They emerged from the dimensional rift, entering a scene of chaos and desolation that unfolded before their eyes. Lord Vermilion raised his eyebrow, an expression of cold appreciation outlining his face as he absorbed the view before him. The scene was Dantean - the air laden with the weight of corpses that lay scattered on the ground, their expressions eternally captured in a last scream of terror. The surrounding destruction was a mute testimony to the violence that had unfolded there, with buildings undone and streets now unrecognizable under the rubble.

His gaze then fixed on the architect of that pandemonium, a clown who swung his leg carelessly, positioned atop a partially destroyed stone house. The contrast between the grotesque joy of the clown and the tragedy around him was macabre, a reminder of the capacity for destruction that rested in the hands of those devoid of compassion or morality.

Lord Vermilion's eyes, golden and resplendent as the noonday sun, stared at the clown without revealing any trace of emotion. It was as if the presence of the clown, responsible for an attempt on his own son's life, was nothing more than a mere speck of dust in the vastness of his existence. The indifference that permeated his gaze was a demonstration of power in itself, a silent assertion that, despite the atrocities committed, the clown was not worthy of disturbing his serenity.

"It's him..." Seline's words came out muffled, almost like a whisper, but loaded with an indescribable weight. They were words tinged with pain, from a memory that refused to disappear, no matter how much she tried. Before her, the grotesque figure of the clown, the epicenter of a turbulent past, incited an overwhelming fury, which writhed in her chest, clamoring for vengeance. "Because of you..." She murmured with trembling lips, each word impregnated with rancor. Her entire body trembled, not just with the rage that consumed her, but also with a more complex, more disturbing emotion – a thirst for revenge.

The air around Seline began to vibrate strangely, as if the environment itself was reacting to the emotional storm that assailed her. The space around her seemed to crack, distorting in a chaotic dance, trying, perhaps, to escape the intensity of her wrath. Her long black hair, once a soft veil that framed her face, now seemed to absorb all the light around her, transforming into an abyss of darkness. Her eyes, previously bright, were swallowed by total darkness, as deep and impenetrable as the void between the stars.

"Do nothing..." The voice that emerged from Seline was harsh, unrecognizable, as if torn from the depths of her soul. It contained a tone of command, but also a desperate plea, an internal conflict between the desire for vengeance and the fear that someone would prevent her. She walked towards her husband, her legs trembling not just with the fury that dominated her, but also with a disturbing excitement, the anticipation of the long-awaited confrontation. Each step she took towards the clown was loaded with determination and a silent promise of settling accounts.

"Seline." Lord Vermilion's voice cut through the air, a single word loaded with a cold, unshakeable authority, designed to directly reach the stormy heart of his wife. It was as if, with that single invocation of her name, he sought to reaffirm his role not only as her husband, but also as a pillar of strength and rationality in the face of the downward spiral of emotions that Seline struggled to control. "Funny," Seline thought, how he could remain so distant, so disconnected from the fury that consumed her, especially considering that the target of such devastation had once threatened the life of his own son.

"Please, don't interfere," pleaded Seline, her voice hoarse, tinged with an intensity that reflected the internal storm consuming her. "I want to annihilate this clown from this world." Her words, though charged with fury, were also a direct challenge to Lord Vermilion's authority, a provocation that did not go unnoticed. Lord Vermilion's face hardened, his eyebrows furrowed in an expression of disdain, and his golden eyes sparkled with a light of disapproval. It was evident that he did not appreciate the way she challenged him, as if his position was something to be questioned at this moment of crisis.

"Seline! Stop," he ordered, his voice rising in volume and intensity, a clear attempt to override her will with his own. "I, as the father of your son, will kill this clown. You need do nothing; just leave it with me." Lord Vermilion's words were supposed to be comforting, a promise of protection and resolution. However, the choice of his words - the emphasis on "I as the father of your son" instead of "our son" - was a low blow to Seline, a cutting reminder of an emotional distance that seemed to widen between them.

Seline felt a mix of sadness and fury bubble within her, a wave of conflicting emotions that threatened to overflow.

"Our son!" Seline's voice broke the silence, initially low but rising in volume, laden with deep pain. The suffering that cut through her heart was evident as she realized her husband's reluctance to acknowledge their son as their own. "How?" Surprise was evident on Lord Vermilion's face, who had never before witnessed such a challenge from Seline. The change in tone, the firmness in her voice, did not please him at all, introducing an unexpected dissonance in their usual dynamics.

"Our son, is it so hard for you to say that? He is your son too, even if he is crippled. And the person responsible for leaving him that way was that damn clown. Yet, you're trying to stop me from taking my revenge." Seline's voice was hoarse, marked by emotion. She could no longer suppress the feelings that overflowed from her heart. The envy she felt towards the other women of Lord Vermilion was desperate; all their children were recognized by him, but only her own son was treated as if he were only hers. This distinction left her simultaneously furious and hurt, an open wound that she had endured for too long.

The atmosphere was charged, a storm of emotions and repressed tensions about to break. Lady Vermilion, noticing the growing hostility between her husband, Lord Vermilion, and Seline, decided to intervene, hoping to shift the focus of the internal argument to the common enemy that threatened them. Her voice cut through the air, an attempt to mediate the situation before it spiraled out of control. "I think we better focus on the enemy now," she said, with forced calm, "later, you two can have a calmer conversation." Her suggestion was rational, aiming to prevent internal discord from further weakening their position in front of the clown, the architect of chaos surrounding them.

However, Lord Vermilion, with his unquestionable authority, promptly reacted to his wife's comment. "Samara, stay quiet and don't interfere," he warned her, casting a look that carried the weight of centuries, his golden eyes shining with deadly intensity. For Lady Vermilion, that look was like facing a transcendental being, a primordial predator whose presence intimidated even the bravest. The intent behind his eyes was clear, and although it was directed at her, there was no genuine malice, just a warning not to challenge his authority at that critical moment.

Understanding the gravity of the situation and the futility of arguing, Samara opted for silence, closing the mouth that had instinctively opened to reply. She was aware of the risks of further straining her relationship with Lord Vermilion. After all, in a world where power and position were everything, challenging the head of her house, especially in the face of an external threat, could have disastrous consequences. Her decision to back down was not a sign of weakness, but of prudence; she knew any attempt to intervene could not only be futile but potentially harmful to her.

Kira observed her newly-wed husband with a mix of adoration and anticipation. The cow ears protruding beside her head vibrated with expectation as she gently caressed her belly, longing for the moment she would bring a heir to Lord Vermilion into the world. This man was not only the feudal lord of one of the most influential cities in the western region but also possessed a highly coveted class, the Hero class. For Kira, this marriage symbolized not only the union of two clans but also the promise of elevating her clan to an unprecedented level of prestige and influence.

"No more discussions," said the blue-haired woman, with a hint of irritation in her voice. "Seline, go and face the clown. Claim your revenge." Her impatience with the ongoing verbal conflict was understandable; she had grown tired of the verbal clash that threatened to divert the focus from the real enemy. Upon noticing Lord Vermilion's penetrating gaze towards her, a look similar to the one he had given Lady Vermilion, the blue-haired woman did not falter. "Don't look at me that way. I'm not like your other wives. If you try to threaten me, you will lose everything." The threat from the blue-haired woman was clear, a bold declaration of her position and strength. She knew what Lord Vermilion valued most: his unquestionable authority and the power to dominate everything around him.

"Thank you," said Seline, her voice carrying both determination and the pain accumulated over the years. Her eyes were fixed on the grotesque clown in front of her, and with each word she spoke, she seemed to gain strength, fueled by an unwavering purpose. She took a decisive step towards the clown, the distance between them shrinking as the air around began to vibrate.

Kira watched the scene unfold. She couldn't help but reflect on the power dynamics at play, thinking to herself, "Even Lord Vermilion, with all his authority and power, must bend before a representative. And, who knows, even the king might have to do the same, given that these representatives are as ancient as the regions they govern themselves." Her gaze then shifted to the blue-haired woman, whose presence emanated a strength and independence that defied the conventions of their world dominated by powerful beings.

Meanwhile, the clown, still seated, couldn't help but mock the situation, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "I was enjoying listening to you argue. Don't you want to stay longer? I don't mind," he said, clearly underestimating Seline's determination. But as he saw Seline advance, he became slightly tense, anticipating an imminent attack. However, what happened next was unlike anything he could have predicted.

Seline, now a mere ten meters away from the clown, slowly opened her arms as if embracing the universe itself. A wave of power emanated from her feet, transforming the landscape around into a stunning visual spectacle. The clown, expecting to be thrown off by his seated position, quickly stood up, but as he observed the transformed environment, realized he was at a disadvantage.

They were now in a completely different domain, a space where darkness was punctuated by countless stars, creating the illusion of being suspended in the void of space. "This is where I begin my revenge!" proclaimed Seline, her voice resonating with fierce determination. The landscape around, now a reflection of her power and her pain, served as the perfect stage for the confrontation that was about to unfold.

"My revenge begins here as well..."