula in crimson gore as he let the lifeless halves fall to the ground with a wet.

plat!

Ignoring the mess pooling around him, Dracula strode forward, his blood-soaked figure looming over Atlas. Each step left a trail of red droplets behind him, painting the darkness with death.

{{{The GUIDE of the Damned...}}} Dracula murmured slowly. stopping uncomfortably close. His pale, bloodied hand reached out, one long nail grazing Atlas’s cheek until it drew blood.

He took the drop of blood between his fingers, sniffing it delicately before tasting it.

{{{Haaaa...}}} Satisfaction filled his voice. {{{Still great as usual... The taste. It’s the same. I had doubts because some fucking demon said it, but it seems it’s true indeed.....hmmm... Wait.}}}

Without warning, he sliced Atlas’s neck slightly deeper, collecting another sample. As he savored the flavor, realization dawned across his features.

{{{....I taste demon blood... premature dragon blood... and lastly... the fruit of Yggdrasil.}}}

His eyes widened in astonishment. {{{Astounding... Mortals can’t even acquire one of these blessings in ten lifetimes, yet here you are. You’ve had it all since the very start. Don’t know how much carnage you spread, how many lives you sacrificed to achieve it.}}}

Atlas felt his rage—a black, boiling tempest—erupt through his veins like a thousand shattered suns. His voice was a whisper, but his eyes... oh, his eyes were abysses. Not just dark, but ravenous voids, devouring the light around them. For the first time, he witnessed a being so consumed by shadow that it seemed to bleed into the world itself, staining the air with its hatred.

The sheer weight of that malice—that suffocating, primordial grief—was directed solely at him. It clawed at his mind, whispering doubts: Had he wronged this entity in some forgotten epoch? Had he torn open a wound that never healed? His fingers twitched, pale and trembling with the urge to rend flesh from bone, to paint the cosmos in vengeance... and yet...

Those crimson eyes—glowing like dying stars—held him in place. Not with fury, but something worse: recognition. A twisted, almost fond remembrance, as if this moment had been written in blood long before time began. The contradiction was unbearable. Was this hatred? Longing? A promise of torment? A plea for annihilation? Atlas couldn’t tell. He wanted to scream for answers, but the abyss only smiled.

{{{...You know what? After millennia... after eras of sleep.. after watching you wander the realms like a ghost... we are finally reunited.}}}

{{{And I... I cannot simply give you death.}}}

{{{That would be...}}}

A pause. The universe itself seemed to inhale.

{{{...disappointing.}}}

Clap! Clap!

The world shifted around them, morphing from darkness into blinding light. They stood now within a dense forest, the castle looming ahead—the very same fortress where Dracula resided.

{{{You know... love was an emotion, i was tired off as the world was cold to me, so I became cold to it. After the curse of immortality, I was already beyond saving.}}} Dracula confessed, his tone softer, almost nostalgic.

Once again, the scene changed, revealing a young, pale man weeping alone in a dimly lit room. Rope tied tightly around his neck, he tried hanging himself—but failed. Despair etched deeply into every line of his gaunt face.

{{{....I know. I looked pitiful back then. Depression got the best of me.}}} Dracula muttered, sitting beside the frozen Atlas. {{{Wait, this is the good part...}}}

In the vision, the young man attempted suicide once more. But just as the rope pulled taut, an arrow pierced through it, severing the noose with precision. A figure burst into the room—a man with black hair and golden eyes.

Atlas stared in shock, recognizing the face immediately. It was face he saw every moment, every waking day, it was a reflection of himself, older and battle-hardened, but unmistakably ’him’.

’....That’s me?’