ã€ŠVaewolf - A Vampire/Werewolf Cyberpunk Fantasy LitRPGã€‹


 CHAPTER 1: Miles Lykaon

    When the first reported species of Fae, fairies fluttering whispers of an unknown world appeared, we were filled with wonder and joy.

    They were of rainbows and sparkles, yet also of disappearance and non-existence. ''Akalika''.

    No one realized, until those bundles of awe and magic began to vanish away all the leaders of state that came into contact, throwing nations into turmoil and the world into chaos, ripe for the picking.

    We fell for the trickery of the fae, deceived to lower our guard! No more I say!

    Those creatures should have been gutted then and there, turned into the lifeblood that would fuel the best of us!

    ¨C Andre Da Vinci, CEO of FaeTech. (Excerpt from his War Speech addressed to the World, prior to the start of the Second Fae-Human War, 4823.)

    ***

    Miles Lykaon sat at his desk, reclining on a lush leather chair as he twirled a glass of grape red Clurichaun wine. With each twirl the liquid within the crystal glass would shimmer and pulse with ethereal light, and at the exact moment that this light was at its brightest he took a small sip.

    He savored the wine, gazing down, through the glass walls, upon the peaceful garden of Lykaon Manor.

    It was a moonless night and the dozen or so deployed light drones, despite being less than he was used to, were entirely sufficient to illuminate the entirety of the massive garden. The exception however was the hedge maze spanning several hundred square meters and occupying a quarter of the garden.

    Leafy green hedges formed the walls of this labyrinth, twisting and turning into dark paths he should¡¯ve known as well as the back of his hand. Unfortunately, the fae empowered bramble and thistle had ruined, deformed the maze garden into something foreign to his memory, something unnatural that avoided the light from the drones despite being flown directly above.

    Seeing the familiar maze in such condition, corrupted and tainted, a mere shadow of what it used to be, made Miles¡¯ heart ache.

    Whoosh!

    A sudden burst of wind blasted into the room, and despite facing away from whatever it was that had rushed in, Miles was unsurprised. It was a familiar incident after all, but he couldn¡¯t help but narrow his eyes as some of the papers on his desk were blown off, rustling into the air.

    Apparently oblivious, a voice called out from the doorway, ¡°Master Miles, Cadmus has just informed me of an intriguing rumor from the outer city. A rumor pertaining to an undefined item, supposedly capable of enhancing Faetality. I will be leaving to investigate.¡±

    Miles calmly swiveled around, the chair turning away from the window to the interior of the study.

    At the doorway was a tall elderly man, notably of Eastern descent, and despite his old age, the prudently ironed black and white suit was stretched taut over the finely built muscle underneath. Something silver, barely shimmered above his left breast pocket, but remained hidden by the collar.

    This was Zhan Shen, his butler, his attendant, his guardian.

    Taking another sip of the fae wine at the peak of its luminance, Miles posed a question, ¡°Old Zhan, the maze garden is in terrible condition. When will we be cleaning up the bramble?¡±

    The elderly butler frowned, ¡°Master Miles, you are already aware¡­¡±

    But seeing his young master remained impassive, Zhen Shen heaved a sigh, ¡°Very well, I shall play along then.

    "The bramble as you so crudely put it should be a mutated variant of some lesser-known Fae flora. Fire and metal were found to be useless as the plant regenerated almost instantaneously.

    "Only a unique Faehuman with the ability to manipulate plants, a master of Floramancy, would be capable of removing it permanently, leaving the rest of the garden intact that is. And considering the intensity of this unique ¡®bramble¡¯, they would also have to be quite well-achieved in the field.

    "Unfortunately, Floramancy happens to be rather rare in its manifestation and even rarer are those with sufficient mastery for the task.

    "As for the only qualified candidate for the job, some Lady, she happens to be firmly under your uncle¡¯s control. And even if he were to be so ¡®kind¡¯ as to provide her service, I¡¯m afraid he would also ensure that he bled us dry in the process.¡±

    Miles remained silent, sipping the shimmering wine.

    Indeed, the matter of the hedge maze and the fae bramble had not been left unattended without reason.

    The crux of the solution was Lady Dice, but the Knight just so happened to be a Faehuman trained and sponsored by his uncle.

    Miles did not know the Lady of the Bloom personally but with his uncle involved, he was confident that obtaining her assistance would be next to impossible.

    The only alternative would be to look outside the corporate city for qualified Faehumans. But even if he called in a few favors and somehow happened to find who he was looking for, whether an accomplished Faehuman would make the long trip to Capital City just for some over-glorified gardening, was an entirely different matter.

    In all honesty, this was a problem that could not be solved in the short term, not without going overboard, and Miles would simply have to stomach the unsightly Fae bramble until a proper solution was found.

    So, in the end he gave a short nod and savored some more wine at the crescendo of its glow.

    Meanwhile, a rather mischievous grin had formed on the old Butler¡¯s wizened face, ¡°Now perhaps if the young master were willing to give up some of his fae wine, some of the special collection you keep locked away, we should be able to afford a temporary solution. Although it tastes absolutely the same as every other fae wine at any shoddy street bar, the price tags are literally insane! Some of my old drinking buddies may even be motivated to help, in exchange for the wine of course.¡±

    Miles threw a deadpan look at the cheek of his butler.

    Old Zhan was suggesting his ¡®drinking buddies¡¯ destroy the bramble with their potentially, no, most definitely, destruction-oriented Fae abilities. While that would be a step above ordinary weaponry, it would be little more than a temporary solution. The regeneration of the bramble would slow down, sure, but within a week at best it would recover entirely.

    He would be handing over his father¡¯s precious wine to neanderthals blind to its true value, and what he got in return would literally become nothing in a single week.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    He might as well bombard the bramble instead, and he could have, had he not wanted the hedge maze to remain in one piece.

    Miles was sure that Zhen Shen had suggested this half-baked solution, merely to poke fun at his love of good wine.

    Seeing his young master¡¯s annoyance, the elderly butler¡¯s grin only grew wider.

    Miles rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his wine mostly out of spite. The familiar taste of perfectly blended fermented fruit, the sparkle of faery dust upon his tongue, relaxed him enough to return to the matter at hand, ¡°Informant and price?¡±

    Despite the suddenness of the question Zhen Shen¡¯s answer was instant, everything else ignored, ¡°Hayato Ryota, common Faetality of Eta-67. Ability-less but enhanced to the limit. And as with most outer city goons with some truth to their name, more cybernetic than man, some even of Lykaon Origin if our records are to be believed.

    He was supposedly employed as a courier for the White Dragons, the Hakuryuu, arguably the most influential gang of the outer dome, the same that is rumored to have gotten their hands on the Faetality booster. Asking price, 3 million bits, any corporate bit apparently. That was unusually specified.¡±

    Miles raised an eyebrow, ¡°Cheap, considering the product in question. Either he¡¯s desperate or it¡¯s a trap.¡±

    The butler nodded, a confident smirk rising, ¡°Seems likely. Doesn¡¯t hurt to check it out, however. Well, it won¡¯t hurt me.¡±

    It was Miles¡¯s turn to heave a sigh. Despite being in his late sixties, Zhan Shen had a strong affection for fighting. Not spectating, but active participation.

    However, unlike his butler, he was not in the habit of making fun of people for their preferred hobbies. Thus, he simply raised his wine glass and toasted him well, ¡°Happy hunting then.¡±

    Zhen Shen tipped his head, ¡°As you say Master Miles but¡­¡±

    The old butler¡¯s eyes shifted towards a wooden filing cabinet, tucked away in a corner of the study. Or more specifically the closed suitcase placed atop, covered in a thick layer of dust.

    ¡°But the problem at hand is of greater importance. By the time I get back, could you please choose your first serum? Those are just a couple of enhancement serums making the decision not even as important. It has already been a few months since they were purchased, should you not at least take a look? Where¡¯s your sense of curiosity when you need it, eh?¡±

    Miles was silent, merely sparing a glance at the briefcase and nothing more.

    Zhen Shen pressed on, ¡°You really should not worry Master Miles. There is no conclusive evidence that proves the use of a Fae serum will plateau growth in Faetality.¡±

    To that Miles replied, his eyes sharp, ¡°Likewise old Zhan, there is no conclusive evidence that proves use of serums do not plateau Faetality growth.

    You yourself tend to dislike Cyberware, do you not? If embedded circuitry, of fae origin or otherwise, is derogatory, what gives you the confidence that synthesized liquid Fae are any exception?¡±

    The old butler shook his head in annoyance, more than familiar with his young master''s stubbornness on the topic of Fae Serums.

    This was a matter they had debated over a few times, never once ending in agreement.

    Zhen Shen knew this, and so did Miles.

    Neither were in the mood for the same old back-and-forth and thus almost in tacit understanding, remained silent.

    In the end it was Zhen Shen that threw the hat, opting to be the better man.

    ¡°As you wish Master Miles but at the very least open it. Surely, no self-respecting Lykaon would be afraid of taking a look?¡±

    And with those final words of challenge, the old butler bowed in farewell, left palm meeting right fist, and vanished, seemingly dissipating into the air.

    Miles remained at his desk, silent, as he savored the Clurichaun wine. His ears however were peeled for the sound of the main door opening and closing.

    Moments later, he heard it, confirming that old Zhan had left.

    Now alone in Lykaon mansion, Miles couldn¡¯t help but spare another glance at the closed briefcase.

    Despite the contents being worth its weight in fae gold, he had left it untouched all this time exactly where Zhan Shen had left it.

    As much as Miles hated to admit it, Zhan Shen had piqued his curiosity. And with that final comment, he had been left with little choice. The old butler sure knew how to push his buttons.

    Gracelessly gulping down what was left of the wine, Miles walked over to the cabinet, grabbed the briefcase and dropped it onto his desk in a plume of dust.

    Waving his hand, he unlatched the lock and pushed it open to reveal a high-quality black Styrofoam base. Embedded in this soft foam were six syringes of colored liquids. Three green and three purple.

    The liquid bubbled with supernatural energy similar to that of the wine he had just finished, but far greater in intensity. A roar compared to the trickle of the alcohol.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but take a second glance at what was arguably, the current world¡¯s most intricate and sought-after biological weapon, the Fae Serum.

    Despite his ¡®bad blood¡¯ with FaeTech, if it could even be called that, Miles could not help but be impressed by the sheer ingenuity of Andre Da Vinci, the creator of the first fae serum.

    When the majority of the world had spit on and spurned the discarded corpses of the Fae that they somehow managed to take down, Andre had seen hidden potential.

    Well, he may not have been the only one who saw this potential, but he was the only one who had succeeded in utilizing it. He had been a trailblazer and single handedly changed the fate of humanity, shifting the tides in a lost war.

    Miles had many opinions on many people but in regard to Andre Da Vinci all he had was respect, potential business rivalries excluded.

    Returning to the fae serums before him, he focused on the small labels printed onto the carbon glass syringes.

    A green serum read, ¡°GS-001. Gnome tier Strength enhancement (+1) Serum. Requirement of 6 Faetality for use.¡±

    While a purple serum read, ¡°SI-001. Sprite tier Intelligence enhancement (+1) serum. Requirement of 5 Faetality for use.¡±

    If what was printed on the labels were to be believed, the three green syringes were Gnome Tier Serums, each enhancing one of three physical attributes Strength, Agility, or Endurance, while the three purple syringes were Sprite Tier Serums enhancing one of three mental attributes Intelligence, Wisdom, or Influence.

    Faetality, on the other hand, was a qualitative statistic that determined the quantity and tier of serums that could be used by a single individual, without quite literally being ¡°fatal¡±.

    Miles paused in thought, finally sparing a somber glance at the prismatic glass slate at a corner of his spacious desk.

    With a single tap on the black glass, and a confirming beep from the ring on his right index finger, the slate lit up with neon-blue text revealing the results of his latest attribute test, or at least a compact summary of the in-depth report.

    [Patient: Miles {Redacted}

    Status: Ordinary Human, Unenhanced.

    Fae Ability: None

    |Natural Attributes|

    Physical: Strength - 12, Endurance - 14, Agility - 13

    Mental: Intelligence - 59, Wisdom - 37

    Available Faetality: 997]

    A Faetality of 997. This put him firmly on the upper tier of Zeta, a mere 3 points short of reaching Epsilon, a mere 3 points short of safeguarding his birthright.

    Honestly speaking, a faetality of Zeta-997 was well above average and would¡¯ve been cause for celebration in any ordinary family. To demonstrate, if Miles wished, he could easily use all 6 serums before him with plenty of Faetality left to spare.

    In fact, the Gnome and Sprite Tiers, while acceptable, were not even the best he could use. The tier above, Goblin and Pixie Fae Serums were the go-to for Zeta Faehumans.

    But to Miles it had never been about the serums. Without the three points he needed to reach a thousand, his faetality was utterly worthless. This was why he could not afford to use a serum and risk hindering his faetality potential¡­

    Feeling that familiar but despised feeling of helplessness creeping upon him, Miles slammed the briefcase close.

    His hands tightened over the handle as he inhaled deeply.

    He had done what Zhan Shen had asked and taken a look. But as he had expected it changed nothing. All it had done was give him a punch of reality to the gut.

    Miles exhaled slowly as he rose from his seat, speaking into the air, ¡°Cadmus, prepare the gymnasium. I shall be there shortly.¡±

    There was no reply but for another affirmative beep from the distinctive ring on his hand.

    Miles walked out of his study, his destination obvious. He seriously needed to let out some steam.

 CHAPTER 2: Assault

    Barring the often mindless, common Fae¡ªgoblins, pixies, orcs, and the occasional fairy or troll¡ªlittle is understood about the true Fae, the elusive beings that are said to command reality itself from within the depths of Tartarus or whatever else exists within that gaping hole.

    Despite numerous attempts¡ªpeaceful delegations, spies, drones, even the intervention of a hero, the War God, may he rest in peace¡ªnone who ventured into Tartarus without invitation has ever returned. And the Fae of Tartarus extend no invitations.

    Over a century long war, we have suffered much to recover, to escape extinction. We have gained back a chance at peaceful life. But the people, the brave and unfortunate souls that have paid the sacrifice, they will never come back.

    Yet, if for nothing else but their sakes, this is not the time for revenge. No, this is the time for restraint, for the reality is, we''re fighting blind, and humanity has always feared the unknown.

    ¨C Asim Thotan, Chairman for the Intercontinental Bureau for Information Services (IBIS). (Excerpt from his call for peace prior to the official end of the Second Fae-Human War, 4922.)

    ***

    Miles entered the grand hall and despite his far from perfect mood, he couldn¡¯t help but pause at the grandeur of Lykaon Mansion.

    Luxurious carpet covered the floor, woven in rich and intricate patterns far from the ordinary. Masterfully crafted paintings graced the walls showcasing the supernatural talent of some of the best artists the city offered. The furniture was expertly designed with timeless elegance and the decor placed with impeccable perfection to create a cohesive and harmonious ambience all throughout. And the centerpiece, a grand chandelier of faerie crystal, casting a warm, magical glow that brought all the elements together in a symphony of luxury and style.

    However, Miles¡¯s attention was elsewhere, his gaze upon the landing to the second floor, reached via any one of two diverging staircases.

    He gazed at the familiar painting that looked down upon all those who entered the grand hall, at the familiar faces he hoped to never forget nor disappoint.

    It was a well-dressed couple, the gentleman handsome and clean-shaven, with a stern face but joy in his eyes and the lady beautiful by nature, curls of auburn hair falling down her back as she smiled, her brown eyes twinkling with delight.

    They were Etan and Agnes Lykaon, his parents.

    Miles felt his hands reach for the wooden pendant about his neck, hung on an old piece of string. Carved out of rosewood, two swirls, painted white and black, with a small dot of the opposite color at the center of each.

    Unfortunately, the paint had faded and started to flake, the wood had grown old, becoming weak and brittle. Anyone would assume the pendant to be some worthless relic.

    But the way Miles stared at the pendant, it was as if it was more valuable than all the riches that surrounded him.

    According to Zhan Shen this was a talisman of Yin-Yang, supposedly depicting the balance between darkness and light, stark opposites and yet depicting the intrinsic nature of how one relied on the other to define their existence.

    While it seemed to hold deep philosophical meaning Miles treasured the talisman for a different reason. Simply put, it was the last gift he had received from his parents.

    Sure, he had the Lykaon insignia ring on his finger, a striking piece of silver jewelry that combined some of the most advanced Fae and human Cybertech known to mankind, some of which were impossible to replicate or understand, and proved his right as the last heir to the Lykaon family, but¡­ he still preferred the Yin-Yang talisman.

    A personal gift, rather than one of responsibility and formality. Perhaps that was the reason.

    Tucking the talisman back under his sweater he bowed towards his parents. His bent figure shivered for a moment, but he immediately stood back up, his eyes sharp and determined.

    With one final glance, Miles turned around and continued onward, eventually reaching the gym.

    The gymnasium was a large room, equipped with a dozen different training equipment. Mundane machinery you would expect to find in all but the worst of fitness centers.

    He could obtain access to far more advanced equipment, custom-built for enhanced Fae-humans, but Zhan Shen had stated these were more than sufficient for the moment, and apparently essential to build a solid foundation.

    After a moment to confirm that the gymnasium was indeed prepared as he had requested, Miles pulled off his thick sweater, which he didn¡¯t really need but had to wear lest he be pestered by a worried Zhan Shen and walked over to the overhanging punching bag.

    Opting to forego the use of gloves, he immediately unleashed a flurry of well-coordinated punches and kicks onto the poor sandbag.

    Thud! Thud! Thud!

    His strikes grew in ferocity as the punching bag took on the face of his wretched uncle, Harold Maximillian. The uncle that had stolen from him, stolen from his own sister, my mother. The uncle who had dared to use what he had done to save Lykaon Industries, to push him, the lawful heir, out of all executive affairs.

    Oh, how much he wished this sandbag was that bastard.

    THUD! THUD! THUD!

    His strikes reached a new level of merciless brutality as his uncle¡¯s face was replaced with his own.

    Brown eyed like his mother, raven haired like his father, but ultimately someone worthless and insufficient.

    To lead and rule in a world where Fae-humans held the reins to humanity, a world where the line between technology and magic blurred, a world where the threat of the Fae was ever present, you needed power. When Lykaon Industries had fallen on hard times, when he and the board had had no choice but to enter a trade agreement with FaeTech, the mega-corp had proposed a few requirements in return.

    And one of them had been, that at the bare minimum, the CEO or potential candidates thereof, had to be Epsilon in terms of Faetality, that is 1000 or above.

    Unfortunately, Miles just so happened to not fulfill the requirements.

    He was a Zeta at 997, just three short of reaching the requisite number. Just 3 small points to decide everything.

    It was universally accepted that Faetality would not change once quantified, those who outgrew their initial measurement as rare as an actual dragon sighting, almost non-existent.

    Even so Miles had accepted the agreement, under the undeniable oath of the World Court, in order to protect what his parents had left him, hoping that he would be able to bridge the gap of just 3 points.

    And he had done everything in his power, searched high and low for solutions. Naturally none had worked.

    As a result, he had lost Lykaon Industries, his parents'' legacy, because he was insufficient. It was his fault, and he had no one else to blame.

    RIP!

    A loud ripping sound rang out as the leather of the punching bag split apart, splattering the ground with sand.

    Miles was forced to stop, his breath heavy with exertion.

    His worn knuckles throbbed with pain, skin broken and bleeding, his leg muscles ached, but he was used to that, and it all mattered little when he felt markedly better.

    Having been engrossed in letting out his frustration, it was only now that Miles learned he had gone at it for a solid hour. Quite a bit above his average time, what he was usually capable of in an all-out punching session.

    It also explained why he had half a thought to collapse on the floor, but as old Zhan often tended to say, worn out was the best time to train the mind.

    And so, Miles forced his body to sit upon the marble floor, legs crossed in the lotus position, back straight and hands placed over each other, palms up.

    He closed his eyes and he started to breathe.

    For a second, he was hyper-aware. Of the sweat trickling down his face, his knuckles that burned with the all-too familiar heat and his rapid heartbeat, but soon enough he felt none of it, for his mind focused on nothing but his breathing.

    His erratic heart and heavy breath calmed down, becoming slow and relaxed.

    And finally with a deep inhale and a slow exhale, Miles achieved perfection.

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    And the world changed.

    The gym, the mansion, everything vanished from his perception, and what replaced it was an entirely different world.

    A pure world, untouched and uncorrupted, entirely of sky and water.

    The sky extended endlessly, pure white clouds floating against bright blue, picturesque but repetitive.

    The lake of pristine water below him was still as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the image of the sky above in gorgeous perfection, almost as if one was seeing double.

    Nothing else existed in this desolate world, besides the lone figure of Miles who was somehow managing to sit upon the water, engrossed in his breathing.

    The world was still and peaceful, but on the occasion that Miles was distracted, ripples would spread through the water with him at the epicenter.

    In the worst of these cases, the sky too became erratic and stormy, but none of it lasted for Miles reined his mind in, the water returning to calm and the sky to peace almost immediately after.

    And this cycle continued.

    What he was doing right now was an impressive feat of mental control, even if he said so himself. But Zhan Shen would always scoff and say that this was the bare minimum.

    The bare minimum for what Miles did not know. He would eventually find out, Zhan Shen would always answer. So, he had held back his curiosity and impatience, choosing to have at least some faith in his mentor.

    Barring a few topics that they disagreed upon, the old butler had never steered him wrong.

    Realizing that he was losing focus once more, and another storm was brewing in the sky, Miles shifted his attention back to his breath.

    Peace returned to the world and this cycle continued, repeating over and over.

    Time passed.

    Storms and ripples came and went, ebbing and flowing, but the cycle continued.

    That was when the change came, a drastic shift in the norm that caused Miles¡¯s eyes to burst open as he hurriedly looked towards the open sky.

    He had felt something, a strange disturbance in the skies above.

    Above, yes, but not exactly of this world¡­

    His mind distracted by the event and too far gone this time to recover, shattered the manifested world, returning his perception to the gym.

    Not a moment too soon for a massive crash rang out from the grand hall, shaking the ground as if a miniature earthquake.

    Miles was instantly alert, ¡®What was that? Intruders? An attack?¡¯

    Almost in response the security systems kicked in and the Lykaon Insignia ring on his index finger burst to life, blinking and beeping in alarm as the almost human voice of Cadmus began to speak.

    Miles hurriedly brought the ring to his ear.

    *ALERT* *ALERT*

    ¡°LYKAON AIRSPACE BREACHED. TWO AETHERCRAFTS DETECTED. SIGNIFICANT PROBABILITY OF FAE PRESENCE.¡±

    *ALERT* *ALERT*

    Miles¡¯s eyes widened in shock, ¡®Fae?! This far from the border? Did they just go over the City Wall? Is there a Doorway in the sky or were the Capital Military just blind?! And why here? What do they want from Lykaon Mansion?!¡¯

    Sure, Lykaon Mansion was in the outer city and not covered by the defense of the inner-city energy dome, but it was still as close to the inner city as one could be from outside the dome.

    This meant that these two Aethercrafts had somehow made it that far into Capital City entirely undetected.

    Troubling¡­ but before Miles came to any concrete conclusions, he needed information.

    Tapping once on the snout of the Wolven visage carved into the silver ring, he spoke, ¡°Cadmus, analyze Capital City news and any other accessible network, keywords Fae, Outer City, Attack and Invasion. Prioritize what could be related to this airspace breach.¡±

    Cadmus¡¯ answer came the moment he finished, ¡°MATCH FOUND. PLAYING CAPITAL CITY NEWS, AUDIO LOGGED 12 MINUTES AGO,¡± before shifting to audio obviously hijacked from some news channel.

    A news anchor''s voice read, ¡°Breaking news, this just coming in. An armada of Airborne Aethercrafts have been detected near Capital City Airspace. The Military has already mobilized and made first contact with the Fae. Battle being imminent, we urge all citizens to stay safe and avoid any potential crossfire.

    According to reports, the invading Fae are from an independent Orc tribe from the hinterlands, unaffiliated with the major Fae forces of Tartarus. The Capital City Military assures that it is only a matter of time before the threat is handled, especially with the presence of the esteemed knights!

    We have received word that Knight Huang, and Lady Raiji have been deployed, even the ever-popular Knight Salam of the Endless Flame!

    So once again, we strongly advise all citizens to stay indoors and trust in the efforts of our city military. And remember, you can witness the unfolding war and the heroic Knights live, exclusively here on CCN.¡±

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel relieved. If it was just some wandering orc tribe, that was indeed something the dogs of Capital Corp., *cough*, the knights and city military were more than equipped to handle. It was also good news that the matter was not specifically related to Lykaon Mansion.

    His ring blinked as Cadmus spoke up, ¡°PRELIMINARY DEFENSE SCANS COMPLETE.

    AETHER CRAFTS IDENTIFIED: NON-MILITARY CLASS, POTENTIALLY CIVILIAN OR CARGO TRANSPORTERS.

    MODEL: UNSPECIFIED, RESEMBLANCE TO ELVEN MAKE.

    PASSENGERS: NO FAE ENERGY FREQUENCIES DETECTED ON BOARD.

    POSSIBLE CLOAKING SYSTEM: UNKNOWN ENERGY SIGNATURE, POTENTIAL PARALLELS TO THE FAIRY OF THE NOPENENA.

    WEAPONS SYSTEMS: NONE.

    DANGER LEVEL: MINIMAL.¡±

    At that Miles¡¯s eyes shone brightly.

    These two Aethercrafts had to be non-combat forces trailing after the orc tribe, as an emergency escape route or something similar. They must¡¯ve made it into the depths of outer city perhaps with the cloaking and were hiding in plain sight.

    A bit out of character for orcs but not entirely impossible.

    What intrigued him most was the unidentified model. Even just the cloaking system, was highly possibly some previously unknown application of faery magic.

    He didn¡¯t doubt the data from the scan, but if it truly was in some remote way related to the elves¡­

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of greed.

    While the situation was fairly dangerous, it also seemed to be an opportunity ripe for the picking.

    The orcs were in hiding but little did they know they were in his land¡­

    Obviously, Miles had yet to become Fae-human and could not possibly take on two ships potentially filled with orcs even if they were unarmed.

    But with the Lykaon Insignia ring in hand, he was far, far from powerless.

    Tapping twice upon the Wolven head of the ring, he commanded without mercy, ¡°Cadmus, activate attack and defense protocols. Objective, wear the energy shields down and force the Aethercrafts to land, preferably in one piece. Enforce the limitations, minimal force, and common artillery only.¡±

    ¡°AFFIRMATIVE. SHOULD I SEND A REQUEST OF ASSISTANCE TO THE MILITARY?¡±

    Miles¡¯s eyes narrowed in thought, ¡®Capital Corp. won¡¯t give much priority to a few stragglers before taking care of the main force. Besides we cannot afford to be seen as weak, ever. And sending out a pathetic request for help against two non-military targets would do exactly that.¡¯

    He answered, ¡°No. Execute as instructed.¡±

    BOOM! BOOM!

    Loud explosions rang out, shaking the earth as artillery cannons and other weapons of similar caliber hidden in the garden activated and got to work.

    Miles released a nervous breath. Although he had decided as he had, it was also true he was taking a risk. But he was also confident that the defense systems could handle two non-military Aethercrafts.

    If all went well, he¡¯d have two expensive Fae Ships with a potential connection to the elusive Elves in his hands.

    Wait.

    Now that he thought about it, if it was just two unarmed Aethercrafts, then what had crashed into the grand hall?

    Since the defense system had not reported anything of note, Miles was confident it was debris or something. A minor inconvenience at best.

    Still, he decided to rush back, quickly making his way to the grand hall.

    He had to check the extent of the damage, assuming there was even any.

    ¡®The Lykaon mansion is heavily reinforced. So whatever debris that broke through the roof will not have power left to do much¨C¡¯

    Miles¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief.

    ¡®Won¡¯t have power left to do much¡¯ my ass, everything had been destroyed.

    The grand hall was in shambles, as if ravaged by some natural disaster.

    The once-elegant furniture lay shattered, and the once-mystical carpet had been reduced to tattered rags ripped of its magic. A gaping hole in the roof offered a glimpse to the tumultuous sky above, while glittering shards of the faerie glass chandelier lay scattered like fallen stars.

    It was a scene of absolute destruction, every element of the hall reduced to ruin.

    Miles immediately turned to the painting of his parents. His heart ached at the sight of the deep gashes riddled through the canvas, desecrating their memory.

    But he did not have time to grieve as a loud boom rang out, almost as if the sound barrier was broken¨C from inside the mansion!

    He hadn¡¯t noticed before, but now that he focused, there was a massive¡­ something at the center of the room. A blur, a mirage of sorts, as he had no idea what else it could be.

    The air seemed to crackle and pop as if burning within an invisible flame, the floor below was littered with cracks still growing at a visible pace as ripples of wind blew around, all centered around that blur.

    ¡®What in the holy hells is that?¡¯

    Conveniently or not so conveniently, the blur cleared, separating into two figures, two monsters.

    The first was a formidable sight, a towering humanoid wolf that stood upright on two legs with rippling muscles that exuded raw power and strength, barely hidden under a deep brown furred pelt. The other had a far more ethereal presence, a gaunt man with a complexion almost ghostly in its pallor. Though he seemed frail, he carried himself with an inhuman magnetism that drew the eye.

    Both seemed heavily wounded, their bodies marred with deep, gaping wounds, but the pale man¡¯s labored breathing and the grimace on his face made it clear that he had been the one on the losing end.

    ¡®These two were that blur? That fast?! And with such injuries, how are they still alive? What the hell are they?!¡¯

 CHAPTER 3: And Fall

    Fae Serums are tiered on the basis of the source, the Fae used as the raw material for their synthesis. Fae-humans, the chosen souls that wield their power, are titled by their Faetality, the capacity to handle the essence of stronger and powerful fae, in order of the Greek alphabet. From Alpha, the lords of the new world, to Iota, the unchosen.

    ¨C An excerpt from ¡°Introduction to FaeTech¡± 35th Edition, mandatory learning at Da Vinci Corporate Training College.

    ***

    Since the dawn of the splintered world, the Vawulan and the Wurkan, agents of Destruction and Creation, have waged a cosmic battle of worlds beyond, down here on Prudhuvi.

    ¨C A nonsensical piece of torn paper discovered on a rotten fae carcass, and promptly thrown away.

    ***

    Prime Delta.

    The very peak of the Delta tier.

    Miles had a difficult time believing it, but he happened to be well-versed in the capability and potential of Faehumans.

    The lowest Faetality tier that could exhibit the speeds he had just witnessed were Delta, Prime Delta. A Faetality magnitude that nearly reached 100,000! That was already over a hundred times his own!

    It was no wonder why even the weakest Delta faehuman, with a decent enhancement serum build and Fae ability could easily overpower a standard natural-tech military unit. After all, if nat-tech had been truly effective against the more potent fae serums, Lykaon Industries would not have had to bend over backwards for some scraps from FaeTech.

    Regardless, what was above the Lykaon estate were Aethercrafts, meaning these two creatures could not possibly be Faehumans. Rather, highly probably, they were Fae. Types of Fae he had never seen or heard of before¡­

    Well, the pale man could be some half-breed elf, but with a hulking wolf added into the mix Miles was not so confident.

    Suddenly the Lykaon insignia ring blinked, the light unusually dimmed and instead of Cadmus¡¯s voice, a small rectangular projection of text manifested over the ring.

    ALERT!

    UNIDENTIFIED INTRUDERS DETECTED WITHIN THE MANSION!

    UNKNOWN ENERGY FREQUENICIES DETECTED!

    WARNING: ALPHA-RING HOLDER PRESENT IN VICINITY. EXTREME DANGER LEVEL PREDICTED.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but curse, ¡®FUCK! Now you tell me?¡¯ but his anger was short-lived as his eyes widened in realization, ¡®Holy Hells! I understand! They were so fast, so much so that the sensors failed to register them as intruders until the moment that they stopped!¡¯

    Shaking off the shock, Miles forced himself to focus. Whatever the case, he was not safe here.

    Before the two creatures could notice, while they were focused on each other, he had to leave. Miles began to sneak back, avoiding any debris that could make undue noise¨C

    He barely took two steps when the pale man¡¯s head snapped to the side, his eyes locking onto¡­

    ¡®...My hands?¡¯

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel threatened by the man¡¯s enraptured interest, as he caressed his hands protectively, bloodied fist and all.

    Thankfully the man¡¯s interest shifted, finally focusing on Miles, seemingly considering him for the first time. And barely a second behind, so too did the behemoth of a wolf turn.

    Their heads swiveled with the unerring accuracy of predator sensing prey, eyes boring into Miles.

    The wolf¡¯s eyes burned bright gold, unyielding and relentless, seeing beyond. The pale man¡¯s gaze was akin to an abyss, an abyss that was not content with staring back, but yearned to pull him in.

    Their combined gazes sent a chill shivering down Miles¡¯ spine.

    ¡®Fear?¡¯

    Yes. He was afraid.

    It was a foreign emotion, one he had cast aside long ago. Fear made one weak, pathetic. But as much as he wished to, Miles could not refute what his very essence was telling him.

    These were predators¡­

    And he was prey.

    Miles had to smother the instinctive urge to flee, quelling that primal response that would lead to nothing but an early death as he focused on his breath, clearing his mind.

    Considering the insane speed these two Fae had shown, if they truly were on par with Delta faehumans, there was very little he could do on his own.

    However while he was personally weak, he was within the Lykaon Estate. He was the heir of the Lykaon, and far from helpless.

    With only a moment to gather his thoughts, he shouted into the ring, ¡°ACTIVATE ALL INTERNAL DEFENSES, SHOOT ANYTHING THAT MOVES!¡±

    Ka-chak! Crack! Pu-chack!

    The once-majestic paintings may have been reduced to tatters, but they still served their purpose.

    By his command they pulled into the wall, sliding into the sides as the hidden mechanisms activated. Hidden behind had been heavy artillery and cold iron machine guns that propped out at this moment. And from above, concealed panels in the ceiling slid open, revealing four plasma rifles that descended from each corner of the grand hall.

    All the guns shifted in unison, reticles targeting the two strange Fae.

    However, despite the several dozen guns trained on them from multiple possible angles, the wolf and the man were unfazed.

    Fortunately, they did not move either.

    Miles could not help but swallow, his mouth feeling dry.

    There was a reason he had not commanded Cadmus to fire and instead to shoot only what moved.

    He knew what these monsters were capable of, he knew they could dodge every single gun he had brought out. His only hope was that they would prefer to avoid getting shot at if given the chance.

    Forcing himself to sound confident, Miles spoke out, ¡°You two may keep doing whatever it is that you were up to. Don¡¯t mind me. I¡¯ll just leave and deactivate the weapons.¡±

    The pale man¡¯s lips curled, revealing the hints of two unusually sharp canines, ¡°How amusing. An actually passable strategy. But what will you do, child of the Lykaon? When I say I have no faith in your word? That I refuse your paltry suggestion?¡±

    ¡®He knows who I am?! Then are they here for me?!¡¯

    Miles shivered.

    The pale man had a dozen guns on him, but he still had the audacity to grin.

    Something about the man, despite his mostly unassuming appearance, shouted at Miles, no, it screamed, to drop everything and run for his life. That he was in over his head. That this was a monster wearing human skin.

    Nervousness intensifying, Miles tried to steady his voice, ¡°N-No, the Lykaons have always kept our word, and I swear I will follow tradition. Even a fae-oath is possible, if you could just give me a moment to prepare.¡±

    At that, the pale man¡¯s lips twisted into a proper grin, ¡°Ah so you are the Lykaon child. I was not entirely confident but you have my gratitude for the confirmation. As for the fae-oath I¡¯m afraid we may have had a bit of a misunderstanding. There was not,¡± a proper grin of contempt, ¡°and never will be, any negotiation.¡±

    Miles was taken aback as he cursed himself, ¡®He did not know? How the hell did I fall for that?!¡¯

    The pale man licked his lips as if savoring something in the air and spoke, almost to himself, ¡°Ahhh, I do so enjoy when the weak grasp at what little power they can, facades of strength walled around them. That one moment when the lie collapses, shattering like glass, revealing the soul begging for release, trapped in the web of lies it had spun for itself, that¡­ is¡­ pure¡­ ecstasy¨C¡±

    As if suddenly realizing where he was, with a sudden switch in tone that could not have come from an entirely sane mind, the pale man focused on Miles, ¡°Tell me child, do you think yourself different?¡±

    The wolf¡¯s snarl echored through the air, its throat rumbling like an earthquake, drowning out the pale man. It spoke, surprisingly with the voice of a woman, ¡°Leech! Leave the andha child alone! This ends between us - you will not see a drop of his blood, while I still stand!¡±

    Miles inadvertently took a step back, ¡®Leech? Drink my blood? Wait, wait, wait! I remember reading about something like this! Pale skin, sharp canines, drinking blood, could he be¡­ a freaking Vampire?! Like Count Dracula? Could Vampires be some undiscovered type of Fae?!¡¯

    His gaze shifted to the lady wolf, ¡®By the Sidhe! Then does that mean she is a Werewolf or something?! Those actually exist? Beyond pre-fae fiction!?¡¯

    The realization was astounding, more so than the fact that two Fae on par with Delta faehumans had crashed into his ancestral home.

    The Vampire smirked at the enraged wolf, words laced with disdain, ¡°Oh? Pray tell, what will an overgrown mutt do to stop this noble one? Shed on the perfectly good floor? Bitch, please.¡±

    And stepped forward.

    Bang! Hum! Bang!

    The deafening sound of gunfire erupted, as half of the weapons unloaded their magazines and energy cores into the Vampire that had dared move.

    Bullets rained down upon his convulsing figure, piercing deep inside. Some ripped right through, tearing apart flesh and leaving gaping holes that revealed innards and bone. The cold iron rounds no doubt, ever effective against the supernatural fae. Chunks of severed flesh splattered onto the floor in a rain of wet, grotesque slaps.

    All that was left behind was a Vampire shaved of much of its mass, but somehow remaining standing.

    Injuries of this level would have been the death of an ordinary faehuman. Even a human prime delta would have been heavily injured, unless they possessed a regenerative healing factor or similar ability.

    But all this Vampire, or what was left of him, did was show off a careless grin that revealed two sharp canines.

    Mangled flesh hung loose from his body, barely held on by ripped flaps of skin. Throbbing veins were exposed to the air, bone and sinew visible through the wounds. But the Vampire stood tall, his grin growing wider by the second. There was not a shiver in his body, not a grimace or a grunt, no obvious sign of pain, and¨C

    That was when Miles noticed. None of the wounds, despite their obvious severity, bled. Just like the injuries he had seen before. Not a drop of blood to be seen, anywhere.

    The exposed flesh seemed to be wriggling¡­

    And a rain of metal pattered onto the wooden floor. It was a discordant tune, eerie and unnatural.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    These were bullets, the ones that had failed to pierce through the Vampire, falling onto the floor, seemingly pushed out of his body by some inhuman force.

    Flashes of red, thin lines that Miles barely noticed, blurred around the Vampire.

    ¡®What-?¡¯

    Miles blinked.

    To his horror, the splattered flesh, every sinew, muscle and flap of skin on the floor had vanished.

    He found them back where they had come from, returned to the Vampire¡¯s body, seemingly retrieved by some unseen force. The bullet holes had already begun to knit together, lost flesh repurposed as wounds scabbed over and healed at impossible speeds.

    Everything was as good as new.

    Miles had known, in fact he had expected, that weaponry would be useless against a Vampire.

    But it was one thing to expect and another thing entirely to see it; a real ¡®undead¡¯ Vampire in action.

    He had never heard of such an impossible regeneration factor, not among any of the registered Faehumans in any public record, not even among the Fae for that matter. So intense that bullets were pushed out, torn flesh returned, and all wounds healed nary a scar remaining.

    The Cold Iron may have been more effective than the ordinary rounds, but loads of good that had been.

    Miles was confident that this Vampire could have dodged most, if not all of the bullets, but there had been no need for it. In fact he suspected that the Vampire had chosen to allow the bullets to hit.

    It was insane to let oneself be shot, even if they could handle it, but he had to admit that such strength was¡­ enviable.

    Noticing his enraptured gaze, the Vampire grinned. His abyss-like eyes glowing with scarlet light, returned in a gaze that bore into Miles¡¯s own.

    And with that single glance, Miles lost himself, finding himself transfixed and lost in the sight before him.

    A lake, no, an ocean, no, a world¨C no, a cosmos of red water, unusually thick, filling his vision with an oppressive presence.

    A heavy scent lingered in the air, of iron and life, of agony and death¡­

    A chill ran down his spine as he understood what this was¨C Blood.

    How many souls had to have been sacrificed to fill this blood-drenched abyss? How much death was needed to fill this vast, endless expanse?

    Yet, for all its horror, he could not bring himself to turn away. Terror held him in an unbreakable grip, trapped within an endless cycle of fear and disbelief.

    But, whatever that manifestation had been, it vanished as soon as it had appeared.

    The effect however did not.

    ¡®I-I can¡¯t! I can¡¯t do this! ¡­run? Run! I need to run!¡¯

    A single vision had crushed all of Miles¡¯s self control, any thought of mustering a fight thrown away, as that primitive desire to blindly flee grasped a narrow victory.

    Every fiber of his being wanted to run away, to escape, but the very same gaze that had terrified him beyond measure held him prisoner.

    Miles could not, he would not move. His being, his very essence, was frozen in place.

    He could not struggle, not scream, not even shout. The mind was willing but the flesh refused.

    The Vampire¡¯s grin widened, just a hint, as he beckoned Miles over with a jerk of his head.

    A moment of clarity, logical thought returning, ¡®Huh? What? Ha! Even if I could, I¡¯d neve¨C¡¯

    Those eyes he had been doing his best to avoid, flared blood red.

    A gust of wind knocked Miles off his feet but he never fell. The wind continued to rush into him, his skin burning, his body feeling all sorts of wrong.

    His confusion and shock did not help to make sense of it. To figure out what the hell was going on.

    Only when those razor-sharp fangs began to grow larger in his vision did he realize. He had somehow moved, been moved, dragged through the air, right into the waiting jaws of the vampire.

    The one that would drink his blood, feed upon him, until he was but another drop in that endless world of blood.

    The Werewolf seemed to have been paying no attention to what had happened, her hands clasped together above her chest, eyes closed in a peaceful prayer incongruous with her bestial visage.

    But she was obviously not unaware, for a sudden brilliant white light erupted from her and rushed through the grand hall, enveloping the walls and weaponry.

    Instantly all the guns that had been trained onto the Werewolf shifted their aim to the Vampire.

    BANG! HUM! BANG!

    Without a moment wasted, every single gun let loose a barrage of bullets, the previous intensity effectively doubled, smashing into the Vampire and grinding his movements to a halt.

    It may have been harmless but they were more than enough to buy time.

    Thankfully for Miles, despite the obvious hijack of Lykaon weaponry, the core rule of defending the alpha ring wielder remained predominant, such that all guns paid special notice to avoid him.

    The Werewolf finally opened her eyes, white light blazing, a fierce yet hopeful glow that managed to pull Miles out of the blind terror that had paralyzed his mind.

    He thought he saw her lips move, his ears heard nothing, but he still did, ¡°Pay my due, Dhaivaya.¡±

    Miles blinked.

    The Werewolf had vanished.

    And as Miles searched for her, wondering if she had left him to his fate, the Vampire¡¯s cocky demeanor crumbled, his face twisting into one ugly rage, ¡°YOU BITCH! YOU WOULDN''T DARE!¡± and rushed forward, struggling against the storm of bullets and plasma bursts that continued to rain down upon him.

    A faint whisper rang within Miles¡¯s mind, the tone and volume wavering as if uncertain. Even without the momentary shock of telepathy, it took him a moment to match the sorrow in this voice to the former ferocity of the female werewolf.

    ¡°Forgive me human cub. No, more than a cub, more than just a human, a noble among the andha humans, a potential future nayaka.

    But forgive me. You were never meant to be involved.

    All I can do is free you of the suffering and pain that awaits, save your aatma from eternal damnation, and protect the world from another of Vinasha¡¯s kin.

    Should you happen to survive this ordeal, I swear on my given name, Senga, I shall take you under my tutelage. But should you not, fear be free, for I will pray for your aatma to find peace in the embrace of our great earth mother.¡±

    And her jaws clamped down upon his shoulder, rows of razor sharp teeth tearing through skin and flesh with brutal efficiency.

    ¡°AAARGHH!¡± Miles screamed in pure agony, as not one but two creatures bit into him, one from each side.

    On his right, the Werewolf¡¯s jaws had impaled flesh. The skin and muscle around the wound throbbed with bulging white veins spreading and expanding at alarming speed.

    On his left, the Vampire who had managed to arrive just on time had plunged his fangs deep into Miles¡¯ neck, thin black veins flowing around the bite, pillaging his blood for consumption.

    ¡®T-They bit at the same time?!¡¯

    The pain came with a semblance of clarity. But that was of little comfort, if clarity at such a time was comfort at all.

    The Vampire laughed a heartless laugh, his fangs consuming, ¡°A mutt through and through! Did you truly believe you could poison his lifeblood before I fed? The moment your toxic slobber reaches this side, I shall stop. However should you dare let go and attack, I shall consume the child in its entirety! Either way, I will recover!

    It is checkmate as they say! What say you, bitch?!¡±

    The Werewolf snarled in rage, hackles rising, but her silence and inaction was enough of an answer for Miles to realize that the Vampire had spoken the truth.

    But despite being told of his eventual fate, Miles could not¨C no, he did not move.

    This was different from when the Vampire had controlled his body, forcing him to stay still or into motion.

    Then he had been helpless, held against his will. But now, Miles didn''t even feel like mustering a fight.

    Something made him want this.

    It was a seductive, hypnotic lure, calling him to be free, relieved of the burden of existence.

    Be consumed, become prey.

    Comfortable, desirable, easy.

    Freedom, relief from all that he had to do, wanted to do, tried to, but had failed at, would fail at. All he had to do was just give in.

    ¡®It would be so easy. Throw it all away and be free, right¡­? Just give in to the inevitable. Would that really be so bad?¡¯

    And he almost did, until he started to feel sick.

    Miles¡¯s head began to pound as if being repeatedly smashed in by an unseen mallet, from the inside. His organs burned as if being boiled within a pool of lava, searing pain that made him shiver to the tune of his own agony. His skin grew deadly pale almost on par with the vampire, while his stomach churned with a sickening gurgle of protest.

    He felt as if his body was tearing itself apart from the inside, a confluence of things that did not mix, a tincture of fire and ice.

    He felt horribly sick, as if his very being was revolting against him.

    It was then that Miles noticed the white and black veins spreading across his body had finally converged at the center of his neck and chest.

    A hacking cough spewed a dirty globe of congealed black blood out from his throat.

    ¡®It hurts! It FUCKING hurts so much!¡¯

    Miles shivered, spasming in silent pain as his blood burned and his flesh wriggled. Every inch of his body was consumed by agony, as if his body was rejecting itself, becoming its own poison.

    The Vampire noticing his pain shook with laughter, but the werewolf flinched, in pity, regret or surprise, Miles could not say for she remained silent.

    To be honest a part of him had been excited at the prospect of being bitten. If he remembered the old age fiction his father had recommended him read, those bitten by a Vampire or a Werewolf would become one themselves.

    If he could become half, just half, as strong as these two, even if he never reached 1000 in Faetality, he would not have to be so helpless in the matter of Lykaon Industries. That was what he had thought.

    But now, as Miles felt his life slip away, he wasn¡¯t so sure. He didn¡¯t think he would survive if this continued.

    ¡®Damn it all! I never wanted to die! I CAN¡¯T die like this! I refuse, I REFUSE to fail my parents¡­ old Zhan, and everyone else!¡¯

    But as his trusted butler would say whenever Miles was in a particularly lazy mood, if he truly wanted something, he would have to get it himself.

    Instinctively knowing he was in no shape to find a solution, Miles channeled his focus onto his breath, trying to reach that familiar state of perfection, of mental clarity, to clear his head enough to think.

    This was easier said than done.

    The pain was overwhelming, akin to a barrage of blades and bullets that struck with merciless ferocity, pushing him backwards on the path that led towards that elusive state of focused mentality

    The agony was beyond what he could handle, what any ordinary un-enhanced individual could, but Miles¡¯s continued practice, consistent repetition for over a decade had created a seed. A seed of mental fortitude, lying hidden beneath his psyche waiting to sprout in a moment of dire need.

    And now as he fought against this pain while almost at the brink of death, that seed burst, spilling out in a beacon of light that pushed him forwards in a roar of wind, almost to the very edge of that path.

    Miles still was not there entirely, but he could see that familiar, pristine world, his second home, the endless sky mirrored in the still water, far in the distance. He could see it and that was enough.

    His mind cleared, the pain and the agony of his failing body becoming an obscure echo in some distant background far detached from himself. His fading, weakened breathing held his focus.

    This was enough, just enough to give him a miniscule chance of survival instead of certain death.

    Miles¡¯s mind began to work in hyperdrive as he sought inspiration. A way out, a miracle.

    For a moment, his eyes fell upon the damaged floor, the goylean marble riddled with cracks, about to shatter at any moment.

    He looked at the guns in the grand hall now emanating a strange white hue from when the Werewolf had bypassed Cadmus and hijacked them. They would not be of any use.

    ¡®Think Miles, think! What can I do? What can I use?¡¯

    Boom. Boom.

    That was when Miles heard the faint booms outside. He glanced at the cracked floor once more.

    ¡®The cannons outside! They¡¯re still shooting down the Aethercrafts these monsters came on! I can¡¯t use them, they will be unable to target the inside of the mansion but¡­¡¯

    Grasping onto the thread of hope he had just managed to uncover, Miles used every shred of willpower he could gather and forced his thumb to move, somehow managing to tap twice on the Lykaon ring.

    Immediately he let loose everything he had managed to gather, ¡°REMOVE ALL LIMITS ON WEAPONRY! CRASH THE TARGETS!¡±

    The Vampire and the Werewolf were momentarily stunned, not having expected this sudden outburst.

    KABOOM! KABOOM!

    Two bellowing explosions rang out in the sky above as heavy plasma cannons and dread-class weaponry, including and not limited to obsidian storms and pseudo-dragon-fire missiles, were added into the mix. They combined with the original artillery and let loose upon the Aethercrafts.

    The Vampire chortled in amusement, ¡°You let loose your anger upon the vessels we used? The final screams of a dying pig¨C¡±

    THOOM!

    The two vessels of aether made manifest careened into the garden in a massive crash, unleashing the aether within, causing the entirety of the reinforced mansion to tremble and quake.

    And that was enough. Just enough to be the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back.

    The cracks on the floor spread, widening into miniature chasms.

    Miles did not know whether this would change anything. Whether he was merely delaying the inevitable.

    But what he had hoped was that this could give him a chance, a fighting chance, and it seemed like it would.

    A pained smile rose upon his pale face, ¡°And¨C¡± as he mustered out a faint whisper of prideful defiance, ¡°¨Cfall.¡±

    The floor shattered, collapsing into a massive hole that gave way beneath them.

    Perhaps it was too sudden or perhaps it was too shocking, but the previously fast monsters were unable to escape or dodge. They remained unusually frozen.

    And as Miles had spoken, they did.

    A human, a Vampire and a Werewolf, down the chasm they fell.

 CHAPTER 4: A Ghostly Savior

    Prior to its rechristening as Capital City, under the newfound dominion of Capital Corporation, a lesser-known historical tidbit is that the city was originally named Arcadia, founded under the auspices of Lykaon Industries.

    Unlike most Corporate States, Arcadia City did not receive funding from Lykaon Industries. The Corporation had not even existed back then. No, the city built itself, on the wealth and efforts of the people themselves, it was just that it was centered around the Lykaon Estate.

    Not out of bleedings hearts or enforced slavery, but rather, due to rumors. That the Fae harbored an inexplicable fear of the bloodline of the Lykaon, coinciding with a notable decline in documented Fae attacks or invasions in the nearby region, compared to the world at large.

    Whether these rumors held kernels of truth or were a strategic maneuver by the Lykaons to establish a city, remains uncertain.

    Even the origin of the Lykaon Estate itself is shrouded in mystery, with the earliest available records indicating the ancestral abode had existed many centuries before the advent of the Fae.

    Few may know this truth, yet despite numerous setbacks in recent years, even fewer dares provoke the ire of the enigmatic Wolves of Arcadia.

    ¨C Excerpt from "The Wolves of Arcadia," by Alexandar Tomolov, former Head Butler of the Lykaon Estate, left unfinished and unpublished, following the author¡¯s unfortunate death in an accident involving Capital City Knight [Redacted].

    ***

    Miles awoke, head groggy and body aching, drenched in a pool of his own sweat, his clothes sticking to him like a second skin.

    His vision blurred, his senses marred by post-whatever the hell he¡¯d gone through.

    Darkness enveloped his eyes, while the faint but rhythmic plop of water dripping onto stone thundered in his ears.

    He couldn¡¯t see, but this had to be the decommissioned basement underneath Lykaon mansion, his intended destination.

    For a moment, Miles caught a glimpse of towering silver columns stretching up to impossible heights, reaching towards the ceiling of a massive cavern as if the hands of giants holding the weight of the world, but he ignored what was obviously a product of his delirious mind.

    He was more worried about what the Werewolf and Vampire would do once they recovered, and he attempted to move, but overwhelming pain struck him down even before he could act. Miles groaned, feeling as if he had been roasted in dragon-fire.

    Even to attempt to escape, he could not move.

    The pain was excruciating, reaching a point where Miles could no longer form coherent thoughts.

    As if to make a point, he heaved, and a globule of thick blood spewed from his mouth, black, ichorous like a dread pixie¡¯s.

    Smelled like it too as the putrid scent of decay and rot filled his nostrils, causing him to gag and retch. Miles tried to move, at least move his face out of the foul mire he had vomited out, but his body refused.

    He could only lay there, engulfed in the stench of his dying blood, tasting it even, as he waited for death to just hurry up and free him of this horror.

    And then, death did come.

    From the corner of his eyes, he saw them, a pair of pale feet, so pallid he wondered whether they were even real, or a figment of his delirium imagining death into existence.

    But the feet never faded away. They continued to walk over, morbidly silent.

    Whoever or whatever the feet belonged to, they helped him up, their touch icy cold, yet comforting. In fact, that moment of contact alone soothed his pain, granting him a moment¡¯s reprieve, just enough to focus.

    Miles blinked his eyes. It was a¨C a pale woman?

    If he had to define her with a single world, it would be stunning. Miles wasn¡¯t sure if he truly was delirious, but nothing about her was constant. Her features shifted and morphed every second, changing, never the same, but always unspeakably gorgeous.

    Actually, it was constant, in a constant state of flux that is, which made her unreal, ethereal and¡­ terrifying.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but be transfixed by her eyes, bright pools of light, moons in the darkness.

    Oh, and there was also the fact he could see right through her. She was transparent. Like a wraith from the underworld.

    Miles had had enough surprising revelations for one day, ¡®Either I¡¯m seeing things or she¡¯s a bloody ghost! Werewolves, Vampires, and now Ghosts! What next, Frankenstein¡¯s Monster?!¡¯

    The woman smiled, a formless shifting smile that graced her lips and a sense of peace washed over him despite her ghostly appearance.

    Her voice a haunting whisper in an unseen wind, she spoke, ¡°Miles, the last true son of the House of Lykaon, I welcome you to the Oldest Den. It gladdens me to see you awaken, for I feared you never would.¡±

    Miles opened his mouth in an attempt to reply, yet all that came out was a raspy garble. A sharp pain in his chest forced him to turn to the side, coughing out another globule of black blood.

    His senses were dull and he could feel his body failing, his mind slipping. Although this ghost of a woman had helped, all it had done was lessen the pain.

    He could feel it, he was running out of time.

    The ghostly woman raised her head, ¡°Indeed, your body has become a vessel to poison incarnate. Divided in two, one poisoning the other. The Wurkao, as honorable as they were, are in essence at odds with all that makes a¡­ Vawul. Your very being opposes itself, as two sides wage an endless war within yourself.¡±

    She seemed to hesitate, her contorting features becoming still for a moment. But eventually continued nevertheless, ¡°The result is set in stone. The two will annihilate each other, leaving nothing, and you with them. As is, you do not have much time left for this world.¡±

    It took Miles a moment to even register what she had said.

    ¡®I¡¯ll die? Even after all that? No, no, no, I don¡¯t want to die! I can¡¯t!¡¯

    As if she had heard him, she gracefully gestured to the side.

    Miles, with great effort, managed to turn weakly.

    He didn¡¯t know how he had failed to notice it before, but there, floating in the air, bound by luminescent energy that shimmered like moonlight manifest, were two familiar monsters - the Vampire and the Werewolf.

    The Vampire, as if waiting for this moment, bellowed out, ¡°Kid! I must admit I have had a change of heart! I apologize for my actions, but your death is now inevitable! Get this crazed spirit to free me and in return, I shall gift you a favor! Be pragmatic! A Vawulan Lord¡¯s favor outweighs any form of petty revenge!¡± and forced out a loud, manic laugh.

    The Werewolf however remained silent; her gaze frozen upon the ghostly woman.

    It was only after a moment that she spoke, her eyes shifting towards Miles, ¡°Do what you will Lykaon nayaka. Strength is the law of the world and you¡­ this deva, are more than expected. But I, Senga, Chieftain of the Lokabhara Tribe, shall stand with my decision for I did what I thought was most just.¡±

    The ghost woman ignored them entirely, merely gesturing at their incapacitated forms as she explained, ¡°These two, the very same responsible for your current state, could perhaps stabilize your condition.

    By grafting their essence into you and each of the poisons placed within, it may serve to deceive and bring a momentary balance. The poisons will not war, as they will be blind to the other. They will believe they are where they were meant to be, and thus, not toxic.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Their lives, the price for yours.

    Yet I shall leave the choice to you, for this process will corrupt and spoil the purity of the Lykaon within you. You will no longer be who you were, and never become who you could¡¯ve been.

    It may not succeed and even if it should, there will be¡­ complications. But I will also admit, without, your death is definite.

    So, decide. As a true son of the House of Lykaon and the wearer of His ring, what shall be your choice? Will you die as a true Lykaon, as He did, or will you struggle for a fighting chance, even if it shall change you to the core?¡±

    Miles had a multitude of questions.

    ¡®Who¡­ is this woman? How, why is she a ghost? No, a¡­ spirit? And why is she going out of her way to help? What is her relationship with the Lykaon Family? What does she mean by the true son of the House of Lykaon? I¡¯m the only one, right? Are there imposters pretending to be from my family? And where in the holy hells is this place!? Did I travel through a Doorway and enter another domain, because this... is definitely not my basement?!¡¯

    But in the end only one mattered. Whether he would live or die.

    The pain he was in was already too much to bear. If he were to wait any longer, he wouldn¡¯t even get to decide¡­ he would die.

    But he couldn¡¯t, he couldn¡¯t let himself, not when he had so much left to do. If there was a chance, he would struggle and fight, no matter the consequences, no matter what he lost.

    As for the Vampire and the Werewolf, he frankly couldn''t care less. Their reasons and intentions were irrelevant. At the end of the day, he was in this situation because of them. They had sought to kill him and for that, there would be no mercy.

    Miles could not speak, he could barely even move, but with a slow, resolute nod, he made his decision.

    Even as the ghost woman¡¯s features continued to contort and warp, eternally in flux, her form¡­ solidified. Miles could swear she was less transparent, her presence more tangible.

    She however didn¡¯t seem to notice or care.

    With a nod she leaned forwards, ¡°Let it be as you chose,¡± and murmured, her words carrying a hint of reverence, ¡°Let us pray that my sahodari will bless us with fortune.¡±

    With that she closed her eyes and the moment she did, her hands and her very being began to move, flowing in fluid rhythmic motions. The air seemed to shimmer in response, as if ripples in water. It was a hypnotic dance, a dream made reality. An offering to something greater, a call to something that lay beyond. A coalition of the real and the unreal.

    The world around her seemed to flicker like a dying lamp, and for a moment, Miles caught glimpses of a different world, a different reality, where vague figures of all shapes and sizes walked, dashed and flew. All of them were right beside her and neither the figures nor the world was stable. Just like her, they changed and morphed with every flicker.

    The woman continued to dance, her movements like a wraith in the icy winds. And that was when the lunar bindings holding the Vampire and the Werewolf began to tighten, causing both creatures to writhe in pain.

    A faint glow formed around them, as if being squeezed out of their very existence. From the Werewolf, a peaceful yet unrelenting white and from the Vampire, a bloody, shifting red, twisted with malice and insanity.

    The Werewolf bit her lips, drawing blood, as she held herself back from screaming.

    The Vampire had no such reservations. His blood-shot eyes glared at Miles with endless, ruthless fury, ¡°FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT! FUTUE TE IPSUM! NO, FUCK YOURSELF AND YOUR GHOST WHORE!

    DO YOU BELIEVE THE GREAT LORD NATHANAEL KNOWS FEAR? BOVIS STERCUS! I AIN¡¯T AFRAID OF NO GHOST!

    ONCE I ESCAPE, I WILL SUCK YOU DRY! I¡¯LL SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU! I¡¯LL SUCK¨C¡±

    The Vampire¡¯s frenzied outburst was met with an almost insulting dismissal, ¡°Hush,¡± as the ghost woman summoned pulsing moon light to form a gag that silenced the dread creature''s profanity-laden outburst.

    The Vampire continued to struggle but it was a futile effort.

    Despite the pain wracking his body, Miles felt a sense of twisted satisfaction as he watched the blood-sucking monster receiving a dose of his own medicine. The curses, familiar yet unfamiliar, words he knew, were not entirely registered in his current state. Nor did he care to.

    The faded energy being wringed out of the two hapless monsters was brightening, becoming more definite, more solid. And almost consequently, the Vampire and the Werewolf paid the price, beginning to fade in return.

    The glowing energy was being made real, tangible, at the cost of the two creatures¡¯ existence. Fainter and fainter they faded, until they were not so different from the ghost woman herself.

    And that was when the ghostly woman flicked her hand, dissipating the bindings of moonlight that had ensnared the Vampire and the Werewolf. But before they could fall to the ground, at the end of that same hand motion, her hands paused¨C instantly clenching into fists.

    The Vampire and the Werewolf screamed, or at least they tried to, their mouths ajar in silent terror. They were being crushed, contorting and warping, collapsing in on themselves as if sucked into points of singularity.

    With a final, deafening silence, they imploded into two floating orbs of light, one a radiant silver-white and the other a dread blood-red.

    The two monsters were no more, their existence traded away in return for these two ethereal energies.

    Miles felt a burning heat surge within his body, a pulse of warmth that resonated with these sacrificial lights. His skin burned and rippled as a familiar black ooze began to leak out of his pores.

    He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench, but he was too weak to do much about it. Thankfully, the black ooze began to float the moment it touched the air, defying gravity, slowly forming into another orb before him.

    Her eyes still closed, the ghost woman whose name he did not yet know, pushed the two globes towards Miles, silver-white and blood-red.

    As they moved forth, nearing the sphere of black ooze, her eyes finally opened.

    ¡°Miles, last true son of the House of Lykaon,¡± her voice was ethereal, otherworldly, whispered from the lines between reality and non-existence, ¡°The only reason I could call you, was the She-Wurkan. The Oldest Den opened only for her. But I will wait, await the day when you may arrive of your own strength, of your own existence.

    Rejoice, for the first step is before you, and her spirit shall be the catalyst.

    Cursed by Vinasha, blessed by Upatha, but you shall be of the waking. Andha you shall not be, hence and forever.

    An awoken Son of Lykaon, even millennia later, is a blessing for the world. The guardians of the Den will seek you for trial, and payment of debt.

    Be wary, be wise, prove yourself and pay what is owed, for you will gain much in return.

    Things may have changed, but in change you will find new, perhaps even greater strength. You will have much to learn Son of Lykaon, but I¡­ shall wait. I shall always wait.¡±

    The three globes collided in a blinding burst of light that completely ruined Miles¡¯ already weakened vision.

    But through that intense light he still managed to see it. The globe of black ooze splitting and forming into two apparitions, a gray wolf and a beast of darkness. The wolf gracefully leapt into the silver globe, while the beast roared and struggled before being forced into the globe of blood red.

    The brightness intensified so much so that Miles¡¯s vision was entirely obscured. Now he could see nothing else. Not the ghost woman, not even himself.

    His eyes began to waver, starting to close, the effects of all he had been through exerting its toll.

    But before Miles fell to exhaustion through the blinding light, through his inability to see, he saw one last thing.

    At the very center where the light was the brightest, a symbol so vague and faint it might as well have been a trick of the light.

    A rippling circle, like a miniature, circular lake or sea, divided into two halves, one side blood-red and the other silver-white.

    With nothing else but the intense light about it, this circle, this symbol, was reflected in his pupils.

    Even as sleep threatened to take him, Miles couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡®So familiar¡­¡¯

    And that was when he heard it. The message.

    Miles could make out the first few words but the rest of it was garbled and confusing. It was almost as if the messages were being played over each other.

    [You have been blessed by Chaos with the Ankh, the Key of Life. The Vawul System has manifested.]

    [You have been blessed by the World to see beyond and witness the Immaterial World. The Wurkao System has manifested.]

    [Impossible! A phenomenon only seen once before has occurred! You have gained the attention of the World. The Vae-]

    Perhaps because the combined messages were too confusing or perhaps because he was already on the verge of passing out, Miles promptly proceeded to do so.

    ***

    She watched as strands of moonlight appeared and grabbed the young man, before he could truly collapse onto the ground. As her light wrapped around him, forming a homely hammock that granted him peaceful rest, she smiled.

    A smile of sorrow and lost hope.

    ¡°Why? The last of your kin, an orphan to the world, alone if not for few, but still so much of how you used to be.¡±

    Her voice trembled, ¡°If the boy had let go, I could have as well. Finally followed after you, my duty complete.

    But he did not.

    Unlike you, he chose to fight, to struggle. He chose to live, and for that I find myself¡­ glad.¡±

    Her figure began to shimmer, growing faint, beginning to disappear, but her attention was entirely on the young man before her.

    She leaned forwards and reached out, her hand faded to the point of non-existence were it not for a faint outline.

    ¡°But fret not Miles, whatever your fate to be, I shall look over you as I did him. Fret not, last son of Lykaon¡­¡±

    She reached out and¨C caressed his hair.

    ¡°¡­and last son of mine.¡±

 CHAPTER 5: System Rising

    A familiar yet desolate world of eternally pristine waters, an unblemished mirror to the heavenly skies above.

    A sudden rupture disturbed the peace, and the firmament was rendered asunder.

    From opposing horizons appeared two blazing meteors, trailing flames of crimson and alabaster white.

    The world trembled and the meteors plunged into the mirrored sea, vanishing into fathomless depths.

    Merely momentary, for unnatural shimmers rippled across the water, and the glow of unlight manifested upon the sea from depths below.

    To the west congealed a swirling morass of faded crimson, chaotic and unbound. To the east, wisps of ivory white, in waters serene and peaceful.

    Where the two seas met, reality wavered, bound by a writhing, convulsing line, the scar of an eternal contest preceding the beginning of existence.

    With it, the crimson of the west and the ivory of the east, met even.

    Segregated and separated, the seas settled, only to dissipate, as if diluted by the grandness of the ocean.

    Without the two seas, the line in between flickered, struggling to realize itself, and like a dream awoken, finally vanished.

    With that, the world returned to peace, and all was as it was¡­

    ***

    Miles awoke to the unfamiliar, incessant sound of an electronic beep.

    Even as he came to, he felt it. The bedding beneath him, foreign and uncomfortable, lacking the perfectly curated plushness of his own. The unique blend of neural-memory foam replaced by some common cotton.

    It didn¡¯t take a genius to realize he was not home.

    Almost on reflex, he found his hands reaching for the old talisman hung around his neck. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the details came into focus, the aging wood, the chipped paint and the faded symbol of yin yang.

    Regarding this familiar talisman, he felt a sense of urgency, an inexplicable feeling different from mere sentimental attachment to the relic.

    But as he rationalized the feeling, the explanation became obvious.

    ¡®It must have been some strange dream. This talisman is worthless. I should know, I¡¯ve studied it so many times, had it double and triple checked by the best appraisers my money could afford. It is exactly what it appears to be.

    And what could be important about a piece of painted wood? Absolutely nothing.¡¯

    Satisfied with the conclusion, Miles carefully tucked the talisman underneath his shirt. He could no longer stop himself from focusing on the rhythmic electronic beep, the only sound in an otherwise perfect silence.

    ¡®What is that? A¡­ vital sign or heart monitor?¡¯

    Slowly pushing himself up to a seated position, Miles took a moment to survey his surroundings. His eyes were immediately drawn to the monitor displaying, as he had expected, his vitals in neon green.

    His heartbeat was quite a bit below average, body temperature a few degrees below the norm, but overall his physical condition seemed to be rather good, impeccable actually, if the readings on the monitor were to be believed.

    Miles shifted his gaze away from the monitor, just now noticing that the room itself was rather dark.

    There were no visible sources of light, no wisp lamps or moon beams. However what he did find were several holes carved discreetly into the concrete roof above, circular glass panels embedded within.

    ¡®Bulbs? Nat-tech lighting? Ah this must be one of my places then, but wait¡­¡¯

    None of the bulbs were actually lit. There was very little illumination, so much so that the room was almost pitch black. And yet Miles could see with perfect clarity. More than enough to note the discreetly placed lights above.

    It was as if his vision had undergone metamorphosis, granting him the ability to see in darkness as if it was the light of day.

    ¡®What in the hells? Did someone give me ocular implants while I was unconscious?!¡¯

    Miles blinked sharply, testing his eyes and examining his eyes.

    ¡®No, my eyes are still organic! So what is this? Lykaon R&D may have been working on non-cybernetic night vision biotech, but they were still a few generations behind what was needed to actually finish the product! This couldn¡¯t be the result of a Fae serum either, not while I was unconscious! So then, what the heck is this?!¡¯

    Miles looked around in surprise, surveying the rest of the room, testing his new eye sight, unable to comprehend how he had spontaneously gained night vision.

    With renewed attention, Miles found the room to be¡­ nothing special.

    It was small and spartan, barren, save for the medical equipment and a table off to the side.

    His gaze was drawn to the door, crafted of some fae-forged alloy, unseelie iron if he had to guess.

    That was fine, the problem was that the supposedly indiscernible edges where the magical metal melded against common steel was unnaturally clear. The minute differences between the arcane and mundane metals stood out in stark contrast.

    Miles muttered to himself, kneading his forehead, ¡°Where am I? How is it that I can see in the dark? I suppose it would be easier to just find out¡­¡±

    With a swift tug, he pulled off the cables stuck to his chest, eliciting a loud flatlining screech from the monitor and proceeded to hop off the bed.

    It should have been a simple jump, especially since he was supposed to be in ¡®impeccable¡¯ condition.

    Instead he found his limbs propelling him with an excessive amount of force. What should have been a small jump became a giant leap, sending him in a crash course towards the unfortunately low ceiling.

    THWACK!

    His head collided against the trow-touched concrete and Miles crashed onto the ground in a jumble of limbs. As he lay on the ground dazed and disoriented, the nat-tech lights embedded in the concrete blazed to life.

    Miles¡¯s eyes quickly adjusted to the change in illumination, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel a vague sense of unease from the light.

    The door burst open as a gust of familiar wind rushed in, ¡°Master Miles! Are you well?!¡±

    Surprisingly enough, he was.

    Miles found himself to be in perfect health, even the collision with the trow-touched concrete did not hurt¡­ much. All he felt was a dull, already dissipating ache.

    Thus, with a shake of his head to clear the daze, Miles pushed himself off the ground, considerably more careful in controlling his strength this time.

    Confusion etched on his face Miles answered his guardian, ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m perfectly well old Zhan. I¨C I suppose I used a little too much strength?¡±

    Ignoring his words, the elderly butler hurried forwards and began to pat his clothes with great fuss, as if the smallest dust particle could spontaneously kill him.

    As Miles let out an annoyed sigh, Zhen Shen retorted sharply, ¡°Too much strength? Too much strength my ass! Who in the abyss has too much strength after a Fae attack? It is perfectly fine to show and accept weakness sometim¨C¡±

    ¡°Attacked by Fae?! That really happened?¡± Miles interrupted in excitement, forcing the butler to stop mid-word.

    Zhan Shen stared, a frown growing on his face, and placed a hand upon Miles¡¯s forehead as if checking for a fever, ¡°Master Miles do you not remember? I¡¯m confident you did not suffer from a concussion or any serious injury but¨C¡±

    Miles shrugged off the hand, ¡°I¡¯m fine! I¡¯m fine! More importantly, are you sure? I really was attacked by Fae? A Werewolf and a Vampire?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    At that the old butler seemed to become genuinely concerned, even going so far as to examine Miles¡¯s eyes and pulse with undue diligence, ¡°Werewolf? Vampire? What on earth are you going on about Master Miles? Could it really be a concussion? No, no, some form of mind tampering? False Memories? Illusions?¡±

    Miles paused, immediately reigning back his excitement. He focused on his breath for a few seconds quickly calming himself.

    The potential ramifications of what he remembered had made him lose composure for a moment. However, it seemed that Zhan Shen was unaware of the peculiarities of the incident.

    Donning his usual mask of practiced composure, Miles asked, ¡°Old Zhan tell me, what did you discover when you returned to the mansion? How and where was I?¡±

    Zhan Shen, as always, replied promptly, ¡°You were in the grand hall Master Miles, passed out on the kelpie rug. There were no signs of forced entry, leading me to the conclusion that you had been knocked out by some manner of psychic assault, possibly an orc shaman.

    However, I must admit, were it not for the two crashed Aethercrafts in the garden I would have thought you had simply fainted.

    And on that note, while you may have been a bit heavy-handed, well done on bringing down two Aether Crafts.¡±

    Miles¡¯ eyes narrowed, ¡°Any surviving Fae?¡±

    The elderly butler shook his head, a slight frown on his face, ¡°None whatsoever. I returned well before the Capital Military was alerted and decided to poke their grubby fingers into our pie, so I am confident.

    Oh, and since we acted preemptively, our agents managed to retain ownership of the aethercraft wrecks. Though they have been damaged beyond recognition, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll manage to find something of use.

    But it is a bit unusual. While it¡¯s possible the Orcs inside were incinerated to ashes by the explosion, for there to not be a single trace left¡­¡±

    Miles contemplated the information.

    The fact that there were no signs of Orcs gave some credibility to what he remembered, but it was not substantial.

    Instead, there was something that troubled him. The grand hall had been destroyed completely, but why had Zhan Shen not mentioned it?

    He asked, but phrased it in a manner that would escape the notice of his worrywart of a butler, ¡°Old Zhan, did the crash damage the mansion in any way? Is the garden intact?¡±

    As expected, Zhan Shen simply smiled as he shook his head, ¡°Master Miles, the Lykaon Mansion may be your home, your ancestral home, but it is still just a house. As long as you survive, the Lykaons shall live on.

    But no, you have nothing to worry about. The Lykaon Mansion is unharmed.

    As for the garden, the area near the crash site caught on fire. Thankfully the flames from the exploding aether did not spread far. As you must remember, the mutated fae bramble happens to be impervious to most fire and coincidentally stifled the aether flames.

    I must admit, the Fae bramble you¡¯ve been trying to get rid of for so long, saving the rest of the garden, possibly the Lykaon Mansion as well, is quite a surprising turn of events.¡±

    ¡®The Fae Bramble stopped the fire?!¡¯

    That was unexpected, but mostly Miles was just relieved to know that the Lykaon Mansion was fine and not destroyed by his own command.

    Unfortunately, this also gave rise to a glaring conundrum. A flaw in his memory.

    ¡®If the Lykaon Mansion was unharmed and the grand hall is perfectly fine, what about everything I remember? That crazed Vampire and the lady Werewolf? The ghostly woman who saved my life? All that couldn''t possibly be some illusion or hallucination!¡¯

    The only physical evidence for everything he remembered was the destroyed grand hall. If it was undamaged then it was an impossible contradiction.

    It made no sense. Not one bit.

    Perhaps because he was struggling with this illogical problem, or maybe because he had just woken up, Miles realized he was feeling rather thirsty.

    Turning to Zhan Shen, he spoke with a forced smile, ¡°Old Zhan I¡¯m feeling a bit parched. Some water would do wonders.¡±

    The butler nodded, promptly moving to the side, towards the small table upon which were a few bottles and boxes. He whizzed about with practiced ease and soon enough had a glass of sparkling water, with perfectly shredded ice, a sprinkle of pixie dust and a slice of lime on the side, just how Miles liked it.

    Meanwhile Miles had taken a mental step back, reassessing his situation, ¡®I do have to admit that my memories are rather far-fetched. Even I would not believe it should someone attempt to tell me the same.

    Maybe old Zhan has a point? Could it truly be remnants of mind tampering? Could everything from the moment where I entered the grand hall have been a hallucination? Could I really have been knocked out by a psychic or mental attack?¡¯

    He was almost prepared to accept this explanation. To push aside his memories of the Vampire, the Werewolf and the ghostly woman, to forget what he remembered, to value rationality over memory and just move on¡­

    When Zhan Shen walked over and presented the glass.

    Miles immediately grabbed it and gulped it down, a bit uncouth perhaps, but he felt the situation warranted a minor slight in decorum.

    The refreshing chill of the water, the energy of the pixie dust and the familiar hints of lime, all faded away as Miles was struck by a sudden realization.

    ¡®Wait! If, If it was a hallucination then why did the Aethercrafts crash? I ordered Cadmus to bring them down with minimal force! To keep them intact! If it wasn¡¯t for that last command, when I removed all limits and allowed the use of dread-class weaponry, the two crafts should not have crashed or exploded!

    I couldn¡¯t have possibly done so while mind-controlled! Cadmus would have detected traces of external influence and known to ignore any commands given under psychic duress!¡¯

    The realization breathed fresh life into him, enough to get him to start taking more refined sips of the water.

    Miles continued to think, recollecting the adrenaline-fueled events and going over everything he could remember, in search of something, something he may have missed, something that could become evidence.

    The first, he barely managed to think of was the Werewolf and her near instantaneous weaving into the grand hall weaponry.

    But a quick query to Cadmus through the Lykaon ring found nothing, not a trace of a successful breach into the grand hall weaponry, no logs or records that the Werewolf had weaved herself into the weapons.

    Unless that Werewolf happened to surpass the Morrigan, the legendary net weaver, and somehow succeeded in weaving the nigh-impenetrable Cadmus into deleting the logs, it was as if the incident had never happened at all. As if his memories were truly nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

    ¡®Then again, considering that strange white glow the Werewolf manifested over the weaponry, it is possible what she did was not net weaving, but instead some manner of direct control over weaponry. I¡¯m not familiar with such an ability but considering how little I know of ¡®Werewolves¡¯ it is not impossible.¡¯

    That discovery turned out to be a bust, but Miles¡¯s belief remained strong.

    His memories could not possibly have been imagined. Things just did not add up.

    Not to mention the inexplicable night-vision that he now possessed, seemingly having come from nowhere, confirming that things could not be explained away so easily as ¡®mind tampering¡¯.

    And most importantly he could feel he was getting close.

    Miles delved deeper in the impossible events he would surely never forget, the Vampire and its undetermined ability that had caused his body to freeze, even sent propelling through the air by a mere flick of his head, how the two monsters had consumed him and that pai¡ª

    The ghostly woman who had saved him, the place he had believed was the basement but now he knew definitely could not be.

    That got him thinking. Could he actually have travelled through a Doorway during the time of the fall? Perhaps, but the presence of one under his home, remaining hidden and unused for so long was so utterly ridiculous, that Miles decided to not humor the thought any further.

    The ephemeral woman was a lot more promising. Her strange nature, her unnatural abilities, how she had made the Vampire and Werewolf disappear from existence, how¡­

    His heart skipped a beat.

    And that was when he remembered it.

    The last thing he did remember.

    The final memory from within that explosion of blinding light, before he had lost consciousness. That cacophony of messages.

    They had played over each other, words overlapping and mostly incomprehensible, but he could still make use of it.

    With a sense of triumph, Miles drained the rest of his water taking a mouthful, in too much of a hurry to actually drink as he tried to remember what he had heard.

    ¡®There was¡­ something about the world, and chaos? Yes, that¡¯s right, they were messages about being blessed by them¡­ stating the manifestation of something? What was that word? Uhh¡­ System?¡¯

    The moment he mused upon the word, a strange sound reminiscent of a notification ¡®ding¡¯ echoed.

    And right before his very eyes manifested a transparent screen of black text.

    [User: Miles Lykaon]

    [Current Form: Base Human(Enhanced). The user is advised to unlock an available form by satisfying the requirements.]

    [Form Class: Newborn(?)- Lvl (?) (Unable to level up in current form. Unlock any one of the available forms to gain access.)]

    [HP: 10/10]

    [Strength: 12 +5]

    [Endurance: 14 +5]

    [Agility: 13 +5]

    [Intelligence: 59]

    [Wisdom: 37]

    [Influence: (1000)]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

    Newborn (+5 to all physical stats and Enhanced Senses(Minor))

    Cursed [First: Minor Thirst, Second: The Beast Within]

    Balanced

    Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed)

    Last True Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    Miles choked on the water, spraying it out in a fountain of water into the air.

 CHAPTER 6: The First Discipline

    Unlocking the secrets of the mind has been an age-old challenge, with true and complete brain-interfacing considered a distant dream.

    Well, hold onto your Cybernetics all ye fans of chrome, Cyber-licious brings you a mind-blowing revelation¨C FaeTech, actually holds a century-old patent under the World Court, to a groundbreaking piece of Cyberware, code named: Awakening!

    Picture this: cutting-edge fae-cybernetics implanted directly into your brain, seamlessly integrating all your Cyberware and fae serums into a singular system, elevating what our minds and bodies are capable of, to unprecedented heights! A promise of limitless opportunity and growth!

    Isn''t that just the dream? To finally overcome the limitations of Peripheral Neural Interfaces?

    Only problem is, despite being a hundred years ahead of its time, this revolutionary Cyberware was never released. No live demos, no testimonials ¨C just a silent whisper in the winds of innovation.

    So, the big question lingers: Why keep it behind closed doors? A fault in the tech, rendering it unsuited for the public market? Or do the World Court''s influential founding members prefer it remain theirs and theirs alone?

    The details are scant, and the enigma surrounding its workings has left the tech community buzzing. Keep reading, as Cyber-licious dives deep into the shadows to uncover the untold story of what could have reshaped the very fabric of human advancement!

    ¨C An article published in ¡°Cyber-licious - All Things Cyberware, Weekly.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Master Miles! What happened?! Is something wrong with the water?!¡± Zhan Shen yelled, nimbly sidestepping the water splattering through the air.

    ¡®What in the holy hells is this?¡¯

    Miles was shocked as he observed the spectral screen that had materialized in the air.

    The attributes displayed here resembled those used to assess Fae-humans, his values being identical to that of his most recent faesycian report, but that was not all there was here¡­

    It honestly reminded him more of the player status in the old-world video games his mother had introduced him to. But how and why had this appeared in reality?

    Was this supposed to represent him, his status, as if he were a video game character?

    There was some use in a consistently accessible character screen that displayed attributes in real-time but¡­

    Miles gestured at the screen and answered with a raised voice, ¡°No, it¡¯s not the water! This! This is what¡¯s wrong!¡±

    The old butler approached with measured tread, his lined face betraying a hint of confusion as he stared at the location Miles was pointing to. But after a moment of careful scrutiny, he shook his head, ¡°Master Miles I¡¯m afraid I see nothing. Why, what can you see?¡±

    Miles¡¯s eyes widened, soon falling into a contemplative silence.

    It appeared that this ¡®player status screen¡¯ was visible only to him, ruling out the possibility of it being a hologram or some form of projection.

    Assuming this was not a FaeTech neural implant embedded in his occipital lobe undetected and unknown to even himself¡­

    A quick command to Cadmus and placing the wolf-headed ring upon his forehead for just a few seconds, confirmed it.

    ¡°NO FREQUENCIES OF THE KNOWN FAE ENERGY SPECTRUM DETECTED.¡±

    A relief, but the Lykaon Ring was not omniscient. It could only confirm that his mind was his own, within acceptable parameters, and that there were no FaeTech inside his brain.

    In which case, this could still be some external holographic technology made visible only to his eyes or¡­ a specific group of people which happened to include him? Perhaps with selective light refraction and retinal identification?

    Not impossible, but more alarming was the fact that this could be a hallucination, an illusion forced onto his mental faculties by some magically engineered neural malfunction.

    Based on the Lykaon ring¡¯s known capabilities, only disruptive and controlling mental influences were detected and defended against, and this particular incident may very well be the opposite.

    Miles sincerely hoped it was so, as the thought that the Lykaon Network, ever impenetrable in his eyes, was unable to detect what he was currently experiencing was a far more troubling conclusion.

    However, persistent hallucinations and illusions, while unusual, were not without any precedent.

    To uncover the truth behind this peculiar phenomenon, Miles could only think of one direct and logical solution. And that was to explore the capabilities of the status screen.

    After all, if it was truly based on old world video games, displaying attributes should only be the most basic of functions.

    While Miles remained deep in thought, Zhan Shen was conflicted.

    The old butler couldn¡¯t help but wonder, whether his young master was under the thrall of some enchantment, one that had clouded his mind with phantasmagoric visions distorting his very perception.

    Perhaps, as precaution, it would be wise to consult a healer? Even a mundane physician could suffice. Nat-tech had come a long way in treating maladies of magical nature and they had contacts, trustworthy enough to be discreet.

    But if the fact that Miles, the disfavored yet sole Lykaon heir, was under the effect of some Fae mind control and was experiencing hallucinations came out¡­

    Miles glanced at the side, seemingly noting his guardian¡¯s concern.

    Offering a reassuring smile, he waved his hand in dismissal, ¡°You heard Cadmus, right old Zhan? If my mind was truly beyond saving, the Lykaon ring would¡¯ve rejected me instantly. So, no need to worry. I am quite well. It¡¯s been a bit unexpected, but I believe I¡¯ve figured out the next course of action.¡±

    The butler wavered, torn between his duty to protect and his trust in Miles. In the end he released a heavy sigh and nodded.

    With that taken care of, Miles turned back to the status screen.

    Properly perusing and analyzing the various attributes and relevant values, coincidentally the same that could be enhanced by fae serums, he could not help but notice the eerie accuracy of the information displayed.

    Even the title Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries, while not something he was entirely pleased with, made sense, ever since the agreement with FaeTech that is.

    Sure, Influence was the only attribute that could not be measured by current tech but in the context of his current standing, he felt +1000 was a reasonable estimate.

    But what truly caught his attention was the +5 bonus to all physical attributes!

    To achieve the same effect through conventional means, Miles would have had to consume a staggering 15 Goblin Tier Serums on average, five for each of the three physical attributes! Of course, he could have spent some gold to obtain serums, perhaps even higher tier ones and burned 1/20th of his Faetality to the same effect, but here he had gained all that simply by virtue of the title Newborn!

    Considering his recent run-in with the ceiling, Miles was reasonably confident that these weren¡¯t just empty numbers either. And if the Newborn title enhanced his senses through Enhanced Senses (Minor) as mentioned in the description of said title, that could explain his sudden ability to see in darkness.

    ¡®A drastic increase in physical attributes and night vision. It is only logical to assume that I gained this ¡®system¡¯ because of the Vampire and the Werewolf who bit me. Does that mean they had the System as well? Or is this something unique to only me?¡¯

    Whatever the answers to those questions, Miles was beginning to feel excited, of the possibilities that his newfound abilities presented.

    But what of the other titles listed on the system?

    Cursed, and Vessel of the Beast Within (Sealed), while mysterious and ominous, he knew nothing as to what they could mean. But Last True Son of Lykaon, that struck a chord of familiarity. A title he had heard before.

    ¡®Isn¡¯t that what the ghost lady called me?! Does that mean she is related to this? Then was she the one who made this system?!¡¯

    Unfortunately, the title was¡­ inactive?

    With nothing else to note, Miles turned his focus to the [Current Form] bracket. If the instructions provided in the status screen were to be believed it seemed that he was expected to unlock one of these forms.

    ¡®Might as well then.¡¯

    He would give it a try and confirm once and for all the authenticity of this strange power, and the moment he entertained the thought, the [Current Form] bracket glowed, expanding rapidly until it replaced the status screen.

    [Current Form: Base Human (Failed to detect Prana Heart. A Potential-less form.)

    For proper System Activation the user is advised to choose a new form. The user may switch to, and between any forms they unlock later on.

    Unlockable Base Forms: Vawulan and Wurkan.

    Currently only the Vawulan Quest is available. Do you accept (Yes/No)?]

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel insulted by the message¡¯s implication.

    ¡®Potential-less? Seriously? I know I¡¯m not an Epsilon Fae-human but it''s not that bad! I¡¯m even fairly above average! And what in the hell is a prana heart?¡¯

    Realizing no one would answer him, Miles heaved a sigh and delved into thought.

    The greatest problem with the decision before him was that he was uncertain of the meaning of the words ¡®Vawulan and ¡®Wurkan¡¯.

    However, considering that there were two ¡®unlockable base forms¡¯ and two that had bitten him in the first place, he felt it reasonable to assume they referred to Werewolves and Vampires.

    In addition, he could vaguely recall the ghost woman using these very words. If he remembered correctly there were two instances, and of the two, only one was useful for distinction.

    In her own words, ¡°The only reason I could bring you here was the She-Wurkan.¡±

    Considering the word ¡®she¡¯, it had to be that the ghost had referred to the female werewolf. In which case, Wurkan or Wurkao would be another term for Werewolf, and by means of elimination, Vawul or Vawulan would refer to Vampire.

    Regardless Miles only had one choice available. He would have to choose Vawul whether he liked it or not. Though he was slighted by the lack of choice, since it was also mentioned that it was possible to change forms as he wished later on, he saw no reason to delay.

    Miles steeled himself with a few deep breaths and focused on the word ¡®Yes¡¯.

    Just as he prepared to say it¡­

    Ding!

    The same notification chime rang out.

    The [Form] screen vanished in a flicker only to be replaced by another. It was identical to the screens before, pitch black text on a transparent background, save for the single word at the top: [Quests].

    ¡®It read my mind?! I wasn¡¯t sure the first time, but this confirms it! This system isn¡¯t merely visual, but well and truly interfaced with my mind!

    Despite all attempts to mimic the inexplicable Fae based FaeTech Cybernetics, Lykaon Industries is still decades away from any significant advancements in using nat-tech to replicate telepathy!

    Wait, is that why the System Screen appeared in the first place? In response to my thoughts?¡¯

    Intrigued, Miles willed the system to disappear, and it vanished as if it had never existed.

    With just another thought, he willed it back.

    ¡®It IS controlled by the mind! Even Vulcan Corp. is supposedly investing heavily in telepathy nat-tech, trying to replicate what FaeTech supposedly achieved a century ago.

    While it is very highly possible this system is of Fae Influence, if, just if, this thing isn¡¯t a hallucination, or FaeTech patented, and if it could possibly be replicated¡­¡¯

    Stifling his excitement and reminding himself to be more rational, Miles returned his attention back to the new [Quests] screen.

    [Form Unlock Quest #1: An Acquired Taste

    Objective: Consume a drop of human blood.

    Rewards: First Re-Awakening. Unlocks Vawul - Base Form. Additional effects/rewards based on the quality of the blood and the strength of the blood source.]

    [Form Unlock Quest #2: Unavailable. Conditions not met.

    Objective: Unknown.

    Rewards: Unlocks Wurkan - Base Form.]

    Miles raised an eyebrow. If he had had any doubts about Vawul referring to Vampire, with this they vanished.

    As for drinking a drop of blood he had nothing against it, as long as he could do it with class while maintaining decorum and decency, of course.

    While he needed power and would do whatever was needed to gain it, he still had a few principles.

    There was no way he would allow himself to become a feral monster, similar to the crazed Vampire that had attempted to feed on him.

    Miles turned to Zhan Shen, the elderly butler trying his best to remain calm, but failing spectacularly, ¡°Old Zhan, I¡¯m going to need some blood.¡±

    ¡°Blood?¡± The elderly butler nodded instantly though his confusion was clear, ¡°Not a problem. We always maintain a stock of fresh blood in our safe houses. But why? Do you need a transfusion, Master Miles? I examined your condition¨C¡±

    Miles shook his head, forcing a smile, ¡°No, not a transfusion. I need just one drop of blood and I believe it best if it came from you. I¡­ will be drinking it.¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s shock was palpable, his face speed twisting through disbelief, fear, and finally confusion.

    Why would the young master drink blood, and his own at that?

    Miles waved his hands in a hurry, ¡°I know! I know, it''s an unusual request but I need to do this! It may sound mad, but if this works it will become irrefutable proof!¡±

    Despite the attempts to explain, Zhan Shen remained conflicted, ¡°Does this¡­ have something to do with the ¡®Vampire¡¯ you mentioned? But why are you drinking blood? Master Miles, you don¡¯t have any thoughts of becoming a Vampire yourself, do you?¡± and narrowed his eyes.

    ¡®Annoyingly perceptive as always old Zhan. Unfortunately, I can¡¯t explain the whole truth to you either. Vampires do not have the best reputation and I know you wouldn¡¯t be fine with me becoming an undead blood-feeding monster, presumably of course. But¡­ I must.¡¯

    Somewhere along the way, the ¡®experiment¡¯ to test the system had become something else, something more - a glimmer of hope for a different him, for a different future.

    And so, Miles scoffed, ¡°Of course not! What can one drop of blood even do!? Don¡¯t worry, this is just a small test to serve as evidence!¡±

    He rarely lied to old Zhan, and he was betting on that trust to get his guardian to have faith in his already shattering facade.

    The old Butler stared at him as if attempting to discern the truth in his words, his expression unreadable.

    After a few moments of tense silence, Zhan Shen let out a sigh and Miles knew he had chosen to believe him.

    Then the elderly butler moved.

    Miles could just barely make out the movement, crouching, reaching for something in his boot. The rest was just a flash of silver.

    By the time he had blinked a single time Zhan Shen had returned to how he had been. The only evidence of his movement was a small cut on his hand.

    ¡®Well damn! That speed may not be on par with the Vampire and Werewolf but it¡¯s certainly close! Extremely so, for an Epsilon Faehuman!

    But most important of all, I could see his movement! I¡¯ve never seen Zhan Shen actually move before! It was not much, true, but this is without ever having used a single Fae Serum!¡¯

    That realization only further cemented his resolve to pursue the system quest, even if it meant lying to his guardian.

    Zhan Shen produced a small glass taken from the side table, catching the dripping blood.

    Once a few drops had accumulated, he handed it over.

    However, Miles¡¯s attention was elsewhere. He watched as the old Butler rubbed the wound on his hand, and how, by the time he finished, all that remained was a faint trace of blood. The skin was unblemished, and the wound already healed.

    ¡®Regeneration?! It¡¯s not as impressive as the Vampire¡¯s but still. I did not know old Zhan was capable of that, since I¡¯ve never actually seen him get injured. Well, one of these days I¡¯ll have to get him to tell me more about his Fae Abilities¡­¡¯

    Realizing he was distracting himself Miles returned his focus to the glass of blood in his hand, a sense of trepidation overwhelming him.

    He could feel it.

    This would be the first step, the first step in a path that would change his life forever. And it would be a step he could never take back¡­

    Seeing that Miles had yet to drink, Zhan Shen grinned, ¡°Well what¡¯s the delay Master Miles? Drink up! I am willing to bet that my blood will blow your freakishly overpriced wine out of the water! Drink up!¡±

    Miles was shaken out of his self-doubt, an annoyed scowl beginning to grow on his face. Old Zhan sure enjoyed making fun of his wine.

    Nevertheless, it helped.

    A deep breath, and he was ready.

    Whatever waited for him on this path, he would have to see. He would unlock the full potential of this mysterious system and harness its power for his goals.

    Miles put the glass to his mouth and tipped his head back, gulping it down as if a shot.

    It¡­ tasted like Iron, like blood was supposed to. But there was also something else. Something incongruent. It tasted like¨C fresh bamboo shoots?

    Ding!

    [Quest Requirements met.

    Form Unlock Quest #1 Completed!

    Reward: Form - Vawul, First Re-Awakening.

    Owing to the high-quality blood source, the user has gained additional bonuses.

    Ability - Self Control, Ability - Inheritance, Title - Balanced.]

    The moment this message appeared; Miles felt a deathly chill creep over his body. Literally.

    A coarse cough escaped his lips, as he felt his organs, bones and muscles shifting and moving within him. His skin moved almost visibly as if a thousand worms were crawling within.

    The beating of his heartbeat became hyper-audible, its beat growing louder and frantic as if a shout or a scream.

    Miles felt it all, yet it caused him no pain.

    But Zhan Shen seemed to take note of this change instantly, his face contorting in shock, ¡°Master Miles! What¡¯s wrong? Why is your aura so¨C different? Not weaker but closer¡­ to death!? How?! My blood could not do this!¡±

    It was then that Miles¡¯s heartbeat reached a crescendo, a final wail of agony, a dying cry, and then¡­ it stopped.

    His heart was now silent, still and unmoving.

    Miles could distinctly feel the absence of that comforting rhythm in his chest, as if a background noise that had vanished inexplicably, one he had taken for granted.

    Nevertheless, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths, pacing his thoughts and taking stock of his body.

    Even though his heart seemed to no longer function, everything else was somehow the same.

    Better even.

    It was weird, strange, but also good. He felt stronger, faster, capable of more than ever before.

    His senses had heightened, even exceeding the previous enhanced state.

    If he focused hard enough, he could now see the fae magic in the walls, the macroscopic shimmering earthen influence running through the dark gray of the trow-touched concrete. The unseelie pixie¡¯s infernal influence upon the iron of the door, manifesting as deathly dark slivers that vanished the moment he focused, but failing to completely escape his perception.

    The faintest scent of blood in the air was distinct enough to be isolated to its origin, to Zhan Shen¡¯s hand. The pores on his faintly wrinkled skin were visible as if zoomed in with a camera. The old butler¡¯s rapid heartbeat was clearly audible even from this distance, growing ever louder and faster for some unknown reason.

    These were drastic changes, unnatural in a sense, but also not. They were familiar, like a return to something forgotten, like a long-lost friend. It was just¡­ right.

    It would only be a matter of time before Miles got completely used to it.

    Suddenly, with another Ding! a new message popped up.

    [Warning: Vawul are beings of chaos and creatures of endless desire.

    New ability (Self-Control) opposes the nature of Destruction. It will be modified to suit your form.

    Assimilating¡­

    Vawul, they who are blood given life. Self-control becomes the dominion over blood.

    (Ability - Self Control) has been shifted into [Discipline: Haemomancy].

    Congratulations, the user has unlocked their First Discipline.

    The Path of the Vawulan awaits.]

    ¡®Haemomancy? Control over blood? And this came from old Zhan¡¯s Self-Control just because self-control ¡®opposes the principles of the Vawul¡¯ ¨Cor rather the Vampires?!¡¯

    [New ability (Inheritance) shows minor resonances with Disciplines: Mentalism, Augur and Haemomancy.

    Ability modified to assimilate with pre-existing [Discipline: Haemomancy]

    (Skill: Blood Inheritance) unlocked.]

    ¡®Blood Inheritance¡­? Wonder what that¡¯s about.¡¯

    Before Miles could contemplate further about these two notifications, a powerful pressure descended down upon him, almost making him collapse onto his knees.

    It took everything he had, all of his newfound strength to just barely stand against it and remain on his feet. Even then, he could not help but hunch over as if carrying a great burden.

    Gritting his teeth, even drawing blood, Miles slowly raised his gaze towards his assailant.

    Zhan Shen had taken up a martial stance, his eyes burning with murderous intent. And around them, for a moment, flickered pitch-black rings.

    The old butler bellowed in hapless fury, ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MILES, YOU MONSTER!?¡±

 CHAPTER 7: Conditional Undeath

    Miles was dumbfounded by Zhan Shen¡¯s very visceral reaction.

    Struggling to respond under the crushing weight of existential pressure, he barely managed to sputter out, ¡°O-Old Zhan¨C What are you on about? It¡¯s me!¡±

    Miles felt the pressure upon him lessen, just barely, still holding him firmly in place.

    The old butler stood unmoving, staring in silence.

    Finally, he spoke, his eyes wavering, ¡°No, it¡¯s not possible! Your aura, it is vile, inhuman, barely, just barely alive. The child I raised¡ª his aura¡­ it used to be, I saw it had changed, but, and now I, I never should¡¯ve let you¨C him¨C¡±

    ¡®......I see. Old Zhan can sense the change. Quite vividly as well. But is it really that terrible? To the extent that my ¡®aura¡¯ has become ¡®inhuman¡¯? When I don¡¯t even feel all that different? Either way, I¡¯m going to have to come clean, aren¡¯t I?¡¯

    Beginning to feel the weight of guilt Miles sputtered out an explanation, ¡°Well, it¡¯s like this. Remember when I said that I had no intention of becoming a Vampire? So, I¡­ might have¡­ kind of¡­ lied¡­¡±

    The moment the words left his mouth, the pressure bearing down on him intensified several-fold, so much so that he could no longer open his mouth to speak.

    Whoosh!

    A gust of wind swept through the room, and it was only when the old butler was right before his eyes that Miles realized.

    Zhan Shen had rushed forward, extremely fast.

    ¡®He doesn¡¯t believe me?!¡¯

    Even though it was too late to take action, the current Miles had somehow managed to perceive Zhan Shen¡¯s incredible speed! A feat he had never been capable of before!

    Not that it helped much.

    Miles observed a flash of motion, barely registering the old butler¡¯s right hand had vanished from sight.

    Before he could comprehend its significance, that same hand descended upon his head, causing a throbbing pain to rumble through his skull.

    ¡®Argh! That fucking hurts!

    ¡­Wait, that''s it?¡¯

    And just like that, the overbearing pressure vanished.

    The sudden disappearance of the force that had been pushing him down disoriented him, but before Miles could attempt to gather his bearings, something grabbed him from the back of his neck, dragging him away. Not unlike an unruly cat that had displeased its master.

    ¡°Ow! Ow! Ow!¡±

    The calloused hand poked into the nape, rather painfully Miles might add, completely justifying his most definitely not undignified shouts.

    ¡°Oh, be silent Master Miles! Aren¡¯t you a Vampire now? What¡¯s a little pain to the undead?¡± came the annoyed answer.

    ¡°Vampires still feel pain! And I¡¯m perfectly capable of walking, you know!? Where are we even going?¡± was Miles¡¯s indignant retort.

    But his question went unanswered as Zhan Shen¡¯s reply was to speed up instead.

    ¡®Shit, he¡¯s mad, really mad.¡¯

    Miles heaved an annoyed sigh and, in the end, with eyes gazing down, he apologized, ¡°I¡¯m¨C sorry,¡± his demeanor a perfect reflection of the regret and dejection he should have felt.

    Zhan Shen didn¡¯t seem to care, the heartless old bastard.

    All he did was walk out of the room, as the unseelie door opened by itself, the infernal metal creaking of terror and carnage, yet seemingly familiar with who it should allow passage. He continued to drag Miles with him, out of the sparse medical room and into a long, narrow hallway.

    They passed multiple closed doors spaced alternatively along the hallway, empty for the most part, devoid of decor or color with only bare trow-touched concrete exposed to the air.

    Miles had not thought much to the crassness of the former room, but this was outright hideous.

    His absolutely genuine regret vanished, ¡°Wait is this one of the shit houses we have along the edges of Outer City? Why are we here?!¡±

    Zhan Shen merely grunted and tightened his grip causing Miles to let out a perfectly timed yowl of pain.

    ¡®Heh, how was that? Old Zhan is being a tougher nut to crack than usual, but that should have done the trick.¡¯

    Miles¡¯ judgment turned out to be correct, because seemingly satisfied with his ¡®reaction¡¯, the old butler deigned to answer, ¡°Whatever you did, by drinking my blood, it has changed you. Down to the very essence, you are different. We have to see what exactly has changed, what it involves, and whether there will be any side-effects.¡±

    Miles contemplated, as he continued to be carried along.

    ¡®That¡­ is perfectly reasonable. The annoyance of being forced into it aside, I myself would have done a thorough examination into my Vampiric changes eventually, so getting it out of the way earlier is no skin off my back.¡¯

    Zhan Shen went on, his tone monotone as he averted his gaze, ¡°You were reckless Master Miles, unbecoming of a Lykaon. Where you should have shown patience and caution, you acted with impatience and impulsiveness. You dived headfirst, blinded by easy power, into¡­ an abyss. An abyss of death. You¨C you didn¡¯t have to do this you know. I would have¡ª¡±

    The old butler never finished, ¡°Never mind, we¡¯re here.¡±

    Miles was indifferent to their arrival at whatever destination.

    He was accustomed to arguments with old Zhan, but this¨C those words, those words, they wounded him far deeper than any punishment the old butler could have given. They were a barrage of unseelie iron needles slapped onto his face.

    Even as Zhan Shen threw him into the room, equally bleak and bare as the rest of the safe house but filled with training equipment that he currently cared little to focus on, Miles found his body instinctively regaining its balance. With one fluid motion, he swept around, pivoting to meet Zhan Shen.

    His words came out a lot more defensive than expected, even a hint of anger aced in, ¡°I dived headfirst, yes, blind as well, but you do not know what I have experienced, nor of what I¡¯ve witnessed.

    Patience, caution, they are all well and nice, but have you forgotten old Zhan?! Sometimes what is needed is impulsiveness! A leap of faith!

    I leapt into the abyss, yes, but it was an abyss that I was already in! I had little choice! All I did was make the best of it. But I also feel, no, I know, that it will be worth it! So do not doubt that which you know nothing of!¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s piercing gaze collided with Miles¡¯, the air thick with tension. Neither willing to take a step back, both steadfast in their opinion.

    In the end, as usual, it was the elderly butler that broke the silence first, the corner of his lips rising, ¡°You are more honest to your emotions. A silver lining to Vampirism perhaps.¡±

    But before Miles could respond, he went on, ¡°Very well then, prove it. Prove that Vampirism is worth your life. Show what you can do as undead that you couldn¡¯t while alive. Convince me of the value of your death.¡±

    Miles flinched at the mention, his ¡®death¡¯, not having come to terms with the concept entirely, but he was still quick to recover.

    He relaxed out of the instinctive combat stance, as he adjusted his attire, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

    Miles had never been one to regret a decision. Not after he had come to learn the futility of such regret firsthand.

    A choice made, seldom came with a second chance. All you could do was make the best of it, learn from it and move on, regardless of whether it had been correct or wrong in the first place.

    So, with a quickly growing smirk of confidence, he faced Zhan Shen¡¯s challenge head on, ¡°Oh I will.¡±

    ***

    Miles¡¯ muscles burned, pumping adrenaline through his undead body as he let loose like an enraged orc upon the figure before him.

    The power of his strikes was nothing to scoff at, encapsulating all his martial art skill and technique into simple but profound strikes, culminating in a showing significantly above his usual.

    The figure before him didn¡¯t seem to care though, defending with ease.

    Each fist and each foot in this flurry of blows faced against a single, perfectly placed, yet unassuming palm.

    Every punch that hit this palm faced an unnatural force, a strange, jarring knockback that rippled through to the very bone, threatening to break Miles¡¯ form.

    Every kick was flicked away like an annoying fly, further ruining his momentum, making the simple task of remaining standing a monumental feat in and of its own.

    This was expected.

    After all this phenomenal feat of relaxed defense was achieved by Zhan Shen¡¯s enhanced attributes, the untethered agility and strength of an Epsilon Faehuman, though to what extent exactly Miles was unsure.

    It turned out that the elderly butler had dragged him to this training room for a mere spar, all of the intriguing fae training equipment left at the wayside with a single ¡°You are not ready yet,¡± and a ¡°I need to see for myself, firsthand. So let your fists do the talking.¡±

    Why even come here then?

    But Miles had not backed down from the challenge. He was no stranger to sparring with the old butler.

    And fueled by his desire to prove himself, even with the knockback that had to be endured as the price for every punch and kick, Miles pushed himself beyond his limits.

    He knew from experience that trying to move around and be unpredictable was entirely useless against the significantly faster and experienced Zhan Shen. It would only serve to tire himself out faster.

    Besides, right now, even a single small mistake could have the knockback force sending him crashing into the floor. Using a complicated movement art while barely holding on, would be quite unwise.

    So, all he could really do was wail down on the old butler like his life depended on it.

    And so, for over an hour, Miles managed to hold his own, maintaining proper form despite the constant knockback.

    Well, it also helped that Zhan Shen was restraining himself, considerably so, seemingly more interested in understanding and analyzing the changes his young master had undergone rather than the actual spar itself.

    But eventually Miles¡¯ muscles gave out reaching total failure, his limbs refusing to even move to his will.

    Heaving heavy breaths, hands hanging limp by the sides and legs trembling, skin dripping sweat, but his heart unbeating, Miles turned his eyes to Zhan Shen.

    The old butler lowered his raised palm, a pensive look on his face.

    ¡°Physically there seems to be no problem. In fact, your physical attributes seem to have improved marginally. My accurate estimate would be¡­¡±

    Catching a deep breath, Miles answered in his stead, ¡°17 Strength, 19 Endurance and 18 Agility exactly.¡±

    Zhan Shen paused, ¡°...I was going to be more generous in my guess but yes, if we ignore the effects of your willpower, that is a good estimate. How did you know Master Miles? Does Vampirism include innate knowledge of your attributes?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I suppose it could be called that. It¡¯s like a ¡®System Status¡¯ from old age video games, more or less a status screen that can be summoned at will, clearly mentioning my current attributes.¡±

    Zhan Shen frowned, ¡°Vampires making a game out of reality, how fitting.¡±

    The old butler continued nevertheless, ¡°So to sum it up, we have minor increases in physical attributes and a mental gimmick that displays said attributes. While useful, I¡¯m not seeing enough advantages gained, with the price being your life.

    What if you are unable to walk in the sunlight from here on out? What if you change to the point that the Lykaon insignia ring refuses to acknowledge you? I believe we should prioritize finding a cure.¡±

    ¡®The Lykaon Ring. I forgot about that.¡¯

    Miles cast a fleeting glance at the ring upon his right index finger, his exhausted muscle still unable to fully lift the hand.

    ¡®Would it refuse me, were I to become a Vampire? We know so little of the ring''s origin and true nature that I can¡¯t rule out the possibility entirely, but¡­ I somehow don¡¯t see it happening. Not to mention that, so far the ring has behaved the same as usual. I wouldn¡¯t even be standing here if the ring had decided that I no longer met the parameters of ¡®potential heir¡¯ and had chosen to enact defensive protocols.

    Besides, most importantly, the last thing I need is to waste precious time becoming weaker than I already am!¡¯

    Thus, with a dismissive wave of his hand, Miles attempted to pacify the worrywart of a Butler, ¡°Do not worry old Zhan, I can change back if I wish. The System said so,¡± referring to the mention of forms and how he would be able to switch between them.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Personally, Miles was not in the habit of believing people at their word, let alone an inexplicable hologram-like screen that seemed to be capable of altering him and perhaps even reality on a molecular and metaphysical level, but Zhan Shen had no need to know that.

    Fortunately, his words seemed to ease the elderly butler¡¯s concerns, his agitation visibly simmering down.

    ¡°Very well Master Miles, I cannot force you so I shall¡­ humor you. Perhaps there is some potential in the way of the Vampire and this ¡®System¡¯. However, if it is overshadowed by the path, I had planned for you, I shall have to take it upon myself to change your mind.¡±

    Miles paused for a moment, finally nodding.

    That was probably the best he could hope for. Although curious of old Zhan¡¯s ¡®path¡¯ for him, he was mostly content knowing that the old butler was on board.

    With that taken care of, Miles finally let himself go, allowing the exhaustion to drag him down, collapsing onto the ground as gracefully as he could manage, his legs naturally bending into the lotus position.

    Perhaps it was out of habit or instinct, perhaps it was an attempt to further pacify old Zhan, but Miles had entered a perfect meditation posture.

    His eyes did not close, however.

    Speaking of the system status had reminded him. Miles had allowed the events with old Zhan to become a distraction, entirely forgetting to examine his status after the completion of that quest. Not that drinking a drop of blood was much of a quest, but still.

    It was not common for him to simply forget. He must¡¯ve been distracted by the unusual nature of what he had been through.

    With a Ding! the new and updated status was willed into existence.

    [User: Miles Lykaon]

    [Current Form: Vawul]

    [Vawulan Class: Newborn Lvl. 0 (Partial Activation) || (0/10) Varying Blood Sources Consumed]

    [Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 0| - Untrained]

    [Vawulan Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve first.]

    [HP: 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP: 10/110]

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 10/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 0/100}

    [Strength: 17]

    [Endurance: 19]

    [Agility: 18]

    [Intelligence: 59 +5]

    [Wisdom: 37]

    [Influence: (1000) +5]

    [Skills: Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine - Inferior}, {Hereditas Sanguinis - Unique}]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

    Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

    Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred}

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    Balanced

    Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed)

    Last Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    There had been a multitude of changes, and the first to grab Miles¡¯s attention was naturally the [Vawulan Class]. Formerly riddled with questions marks and instructions, the entry had now cleared up considerably.

    Though he had to admit, the mention of ¡®Level 0¡¯ was rather unusual.

    ¡®Do they not start with Level 1 ordinarily? Is it just a matter of semantics?¡¯

    But the mention of (Partial Activation) seemed to disagree.

    It appeared that there was more to the Vawulan Class. The condition for leveling up wasn¡¯t explicitly mentioned either, but he did have a few ideas¡­

    Fully intending to experiment the first chance he got, Miles moved on to the skills, the first he had ever unlocked.

    {Ripae Sanguine - Inferior Grade}, rather strangely named in a language ignored by the masses for several millennia.

    Latin, once the language of the ancient Romans, hailed from a region that would later be known as the nation of Italy, spread far and wide in its heyday, even encompassing the entirety of the Western Hemisphere.

    Unfortunately, the language had been long dead, even centuries before the Fae-Human war began.

    There were surely less than a handful of individuals of the present world who could be considered proficient in the language, but coincidentally Miles happened to be one of them.

    His father Etan Lykaon was an avid historian and had made sure to cultivate in him the importance of historical knowledge. Of course, the greater focus had been on ancient philosophy, mythology, the politics of kings and emperors, how the world was affected, and most importantly how Miles could use that knowledge when required.

    But his father had also had a special fondness for the Roman Empire and had been focused on often in their lessons. Consequently, Miles had been taught Latin.

    And he wasn¡¯t half-bad either.

    Reminded of the past, Miles gingerly reached for the yin-yang talisman tucked safely inside his shirt. He observed the old wooden talisman, every crevice in the wood and peel in the paint familiar to the eye. One of the few things that could make him feel closer to his parents regardless of where they may be.

    But out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the Lykaon ring, gleaming in the uncomfortably bright light of the nat-tech lights of the training room.

    Miles was roused out of his thoughts with a start.

    He did not have time to reminisce on the past. Only the future had significance. He had to forge ahead and fulfill his responsibility, so that they would have nothing to worry about, if¡­ no, when they returned.

    Focusing on his breathing Miles began to rack his brain for old and buried knowledge, finally concluding, ¡®...Blood Bank? I suppose that makes sense since this is under Haemomancy.¡¯

    The moment he thought so, the status changed as if twisting to reflect his new understanding.

    The phrase Ripae Sanguine - Inferior Grade remained but should he focus for a moment, it would be replaced by Blood Bank - Inferior Grade.

    ¡®Hoh? Did it change to fit my translation? So, this System¡­ is not only capable of reading thoughts but even to change and evolve based on comprehension? But would it have worked had my translation been wrong?¡¯

    Intrigued by the thought, Miles shifted his attention to the second skill, {Hereditas Sanguinis - Unique}.

    Somehow holding back from translating the Latin, Miles attempted to associate random phrases with the skill name.

    None caused changes in the status.

    ¡®Ah so while it does reflect my thoughts and understanding, it only does so should they be correct? Interesting, and good to know.¡¯

    With that confirmed, Miles was free to translate the Latin, coming up with, ¡®Blood Inheritance? The same skill that was supposedly created by modification of the ability ¡®Inheritance¡¯, which in turn was received due to old Zhan¡¯s blood?¡¯

    Once again, as if to reflect his correct translation, the skill phrase shifted into Blood Inheritance - Unique.

    While that was all well and good, what the hell did the Blood Inheritance skill entail?

    At least Blood Bank was self-explanatory. With the mention of the same skill name in the Blood Points attribute (whatever that was), giving a base value of 100 in addition to the personal 10 it was obvious that Blood Bank was a sort of enhancement to the Blood Point attribute. A literal bank for Blood Points.

    But Blood Inheritance was not so easily discerned or understood. Why was it unique, while Blood Bank was inferior? What was it even supposed to ¡®inherit¡¯?

    Not to mention the matter of the skill names! Why were they given in Latin in the first place? A choice in design? Or simply how it had always been? And what were you even supposed to do, if you knew no Latin?

    A multitude of questions, but unfortunately, few answers.

    Hoping that answers would eventually come, be they from the System itself or from his own personal conclusions, Miles decided to move on, arriving at the Cursed title.

    With a new phrase, a third curse had been added.

    Sol¡¯s Hatred.

    More Latin, but at least compared to Minor Thirst and Beast Within, he could make some sense of this.

    Sol, simply put, referred to the Sun. It also happened to be the personification of the sun, the Sun God. Or at least a god of the sun considering how many existed in mythology but¡­

    This did not bode well for him. Not at all.

    If he had gained Sol¡¯s Hatred, the hatred of the Sun, did that mean he really was unable to walk in the sun? As a Vampire, or Vawul, was he to be ostracized from the Day? Could old Zhan have had a point?

    Miles glanced through a small square of a window, overlooking an empty street and apparently deserted neighborhood, noting the darkness of the night and the rare flicker from neon light. It was obviously the middle of the night, and any tests with regards to the sun would have to wait.

    Nevertheless, he kept the matter to himself. After having calmed Zhan Shen down with much difficulty, the last thing he wanted was to have to do it all over again.

    Thankfully Miles was distracted from worrying about the sun by what came next.

    In fact, he was shocked beyond belief.

    Him becoming a Vampire was a given. Being weakened by sunlight or daylight was a distinct possibility. Even the inexplicable +5 to his attributes could be accepted.

    Haemomancy, Ripae Sanguine and Hereditas Sanguinis, new skills originating from a video game like status had been of some surprise.

    But¡­ the hell was that!?

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    As if sensing Miles¡¯s shock, Zhan Shen interrupted with a frown, ¡°I suppose you have taken a look at this ¡®system status¡¯ of yours? Well, anything new Master Miles?¡±

    Miles pushed himself up off the floor, the pain in his overexerted arms ignored out of excitement, ¡°Anything new? ANYTHING NEW?! OLD ZHAN, I CAN¡¯T DIE ANYMORE!¡±

    The elderly butler¡¯s frown deepened in disbelief, ¡°Nonsense. Death is the mirror to life. No living creature, not the strongest Alpha fae human, not the long-lived elves or the timeless faerie of the hidden fae courts can refuse. And just like them, even a vampire cannot be unkillable.¡±

    Miles dead-panned, ¡°Don¡¯t ruin the moment old Zhan! You¡¯re stating the obvious. While I can die under certain conditions by and large, I should regenerate from most injuries. Conditional Undeath is the name after all.¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s frown vanished, replaced with what could be summarized as a cheeky grin, ¡°Oh-ho? The innate nature of being an Undead, is it? Shall we put it to the test Master Miles? Shall I strike with a death blow so we can see what happens?¡±

    Miles was sure that was a joke, but just in case the battle-crazy old man were to strike with a surprise blow he made sure to refuse clearly, ¡°No! Why experience the pain of death for no reason? Just to put Undeath to the test? Hell no!

    Besides, experiments of this nature should have some logic to their scaling. It is wise to start small, so lend me your knife, old Zhan.¡±

    As always Zhan Shen¡¯s compliance was instantaneous.

    A flash of white that Miles could barely see and the next thing he knew, his guardian had handed over the knife.

    A standard, combat issue cold steel knife. It would be simple but effective.

    With a deep breath to focus and free his mind of distraction, Miles slashed his palm open, cutting through the skin to make a small but deep wound.

    It was slightly painful but compared to¡­ what he had gone through in the mansion, this was literal heaven. In short, nothing he couldn¡¯t handle.

    Scarlet blood pooled in his palm, covering the small wound. It was ordinary as could be but to Miles¡¯s surprise a small message manifested before him.

    [External Bleeding Detected. 0.01 Blood Points (BP) lost. (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    ¡®Huh? I lost blood and it was considered as one-hundredth of a blood point? Then does that mean the blood point attribute refers to the amount of blood in my body? Which would mean¡­¡¯

    Some minor mental calculation followed.

    ¡®If the volume of blood I just lost is say, 5 ml? Then one blood point should be about 500 ml or half a liter? Heh, funny enough that is roughly the volume of a pint. A pint of blood is a point of blood. Catchy.¡¯

    [Conditional Undeath activated. All wounds healed. HP: 10/10]

    A second message replaced the first bringing Miles to the realization that the pain from the cut had all but disappeared.

    Curious, he meticulously wiped away the blood and to his amazement found the palm to be completely unscathed, no visible traces of injury remaining!

    Zhan Shen, who had been observing from the side, was¡­ relieved.

    Despite his strong reaction to the young master¡¯s announcement of becoming a Vampire, despite the apparent transformation in Miles¡¯ aura, Zhan Shen had had strong doubts to the truth of those claims, on the existence of Vampires. He had humored the young master, holding back thoughts that the mass of vile aura within his body was not entirely of his own making. Perhaps something or someone else¡­

    But the sight of the wound closing before his very eyes resolved most of the lingering doubts he may have had. It was a relief to know that the young master had been speaking the truth and not out of some delusion or hallucination on his part.

    Miles had indeed undergone a transformation into a Vampire or something reasonably similar.

    Though Zhan Shen¡¯s instincts said this transformation would be a double-edged sword with inherent flaws to match any advantage, time would determine its worth, the worth of Miles¡¯ decision.

    Personally, he was doubtful, and he would try his level best to change the young master¡¯s mind, but that did not matter. Whatever happened, he was here, and he would continue to be here, to take care of it all.

    Concealing his thoughts behind an apparently impressed whistle, Zhan Shen exclaimed, ¡°So you were speaking the truth after all Master Miles! That was a pretty decent showing of regeneration, especially considering that I could not detect the use of any Fae energy.¡±

    The old butler pondered, ¡°While it could be that the energy comes from something intrinsic that I am unable to sense, theoretically speaking, this seems to suggest¡­ limitless regeneration," and finally, smiled, ¡°So, not too shabby Master Miles, not too shabby. While you may not have become truly immortal or invincible, I must admit, this does make you quite hard to kill. I¡¯m sure you could give any cockroach a run for their money?¡±

    Miles¡¯ eyes twitched, unsure of whether he should be pleased or angered by this ¡®praise¡¯.

    It was all well and good that old Zhan was warming up to it, but that in no way meant he would take this sitting down.

    Despite the short rest, Miles felt fully rested, enough to push himself off the floor, ¡°Is this seriously coming from the epsilon faehuman known only for his agility and running all over the place like an old fart in the wind?¡±

    It was now the old Butler¡¯s turn to freeze, but with a discrete cough, he continued, ¡°As I was about to say, the fact that the nature of your regeneration is a mystery to even me is rather worrying. While I have my own thoughts on your current state, it is always best to be sure.

    And lucky for us, I believe one of our Faesycian contacts happens to be in the outer city right now. She¡¯s in Sword Lake and has agreed to our visit.¡±

    ¡°Sword Lake?! And she wants us to go to her? All the way from Yumekuro? Who the hell does she think she is?¡± Miles'' eyes narrowed, ¡°It¡¯s Argante, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Zhan Shen sighed, seemingly aware of where this was going, ¡°Yes, it is indeed her, but¨C¡±

    Miles crossed his arms in defiance, ¡°We are not going to run halfway through the city to get help from that prideful woman. Besides, why do we have to limit ourselves to the Outer City? Surely, we can find someone with a better attitude back home, or in the inner city?¡±

    The elderly butler pursed his lips, ¡°It is entirely unnecessary to rush through the dome for this. Besides, Sword Lake is not that far away. I¡¯m sure we could use one of your transporters to get us there¨C¡±

    ¡°Nope, absolutely not, not going,¡± Miles interrupted with a stubborn, almost petulant refusal, but his eyes were sharp, strangely focused on Zhan Shen.

    ¡°Master Miles! This is not the time to be willful! We must have the best eyes to analyze your condition!¡±

    ¡®Hoh? Was that the case then? For a second there, I almost thought Zhan Shen didn¡¯t want me going to the inner city, for some reason.¡¯

    Miles¡¯ lips curled into a smile, ¡°Argante may be one of the most skilled healers I''ve ever seen, but she is not particularly known for her talents in diagnosis," he lifted up his right hand, showing off the Wolven ring, "And with Cadmus here''s help, any decent analysis machine, even if it were to belong to some cheap ripper doc in some random hut, could do the job just as well...¡±

    Zhan Shen paused, eventually nodding, ¡°Very well then. I do remember noting one of these ''ripper-doc''s nearby.¡±

    Miles frowned, ¡°What? Old Zhan, I was just proving a point. Why not go to the Inner City?!¡±

    "In the middle of a war with an orc tribe? How long do you think it will take us to get access through the shielding dome, even with your name on the line? It is important that we understand the changes you have undergone as soon as possible. I considered Argante more for being in the outer city rather than her quality work, so it¡¯s even better that we¡¯re going to a ripper-doc nearby. Saves time," the old butler nodded, ¡°So, prepare yourself Master Miles, we''re going to see a ripper-doc!¡±

    "...You''re joking right?" Miles glanced out of the window and the dark streets outside in disbelief, ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night!¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s smirk returned as if it had never left, ¡°And you¡¯re a Vampire, are you not?¡±

 CHAPTER 8: A Midnight Stroll

    ¡°Ever flowing, a stream, the silver wings of Liuzhong defended the bamboo grove, for the peace of the Orient.¡±

    ¨C A long forgotten record, hidden in the depths of a random enterprise data warehouse, Yisheng Corporation.

    ***

    Darkness shrouded the night in an inky black veil, enveloping the sprawling cityscape before them.

    The Outer City seemed to have a life of its own, pulsing with an invisible electricity that coursed through its veins of metal and concrete. The absence of moonlight only seemed to amplify its liveliness as the deep, all-encompassing shadow of the outer city wall was made to dance to the tune of flickering neon lights, forming a dazzling tapestry of ever-changing color.

    Deeper inside and away from this wall, the buildings began to rise with fervent ambition. Like sprouting seedlings reaching for loftier heights, these small, concrete structures grew into monumental pillars of mortal glass and steel, all daring to reach for the heavens above.

    Deeper still however, nearing the Inner City, the endless growth of these would-be skyscrapers was brought to a jarring halt. A massive dome of golden-white energy cradling the heart of Capital City and defending those within with radiant benevolence. The shielding dome cast an ethereal glow upon the structures outside its defenses, left to the mercy of the world, outlining them in luminous yet tragic light.

    Among those melancholic constructions, towering above the rest were the commercial skyscrapers of the Outer City. These lofty spears of human creation stood with an undeniable tenacity that seemed to defy the limits cast upon them. They were beacons of hope to the outer citizen that dared to dream, a promise for something more.

    And as if these dreams made incarnate, reflected in the glass and floating in the sky were sharp, eye-stealing Holograms.

    A weak, everyday man faced a blood-thirsty orc rampaging through a city. The man stood frozen, just as helpless and terrified as the crowd around him. But his eyes burned with unbreakable resolve as he brought out a syringe pulsing with magical gold, a distinct logo of a mechanical fairy, wings of intricate gears and cogwheels, FaeTech, emblazoned upon the glass.

    Just as the orc lunged towards the defenseless crowd, the man injected himself. His nerves thrummed with visible golden light, illuminating him in a majestic visage that calmed the panic of all onlookers. And when the monster was a mere step away, the man launched out a single punch. One meager fist against a fearsome foe.

    A burst of exploding wind, and the orc disintegrated into nothingness. And that once helpless man basked in the adoration of the crowd, and the alluring gazes of the unnaturally gorgeous women around him.

    A crowded nightclub pulsing to the intangible beat of music, beautiful and handsome bodies lost to the excitement of the dance. But despite their attractiveness, they were all ¡®ordinary¡¯, redundantly perfect and repetitively identical. That is, except for one woman.

    She was not as classically perfect as those around her or even half as finely dressed, but she stood out from them all. Her movements were otherworldly, every gesture graceful and fluid. With every sigh, her cherubic lips whispered forgotten secrets. With every glance, her piercing rainbow eyes brought mesmerizing tales to life.

    As she danced, the crowd could not help but be captivated, drawn into her magnetic presence like bugs to a blazing fire. It was as if she was not of mortal coil, but a divine sidhe, a royal of the faery-lands.

    These were just a few of the more distinct holograms among the multitudes being projected by massive advertisements, marketing everything from Fae Serums and Cybernetics to Sidhe cosmetics, Otherworld neural implants to CornuCorp confectionary.

    However, this seemingly thriving and lively city, was in truth, abandoned.

    The once bustling streets were empty and desolate, silent, save for the persistent hum of machinery and technology.

    Unsurprising.

    This was the outer city during a Fae Invasion, and not many dared to stray from the relative safety of their homes.

    And yet, far away from the jarring inequality of Capital City and shrouded in the darkness of the night, two figures dashed across the rooftops of the outskirts with effortless grace.

    Dressed in impeccably perfect black suits, their footsteps were near-silent, the only sounds the occasional creek of old shingles and the rush of wind as they leapt over the gaps between closely packed domestic buildings.

    With each step, their feet seemed to defy gravity, bounding through the air with a fluidity that was undoubtedly supernatural.

    One of them was relaxed to such a degree that he had his hands behind his back, as if he was simply on a leisurely stroll through a garden, considerably incongruent with the superhuman feat of acrobatics his feet performed.

    The other was far more serious, completely focused on the task at hand.

    His compatriot laughed boisterously, voice carried away by the rushing wind, ¡°Do try to keep up Master Miles! Surely an immortal Vampire can, at the very least keep up with¨C hmm, what was it that you said again? An old fart in the wind?!¡±

    Miles scowled, almost losing his footing out of sheer annoyance, ¡°Shut up old Zhan!¡±

    He couldn¡¯t see it with Zhan Shen¡¯s back turned to him, but he could feel the cheeky grin on the old bastard¡¯s face.

    The old butler laughed again, ¡°Hoho, the younger generation sure are disrespectful! Well at least your qigong seems to have improved, barely. Perhaps this old man will step up his game as well?¡±

    With that, the old butler¡¯s feet began to flicker through an incomprehensible series of motions and before Miles could even think to answer, the annoying old butler had already vanished, leaving him behind and laughter echoing in the wind.

    Miles grimaced, knowing full well that old Zhan¡¯s footwork mastery was beyond him.

    Zhan Shen¡¯s qigong and this ¡®nameless¡¯ movement art was incomparably mystical. Without Fae serums, without enhancement and without being fae, one could still harness supernatural physical ability.

    Miles¡¯ curious queries regarding the nature and science of the skill had always been answered with simple ¡°power of the spirit¡±, ¡°power of the world¡± or the far more common ¡°you will understand later¡±s.

    It was very possible that Zhan Shen did not know himself, for the movement art was incomparably complex as well. With 108 distinct footwork series each comprising 9 different forms, the practitioner must select the most suitable variation for that moment and execute with perfection. The faster you wished to move, the more accuracy was required in the choice, and the faster you had to be in its execution.

    Although Miles had learned and memorized every single variation of the nameless movement art, he had never succeeded in surpassing the effect of 25 points in the agility attribute, perceived.

    Sure, it was decent that he could exceed his base agility with just some footwork techniques, but that was not at all rare, considering the variety of limb and movement enhancement cyberware out there.

    And as much as he wished to try, a single misstep on these uneven rooftops could easily lead to free falling down to the streets below.

    But seeing Zhan Shen leaving him behind to eat dust, cheekily wagging that old butt in challenge¡­

    ¡®To hell with it! At worst it¡¯ll just be a broken bone or two that unconditional undeath will heal¡­ eventually!¡¯

    Miles grit his teeth and focused, his mind zeroing into a singular purpose. Each and every one of the 972 possible series variations flowed through his consciousness, like a stream amidst a bamboo grove, graceful and undisturbed.

    And with a deep breath, he moved.

    His mind worked in overdrive, fully immersed in the task of analyzing the ground beneath his feet and the air around him.

    After all, to identify the most suitable footwork series and form, all that and more had to be identified, comprehended and paired with the 972 possible variations.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    While Miles could somehow manage to remember them, selecting the most suitable after a thorough comparison was an entirely different challenge. Especially when he had to ensure that he did not lose the flow.

    Even with his above average Intelligence attribute, the best Miles had ever achieved was narrowing down the possibilities to a mere half, still leaving 486 possible variations.

    Today however, things were different.

    The nature of needlessly glowing, yet otherwise ordinary Gloston tiles, the rugged texture of shoddy patchwork metal sheets, the imbalances and discrepancies of the rooftop were glaringly obvious to his soled feet.

    The very air quivered with subtle shifts in the wind currents, carrying the touch of dust and Fae effluence, clearly, no, visibly, distinctive to his skin. It was as if he had eyes on every part of his body.

    Unnatural insights that Miles had never felt before, helped narrow down the possibilities to 364.

    But that was not all.

    The instant Miles selected the most fitting footwork variation (usually meant he had to select one at random based on further selective elimination), his feet had to dance in a perfect recreation of the steps that Zhan Shen had burned into his mind.

    Simultaneously, before this could be completed, the selection of the next sequence had to be completed.

    This was an endless, unrelenting cycle that taxed heavily on both body and mind.

    However, perhaps due to his improved physical attributes and intelligence, perhaps due to the enhanced sense of a Vawul, Miles managed to complete and repeat this cycle significantly faster and accurately than ever before, somehow managing to reach the next step in old Zhan¡¯s qigong.

    Miles had to remain keenly attentive, focused wholeheartedly on the intricacies of the footwork lest he lose the flow. It would require consistent practice for his muscle memory to properly acclimate to this increase in complexity.

    The nameless movement continued to carry him through the air at impossible speeds, just enough to finally begin catching up to Zhan Shen.

    Adrenaline coursed through his undead veins as the wind rushed past like a gale unleashed, the colors of the vibrant city blurring into messy streaks.

    He couldn''t help but feel as if he had been liberated, freed from shackles that had bound him in secret.

    This was what it felt to reach a perceived agility of 25, and he relished the feeling, each step sending him bounding through the air.

    Unfortunately, being so focused on the task at hand also meant that the Ding! that followed caught him off guard, so much so that he almost lost his footing. But he managed to recover, the only effect being a considerable slow down.

    Ding!

    [The World beyond the Veil resonates with your ethereal footsteps.

    (Nameless Movement Art - Unique) added to General Skills.]

    Ding!

    [Nameless Movement Art (Unique)- An Unusual Skill performed by the newborn Vawulan that managed to resonate with the World Beyond the Veil.

    The greater the resonance, the greater the speed and control achieved. Your speed surpasses the possible.

    Skill Mastery: Understanding.

    Current Effect: +7 to Agility.]

    ¡®Nameless Movement Art? The System noticed and incorporated the footwork skill? And it''s supposedly Unique as well?! But what is this ''world beyond the veil?¡¯

    Miles was both confused and intrigued, itching to question Zhan Shen on the topic.

    The improvement in his skill had helped him speed up and potentially catch up¡­ but the cheeky old butler seemed to have noticed, immediately speeding up once more, butt wriggling in challenge.

    ¡°...¡±

    Well, whatever, there was no hurry.

    With great patience worthy of a man of his stature, Miles decided to question Zhan Shen later, preferably when they came to a stop.

    This had nothing to do with the fact that he would probably fall off the rooftops if he tried to speed up any further. None whatsoever.

    And so, they continued to dash through the rooftops, young master chasing after Butler, the city blurring past them.

    Miles allowed himself to enter a state of passive focus, his mind and body immersed in the footwork but still free enough to observe the city.

    Even on this moonless night a Vawulan''s vision could not be obstructed.

    Neon lights flickered with pulsing will-o-wisps, spheres of multi-colored light, once magical creatures trapped and degraded to now be mere lighting.

    Glaringly spotted faerie toadstools dotted the landscape, a magical weed that impossibly thrived on all matter including steel and concrete, shimmering with vague golden dust that melded into the backdrop of neon light.

    Delivery Drones (including those possibly pretending to be) buzzed in the distant skies and the grounds below, Zhan Shen¡¯s path of travel coincidentally managing to avoid their potential surveillance entirely.

    And holographic advertisements, while limited to the commercial regions, did not mean that ordinary homes and buildings were beyond corporate influence. On the contrary, it was almost impossible to find a construction that had not bent the knee for a quick bit or two and been plastered with gleaming corpo signboards and banally colorful posters.

    Well, Miles wasn''t exactly in a position to judge as he noted more than a few Lykaon Industries adverts among some of the more prominent advertising, for some nat-tech weaponry, cyberware, and of course, their flagship transporter components.

    But soon enough his breath started to grow heavy.

    Even with his newly enhanced attributes, the fatigue from constantly using the nameless skill was on a whole other level.

    Thankfully, not long after, Zhan Shen sent a signal, right hand pointed downwards and the both of them slowed down.

    Following the old butlers lead, Miles focused one last time and dropped off the building.

    The nameless movement art flowed through every one of his minute motions as he followed, making use of balconies, alcoves, and even rusted pipes as makeshift steps to gracefully make it down to the alley below. He may not have been used to fast speeds, but descending a roughly ten-foot height was nothing unusual.

    His feet touched the ground, the alley squelching underneath, dirt and filth coming alive in grotesque response.

    Miles grimaced even as he caught his breath.

    The alley was dark and narrow, discreetly tucked away from the main roads in between the looming buildings of the outer city.

    It wasn¡¯t the darkness that bothered him, but the smell. A disgusting stench of rot, decay and waste.

    The sickening smell tickled his nostrils but failed to actually overwhelm his sensitive senses, not even making him gag as he ordinarily would have in such a foul environment.

    It was disgusting, yes, but it was also just there, distinctively clear.

    Upon focusing, Miles realized that his vawul-enhanced olfactory senses could isolate and identify the individual sources causing the smell.

    Piles of garbage and broken equipment, fae and nat-tech alike, discarded carelessly and leaking hazardous effluents. Faerie fungi, ones not as pleasant in appearance as the toadstools and pungent instead, growing amidst layers of grime and mold, thriving as a result of years of neglect.

    But it was the flicker of will-o-wisps from distant neon lights, illuminating the narrow alley in a sickly glow, that highlighted the primary source.

    Sickly corpses, human corpses, in various stages of unnatural decomposition, left to rot with no one to care, scattered across the piles of garbage like trash themselves.

    Most were more metal than human though, probably having poisoned themselves by overusing back-alley cybernetics. One of the many reasons why nat-tech wasn¡¯t exactly beloved by the general populace.

    Although Miles¡¯ reaction was subdued compared to the usual, he still couldn¡¯t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust.

    Seemingly unaware of the state of their surroundings, Zhan Shen grinned with cheek, more interested in his young master, "Tsk tsk, the youngsters these days can''t even keep up with an old fart huh? Even after becoming an undead Vampire?"

    Miles grimaced, "Go to hell old Zhan," but paused, retaliating with a rising grin of his own, "Perhaps it is because the older generation enjoys showing off, instead of properly explaining what they were supposed to teach?"

    Zhan Shen was caught off guard, but recovered quickly and was just about to reply¡­

    Miles waved his hand like a proud emperor dismissing a peasant, "Whatever old Zhan, forget it. More importantly your ¡®nameless¡¯ movement skill got a reaction out of the system," and proceeded to explain the notification he had received.

    Zhan Shen paused in thought, narrowing his eyes, "How interesting, this system of vampires that is,¡± but in the end, he simply pursed his lips, ¡°unfortunately Master Miles, my answer must remain the same as usual. You will understand later.

    It is not that I wish to keep what I know from you, but anything I do say would become counterproductive. You must discover on your own. This¡­ is the way of this path."

    Miles heaved an impatient sigh, "Why was I expecting anything different? Well alright, shall we leave this disgusting place then?"

    Zhan Shen nodded but added, ¡°Perhaps it would be wise to ensure our anonymity first?¡±

    Miles paused, but ultimately nodded, bringing up the Lykaon wolf-head ring, ¡°Cadmus, activate identity distortion for myself and designation [Old Zhan].¡±

    Immediately the ring began to blink with a hazy white light, buzzing and shivering, innately casting the magic of the fairy that called themselves Amathaka. And as Miles had requested, something hidden under Zhan Shen¡¯s left collar did the same.

    The elderly butler flipped his collar revealing the object, an engraved pin, a pair of silver wings glinting in the mild light of the will-o-wisps.

    This was Zhan Shen¡¯s equivalent to the Lykaon ring. While it did not have total authority, in the hierarchy of Miles¡¯ access to the Lykaon Network, it was only a few tiers below his alpha ring.

    Miles wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the wings denoted, but apparently Zhan Shen had insisted this be the focus for his connection.

    Lifting his right-hand Miles tapped the ring to his face, while old Zhan lightly twisted his neck to the same effect with the pin on his chest.

    Immediately the ring and pin fell silent as the artificial fairy energy transferred, manifesting upon themselves.

    Their faces distorted and blurred, becoming indistinct. Like an intangible mirage or a fading dream, they were now impossible to be identified or be described in detail.

    This was Obliviation, the innate magic of the Amathaka fairy, or rather a partial replication of the relevant frequency, cast via the Lykaon network with the alpha ring as an intermediary.

    With Zhan Shen¡¯s prompt approval on the efficacy of the identity distortion, the duo departed from the alleyway.

 CHAPTER 9: Welcome to Yumekuro

    Even if you spurn Cyberware with a passion, everyone and their grandmother knows direct neural interfacing without peripherals is a terrible idea.

    This is especially true for the ever-popular third-party Otherworld? spinal implants.

    What had been originally designed to be an externally wearable piece of gear, now modified to provide a perfect simulation that played to your every whim and desire, directly doping your brain with heavy doses of dopamine, serotonin and endorphins that would keep you trapped in an endless loop of satisfaction and complacency. Who would be dumb enough to think that that''s good for you?

    Well, they also say it¡¯s better than any drug, not even the sharpest cut of tinker dust, or the purest fairy tear able to compare. That it¡¯s unlike anything else, any real-world experience, our puny minds could even begin to comprehend.

    So, could you really blame yourself if you get a bit too lost in a fantasy? Carpe Diem and all that right?

    ¨CUnknown

    ***

    The dying light of will-o-wisps ensnared by neon tubes barely managed to pierce through the darkness of the night, illuminating the streets in a faded glow.

    The stench of decay and filth, while somewhat diminished, still lingered in the air. It clung to the atmosphere, an ever-present reminder of the rot seeping into the very fabric of this blighted district.

    A dreamy haze of fog veiled the distance, shifting the tone of an otherwise ordinary street into something eerie.

    The gutters echoed with a disconcerting scuttering, some manner of unknown, hidden creature they were probably better off not knowing about.

    Unfortunately for Miles, his new vision managed to see through the fog.

    Dozens of mangy rats skittered by their beady eyes fixated on them with unnerving curiosity. In an unholy alliance, the rare Blightroach scuttled amidst them, betrayed only by the tell-tale flash of a deathly green glow.

    Even beyond the rats and plague-causing bugs, the symphony of the city remained dissonant.

    An unnatural melding of the artificial and the natural, a discordant composition grating the senses, where the whirring of distant machinery interweaved with the rustling of illusionary forestry and haunting calls of otherworldly wildlife. A fairly common consequence of twisted essence leaking from subpar fae-tech.

    This was Yumekuro in all its glory, the best or worst district in the outer city, entirely dependent on who you asked.

    They continued to walk through the barely illuminated, hazy streets, when Miles cocked his head at the old butler, ¡°By the way old Zhan, I never got to ask, how was your visit with the White Dragon Informant?¡±

    Zhan Shen snorted, his voice dripping with frustration, ¡°An absolute waste of time! That Hayama Ryoma was a no-show! No faetality booster, no gangsters, not even a fight! Just pure disappointment!¡±

    Miles arched an eyebrow, ¡°Hayama Ryoma? Are you serious? You mean Hayato Ryota, right?! It hasn¡¯t even been a day and you¡¯ve already forgotten his name?¡±

    The old butler shrugged without a care, ¡°Haya-no Ryo-show or whatever, the man never turned up. And what with your aethercrafts and explosions, I did not have the time to look more into the matter, or into the Hakuryuu, the so-called White Dragons.¡±

    Miles could only heave a sigh of well-versed acceptance.

    This was the same Zhan Shen that had informed him of the name Hayato Ryota in the first place, wilfully forgetting it the moment the particular individual failed to hold his interest. A quite annoying habit, he had gotten used to overtime.

    Nevertheless, he was intrigued, ¡®So the matter of the faetality booster was not a trap, but a failure? Was Hayato Ryota displaced or delayed due to the fae invasion? Or was it that he decided to turn tail and run at the last minute? Or a change of heart? Or the more promising case¡­ silenced by the Hakuryuu?¡¯

    Should it happen to be the latter, the veracity of Ryota¡¯s claim would be pushed to a whole different level.

    ¡®A Faetality Booster¡­¡¯

    Miles was lost in thought, at least until a strange, colorful light appeared in the distance. It flickered and stuttered, barely visible through the faint fog.

    Slightly brighter than the fading will-o-wisps, what made this stand out was the fact that it was placed less than a foot or so above the street, rather unusual compared to the neon banners or streetlights considerably high above.

    Miles squinted, and once again he was able to just see through the mists of Yumekuro.

    It was a rusted, steel-edged glass cube where a rainbow of dust swirled within, an opening from the upper face spewing clouds of the very same dust into the air. This cloud was what was most magical about the device, being the medium, upon which manifested the unnervingly realistic scenes of a grandiose battle, like scenes out of a vivid dream.

    ¡®Holograms upon faery dust? A Mirage Caster?¡¯

    One that was heavily busted and barely working, if the constant flickering of the images were anything to go by.

    An amused grin spread across Miles¡¯ face, ¡°Well well old Zhan, it seems that you¡¯ll be getting your fight sooner rather than later!¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion, ¡°A fight? What for? They seem to be the good folk of outer city, enjoying some barely decent entertainment! Why on earth would they resort to violence?¡±

    Miles raised an eyebrow, ¡°Good folk? It¡¯s the middle of the night! With the orc invasion, even the ¡®never sleeping¡¯ streets of Yumekuro are deserted. Tell me old Zhan, what kind of ¡®good¡¯ folk would be standing out in the streets?¡±

    Zhan Shen waved his hand in dismissal, ¡°Haiz, you have misjudged them, Master Miles. What if they happen to be a neighborhood patrol? Friends drinking a couple cold ones while they enjoy some good old violence? Or even night owls, or insomniacs?

    Miles did not dignify that with a reply, simply raising an eyebrow.

    Eventually Zhan Shen huffed in disapproval, ¡°Fine, fine, they might start some trouble, but that would only be in the spirit of outer city tradition! Maybe try to force out a street tax, steal a coin or two, but that would be it!¡±

    Miles chuckled and proposed more in playful jest than seriousness, ¡°Is that so? Care to bet on it then, old Zhan?¡±

    The old butler was unexpectedly quick in putting forth his right hand, ¡°Good. The defeated must fulfill a request of the winner, no matter how stubborn they may be. Do we have ourselves a deal Master Miles?¡±

    Miles narrowed his eyes, ¡°I will not be refusing being a Vampire over a¡ª bet.¡±

    Zhan Shen clicked his tongue, but continued to hold out his hand, ¡°And I did not expect you would Master Miles. We already have an agreement with regards to your potential future of being terrified of garlic. This will be different,¡± and with a rising grin, ¡°Only thing is, is the big bad Vamp too chicken?¡±

    Miles refrained from falling for that cheap ploy.

    But it did send him into deep thought.

    If this wasn¡¯t about Vampirism, it didn¡¯t take a genius to guess what old Zhan would have him do.

    He stared at his own hands, feeling the blood pumping through the veins, despite the unbeating heart in his chest. His newly gained senses remained novel, but just as natural and¨C familiar, as it had felt the first time.

    Even if his faetality were to stagnate due to being forced into using a Fae Serum, Miles no longer felt like he would have no hope.

    So, while he had not expected to be taken seriously about the bet, he grinned back, clasping the offered hand.

    It would be fun to hold one over the annoying old butler.

    ¡°In that case old Zhan, we have a deal.¡±

    Bet, nay oath made, Miles and Zhan Shen continued forwards, the casted mirage growing ever closer.

    The mists gave way, revealing the ¡®good folk¡¯ of outer city.

    A group of rowdy, disheveled individuals dressed in the same white long cloak, each decorated with what appeared to be a child''s attempt at drawing scales in black ink.

    The rather obvious gangsters were laughing and cheering, swigging down gourds of gutter brew in merriment, as they huddled around the scenes of the dream cloud.

    The busted hologram distorted and deformed with each flickering stutter, but it was still more than clear enough to reveal what was being mirage casted.

    A twisted field of gnarled trees and unearthly fae foliage that had claimed the ruins of long abandoned construction back to nature. The lush foliage was unsettlingly saturated, the bright viridian green casting terrifying shadows where the darkness itself seemed to come alive.

    Prowling underneath were monstrous forms clad in mystical armor, engraved with grotesque symbols that writhed with sickening energy. This was the orcish armada, unperturbed by the hidden horrors of the forest, wreaking havoc through the comparatively miniscule human army.

    Yet, the seemingly out-classed humans faced the orcs, a small group of soldiers and mercenaries perfectly capable of holding their own against one or two of the raging orcs.

    Well, wielding state-of-the-art weaponry, armored with ballistic nanofiber, and the use of superior tactics, of course.

    But what gave the humans a truly distinctive edge were three lone individuals. They were wrapped in distinctively shimmering silver steel, carrying the bearing of Knights.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    As they danced through the forest, purple lightning cracked, and whirls of unnatural green winds howled, but were incomparable to the gigantic bursts of golden flames that charred orcs by the dozen, despite being smothered by the forestry, unable to truly set the foliage ablaze.

    The Orcs were decimated, exploded, burst or ripped apart, wherever they went, while they themselves remained pure and pristine.

    And anytime any of these Knights did anything even remotely interesting, even if it was to shake their weapons clean of green blood, the gangsters would rise in tandem to cheer and hoot in excitement.

    Some, overlooking the violence, may have considered this to be a heartwarming scene of camaraderie. Where all differences and divergences, even those of class, gangs and wealth, were transcended by patriotism and unity against a common enemy.

    A gathering that cheered for the protectors of the city, the brave soldiers, mercenaries and knights, in their war against the abominable Orcish Invaders.

    A moment that defied individuality, a rare flash of light in the darkness of Yumekuro.

    At least that could have been true, had it not been for the almost lifeless, corpse-like people scattered in the dirty streets around them.

    The smell was absolutely horrid, somehow managing to be worse than the alley way they had arrived at.

    Miles could not help but wrinkle his nose in disgust, one glance at the Otherjunkies wallowing in their own filth being sufficient enough answer.

    How could one forget?

    The characteristic Otherjunkies of Yumekuro, the ominous blinking of jailbroken Otherworld? spinal implants distinct on the back of their necks.

    They cared not for the ongoing orc invasion, not that most of them had a home left to return to, probably having been forced to poverty and homelessness courtesy of their addiction to the virtual.

    They knew not that these gangsters who had no place to rest, while they cheered for the Knights in the dream cloud, used their physical bodies as human cushions and seats.

    They were unaware that the particularly sadistic used them as mats to stand upon, treating them as trash or garbage on the wayside, not reacting even to the pain of crushed fingers and broken bones.

    They cared not that their meager belongings were being looted, that even clothes were being stripped off to be sold for a fraction of a bit.

    Why would they, anyway?

    Their fingers and bodies twitched, eyeballs dancing behind closed eyelids, as they fought deadly battles in physical safety, gained victory over virtual competition that had been designed to lose, and achieved all their dreams and desires with little to no effort.

    They were so lost in this fantasy that they failed to notice their hard-won otherworld wealth (from the actual Otherworld?, not the jailbroken illusion they were being force fed) was being discreetly woven away by the gutter net weavers that had made the perfectly curated illusion in the first place, to be sold off for a tidy profit.

    All of that could be considered mild, for a group of men surrounded some of the more unfortunate otherjunkies, using their barely moving bodies to relieve themselves.

    Even worse were those Otherworld addicts that humped their hips, grabbed and pulled at virtual appendages, far too lost in the fantasy of carnal bliss to remember¨C or care that their physical bodies were out on the streets bearing witness to the rest of the world.

    So blind to reality they were, they had unknowingly become active participants, performing their virtual actions in reality as well, much to the delight of the leering gangsters.

    Some of the worst cases were simply drooling like leaking faucets, their nervous systems on the brink of failure owing to excess utilization, their bodies sickly and malnourished.

    And yet, despite all of that, despite being treated as less than people, despite being reduced to mindless husks of what it meant to be human, the absolute worst fact was that all of these addicts were chillingly¡­ happy.

    Satisfied.

    The same weak smile and laughter persisted in them all, looping like broken records on blank faces lost to imaginary bliss.

    Once upon a time, they may have dreamt of bigger and better things.

    Of escaping Yumekuro, of carving their own place in the Inner City, of escaping the corporate slog and seeing the world (or what remained of it), to provide for those they cared about, to live proud and well.

    But Capital City, and the world beyond, happened to be a merciless, selfish thing.

    Beaten down over and over, these once hopefuls had ceded victory to despair.

    All that was left of those that had once dared to dream was¡­ this.

    Zhan Shen remained unaffected by the sordid scenes around them, but Miles couldn¡¯t help but take a moment.

    ¡®What a waste.¡¯

    He knew for a fact that he was not a good samaritan in any sense of the word, but the sheer waste of potential here, the ruined lives, raked him in all the wrong ways.

    A sharp glance from Zhan Shen dragged Miles out of his thoughts, and with a sigh he turned away.

    They continued forth, seemingly blind to the dozen or so gangsters and the travesties around them.

    But it didn¡¯t take long for some of the more watchful white cloaked gangsters to notice their presence, even with their engrossment in the mirage-caster and¡­ other proclivities.

    Miles scanned through the streets, the gangsters, the nearby constructions and even the distant, barely visible rooftops.

    In the end, he simply ignored them all and continued, followed by an even calmer, actually whistling a jovial tune, Zhan Shen.

    More and more of the gangsters began to pay attention, observing with intrigue, curiosity, and greed.

    The bet in mind, Miles was expectant.

    ¡®An old man and a young kid, dressed in suits that scream ¡°Corporate¡±, walking alone through barely populated streets. Even with the identity distortion, which of these greedy gutter rats could hold back?¡¯

    And to the surprise of absolutely no one at all, something happened.

    A sudden, surprised shout rang from the side.

    Even before Miles heard a sound or discerned the flash of white cloak, what he felt first was the wind rushing into him.

    The air was unusual, carrying an unspoken, unfelt connotation. It was no mere breeze, but a chilling whisper on his skin.

    To feel the wind is a simple thing, but the clarity of what Miles sensed here was far too much.

    ¡®A powerful gust of wind, roughly two dozen km/h? And judging by the fact that the wind covers my entire right torso, the source should be rather large. A meter and three quarters in vertical length?¡¯

    It wasn¡¯t entirely different from an ordinary wind, or that which he had felt when dashing through the rooftops. But the sheer extent of information he garnered from merely the blowing of this wind was staggering, and, hence distracting.

    It was almost as if every single air particle was tapping on his skin in warning, as if the wind was entirely biased to him, whispering the secrets of anything that dared to travel through the air.

    Then, the wind became agitated, now striking with increasing, frantic fervor.

    But so lost was Miles in this novel sense, of seeing through the wind, that before he could comprehend what this actually meant, a powerful force collided into his side.

    It was a jarring impact, but one devoid of pain, just making him shift a few steps to the side.

    The wind, his senses, the impact, everything left his mind.

    Instead, what consumed his attention was the unnatural heat emanating from the object, whatever it was.

    It was a familiar yet beckoning warmth, a seductive allure of a forbidden flame, the value only realized after one had grown numb to the sub-zero temperatures of a frozen wasteland.

    Thump. Thump.

    A beat, a hypnotic pulse born from the very source of the heat, rumbled through that which had crashed into him. It was a sound of absolute enticement, the call of a seductive siren, fanning his yearning for a warmth that he had missed unknowingly.

    Miles instinctively knew that the source of the heat was within arm¡¯s reach, having crashed right into him.

    So, so, conveniently close.

    His head turned, mouth opening instinctively to reveal perfectly ordinary canines that seemed to glint in the neon light¡­

    When it hit him.

    The smell.

    The overpoweringly rancid stench of rust, leaking from overused and cheap cyber-ware, boiled together with stale sweat, months of what could only be presumed to be an allergy to bathing, piss, and festering flesh.

    Whatever strange allure had influenced Miles was kicked in the nuts by this gagging smell, snapping him back to reality.

    And the moment he did, his reaction was instantaneous, noticing and grabbing onto the intrusive arm that had dared to prod inside his suit pockets while he had been distracted.

    Though the warmth, the body heat, of the potential pickpocket remained tantalizing even to the palm of his hand, the foul smell helped maintain his control.

    ¡®What the hell was that?!¡¯

    Miles shook his head, refusing to believe that he would¡¯ve gone through with¡­ that.

    Thankfully his anger took precedence, bubbling out from something within him, trumping whatever desire he felt for the enticing heat.

    Only now properly looking, the one whose hand he had grabbed, the one who had come crashing into him, the daring pickpocket, turned out to be a reedy, thin man.

    He was significantly or very terribly teched-up going by the rancid smell of rust, but not on anywhere obvious, as his skin seemed to be perfectly ordinary on cursory glance.

    ¡®Subdermal or Internal implants then?¡¯

    The pickpocket''s lips curled into a mildly surprised yet relaxed grin, revealing yellowing teeth coated in cheap gaudy chrome, ¡°Sorry kiddo! My bad, my bad! That glitch brain over there thought it¡¯d be funny to push lil ol¡¯ me into you good folk. Budding white dragons, you know how they are!

    Or not? You fellas seem awfully new around these parts, and I hate to say it but this definitely ain¡¯t the time to be seeing the sights of beautiful Yumekuro!¡±

    Zhan Shen laughed out loud, his reaction fitting the response, but entirely at odds with the situation, ¡°I told you, did I not young master? Just some outer city tradition! And with that, this wise elder has won the bet!¡±

    Miles didn¡¯t bother to answer either of them. He¡­ just stared at the gangster in his grip.

    That anger that had bubbled from within, was growing, expanding, finally reaching a peaking crescendo.

    He did not know what it was, but something that had been silent so far, had awoken, and it was roaring in rage.

    VIOLATIO.

    The falsehood in the words, the deception lurking behind the pickpocket¡¯s grin, the eyes that dripped with contempt.

    Something in Miles¡¯ eyes must¡¯ve spooked the man, because his grin fell apart, crumbling into a forced and ugly thing. His discomfort only grew as he realized that Miles¡¯ grip was molding iron, becoming tighter every second.

    The pickpocket began to struggle, trying to escape, ¡°Haha! An accident! An accident! But don¡¯t forget, my fellow dragons here will¨C¡±

    The man screamed.

    Miles'' grip had tightened, and the man''s arm bulged, red and purple flesh pushed out, deforming like moldable clay due to sheer force. But the fact that the limb continued to remain intact, revealed the source of his Cyberware.

    A skeletal enhancement.

    Helped with durability, not much with the pain.

    ¡°L-Let go! FUCK! LET GO YOU CORPO RAT!¡±

    The gangsters in the street began to react, finally noticing that something was wrong.

    Miles cared for none of it, for all he knew was the blazing rage that consumed him.

    He could feel it.

    From the one in his grasp, from the ones that surrounded him.

    An overwhelming feeling of wrongness.

    Being considered prey, by¡­ PREY!

    Miles¡¯ lips curled into a snarl, and the next thing he knew, his other hand had grabbed the man¡¯s fist, and¡­

    Simply bent, bringing them together.

    There was no crack of the bones, no sudden break or easy pain, because whatever was inside this man¡¯s bones was inorganic.

    Dirty black blood, polluted and poisoned by whatever lesser faery alloy had been used, splattered like vomit onto the streets below.

    The cyber-tech bone sparked and spluttered, burning flesh and skin.

    The alloy must have been trash, and the enhancement job even trashier, if it had bent so easily under Miles¡¯ rage fueled by not even 20 Strength points.

    Either way, what had once been a single arm, was now a deformed oval, where fist touched the elbow.

    And the man screamed like a banshee.

    He collapsed onto his knees, howling, grasping at what remained of his now loop of an arm.

    The pickpockets sobbing howls pulled Miles out of the rage that had overwhelmed him.

    The emotion still threatened to bubble out, but it was now satiated, at least partially.

    He let out a breath, one he had not even known he had been holding and stared at his two hands.

    Two hands now marred by congealed black blood, and yet with blood pumping through, despite the deathly still heart.

    But where there had been hope and confidence, now there was a modicum of doubt.

    ¡®W-What was that? Did I lose control of myself?¡¯

    The screams of pure agony hammered down on his thoughts, echoing through the streets akin to a blaring alarm, rousing and awakening every single street gangster to their feet.

 CHAPTER 10: The Hakuryuu - Part 1

    Blinded by the popularity and glamor of all things FaeTech, many tend to underestimate Nat-Tech Cyberware.

    Grounded in physically explainable ordinary science, Natural Technology Cybernetics provide an alternate, considerably fairer and open path to power within this new world order.

    It¡¯s a hell of a lot kinder on your credits as well! You could arm three or four men with a decent pair of blades of mantis, each, for the price of one gnome/sprite tier serum!

    Sure, there might be a glitch here and there, the occasional bug or fault, but nat-tech cyberware is always, purely artificial, scientifically grounded, and external.

    Sure, if you plug in unregulated, botched up, black market or expired cybernetics, the neural imbalance or effluents may very well kill you over time, but at the very least, you know what you¡¯re putting inside of you.

    Could you say the same about FaeTech Cyberware or Fae Serums? When no one but FaeTech can actually understand what is up with them? When their products are just as inexplicable and magical as the fae they say they hate?

    Some might call that paranoid, but I say it¡¯s called being smart.

    ¨C Henry Mulciber, Chief of Customer Relations for Vulcan Corporation, World¡¯s Leading Manufacturer of Nat-Tech Weaponry and Cyberware.

    ***

    Zhan Shen, who had been watching in silence, reached out, placing a hand on Miles¡¯ shoulder, ¡°You lost control young master. It may have been the change that was responsible, but what a disappointing showing.¡±

    Miles was still struggling to get a proper handle on himself, but, albeit unhappily nodded in acceptance.

    The old butler continued, his voice unchanging, ¡°I have taught you what to do. So do it. Breathe.¡±

    Miles grunted in assent, pushing past the rage, everything he was feeling and sensing, and focused on his breathing, a lone anchor to help regain control.

    His last attempt to achieve perfect concentration had been under far more adverse conditions, and that experience seemed to have strengthened his ability to persevere.

    Miles had expected to face some difficulty, but it was surprisingly easier than he remembered. To enter that familiar state of heightened concentration and achieve the mental clarity needed¡­

    In the span of a single breath, everything around him dissolved, expanding into a familiar world¡­ of troubled skies and raging waters?

    The sea abound in a furious storm, towering waves rumbling through, himself the source.

    Mirroring the brewing tempest, even the ocean appeared dark and full of gloom.

    But, unperturbed by these changes to the world, Miles focused upon his breath, and as his emotions calmed, so did the turbulent world.

    His meditation gradually restored order, clearing his mind. The towering waves subsided, the storm laden clouds calmed their fury, and the skies began to clear.

    Miles¡¯ thoughts steadied, bringing his mind back under his control, the bizarre desires and emotions that had gripped him finally suppressed and tamed.

    The world returned to its pristine state of clear skies mirrored in calm, crystalline waters.

    Yet, Miles didn¡¯t linger here for long, acutely aware of reality and the pressing circumstances he faced.

    With a deliberate thought, he released the world manifested, allowing it to slip away like sand through fingers. And in the span of another breath, he had returned to the grim streets of Yumekuro, the blood curdling screams of the gangster still echoing in his ears.

    Miles, still somewhat displeased with Zhan Shen¡¯s prior comment, the truth being entirely irrelevant, answered with a forced smile, ¡°Be that as it may, you lost the bet! What, oh what should this young master make you do?¡±

    Zhan Shen snorted, ¡°Absolute nonsense, there was nothing about forcing a fight out of them in our bet!¡±

    Miles¡¯ grin grew wider, ¡°And there was also nothing about not forcing one. Don¡¯t tell me, this respected elder before me, a ¡®true warrior¡¯, is planning to go back on his word?¡±

    The elderly butler froze, but soon began to glance around them, ¡°My word is indeed my bond young master,¡± and for a moment his lips curled, ¡°But let¡¯s not forget, the task I just now decided to set upon you, to handle these white lizards. It is your own mess after all, thus your responsibility, and you do have faith in your newfound prowess, yes?¡±

    And just like that, it was Miles¡¯ turn to freeze, ¡°The hell?! There¡¯s over a dozen of them!¡±

    Zhan Shen hummed in mock innocence, ¡°Hm, hm, hm, you can always forgo the lesson and force out a request from this old man if you so wish, young master. I couldn¡¯t stop you if you do.¡±

    "At least lend me your Caucon then!"

    "Now where would be the fun in bringing a pistol to... whatever fight this will be?" The old butler shook his head, "These runts have no guns, Master Miles. Strange as it may be, bottom line is, play fair."

    Miles grimaced, beginning to glance around.

    It had only been a minute or so and the white-cloaked gangsters, obviously just some runts of the Hakuryuu, aka a poor man¡¯s white dragons, had already mobilized, despite half of them being drunk on gutter brew, the other half still pulling their pants up, and none of them being prepared for an actual altercation.

    Well, the reedy pickpocket was still on the ground screaming in agony, so that just left everyone else.

    Fighting was not something Miles was particularly fond of. No, that has always been Zhan Shen¡¯s forte.

    Despite the elderly butler¡¯s every attempt to make him think differently, for Miles, it was a means to an end, and at best, a tool to ensure power or a way to release pent up emotions.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    However, as he stared at the rallying gangsters, the danger and tension palpable, everything irrelevant seemed to vanish from his perception.

    It was just him, the grimy streets, thirteen gangsters, and a promise of violence and bloodshed.

    Miles found himself raising his fists.

    For the first time ever, he was truly reveling in the anticipation, the blood pumping vigor of an upcoming fight.

    Unbeknownst to even himself, he felt excited, ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll take them on!¡±

    Zhan Shen paused at that. A conflicted expression crossed his face for but a moment, before he steeled himself, his hands curling into fists, ¡°Very well then young master. Allow this old man to apologize in advance,¡± and took a few steps back.

    If Miles had been focusing on what was said, he may have felt that something was off, but he was far too focused on the fight ahead to notice. And then it was no longer the time for conversation.

    The first of the would-be Hakuryuu reached him, rushing in blindly, seemingly expecting something easy from the young boy rather than the muscular old man.

    They were barely cybernetically enhanced, obvious from the distinctly weaker smell of rusting metal to assault Miles¡¯ nose.

    The first guy to reach him was truly unfortunate, because Miles had to prepare for the second.

    A full-force jab to his openly exposed throat sent him reeling and choking, attacking Miles the last thing on his mind.

    The second seemed to wise up, and Miles¡¯ ears picked up the click of disjointed steel knocking, the source, the gangster¡¯s right foot.

    ¡®A Strider cybernetic? On a single leg?¡¯

    The gangster in question seemed to disagree, as the tar below his foot cracked as the strider let loose without trouble, sending him hurtling forwards in a rush of wind.

    It was an extremely obvious, albeit quite fast bull rush, and Miles didn¡¯t even think as his feet moved in a familiar tandem, in the sequence of the Nameless Movement Art, easily side-stepping the man. One foot however protruded out, perfectly in line with the Strider leg¡¯s knee.

    Not expecting it and unable to react in time, the poor fellow tripped, and promptly knocked himself out on the concrete road.

    Miles was taken aback for a second at how pathetic that had been, but that was also why a strider on only a single foot was a terrible idea. Nevertheless, he quickly moved on, as his side-step had brought him ever so closer to the first gangster still reeling from the throat jab.

    While the man had recovered to some extent and tried to dodge, Miles¡¯ second jab morphed into a fist, striking cleanly upon chin, sending the man off the floor and back down in an unconscious heap.

    He had barely taken care of the two, when another three gangsters rushed from three directions. Each wielding knives, well not so much knives as they were sharpened metal, but still definitely deadly.

    Miles¡¯ eyes narrowed, and he breathed in preparation.

    ¡®That¡¯s the end of non-lethal force then.¡¯

    He had said three, but it was actually four, striking from all cardinal directions, with one gangster attacking from directly behind him, going by the sharp burst of wind on his back.

    ¡®A Horizontal strike. Thin, but blunt. A baton or a staff? But also, not that strong.¡¯

    Having learned from the first time, Miles listened to the wind. He didn¡¯t even think as he reacted, crouching down to half his height.

    CRACK!

    The swing of the¡­ rusty metal pipe missed, striking two of the nearest gangsters that had rushed him from the front instead, knocking one on the skull and scratching the face of the other.

    The one hit on the skull, lost the grasp on his knife, inadvertently letting it go.

    The glint of metal was clear and the air guided Miles¡¯ hand to perfectly catch it.

    He launched off the ground, from crouching to leaping, onto the third gangster on his left still free to react.

    Miles¡¯ free hand struck at the knife in the gangster''s hand with the arm of his suit. What he had struck was the sharp edge, but he barely felt the knife, no ordinary metal being capable of piercing through the inlaid ogre skin of a R&B original.

    And the gangster didn¡¯t even get the chance to notice the impressive defense of Miles¡¯ expensive fashion choices, because the commandeered knife stabbed into his exposed neck.

    Before Miles could pull it back out however, properly finishing off the man, the wind screamed upon his back once more.

    He didn¡¯t think, merely allowing his feet to flow in a perfect sequence that rushed him out from where he had been to directly behind the gangster he had just stabbed.

    Blood and flesh squelched, and someone groaned.

    Ding!

    Something familiar rang in his ears, but Miles noticed nothing. He was far too focused on the smell of bloo¨C no, the fact that the man he himself had stabbed had been stabbed, again. This time right in the chest, by his fellow white dragon. Presumably the one that had been scratched in the face.

    The gangster hit on the skull was still out of it but should recover soon.

    The woman with the pipe was rearing for another strike, not having learned from the first lesson, while the one that had stabbed his own comrade was seemingly horrified, if his screams and sputters of apology were anything to go by.

    Miles didn¡¯t care, his hand reached and pulled out the knife he had stabbed into the neck.

    The wound burst open in a fountain of blood.

    The smell of iron, the sight of dark scarlet, the rising screams, all of it seemed to awaken something primal inside of him, but even if the rancid smell of Cyberware polluting the blood wasn¡¯t there to keep him under control, Miles had already tamed his emotions.

    He was only mildly influenced. There was nothing to worry about.

    Ding!

    Again, something familiar rang in his ears, but Miles was so perfectly fine, that he failed to notice for a second time.

    Instead, he burst through the rain of blood, each step placed in perfect harmony, relishing the carnage.

    Miles passed by the gangster that had been made to stab his own, still shocked and apologizing to his dead compatriot.

    They must¡¯ve been friends or something. So, he really couldn¡¯t bring himself to be cruel.

    He stabbed the fellow in the neck as well and pulled the knife out in another rain of blood.

    They could continue to be friends in the afterlife.

    The wind warned him once more, but this time, Miles did not dodge, merely holding up his suit sleeve in defense.

    The rusted pipe was even less dangerous than the sharpened shivs, and the woman¡¯s surprise turned into horror as Miles threw his knife almost instinctively, the blade rushing through the air and impaling itself in her right eye in grotesque fashion.

    The woman screamed, letting go of the pipe in her hand.

    So, Miles grabbed the rusted metal for her, and slammed it into the shiv. Like a hammer to a nail, the knife impaled itself even further, blood and brain matter squelching out of the eye socket.

    Ding!

    Miles heard nothing, as he slammed the pipe into the last white dragon who had just recovered, striking the man in the skull exactly where he had been hit before. The gangster groaned, but as another hit, and another after another rained down, he finally collapsed with very possibly permanent brain damage.

    Miles heaved heavy breaths.

    Adrenaline pumping, blood boiling, his senses sharp for danger.

    Blood had splattered his clothes and face, the scent and smell polluted, yet strangely attractive, but he didn¡¯t really mind¨C or care.

    He just felt alive.

    He could¡¯ve been less lethal, sure, but he saw no reason to.

    He could¡¯ve fought entirely unarmed, but why take the risk?

    He quickly picked up another knife, one that was not inside someone''s eye and brain, and re-armed himself, as if to prove the point.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but grin, twirling the pipe in one hand and brandishing the shiv in the other. He had never particularly enjoyed fighting, but by the Sidhe, he was loving this.

    And before he could do much else, the next wave of gangsters screaming bloody murder, enraged by the fate of their fellow white dragons, rushed in.

 CHAPTER 11: The Hakuryuu - Part 2

    Three facing him, and another three from behind, the rush of wind acting as eyes on his back.

    The smell of rancid rust was almost tangible here.

    ¡®Higher-Tier Cybernetics.¡¯

    Miles breathed, and his feet danced in the nameless movement art, perfectly escaping the surrounding of the gangsters, through a barely open gap in their assault.

    He appeared behind a man whose left palm had opened up to reveal a metallic hole, one that had begun to glow with blazing orange and searing heat.

    ¡®An Inferno Blaster? Dangerous.¡¯

    The knife stabbed into the man¡¯s neck, causing him to howl in pain, but to Miles¡¯ surprise the weak metal only stabbed halfway through.

    ¡®Subdermal defensive implants.¡¯

    So, Miles did the only other thing he could. In a perfectly smooth motion, the knife pulled out of the neck, causing no rain of blood, only a scream.

    He released the knife, immediately catching it with the other hand, and stabbed it into the man¡¯s left wrist, right where the peripheral neural interface for the Inferno Blaster should be.

    Sparks burst and Miles immediately let go of the thing.

    The air began to vibrate, extremely agitated, roaring in warning.

    Miles didn¡¯t need to be told twice as the nameless movement rushed him out in a speedy retreat.

    BOOM!

    The blast knocked him off his feet even with his fast reaction, but Miles rolled it off in practiced movement, easily dispelling the force of the explosion.

    The ogre skin of the suit had protected his back and he had gotten off with only a few singed hairs.

    Ding! Ding!

    Miles heaved heavy breaths, excitement and adrenaline rushing through his undead veins.

    He turned around, expecting to find all six gangsters burnt to a crisp, but as it turned out, there were only two burnt corpses, their flesh and skin incinerated right off.

    Instead, what accompanied them was a red hot, blistering metal tower shield. It seemed to have manifested facing the explosion, behind which Miles assumed and could sense the last four had retreated to.

    So, he breathed, and he rushed forth again.

    Miles reached the source of the explosion, and the moment the heat from the blazing metal became unbearable, when the very air seemed to sizzle, he danced around the source, appearing perfectly behind the tower shield.

    Miles ignored the gangster that had released and was maintaining the tower shield, and jumped into the air, striking down the one nearest to him with the pipe he still carried.

    The man noticed immediately, his eyes glowing with the tell-tale signs of Cyberware. Surprisingly, he craned his neck, managing to dodge the hit, the pipe crashing into his shoulder instead.

    The man collapsed onto his knees with a grunt, while the rest of the gangsters were still struggling to react against the sudden attack.

    In a feat of impeccable acrobatics and quick reaction, Miles dropped the pipe, used the gangster on his knees as a platform and pushed off his body with his hands, propelling himself into the air.

    His foot lashed sideways in a powerful kick, but the gangster he had targeted merely smirked. His eyes glowed with azure cyber light, and his skin shimmered with metallic scales.

    This fellow had some of the better Cyberware here, the smell of rust comparatively less, but the rancidity of sharp metal extreme.

    ¡®Decent quality retinal implants, blue-yellow light, Capital Oculus, series Azure. Allowed him to react to my attacks. Shimmering skin, a ¡®dragon scale¡¯ subdermal implant, series irrelevant. Decent defense.¡¯

    And yet, Miles didn¡¯t relent.

    The gangster¡¯s smirk grew as he raised his muscular arm to defend and potentially even catch Miles¡¯ foot.

    Nothing of the sort happened.

    Miles¡¯ full body kick powered by 17 strength points was strong enough to break through the man¡¯s guard. His foot, donned in an unassuming yet unseelie steel tipped boot, burst through in a splatter of blood, flesh and Cyberware.

    The kick struck the gangster right in the face, his smirk collapsing into a howl as the infernal metal pierced through ¡®dragon scales¡¯, even managing to gouge off a cybernetic eye.

    Expertly swiveling through the air, Miles landed on his feet.

    While the rest of the white dragon runts were still gathering themselves, his pipe slammed into the gangster that had managed to dodge his first strike, this time managing to strike him cleanly in the skull, courtesy of the wonderful bloody and screaming distraction the now one-eyed man was providing.

    The gangster he had just hit may have had quick reactions and retinal implants, but unlike his now one-eyed compatriot, he had nothing to defend with. With only an ordinary skull, the strike knocked him out completely, also, potentially severe brain damage.

    And with that, only three of the six remained, one of them having lost an eye.

    Miles felt nothing more from the wind.

    By now, it was obvious that his sense of touch, his skin, was allowing him to use the air, the wind to see. It was even mysteriously managing to warn him of attacks before they actually came, and since there was no longer anything, it meant that all he had to worry about was what was right in front of him.

    Two gangsters in fighting shape.

    Inadvertently he had begun to relax, when one of the gangsters rushed him.

    Miles patiently waited for the perfect moment to strike, but he was caught off guard when the man suddenly punched, way too early for his fist to actually reach Miles. And that was when he noticed the gangster''s arms¡­ or rather one unusually long arm.

    The wind burst into a deadly frenzy, a roaring gust rushing towards his neck.

    Miles¡¯ eyes widened, immediately falling into a crouch, just below the laser-edged, sickle-like mantis-blade that had unfurled out of the man¡¯s arm, shaving off some of his hair he was sure.

    Snarling in anger, Miles struck out at the man whose guard was now entirely open, when the second gangster acted.

    The woman behind the shield had been at a considerable distance and Miles had not seen or felt anything from her, except for the fact that she had faced her free palm forwards. He had expected something sub-par, when a tell-tale white light had flashed into his eyes.

    ¡®Neural Disruption!¡¯

    There had been nothing physical for Miles to be warned via the wind and he had been unprepared, allowing a direct hit.

    A blast of nausea hit him, sending him reeling. His feet were unsteady, limbs difficult to move and his senses dulled.

    Miles attempted to rush back immediately, trying to use the nameless footwork, but his body was sluggish, and he was too slow.

    A familiar click of metal knocking against metal, and what could only be assumed to be the other Strider of the pair, sent the wind into a screaming, roaring frenzy.

    A thin sliver-like piercing of wind burned into his chest, and it took everything Miles had to force himself back and to the side.

    HISS!

    Pain, searing, blazing pain.

    Overwhelming pain.

    Blood, bone and flesh splattered onto the floor.

    A piece of him had been cleanly speared off his shoulder, leaving a gaping hole.

    The mantis blade that had barely missed his vitals remained impaled within his shoulder, flesh sizzled, but the wound already cauterized by the burning laser, halted any further blood loss.

    Even the inlaid ogre skin of his custom suit had not been capable of stopping a nearly 2000 degrees Celsius laser from piercing through.

    Ding!

    [-2 HP]

    [HP 8/10. External Injury Detected.]

    [No bleeding detected.]

    [2.1 Blood Points (BP) lost. 8/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles was in no state to notice or even comprehend the system notifications, but they continued regardless.

    Ding!

    [Conditional Undeath disrupted. Failure Condition: Fire.]

    As the pain and agony seared into him, the heat beginning to shatter his resolve, what little control he had been able to maintain over his emotions¡­ splintered.

    Smoky air burst out of his nostrils, as a primal, bestial rage burst out within him.

    PARVIS DOLIS! YOU ANDHA MORTALS DARE FELL CHAOS BLESSED FLESH? STIPENDIUM CUM ANIMABUS VESTRIS!

    The pain dulled, the searing heat faded, and everything else that mattered little vanished from his perception. All that remained were himself and the two gangsters involved in his injury.

    The nameless footwork exploded below him, and Miles pulled back in a hiss of burning flesh, freeing himself off the mantis blade. He did not retreat but rushed forth.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The gangster who had used both the blade of mantis and one strider, was rejoicing striking the monstrous boy, even sneering in confidence, ¡°Hah! F*cking Corpo bastard! That¡¯s what you get for knocking out my brother! That¡¯s what you get for messing with the white dragons!¡±

    The fact that nearly half of their number were dead or severely injured didn¡¯t seem to have registered.

    At least until, the woman with the shield lowered her neural disrupting palm and offered with a contrasting sadness, "The others."

    The mantis bladed gangster only seemed to have realize reality then...

    It also meant he was caught completely off guard when Miles vaulted over the mantis blade, avoiding the blazing green laser by a hair''s breadth.

    Miles snarled in rage, as his hands, even the one with half of his shoulder missing, grabbed onto the distracted man¡¯s elbow, just where the mantis blade began. And¡ª twisted.

    The gangster¡¯s sneer fell apart, and he screamed, his howls joining in with everybody else who were unfortunate enough to have survived so far and not been knocked out, yet unable to do much courtesy of debilitating injuries.

    Blood and flesh splattered, and the man screeched in pain, his barely reinforced bones and subdermal doing nothing more than break a few of Miles¡¯ unenhanced finger bones.

    Pain that Miles had already stopped feeling.

    The mantis blade was ripped out of the hand it had unfurled out of. The hum of the laser began to dull, its heat started to weaken, all owing to the lack of a body to power its neural interface, but well before the cybernetic could truly shut down¡­

    A scream of warning rang out from elsewhere, far too late now, but he didn''t mind. It helped him aim.

    Miles pulled back and threw with all his strength, and like a shuriken, the laser blade rippled through the air.

    The woman that had used the neural disruptor was completely shocked, too slow to move the deployed tower shield, only barely managing to launch another neural blast at the javelin of a mantis blade.

    It didn¡¯t do much to a separated arm, but what passed through it, still hit Miles, causing him to snarl once more.

    In a sickening crunch of blade and flesh, the mantis blade speared into the gangster, adding her tortured screams into the ongoing cacophony.

    It had been a good throw, but the blade had bent and become less effective, owing to the fact that it was a mantis blade wielding arm and not an actual weapon.

    Still, the remnants of laser on the mantis blade had been more than sufficient to pierce through the woman''s torso, blazing her organs in the torturous fire that still continued to burn through Miles¡¯ own shoulder.

    One taken care of, Miles¡¯ face twisted into one of inhuman rage as he leapt off the ground and pounced onto the still screaming, now one-armed man¡¯s shoulders.

    He grabbed onto the head, the head of the mortal that had injured him so gravely.

    With a sickening twist, he shattered the neck, forcing the life out of the gangster¡¯s terrified eyes.

    Ding!

    Miles moved, and blood and screams ensued.

    The one-eyed man was punched in the heart until his chest caved in.

    Ding!

    Miles pulled out the mantis blade, now laser-less, but still extremely sharp, from the gangster that had her innards burned in laser heat, weakly begging for death.

    He obliged, smashing her head in, with her own tower shield.

    Ding!

    Miles walked through the remnants of the gangsters, somehow managing to identify the few that had barely survived and were knocked out with varying amounts of brain damage.

    Merciless stabs to the heart freed them of their misery.

    Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

    And finally, he arrived at the last white dragon.

    The one who had instigated the whole thing, the formerly confident pickpocket was on his knees, still holding and cradling his horseshoe of an arm while staring at the floor. It was almost as if he hoped that looking away would make events any less real.

    The reedy pickpocket had not participated in the fight, he had not helped out his fellow white dragons, nor had they asked him to. Perhaps it was because he had the least cyberware among them all, perhaps it was due to some other reason, and Miles simply didn¡¯t care.

    The gangster however, seemed to notice his arrival, beginning to shout, eyes still glued to the floor, ¡°R-Ryo-san! He''s the Gokuryuu''s right hand man! H-he won¡¯t let you get away with this! Even if you¡¯re a C-Corpo! H-He¡¯s coming soon!¡±

    Miles didn¡¯t react, continuing to walk forwards, the mantis blade in hand dripping blood.

    The pickpocket gangster seemed to sense something was off, and lifted his head, daring a moment of eye contact.

    Their eyes met, and all he saw were two tearful eyes, of disbelief, fear and terror.

    Miles, who had shown no emotion besides anger so far, froze.

    That¨C that sight¨C his facade, his lies, all broken, to reveal the weak, terrified soul hiding within¡­

    Miles'' lips curled into a full-blown grin.

    MUCH BETTER, PRAEDA.

    The gangster shivered, and screamed, ¡°M-MONSTER!¡± and began to, or at least attempt to, run away. All he managed was a slow crawl.

    The mantis blade ripped through the man¡¯s back, impaling him, like the many Miles had slaughtered before.

    Ding!

    With that, everyone was dead. Of everyone that had dared consider him prey, only their mutilated corpses were left.

    The rage that had awoken within him was seemingly satisfied.

    All energy seeped out of Miles. The result of having his flesh seared off and forcing himself to go beyond his limits, finally hit, sending him to his knees.

    His mind was fried, self-control and any sense of enforced discipline long shattered.

    He didn¡¯t really feel much of the pain, as if having a hole in his shoulder was nothing much at all.

    Instead, he just felt tired, exhausted, and so¡­ so¡­ thirsty.

    An ordinary thirst would¡¯ve made his mouth dry and uncomfortable, but this was different. He in his entirety, all of his very being, felt dry and parched.

    His eyes were locked, unblinking, upon the many corpses before him and the mouth-watering scarlet liquid that seeped out of them.

    Even the rancid stench of rusting metal smelled like added flavor, rather than a reason for the disgust he had felt initially.

    ¡®So tired, so¨C so thirsty. Just a little, a drop or two wouldn¡¯t hurt?¡¯

    ITA, BIBERE.

    He had his mouth wide open, his canines entirely ordinary, but his mouth salivating.

    ¡®I¡¯ll stop right after. Yes, just a little. It¡¯ll be fine?¡¯

    ITA, BIBERE NEWBORN.

    He lunged forwards on hand and knees, all thoughts of ¡®little¡¯ and ¡®bit¡¯ forgotten, prepared to do something that should¡¯ve been unthinkable to his ordinary self.

    But before he did something he would forever regret, something snatched onto his neck, holding him from his nape in a strangely familiar fashion.

    He struggled and fought, trying to escape, to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, that which would surely sate the burn in his throat, with single minded madness.

    That was when something warm, comforting and familiar rushed into him, through whatever held onto his neck, granting a moment of clarity to his lost mind.

    Miles blinked, feeling the fog and the darkness that had overwhelmed him lift, ever so slightly.

    He gasped, surprised to see where he was, almost on his knees upon the street that he had been disgusted to even just stand upon, almost bathing in the blood and gore of the gangsters he had spurned before.

    ¡®W-What was I going to do? N-No, w-what did I do?¡¯

    Miles stared at himself, and the obvious target had he been allowed to reach it, a slew of mangled corpses.

    He couldn¡¯t help but find the noise disconcerting. The screams and howls all gone, leaving a stifling, uncomfortable lack of human noise. It was so strangely silent.

    Miles didn¡¯t, yet also did, remember all that he had done, like a veiled, yet surreal memory from a dream.

    He couldn¡¯t drag his eyes off of the mutilated bodies before him, broken necks, speared through, burned, or with chests beaten in.

    ¡®I did that? Me?

    ...It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine! It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t killed before. These Hakuryuu deserved it! It¡¯s fine. It was self-defense?¡¯

    A familiar voice, the one whose hand had held him back and returned him control, ¡°I apologize Master Miles. I may have anticipated a similar result, but¡­ if not now, it would¡¯ve happened somewhere, someday, to better people that may not have deserved it.¡± The voice was comforting, yet it was also a spear that gouged through his already uncertain mind, ¡°This-- creature within you, it is a responsibility that you must learn to carry, if, you wish to pursue this misbegotten path.¡±

    Miles couldn¡¯t reply¡­

    ¡®I did that. Me.¡¯

    He could only stare, wanting to feel terrified, horrified, but¡ª unable to.

    His mind was in no place to think things through, and Zhan Shen seemed to notice.

    ¡°Right, rest for now,¡± and with that, the warmth returned, but it was different. Calm, peaceful, and welcoming.

    It didn¡¯t take Miles long to lose consciousness, falling into an uncertain rest.

    ¡°Even the mentality of a Bala, an almost Sakti, failed to hold back that¨C thing?¡± the old butler seemed troubled, ¡°It seems we will have much work to do kiddo.¡±

    ***

    Far from the abandoned streets of Yumekuro, sheltered by the great energy dome that shielded them from the sparks of Tartarus¡¯ wrath, lay the never sleeping Inner City.

    Far from the mortals that buzzed down upon the earth, where even the sprawling Inner City appeared no more than a pond of neon lights obscured by wisps of fae-laced fog, stood a resplendent tower of luminous silver glass.

    The epicenter of Capital City, the bustling hub for thousands of transporters that flitted in and out like bees to a hive, overseen by an array of revolving holographic adverts, as if the very heavens were endorsing what the ants below should consume.

    This was the Capital Tower, and atop its lofty spire, amidst the lonely shadows of the often-forgotten rooftop, perched a solitary figure.

    The neon city and the crescent moon reflected off his silver visage in a halo of pure light, and the chilling wind rustled through his blonde hair. He may as well have been an angel, his gleaming white eyes surveying the world below, seemingly seeing everything.

    And he truly did, for wherever he turned, the CCV9 AllSight optical implants would seamlessly connect to all available Capital City surveillance, granting him an unimpeded view of anything and everything, courtesy of Capital Corp. Central Command.

    Petty crimes, heated arguments, clandestine deals, secret trades, whispers and mutterings, nothing could escape his gaze.

    But it was never his place to intervene.

    The man occasionally glanced beyond the walls, at the lush forestry that surrounded Capital City, seeming to want to swallow the industrious city whole, where brave souls defended the city from Fae invaders even now. Where even his own sister¨C

    But his place was here.

    He was but a human component in a grand scheme, a silent observer, a sentinel that could only act upon orders.

    Suddenly, a faint chime resonated in his ear, prompting him to press behind his ear.

    Moments later, his gaze shifted towards a particular region of the outer city, unnaturally dark and lifeless this particular night.

    Surveillance was limited there, but in Capital City the Allsight were the eyes of God. His eyes flashed white, and he answered, ¡°Between Swordlake and Hamelin, a gang war. The Blades and some Netweavers, potentially the Craven, attacking the White Dragons teamed up with¡­ some rats. Nothing of particular unusualness.¡±

    Another chime, another pause, but this time, the reaction of the silver armored man was markedly different, ¡°Orders to help the Blades?! Those gangsters of Swordlake? Is this really what the Knights should care about in the middle of an Orc Invasion?!¡±

    The chimes persisted, and eventually the man¡¯s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, ¡°Yes sir. I¡¯m sorry sir, no sir¨C¡±

    But then, something happened.

    The angelic man¡¯s breath grew heavy, eyes widening, and his figure trembled as if the cold had finally caught up to him. Inadvertently, he lowered his hand, deaf to the chimes in his ear, and began to scour the city below him, his eyes burning through the AllSight.

    And finally, he found the something.

    While the surveillance was more comprehensive here, even the Allsight failed to find anything amiss or out of the norm. There was nothing of note here.

    If it was anyone but him, they would have moved on.

    But he knew different.

    The silver-clad man placed a trembling hand upon his heart, as if to steady himself.

    His gaze darted between Hamelin, Swordlake, and this third district which shared a border with Hamelin.

    It was close enough.

    With a deep breath, the man reached behind his ear and finally answered the incessant, seemingly agitated chimes.

    ¡°Sorry for the delay sir. Interference, I think. Knight Xavier will obey the King¡¯s command.¡±

    With that the chimes finally calmed down, and the man heaved a sigh.

    Even if it meant disobeying direct orders, he had to discover the source. The source of what had struck fear into his heart.

    A feeling so eerily similar, of that night that had struck sheer terror in him, but it couldn¡¯t be¡­

    His target was set; the Kingdom of the Jade Dragon, the gateway to the dark underbelly of the OtherworldTM, the realm of the Hakuryuu.

    The district of Yumekuro.

    And without a moment¡¯s pause, he leapt off the skyscraper. Like a silver meteor free falling towards certain death, or... a falling angel.

 CHAPTER 12: Newborn - Part 1

    A familiar world, of pristine skies, mirrored by crystal clear seas, where all was well¡­

    When the western expanse thrummed with sudden power, transforming half of the sea into a raging maelstrom of surging crimson.

    The sinister red, churning and writhing in chaotic mirth rushed forth, as if to infect all.

    The eastern expanse rose in retaliation, shimmering and rippling through once-calm waters, pulsing with delicate tendrils of ivory-white light, their glow unusually dulled.

    Where the two seas met, reality wavered, manifesting once more as a pulsating scar across existence. One that bore witness to an eternal contest preceding time itself, an emblem of a tumultuous truce.

    What had delved into the depths had resurfaced, no longer the same.

    A world, no longer familiar, sundered in two.

    The boundary between trembled, pushed back by the chaotic sanguine of the west, attempting to usurp the serene waters of the luminous east.

    The equilibrium was shifting, what was once harmonious devolved into discord, the border between, quivering in uncertainty.

    The tranquil sea was forced to retreat, its radiance dulled, as if stifled or in a deep slumber.

    In stark contrast, the raging waves of crimson pulsed with visceral energy, strengthening its dominion over the world.

    One sea had overwhelmed the other, and the boundary between quaked and rumbled.

    Once peaceful waves rose and swelled, tempestuous, crashing in bursts of red and white, of chaos and order.

    The border between sizzled and smoked, a rift in the fabric of the world.

    The rhythmic yet erratic waves clashed with deranged laughter, the sanguine scarlet seeking to uproot the wispy white.

    The line between, the border rending the two realms, was pushed back.

    Yet with every conquest of the crimson sea, the more precarious the world.

    A maddening pressure bore down upon all beneath the heavens.

    And with a sudden rupture, the line of boundary unleashed a dreadful bubble of pitch-black, tarry ichor, as if the abyss itself had sprung forth¡­

    Only to descend once more, dissipating into the ocean depths.

    Then, and only then did the world calm once more, settling itself into an uneasy peace.

    Yet the balance had shattered, once unblemished and peaceful waters forever transformed.

    What remained of a once pristine world was a sundered ocean of sanguine and ivory, the crimson sea reigning supreme.

    ***

    ¡°What can you see Miles?¡±

    The wind tousled through his hair as he held a familiar hand, and Miles looked down at the sprawling city beneath them.

    A metropolis of steel and neon unfolding underneath an energy dome of shimmering gold, the protective glow embracing the entirety of the city and all its denizens with equal favor. Daylight bathed the city, reflected off glass buildings in dazzling patterns that accentuated the vibrant holograms and colossal advertisements. Transporters zipped through the air weaving radiant trails that crisscrossed the skyline, in seemingly chaotic yet harmonious movements.

    The ever-present hum of the energy dome, the sounds of the urban city, filled Miles with a sense of vibrancy.

    It was a sight that he had always found awe-inspiring, but today was different.

    ¡°A stolen kingdom?¡± he answered with discontent.

    A sputtering noise caught Miles by surprise. When he turned, he found his mother with a hand on her face, struggling to stifle her laughter, yet failing spectacularly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny mother! Butler Alexander told me that the Draig family has been methodically usurping the throne from the Lykaon''s over the centuries! He said they didn¡¯t like me being a prince! He even said they were the ones to change the name to Capital City!

    And it¡¯s a really stupid name! What is it even the capital of?¡±

    His mother laughed even harder now, but before Miles could begin to feel wronged, she ruffled his hair, making a proper mess of it.

    He always hated when other people patted him on the head like he was a little child, but he never minded when she did it.

    By the time his mother finally got a handle on her laughter, she knelt down to meet his eyes. Her dress was slightly disheveled, but she was beaming so radiantly that Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel happy too.

    ¡°Alexander is a sweetheart, and he really cares about our family. But this city, it¡¯s not a kingdom, we¡¯re not a monarchy, and there¡¯s no throne to usurp. Even if you¡¯d make a sweet little prince.

    But he wasn¡¯t exactly lying either.¡±

    Miles frowned, ¡°So then¡­¡±

    Without an answer, she gently guided him to turn around, back to the view of the city, the hustle and bustle down below.

    ¡°Look again Miles, what do you see?¡±

    ¡°A City?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but stating the obvious there, mister. A hint then, what does the city have?¡±

    Frowning more deeply, Miles started to make a list, ¡°Buildings? The energy dome? Transporters?¡± he paused, ¡°¡­People?¡±

    ¡°Yes! People!¡±

    Confused, Miles turned to his mother, ¡°You¡¯re also stating the obvious mother.¡±

    She laughed, ¡°Yes, maybe I am!¡± and ruffled his hair again, ¡°But, people are the often overlooked, yet essential component of any Corporation, City¡­ or even kingdom for that matter!¡±

    Miles was still confused.

    But his mother was patient, and she looked deep into his eyes as she continued, ¡°You know this city was built by the people, right? So how can it be a kingdom with a king, or someone¡¯s private backyard to play with as they wish? The men and women that built the city, and decided they wanted the Lykaons to lead them, they¡¯re the real owners. So, if they feel they need someone new to lead them, that¡¯s up to them. Does that make sense, Miles?¡±

    Miles nodded.

    It didn¡¯t.

    His mother smiled, seeing right through him, and bent forwards to place her forehead against his own, ¡°It¡¯s fine if it doesn¡¯t. So, I¡¯ll ask you something else. If you really were my little prince, would you want to be a good one or a bad one?¡±

    Eyes widening, Miles exclaimed, ¡°A good one!¡±

    ¡°Then, if your kingdom was being invaded, should the little prince protect the kingdom or the people?¡±

    Miles paused, chewing his lips, and finally answered, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m old enough to be answering these questions.¡±

    His mother was taken aback, but soon started to laugh again, ¡°I see your father has prepared you really well! The way you avoided that question, you were like a real businessman!¡±

    Miles was sure she was teasing, but he still felt proud.

    Agnes stood back up, wiping off tears, and held out her hand again, ¡°Come on then little prince, since I seem to be a really bad teacher compared to your father, we might as well go and finish the construction of the new transporter engine! I can teach you that at least! But you must promise me to answer that question when you¡¯re older, alright?¡±

    Miles nodded happily as he took her hand.

    He never did get to answer her.

    ***

    Miles found himself awakening in discomfort and unfamiliarity for the second time. Much worse even compared to the sub-par sleeping arrangement he had found himself in before.

    This bed was tough, rock-solid and disconcertingly¡­ concrete?

    Reaching for the old talisman hung around his neck for a moment of solidity, he sat upright immediately, blinking away the unconsciousness and disorientation.

    It didn¡¯t take him long to gather his bearings.

    An unremarkable rooftop.

    The concrete surface was damp beneath his palms, rusted pipes leaked dark water, patches of ambient fae moss and fungi clung to corners in eerie luminescence, and the occasional rat scuttled through dark recesses. It was as typical as an outer city rooftop could be, and to his great relief, he had been lying down in a sufficiently dry area.

    Miles glanced at his shoulder, remembering the grievous injury, only to find¡­

    A palm sized hole in his expensive suit, the inlaid ogre skin peeking out from underneath the seam where the suit had been ripped through, and no signs of injury, to him.

    ¡®What the hell?! Even the broken bone has grown back?¡¯

    His surprise must¡¯ve shown on his face for a voice pierced the silence soon after, ¡°That¡¯s right! That is the reaction expected! I just watched your bones regrow, muscles knit back together, and skin regenerate in the span of half an hour! Whatever Vampirism has granted you, it is no ordinary recovery ability! That was true-blue regeneration, a Fae ability only known to be gained from serums meant for those beyond Gamma!¡±

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Turning his attention to Zhan Shen, the obvious owner of the voice, Miles observed the butler leaning against a wall of the stairwell enclosure leading to this rooftop.

    He glanced back at his shoulder, rotating and flexing the muscle, poking and prodding at his skin to make sure it was real.

    Even through the hole in the suit, there wasn¡¯t a scar to be seen, no lingering pain, not even a trace of the injury.

    ''Huh, so, while the fire, or rather the laser, halted Conditional Undeath, it was not permanent.''

    Presumably, it had restarted once the heat of the laser had died down, and there was no longer a ''fire'' to interrupt the healing.

    But unlike Zhan Shen, Miles was not disconcerted by the extent of his regeneration. Considering the description in the system status and what he had seen of that Vampire before, he had expected something similar. Even if fire, one of the mentioned weaknesses, was involved.

    Well, the exact duration required for the regeneration, half an hour if Zhan Shen was to be believed, the extent of the injury, and the relationship of the two quantities thereof, was definitely something of interest¡­ but this was not the time for experimentation.

    Miles exhaled a heavy, conflicted breath.

    If anything, he found the events prior to be of greater concern.

    The events of the fight and everything after were clear, yet also¡­ not. It was like he was looking through a fogged window.

    It was all there in his memory, but it didn''t feel right.

    He could remember what he had done, no, he could feel it.

    Miles caressed the dried blood on his fists.

    He could remember what it felt like, as these same knuckles broke through ribs to cave in a chest. He could remember these fingers grabbing onto a head, and just snapping the neck in two.

    He could still feel these very fingers break, as he tried and succeeded in ripping off an arm. How that very same arm was used to impale half a dozen gangsters to death.

    Miles glanced at the unseelie steel tipped boot on his right foot, the infernal metal as morbid as usual, but the leather of the boot near the tip seemed to have darkened. He could clearly remember how this boot had kicked through a palm and gouged out an eye.

    He didn''t even need to look, he could feel it, on him, on his suit.

    He could smell it. Tickling, irritating, assaulting his nose.

    Rusted, rancid Cyberware and¡ª blood.

    The deaths were... acceptable. He had been trained, prepared all his life to accept it.

    Yes, that was fine. The problem was that he could remember, no, he wondered if he could ever forget...

    How he had lost all semblance of control.

    That surge of emotions, from something inside of him, the pure unadulterated rage that had shattered even through his meditative control, the disgusting thirst that had made him want to lap at a gangster''s throat like an unhinged, uncontrolled feral beast¡­

    If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that just the memory, and the smell of bloo¡ª didn¡¯t cause his mouth to feel unusually dry, reminding him of a thirst he was sure he shouldn¡¯t be feeling, Miles might¡¯ve wondered if he was imagining it all up.

    ¡®Pathetic. How could I have lost control so easily? Pathetic.¡¯

    And yet, despite all that, being a Vampire, no, Vawul, was what had led him to be the victor of the fight. The currently not even scratched victor.

    Miles was under no illusion about his position in the battle power ''food chain''.

    No serums, no cyberware. If he wasn''t the Lykaon heir, all he had for him was some martial arts training and what little he had gained from Zhan Shen''s spiritualism practice.

    In just the prior fight against the runts of the Hakuryuu, not even full-fledged gangsters, he had struggled.

    Despite his numerous advantages, Vampirism was what had played a pivotal role. Without the title of Newborn Vawul granting him Vawulan Senses, the very air would not have ''assisted'' in avoiding the many attacks. Without Conditionally Undead he still would have a burnt through hole in his shoulder.

    So even if all that had come at a steep cost, the results were already there for him to see.

    Pushing a hand through his hair, Miles answered to the elderly butler, a grin on his face, ¡°I told you didn¡¯t I old Zhan? I don¡¯t make losing deals! If I chose Vampirism, it is with a reason!¡±

    Zhan Shen narrowed his eyes, but eventually scoffed, ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, but sure, we¡¯ll see soon enough, won¡¯t we?¡±

    Miles tried to hold the grin for a while longer but failed. And it was silence.

    Even though he knew what he had gained, even when he had experienced the results...

    He kept staring at himself, and his bloodied hands, and trying his level best to try and not think about¡ª

    He really needed a distraction, and spoke out, "The regeneration is all well and good, but I¡­ old Zhan, do you have some way to control the ''side effects''?¡±

    Miles didn¡¯t get a reply, and it was long enough to make him look up, to find Zhan Shen leaning back, looking up at the night sky.

    The leaking Fae effluents had accumulated over the sky of the outer city for centuries, turning it into a shimmering, dancing affair, like something out of a fever dream.

    The old butler pursed his lips, and finally glanced down from the shifting sky, ¡°I don¡¯t know much about Vampirism, besides what I can glean from your¡­ changes, but, controlling the mind and spirit, that I can surely help with. So, yes, we¡¯ll talk more after the visit to the Faesycian.¡±

    Miles nodded, this was indeed neither the time nor the place for spiritual meditation.

    The old butler however, chewed on his lip for a few seconds, before finally asking, ¡°Master Miles, about the fight, I¡­ knew that something might happen, but still¨C¡±

    Miles was quick to wave a hand, ¡°I understand. It was a good lesson, and you know I do not shy from responsibility. It¡¯s all good old Zhan.¡±

    Zhan Shen shook his head, ¡°I will still apologize, nonetheless. I may have overstepped my authority¨C¡±

    Miles frowned, ¡°Oh shut up old Zhan! Overstepping authority my ass! Is this really coming from the same fellow that would hurl their young master across rooms for training?¡±

    ¡°W-What? Master Miles that was for your training! And it was under controlled, safe conditions! Not like this, where you may have been maimed for life had it not been for your regeneration! Even I don¡¯t¨C¡±

    Miles took a moment, but eventually smirked, ¡°Ah, I see now, you¡¯re trying to make me forget about the fact that I went and won the bet, right? What, afraid of what this young master will make you do?¡±

    Zhan Shen froze.

    This conversation was obviously not going the way he had expected.

    But in the end, the old butler seemed to understand his intentions, and let out a relieved yet grateful laugh, ¡°Ha! I have and always will be a man of my word! And me? Afraid? Is your head screwed on quite all right?¡±

    ¡®Good. That¡¯s better. You don¡¯t need to be regretful old Zhan. You were right. This is my decision, and my responsibility.¡¯

    Zhan Shen still seemed relieved as he continued with a clap of his hands, ¡°Well then Master Miles, before you lose more of your mental faculties, let us set off without any further delay¨C¡±

    At that, however, Miles raised a finger, cutting off Zhan Shen, as he casually rose from the floor, ¡°A moment please. Something I believe needs to be taken care of, before continuing our visit to the local ripper-doc.¡±

    There had been a strange feeling, like a beeping reminder or a sense of nagging, from inside his mind.

    He might even have focused on it first had it not been for, well everything else. But it wasn¡¯t particularly troublesome or distracting. It was just there.

    Not something he had meant to do and forgotten, not a lapse in memory or thought, but something unnatural.

    And as it turned out, a wonderful distraction from everything he was doing his level best to ignore.

    Feeling the slightest tinge of excitement, Miles mentally called out to the system. And like an avalanche, a barrage of messages flooded his vision, text as dark as midnight over transparent boxes.

    Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

    [You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.3) / Vulcan Energy [Stamina Boost] Implant (v0.5))} x5]

    [You have slain {Human / Inferior Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.9) / Vulcan Inferno [Pyrotechnic - Palm] Implant (v1.2))} x1]

    [You have slain {Human / Inferior Cyber-Ware (Sybahware Quik [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.7) / Capital Oculus [Vision - Eye] Implant (v1.6))} x2]

    [You have slain {Human / Common Cyber-Ware (Capital Oculus Azure [Vision/Reactionary - Eye/Partial Nerve] Implants (v2.3) / Lefay Draconian Skin [Defensive Interaugmentary] Implant (v1.9))} x1]

    [You have slain {Human / Uncommon Cyber-Ware (Sybahware PowerMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v1.1) / Sybahware Strider [Tool - Left Foot] Implant (v1.3) / Vulcan Blade of Mantis [Weapon - Arm] Implant (v3.3))} x1]

    [You have slain {Human / Uncommon Cyber-Ware (Sybahware Quiker [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v1.8) / Vulcan Tower Shield [Tool - Arm] Implant (v2.0) / Lefay Neural Burst [Weapon/Tool - Palm] Implant (v4.2))} x1]

    [You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware (Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.3) / Vulcan Energy [Stamina Boost] Implant (v0.5) / Sybahware Strider [Tool - Right Foot] Implant (v1.3)} x1]

    [You have slain {Human / Worthless Cyber-Ware ( Sybahware Iron Boned [Skeletal Enhancement] Implant (v1.2) / Sybahware StrongMan [Muscle Enhancement] Implant (v0.5))} x1]

    To be perfectly honest, Miles had some difficulty perusing the kill notifications.

    Oh, not out of guilt, regret, sadness or anything of the sort. That was different.

    This was simply about the fact that they presented a deplorable spectacle of terrible and outdated cyberware.

    ¡®StrongMan and PowerMan, Quik and Quiker, both standard muscular enhancement implants. Strider, a basic leg implant for an instantaneous dash via a rudimentary piston embedded into the foot, usually used as a pair. And if I¡¯m not wrong, all three are implants from SybahwareTM. But didn¡¯t my father buy them out nearly two decades ago? These implants are practically antiques now!¡¯

    Without frequent patches and updates, they must have led to severe compatibility issues, neural lag and even bio-poisoning.

    As for the rest, although originating from ostensibly ¡®superior¡¯ corporations, the versions indicated were still over a decade old!

    To think these runts of gangsters couldn¡¯t have gotten their hands on a single piece of quality Lykaon Cyberware. No wonder they had smelled like ancient, rusting metal.

    As for Fae Serums, or rather their general absence, either these Hakuryuu runts couldn''t afford them, didn''t have the sufficient Faetality to use them, or the Fae Serums were not being shown in the system notifications for some reason. Miles was fairly confident that the real reason was a combination of the former two.

    But what truly intrigued him was the implication of the information presented here.

    ¡®A System that originated from a Vampire and/or Werewolf, presumably Fae, is somehow capable of perfectly analyzing human made Cyberware, down to the manufacturer and version?! Even Cybernetics from 20 years ago? When it¡¯s nat-tech? How?!¡¯

    Well, there were a few possible answers.

    Perhaps this ¡®system¡¯ had access to a comprehensive database of information on humanity¡¯s technological history. Not an unfounded hypothesis, considering that in the era preceding Fae Serums, the many fairies that had first appeared had managed to tamper with the almost all of the nuclear warheads, leaving only uselessly large pieces of metal, or in the worst of such cases, had them explode on the spot.

    Or perhaps the system had gleaned the data from his own mind, but even Miles with all his experience and knowledge couldn¡¯t perfectly identify the versions of 20-year-old Cyberware.

    ¡®It''s still possible, if a lot more people than I¡¯m expecting have access to a similar system?¡¯

    Or¡­ maybe the system was simply omniscient.

    Running a hand through his hair, Miles sighed.

    None of the conclusions were particularly good news, but it wasn¡¯t like he had not expected some catches with easy power. Most importantly, it¡¯s not like he could do anything about it.

    ¡®So, right, leave it for the future.¡¯

    Immediately, as if it had been waiting for him to arrive at such a conclusion, the wall of notifications extended.

 CHAPTER 13: Newborn - Part 2

    Ding!

    [First Kill => First Massacre, Registered.

    Class Activation Condition: The First Reaping - Completed!]

    Ding!

    [Congratulations, Class - Newborn (Vawul) fully unlocked. The Path of the Vawulan unfurls before you.]

    Miles¡¯ eyes shone with recognition. ¡®So, the requirement to completely activate the Newborn class was killing? Possibly the requirement for leveling up as well? While macabre, it is understandable I suppose. Not just for a system that resembles video games, but one meant for Vampires.

    But I do wonder why the condition was never explicitly stated, but only mentioned post-completion? A bit strange, but acceptable.¡¯

    Ding!

    [Class - Newborn (Vawul)

    For all reborn with the blessing of Chaos, the Newborn Class is the first step in the infinite, endless path in being Vawul.

    A Newborn is endowed with high attributes, boundless growth potential, and the Key of Ankh.

    Bestows the title (Newborn), +5 to all attributes but wisdom, and basic Vawulan senses.

    Attribute gain per level: +1 Str, +1 Agi, +1 End, +1 Free Point.

    Consumption of Blood Sources may provide additional free Attribute Points.

    The might of Chaos¡¯ Vawul is overwhelming, hence the World interferes and imposes the title (Cursed) upon you.

    Evolutionary Condition: Reach Level 10.]

    Ding!

    [Vawulan Class: Newborn has reached Lvl.4 - Stat Points Allocated.]

    In the notifications that followed, there was some flavor text about chaos, ¡®paths of Vawul¡¯ and what not, which he merely glanced through.

    What actually caught Miles¡¯ attention came next.

    A point increase in all physical attributes, and a bonus free point, for every level up. This was equivalent to the effects of four gnome tier serums with none of the costs of Faetality.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but take pause.

    Even if leveling were to halt at level 10, that still meant an aggregate gain of 40 attribute points. For below Epsilon Faehumans, with an average cost of approximately 5 Faetality per gnome/sprite tier single point attribute enhancement serum, this was akin to an additional +200 in Faetality!

    In other words, technically, theoretically, in pure potential he could be considered an ¡®Epsilon¡¯ now!

    But of course, that was merely self-placation.

    Epsilons acted as a demarcation among Faehumans, the benchmark for those that could use Fae Serums beyond the Goblin and Pixie tiers, the level beyond which Fae Serums reveal their true capability.

    ¡®Besides it¡¯s not like system attributes would hold in an actual Faetality test¡­ right? Highly doubtful, but certainly worth investigating.¡¯

    However, what if leveling did not stop at level 10? What if he could actually go even higher?

    ¡®Just these enhanced attributes and my current Faetality could hold some leverage in the next executive meeting. And if it doesn¡¯t end there¡­¡¯

    A loud cough, but still politely curt, resounded.

    ¡°You¡¯re grinning into the air like a fool, Master Miles. Good news, or have you finally lost the last of your marbles?¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s words dragged him out of his reverie, though not from his good mood.

    Miles simply chuckled in response, ¡°If anyone has lost their marbles, statistically speaking it would be the elderly of the two of us. Missing marbles aside, I won¡¯t spoil the surprise old Zhan, you¡¯ll see the ¡®good news¡¯ soon enough,¡± and returned his attention to the notifications.

    Focusing on his breathing, he calmed his excitement.

    The information regarding the levels and attributes were terrific news, but he would not accept it as truth until he could experience the effects for himself. Blind trust in seemingly omniscient and omnipotent systems did not feel wise.

    Perhaps the visit to the Faesycian could shed some light on the matter, or else he would simply have to continue leveling up and confirm it himself.

    ¡®But, I suppose, it¡¯s good to know that even if I end up being a blood-thirsty monster, I will be freakishly enhanced¡­¡¯

    Satisfied with that conclusion, Miles moved on. The system notification revealed further flavor text, that the Cursed title was enforced by the ¡®world¡¯.

    While this happened to be one of his bigger worries, it was nebulous at best, and thus was passed over.

    And finally came the notification that hinted at a ¡®Class Evolution¡¯ upon reaching level 10. While ¡®Evolution¡¯ could be considered self-explanatory, it demanded further explanation, which unfortunately the system didn¡¯t seem forthcoming about.

    So, what Miles found far more interesting however was what had been mentioned just prior.

    Consumption of Blood Sources may provide additional free Attribute Points.

    ¡®But what defines a Blood Source? A living, blooded creature perhaps? Then what does consumption entail?

    Even if purely for the potential in hoarding massive amounts of ¡®Free Points¡¯, presumably attribute points that can be freely placed in any stat as one so desires, this is definitely worth experimenting.¡¯

    It was potentially, another, almost impossible to believe, source of Attribute Points.

    ¡®Well, it¡¯s not like I have the first clue on how to consume ¡®blood sources¡¯, and there doesn¡¯t seem to be any further explanations, so, later. ¡¯

    Miles paused. Was that it, or¡ª

    The answer was no, for the notifications decided to continue.

    Ding!

    [Chaos has deemed the Vawulan¡¯s destruction to be acceptable, and worthy of reward.

    Insufficient for Roster Access¡­

    Insufficient for New Discipline¡­

    Insufficient for Discipline Expansion¡­]

    Despite all that, it didn¡¯t take long for a new window to appear. He called it new, because instead of white text, this one came with a hint of gold, upon a pitch-black screen.

    Ding!

    ||Class Activation Reward||

    [The Vawulan may choose any of the following.

    10 free Attribute Points {+}

    OR

    Skill: |Haemomancy| ¨C {Sanguis Ardeat - Inferior} {+}]

    At that, Miles raised an ecstatic eyebrow, for there was even more to unpack.

    ¡®So, I did something worthy of reward? Perhaps something to do with the fact that the first kill became the first massacre? Was I only supposed to kill one person?¡¯

    Miles sincerely doubted he was an overachiever, because apparently there had been a lot more things his ¡®destruction¡¯ was insufficient for than things he could have.

    ¡®But, more ¡®destruction¡¯, implying a worse massacre, would¡¯ve meant better rewards?¡¯

    Miles immediately caught himself and the traitorous line of thought.

    Obviously, the system rewarded destruction.

    There was no conclusive evidence that this was the norm, or even the only cause for reward, but something told him that at the very least, it was one facet that would be considered.

    And they were quite rewarding.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡®Either 10 free attribute points, equivalent to about 10 gnome/sprite tier fae serums, or¡­ a skill.¡¯

    The Skill was labeled Inferior, similar to {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank)}, the skill that had appeared in his status under the Discipline of |Hemomancy|.

    Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t even know how to use it.

    In Miles¡¯ defense, he had attempted to use it, or at least get some reaction out of it. Specifically, this was when Zhan Shen and he had been dashing over the rooftops, and the old butler had been too far busy showing off to notice or hear what he was doing.

    ¡®Conclusion, neither thinking nor calling out the skill name, in English nor Latin, did anything.¡¯

    But Miles did have an inkling on how he might use the skill, which he planned on trying out immediately at the Faesycian clinic.

    Nevertheless, the fact that the system did not explain how the skill should be used, was quite annoying.

    ¡®Is that how it was meant to be? Is it a design flaw? Or maybe something else?¡¯

    Miles was unsure, but he had to consider that, before making a decision here.

    He glanced at the skill in question, ¡®Sanguis Ardeat, that would translate roughly into... Blood Burn?¡¯

    Even as the translation applied to the system window, confirming he was sufficiently accurate, Miles continued to ponder.

    ¡®Well, that sounds interesting. Cool even. But, it could range anywhere from shooting blood flames to giving moderate to serious fevers?¡®

    Miles chewed his lip, deep in thought, before finally deciding to do a minor test, and ask a direct question from the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent existence that was now living in his mind.

    ¡®System, can you explain the skill Sanguis Ardeat?¡¯

    Receiving no reply in the first attempt, he repeated it a few times, and tried it out aloud as well, just in case. But as expected, all he got was silence, and a strange stare from Zhan Shen.

    Miles felt a bit silly, but he placated himself with the conclusion that this was merely in the spirit of science and the scientific method.

    At least now he knew the system wasn¡¯t sentient.

    Or, particularly sociable.

    Either worked.

    But without any further context, Miles was left with a decision between the known effect of attribute enhancement, or an unknown, inconclusive skill, that sounded like it would be amazing.

    Being a relatively, arguably, successful businessman, Miles honestly didn¡¯t want to rush the decision without finding out more. Perhaps the Faesycian clinic and planned experimentations with Blood Bank could help him decide if these skills were anything he could actually use?

    So, he allowed the Reward window to close, after a quick confirmation that it could be used in a similar manner to the system status of course.

    And with that, it appeared he had caught up with all the notifications, and he decided to end with a final thought of ¡®status¡¯.

    Immediately the previous notifications were blinked away, replaced by a familiar interface.

    [User: Miles Lykaon (! Pending Reward Selection !)]

    [Current Form: Vawul]

    [Vawulan Class: Newborn Lvl. 4 || (0/10) Varying Blood Sources Consumed]

    [Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 0| - Untrained]

    [Vawulan Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve first.]

    [HP: 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP: 8/110]

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 8/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 0/100}

    [Strength: 21] (+4) ¡ü

    [Endurance: 23] (+4) ¡ü

    [Agility: 22] (+4) ¡ü

    [Intelligence: 64]

    [Wisdom: 37]

    [Influence: 5 (+1000)]

    [Free Points: 4] (+4) ¡ü

    [Skills: General - {Nameless Movement Art - Unique}

    Haemomancy- {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}, {Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique}]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

    Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

    Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred}

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    Balanced?

    Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed)

    Last Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    It was nice that the status had been updated to remind him of the unselected reward, but unless the system decided to be a bit more forthcoming and explain certain problematic aspects, it would have to be patient, regardless of how many exclamations it decided to put in.

    Miles did however raise an eyebrow at the fact that a dozen white dragon runts only equated to four levels.

    ¡®It is reasonable I suppose.¡¯

    Miles clenched and unclenched his fists, and he thought he could feel the effects of the attribute increase, but he should probably test it out again.

    As for the four free points, Miles decided he wasn¡¯t in a hurry to randomly boost attributes without much research and decided to reserve them for the time being as well.

    All of that can come after the Faesycian Clinic Analysis.

    But there was something that did make him pause.

    The fact that while his injuries had fully healed and his HP was fully back to 10, the Blood Points (BP) was down to 8. It had not regenerated.

    ¡®That¡¯s¡­ interesting.

    If I remember correctly, during the fight, when I... got skewered through my shoulder,¡¯ Miles flexed his arm almost instinctively, glad to feel that it was perfectly whole, ¡®I lost 2 HP, and approximately 2 BP. It¡¯s a bit strange that 2.1 was rounded off, but hey, I won¡¯t complain.¡¯

    All of that was reasonable enough.

    He had been 20% closer to dying, and he had lost about 21% of his blood capacity, a liter to be approximate.

    His regeneration had kicked in after he had lost consciousness. The HP had regenerated, but not the lost blood.

    ¡®Huh, so that explains the ¡®possible to become comatose due to total blood loss¡¯ part of (Conditional Undeath). If the Blood Points fall to 0, then that will probably be when I fall into the coma. It covers the ''condition'' part of the undeath.¡¯

    It also gave experimentation with blood quite the high priority in his to-do list. It would be quite terrible if Miles just so happened to lose too much blood and fall into an eternal slumber of some sort,

    That seemed to be it, well, besides the strangeness in his Influence attribute. The 5 points from the Newborn title was present as usual, but the supposed 1000 from being the *sigh* Discredited Heir, was presented unusually.

    But then again, influence also happened to be the only attribute that could not be measured, and thus also the most esoteric of them all.

    So, he couldn¡¯t really do much here.

    And with that, he was finally done.

    Miles glanced around the derelict rooftop, his eyes falling on Zhan Shen, arms crossed, gazing at the fog laden view of the outer city and the shifting stars above, in silence but tapping his right foot with great, impatient fervor.

    ¡°Done. We can proceed now, old Zhan.¡±

    The elderly butler however remained motionless, turning around with a piercing gaze that fixated upon him, ¡°What were you doing, no, what did you do Master Miles? I would have thought it impossible for an undead to die, but over the course of the last few minutes, your aura just¡­ ¡®died¡¯ even more. A subtle change, but it is still worse than before.¡¯

    ¡®The hell? Can Old Zhan detect even the complete activation of the Newborn class?¡¯

    Since he hadn¡¯t accepted the reward or done any attribute enhancement, that had to be the only change that Zhan Shen could have noticed.

    Either way, this time Miles opted to answer with complete transparency.

    Controlling his vampiric nature was paramount, and Zhan Shen¡¯s assistance would be invaluable. If he concealed information, it would only serve to hinder their progress.

    ¡°Well, it turned out that my Vampirification had been incomplete. Killing was apparently the criterion for achieving completion, and also, accepting the notification.¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s brow furrowed, ¡°I suppose it makes sense for a Vampiric ¡®System¡¯ to incentivize killing, but why would you comply so easily?¡± The old butler¡¯s fists clenched, ¡°Was this the reason you were grinning at the air like an idiot? You do understand this makes reversing Vampirism even more difficult?¡±

    Miles frowned back, ¡°First, I had only suspected and was not aware that I would become ¡®more¡¯ of a Vampire until the notification appeared. Second, no, my ¡®idiotic grinning¡¯ was not solely because of this. And third, did we not have an agreement, old Zhan? Reversing Vampirism will only be considered if it is found to be more trouble than it is worth.¡°

    But he tilted his head with a smirk, ¡°Besides you said it yourself, won¡¯t we find out the answer soon enough?

    Zhan Shen fell silent, his tense fists gradually relaxing.

    ¡°Let it be so then Master Miles. Let us find out.¡±

    ***

    The mists of Yumekuro clung to the streets, like an ethereal remnant from the netherworld.

    In a familiar street, a familiar mirage-caster continued to weave dreams upon veils of distorted faery dust, projecting the fervor of Capital City¡¯s valiant knights and warriors.

    But the rowdy gangsters who had once cheered with patriotic zeal, the same gangsters that had mercilessly trampled upon the fragile existence of the Otheraddicts, were no more.

    Much like the Otherworld addicts lost to reality, the fledgling dragons too were lost to the world.

    Miles had recoiled, shocked by the sheer cruelty on display, the barbaric manner in which the would-be Hakuryuu had been slaughtered.

    What had once been an ordinary street now resembled a butcher¡¯s workshop.

    Even with Miles¡¯ best attempts at avoiding what remained of the gangsters, the streets squelched even louder than he remembered, sending ripples through the liquid that had painted the concrete street in a fresh coat of dying crimson.

    The smell of iron and blood, dancing with the rancid stench of rotting cyberware, now mingled with the scent of death.

    Everything was only made worse by the fact that the Otherjunkies were still there, lost in the OtherworldTM as if nothing had changed. Not a single fate had been changed.

    Miles pushed forward, through the grim aftermath of what should only have been a minor altercation.

    Zhan Shen walked alongside, assisting in the unavoidable task that had forced him to cover the entirety of this foul street.

    His Lykaon Insignia ring and Zhan Shen¡¯s silver winged brooch glowed with a hazy light. It was so faint that it could be easily overlooked, appearing quite ordinary at first glance.

    However, as Miles or Zhan Shen ventured near specific locations, where remnants of deceased gangsters lay, the light reacted, a shimmer manifesting upon them and the street below.

    While everything remained seemingly unchanged, those who knew would know that the faint obscure glimmer was wholly erasing even the most subtle traces of their presence, what may have been sensed by the most perceptive of fae-humans or even fae.

    This was yet another manifestation of the magic of the Amathaka Fairy, a remarkably elusive clan of Faery, not completely different from that which was still active upon their faces, channeled through the Lykaon Network with the insignia ring and winged brooch as intermediaries.

    As the pools of blood rippled under his boots, even as he did his best to avoid desecrating the dead any further, even as the ghostly illumination from the ring touched the lifeless forms, Miles donned his usual stoic face, perfectly emotionless, revealing nothing to the world.

    It was a solemn, somber process.

    The light of the brooch assisted the ring, Zhan Shen remained unperturbed.

    Their presence was being obliviated, and soon enough it would be as if the Hakuryuu had been killed by¡­ well, nothing.

    Neither spoke, their silence unplanned but tacit. A final gesture to the fallen, just a modicum of respect.

 CHAPTER 14: Faesycian - Part 1

    The Hakuryuu, translation White Dragons, and their enigmatic leader the Gokuryuu, translation Jade Dragon, are simultaneously, everybody¡¯s worst nightmare to meet in an alleyway, legends of the outer-city, and living myths.

    The Gokuryuu is said to be a dragon of jade, a real Fae dragon lurking amongst humans, while his army of Hakuryuu, are all lesser dragons.

    Every other gang in the outer city would beg to differ.

    ¨COn the Dragons of Yumekuro, a deep-dive into Outer City Gangs.

    ***

    The persistent, hazy fog had thickened, obscuring the path and the distant view, leaving only desolate streets and forlorn echoes of their boots against tar and cobblestone to accompany them.

    Miles was displeased, disgusted and disturbed.

    It wasn¡¯t the dryness in his throat, or the vague uncomfortable feeling of dehydration pervading through his body.

    It wasn¡¯t even the smell, for Miles had begrudgingly gotten used to the unique flavor of Yumekuro, no, now the problem was the source of the smell.

    They were quite a distance away from the alleyway where they had encountered the gangsters, but he was still not freed of the stench of dried blood and cyber rust.

    The problem was his suit, and the fact that he had to stomach wearing bloodied, tarnished clothing was extremely stifling.

    To be fair, bespoke suits from R&B, Rumple and Bertrada, were anything but ordinary. This particular suit was already in the process of weaving itself back together, the black outer thread moving as if it was alive to re-stitch the cloth which had been ripped through. A sprite essenced enchantment, one that was proprietary, so he was not privy to the specific intricacies.

    The suit was even capable of self-cleansing to some extent, which helped, but wasn¡¯t nearly enough to escape his heightened senses.

    Back then, considering that the use of re-weaving thread and inlaying ogre skin already cost a small fortune, Miles had decided to save some gold by reducing the strands of naiad hair (responsible for auto-cleansing) sown in, even disregarding the insulted and horrified Mr. Rumple and Madam Bertrada.

    In Miles¡¯ defense, it had seemed wise then. He had simply not expected that he would ever have to wear dirty clothes for long.

    But, now feeling the bloody stench emanating off of himself, imagining how much of a brigand he must seem like (the Amathaka Obliviation only worked on their faces), Miles definitely regretted it now.

    Zhan Shen laughed with a clap upon his back, ¡°Why are you acting like you fell into a mountain of giant droppings Master Miles? It¡¯s just a bit of blood! And the red really brings out the Vampire in you!¡±

    Miles returned a silent, deadpan look. The old butler sure seemed to be enjoying this, and it was profoundly making matters worse.

    So, without further ado, Miles grabbed Zhan Shen¡¯s hand and slapped it onto a particularly large and wet splatter of blood over his suit, one that the watery naiad essence was having considerable trouble cleansing, in an attempt to wipe it away.

    It didn¡¯t really help, and it didn¡¯t last for long as old Zhan pulled back almost immediately, but that had not been the point.

    ¡°Oi!¡± but as expected, Zhan Shen didn¡¯t seem to mind it much at all, as he simply grinned, ¡°What? You thought I¡¯d be a hypocrite? Like I said, it¡¯s just a bit of blood, and not everybody has your problems,¡± and revealed the hand in question, just how a magician would reveal a trick, now spontaneously cleansed of blood.

    Perhaps even cleaner than it had been before it had been slapped onto the blood stain.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help widen his eyes in disbelief, ¡°How¡¯d you do that? You never told me instantaneous cleaning was included in your spiritual bag of tricks!¡±

    He gazed down at his bloodied clothes, and back at Zhan Shen¡¯s spotless hand, ¡°Forget my readiness, and teach me already. Old Zhan, this is a matter of life or death!¡±

    Zhan Shen crossed his arms with a prideful smirk, ¡°Oh really? Enough to give up Vampirism, Master Miles?¡±

    Miles pursed his lips in annoyance, his silence enough of an answer.

    Zhan Shen grinned, childish glee at odds with his wizened face, ¡°Tough luck then! Besides, dhara gala is way out of your reach for now, but I could have helped out myself, and now I won¡¯t! No worries though, aren¡¯t you Vampires supposed to like blood?¡±

    Miles paused, seemingly ignoring the provocation, but then he turned back, with a surprising smirk of his own, ¡°Very well then, you have left me no choice old Zhan. I call upon your oath! As the victor of our former bet, fulfill your end of the deal and clean up this blood, and leave not a drop.¡± Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel pleased, ¡°I must admit that is as useful as that bet could have become!¡±

    Zhan Shen froze, his cheeky grin falling apart at the seams.

    He glanced to the side, tasting his mouth several times, before turning back with a darkened face.

    ¡°...Fine! I am a man of my word!¡±

    And it was Miles¡¯ turn to grin in glee, but he had more class than a certain old butler, so he satisfied himself with Zhan Shen¡¯s disgruntled expression. The old butlers passed his hand over Miles¡¯ suit, without actual contact, covering the front, the back and the sleeves, and by the time he was done, somehow the blood had been made to just¡­ vanish.

    Faery nymph hair be damned, Zhan Shen¡¯s palm was worth a Nymph¡¯s entire head!

    Nevertheless, Miles tactfully held himself back from inquiring more about the ¡®dhara gala¡¯. It was neither the time nor place, and all it would have done was make Zhan Shen feel pleased as he would have definitely refused to explain in petty revenge.

    With that, the wardrobe malfunction was taken care of, and Miles enjoyed the relief of being freed of the stench of dried, crusty blood. And of course, the fashion suicide he might have been forced to commit.

    Without the blood constantly agitating him, he even felt that the thirst had lessened to a considerable extent.

    Miles, freed of the scent of blood, was finally able to focus now. Even while on the move, he meditated upon his breathing, enough to have get a solid handle on himself and his newfound bloodthirst.

    Time passed uneventfully as they trudged along the streets.

    Slowly the view had begun to shift, the narrow compact streets trapped between monotonous buildings expanding, wider and more open.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Miles¡¯ ears perked up, because before he ever saw it, he could hear it.

    The hustle and bustle of a crowd, an agitated one, if the shouting and screaming were anything to go by.

    This was not usual. Even if there were people out and about during an orc invasion, they should have been considerably more subdued.

    Zhan Shen narrowed his eyes in concentration, and for a moment it seemed he was looking at something other than the street they were walking along, but he finally shook his head, ¡°I can¡¯t make heads or tails of it. Something about street rats, something about cyber ware¡­¡±

    Miles frowned, ¡°The sounds of screaming from near your clinic does not promote confidence in the Faesycian in question, old Zhan.¡±

    The old butler shrugged, ¡°We''ll just have to see now, won''t we?¡±

    Miles pursed his lips, and they continued, eventually arriving at a scene of¡­ moderate chaos.

    Yumekuro¡¯s Commercial Region turned out to be a dark, pensive area packed tight with abandoned stalls, each adorned with garish, mostly unlit will-o-wisp signs. The few that were lit, happened to be the only sources of flickering, unsteady light.

    It would¡¯ve been the picture of desolation and abandonment had it not been for scatterings of individuals, scanning and searching the area, looking behind and inside the many stalls with unsettling fervor.

    A concrete hut with a subterranean entrance seemed to have been searched so thoroughly, that a couple had climbed and were peering inside the width of eight-foot-tall neon silhouettes of presumably scantily clad, currently unlit and hence not dancing, women.

    A barely standing tent, its white tarp dirtied and defiled into a darkened gray. The opening flap weaved in the wind to reveal upended and haphazardly thrown empty cages and unlocked chains of cold iron, as if a storm had rumbled through¡­ from the inside.

    ¡®I suppose, even in the outer city, Fae are popular commodities.''

    But whether the Fae in question had been moved by the owner or looted away, Miles couldn''t say.

    Those few individuals were actually the minority, as Miles¡¯ night vision, and a flickering will-o-wisp sign nearby, picked out a larger number off to a building by the side, near what appeared to be open drainage. They were too packed to see what was actually going on, but they were very obviously the source of agitated shouting, arguing and screaming.

    ¡®What in the Sidhe are they doing?¡¯

    Although, neither Miles nor Zhan Shen were of the opinion that the strange mob were any of their business, the matter of Hayato Ryota and the presence of so many people could not be ignored.

    So, they halted, next to a dilapidated stall, where a lone man was rushing around excitedly as he filled his pants with packets of CornuCorp¡¯s trademark Sprite Jelly.

    Even on the best of days, sprite jelly meant a terrible dining experience, not to mention that these seemed to be poorly packed and left exposed to the elements to the point that a toadstool or two had started to grow upon the gelatine.

    Miles tapped on the rusted, steel sheeting of the stall, ¡°Hey, any idea about what¡¯s going on here?¡±

    The man stopped, but started to pack up even faster, as if fearful that they would steal his clearly expired, fae fungi ridden ration jelly.

    Miles knocked on the stall even louder, this time bringing out a small blue card from his suit pockets and holding it out, ¡°10,000 credits, if you tell us about what¡¯s going on here.¡±

    At that, the man finally paused, his eyes wavering between the load of sprite jelly yet to be pushed into his pants, and the blue card being held out. Finally, he decided to waddle over, rather uncomfortably.

    He stared at the card, nodded as if the offering was acceptable, and revealed a pitch-black toothed grin, ¡°Aye, for that price, anything laddy! It¡¯s a dragon bounty, the Gokuryuu is giving a million to any gonk that brings some bastard in. Alive, or youse the one that¡¯ll have to keep ¡®im company.

    Words got out that the bastard was spotted around here. Now half of outer city¡¯s punks are running around old Yumekuro to find ¡®im.¡±

    He reached out for the card, but Miles pulled back with a frown, ¡°Got a name?¡±

    The man seemed annoyed, but paused in thought, ¡°Some slit-eyed bastard, Hayato¨C¡±

    ¡°Hayato Ryota?¡±

    "Aye!¡± the man exclaimed, but then he frowned, and suddenly clawed at the card, ¡°I better be getting paid still!¡±

    Miles snorted, flicked the card into the man¡¯s hand, and walked away.

    He glanced back for just a second, to notice the man staring at the card, then look around as if puzzled, only to shrug and get back to stuffing his pants full of expired jelly.

    Meanwhile, Zhan Shen was grinning, ¡°What a turn of events! Looks like I¡¯ll be getting that fight after all... and the Faetality booster as well, of course.¡±

    Miles gazed ahead as they walked, growing ever closer to the strange mob.

    He could see better now that he was focusing. The majority of them were attempting to force themselves into the closest building, while a very rare few were pushing themselves out, carrying all sorts of items, only to be attacked by those still outside.

    There were even a couple people rolling on the floor, apparently shot, or grievously wounded otherwise.

    There was also a lone vendor, draped in a tattered coat, very visibly carrying what seemed to be a power revolver on his hip. He had rolled over a meager cart of presumably scavenged medical supplies to the side and was animatedly talking to someone on the ground, occasionally gesturing at his wares.

    An opportunistic entrepreneur it seemed.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like these people are having much luck with it old Zhan. Unless whoever is screaming over there is Ryota, which I sincerely doubt. Think you can do any better?¡±

    The old butler smiled, ¡°I know I will,¡± but then he stopped up ahead, seemingly puzzled and looking around, ¡°The Faesycian was somewhere around here¨C¨C¡±

    A sudden voice interrupted them.

    ¡°Are you looking for a ripper-doc?¡±

    Miles turned towards the voice, towards two people he had ignored and grouped along with the rest of the looters, to find a young woman with a hand on her hip and a cocky smile. A dirty tank top revealed extremely muscular arms, to the point that they seemed unnatural.

    She also reeked.

    Miles sniffed in discomfort, only thankful that at least it was not as bad as the Hakuryuu and there was no cyber rot here.

    ¡®Huh, so maybe those muscles were actually earned?''

    And although Miles had sensed two people, he almost overlooked the straw-haired young man that was huddling behind the girl, his presence almost non-existent.

    Both of them were wearing clunky, leather goggles that completely covered their eyes. He wasn''t even sure if they could see through the dark and murky metallic lenses. It was very unusual for a fashion statement.

    There was something strange about the way these two were acting¡­

    Miles raised an eyebrow, ¡°Were you listening in on us?¡±

    The girl crossed her arms, and ignored him with a smile, ¡°If you¡¯re here for Marcus¡¯ clinic,¡± she gestured her head at the building with the mob, the majority of whom seemed to have made it inside now, the outside starting to clear up.

    ¡°He¡¯s over there. Gonk pissed off the new punks around here, they threw him into the drain. You¡¯ll want a new ripper-doc.¡±

    Miles raised his eyebrow even further, ¡°That''s unfortunate. But it''s not like we were here to praise him for his stellar hygiene.¡±

    ¡°But you wanted him alive right?¡± she answered, with incongruous satisfaction.

    Miles was taken aback, ¡°He died? By falling in the drain? Did he drown?¡±

    ¡°Now that''s just bad luck," Zhan Shen muttered almost to himself.

    The muscular girl looked at the both of them as if they were crazy. Finally, she shook her head, ¡°Anyway, he¡¯s being looted out of everything he had right now. So, you¡¯re definitely going to need a new ripper-doc.¡±

    Miles stared. He turned to the building by the drain, no, the clinic, being looted.

    Most of the looters were rushing out now, in obvious hurry to leave with their misbegotten items. Gunshots still rang out and fights occurred as well, much to the delight of the medical supplies vendor that continued to present and market his wares with flourish.

    ¡°How did he die?¡± Miles couldn''t help but ask.

    The mob of looters had mostly cleared now, to the point that the view of the previous obstructed drain was clear. Although it was so far away that Miles smelled nothing, even without the flickering will-o-wisp lamps for illumination, his enhanced eyes could see it as clear as day¡­

    Amidst the shadows, barely peeking out of the drains, was¡­ something. It barely even resembled a person anymore. Its form was shattered, like a morbid jigsaw puzzle abandoned to decay.

    All that was left was an eerie assembly of disjointed bones, twisted and predated upon by monstrous forces.

    ¡°Rats.¡±

    The girl answered with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

    Miles was still trying to make sense of the situation when the straw-haired boy interrupted, popping his head out in unexpected randomness, ¡°We can get you to a better clinic,¡±

    The girl turned the boy, put an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into a bear hug. She grinned, revealing the first pair of ordinary teeth Miles had seen in a while, ¡°I''m Inani, this is James. He''s a genius.

    And yes, we can help you find a wayyy better place.¡±

 CHAPTER 15: Faesycian - Part 2

    Sprites. They are little more than unintelligent, floating lights, reactive only to direct interaction from the external environment. The extent of their diversity is limited, at best, changes in color.

    Pixies, on the other hand, are considered the mischievous, rarely murderous, sentient butterflies of the Fae world. They tend to exhibit a wider range of variety in attitude, nature, and even ability.

    Then comes the Fairies, ah, the Fairies have been theorized to be from an entirely different evolutionary line to the other Fae. While they too are sentient, even being the lowest Fae category capable of speech, their unusualness isn¡¯t that simple.

    If pixies would dump the equivalent of a bucket of water over your head to give you a bad day, a Fairy could ruin every single day you have left to live. When pixies control the elements, Fairies play with reality.

    A uniquely notable property of Fairies, often studied yet never understood, beyond it being a possibly unintentional reaction from reality itself, are the whispers. Whispers of one specific word in the presence of each Fairy. The words thus whispered have come to be known as Fairy Clans, always closely associated with the ability a particular Fairy may have.

    Over the years, the various Fairy Research Departments have identified six such clans; Nopenena (the unseen), Dakina (the perceived), Amathaka (the forgotten), Akalika (the non-existent), Danena (the sensed) and Sadathanika (the eternal), each altering aspects of reality tied to the specific clan whisper.

    And if that¡¯s already too much for you, then you do not want to find about the Dread variations of each Fae type. Forget dread pixies, the corrupted variation of the already dangerous Fairy, the dread fairy, are nothing but devil incarnate.

    ¨CExcerpt from ¡°The Real Fae, A Childhood Dream turned Nightmare¡± by Dr. Nilan Cumin.

    ***

    Taking a few steps back to give his olfactory senses a much-needed break, Miles drew in a measured breath, and released it, focused to center himself from anything that may disrupt his self-control, before he began to consider the very much unwelcome offer.

    Quite annoyingly, Zhan Shen seemed to be entirely on board.

    Shooting an irritated glance at him, Miles addressed the duo, ¡°We¡¯re going to need a minute to discuss¡­ options.¡±

    Inani, the muscular girl, tensed her biceps seemingly against the idea, ¡°Why? She¡¯s the best ripper-doc in all of Capital City!¡±

    ¡®Sure she is,¡¯ Miles thought, but restrained himself from vocalizing his disbelief, and fortunately James intervened, quite awkwardly as he was still within a death grip of a hug, ¡°Inani, it¡¯s fine. We should let them talk.¡±

    Inani pouted in response, but then proceeded to squeeze the boy in an even stronger hug, almost lifting him off his feet, ¡°Okay, but only because you¡¯re so cute Jimmy!¡±

    ¡®Do they think we needed their permission?¡¯

    Regardless of his annoyed musings, Miles hurried to distance himself from the odd pair, Zhan Shen trailing after him.

    The moment he was sure they were out of earshot, ¡°Old Zhan, you¡¯re not seriously considering taking them up on their offer?¡±

    The elderly butler tilted his head in amusement, ¡°Whyever would we not?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too convenient! Our Faesycian is dead in a ditch, and out comes these two bozos to offer us what we¡¯re missing! They know something.¡±

    Zhan Shen nodded in seemingly expected concurrence, ¡°Quite astute Master Miles. They were tailing us from the moment we entered the area. Probably saw the credits you gave the jelly loving fellow, noted us as high-profile individuals, and later overheard the mention of a Faesycian. They¡¯re not idiots.¡±

    ¡®They were following us?¡¯ Miles frowned. ¡®But I didn¡¯t notice¡­¡¯

    Ever since the altercation with the Hakuryuu, it had become obvious that his tactile senses as a Newborn Vampire were exceptionally sharp.

    Even now, he sensed the subtle shifts of wind in the air, hinting his skin to the presence of all those nearby. It wasn¡¯t particularly clear, definitely not as much as when he was in a direct confrontation, but¡­

    No matter how enhanced his senses may have been, they were not infallible. In a place as crowded as this, it was simply impossible to detect two random people merely using the flow of wind.

    Miles ran a hand through his hair, ¡°There is something off about their eyewear,¡± he glanced at the goggles in question, causing Inani to notice and wave enthusiastically with her free hand. Miles snorted, looking away, ¡°The metal in their lenses seemed ordinary, but it reminded me of the looking glass enchantment. Something tells me it is of Fae nature¡­¡±

    Zhan Shen seemed surprised, ¡°Oh really? That makes the couple a whole lot more interesting! Now we must take them up on their offer!¡±

    Miles stared at the old butler, asking, ¡°Are you sure about this, old Zhan?¡±

    ¡°Yes, something tells me they¡¯ll definitely fulfill their end of the bargain,¡± the old butler grinned in confirmation.

    Miles narrowed his eyes, ¡°Why? Something from your spiritual bag of tricks?¡±

    ¡°No, even better. My gut!¡±

    Miles was almost exasperated, ¡°Sure, great, let¡¯s trust your digestive system¨C¡± he paused. Glancing at Marcus¡¯ clinic, an ordinary building without a single aspect to stand out, identical to the rest of the concrete constructions surrounding it. There wasn¡¯t even a sign to reveal that it was a Faesycian Clinic.

    Marcus must¡¯ve been a discrete person, well, before he became a skeleton in a drain at least.

    Either way, what Miles was actually interested in was a barely visible box attached to a clinic wall, off to the side of the drain in question. He could make out the chipped letters engraved upon it, CapSec. Some looters must have gotten to it, because the box was severely damaged, trashed, and sparking electricity.

    Miles didn¡¯t mind, for as long as the system was intact, it would serve its purpose.

    He turned to Zhan Shen, ¡°...Alright, let¡¯s do that, after I confirm that the skeleton over there really is the Faesycian Marcus, and the equipment we need is no longer in close proximity.¡±

    The elderly butler grinned, patting his stomach, ¡°Deal.¡±

    Miles didn¡¯t wait for the reply, bringing up the Lykaon ring, ¡°Cadmus, are you up for weaving into a Capital Security System? And, facial recognition on a possibly deceased Faesycian?¡±

    ***

    The skeleton in the drain was very quickly proven to be Marcus, or at the very least, the unfortunate individual who had been thrown out of the clinic by a presumably short-tempered punk, only to accidentally slip and fall into the drainage, was indeed Marcus the Faesycian.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    It was perhaps a blessing that the grainy quality of the security cameras and the dim glow of the nearby will-o¡¯-wisp sign shrouded whatever happened inside of that drain.

    The last thing Miles wanted to do was watch in intuitive detail how the Faesycian that had fallen inside, was pulled out as a half-consumed unrecognizable skeleton by the few looters that had the heart to care.

    And as expected, the looters had been quite thorough, leaving behind nothing of value.

    Despite a momentary attempt on his part to locate the Faesycian equipment he needed, Miles had to abandon the idea the moment he realized that the majority of looters carried nothing intact, just ripped off parts and components that would be easier to sell.

    Thus, Miles had to keep his word, and entertain the offer from a very pleased Inani that proceeded to jump up and down with James still in her arms.

    As it turned out, the supposedly ¡°best ripper-doc in Capital City¡± was not in Yumekuro, but in the adjacent district of Hamelin.

    Miles of course had Cadmus search for other Faesycian Clinics in the nearby vicinity, and rather unfortunately, the one in Hamelin was the answer. At least it confirmed their prospective guides weren¡¯t deceiving them outright.

    While it wasn¡¯t at a distance he would simply refuse, it was still considerable¡­

    ¡®With the Nameless Footwork we could¡¯ve cut down the travel time in half, and it would¡¯ve been an actually viable option if we ditched these two...¡¯

    Miles had shared this idea with Zhan Shen, but Inani and James, once again proving to be mannerless, serial eavesdroppers, overheard. This had led to a smug response from a muscular girl bouncing on the balls of her feet, ¡°Haruka-san, our really good friend, isn¡¯t taking customers right now. But¡­ since we¡¯re the ones asking, she might just give you an exception! We¡¯re your only hope!¡±

    Miles sincerely doubted that. Regardless of how much this Haruka needed a vacation, he was confident there would always be a price capable of changing her mind.

    However, Zhan Shen had been the final decisive factor, stating that a friendly introduction was always best.

    Miles couldn¡¯t disagree with that, despite his very strong desire to avoid further association with the annoying duo.

    So here he was, trailing through the streets, following after an animated yet disproportionately muscular girl skipping through the streets, with the straw-haired boy, thankfully maintaining a more conventional manner of movement, despite Inani¡¯s many attempts to get him to follow her lead.

    And they continued, painfully slowly.

    ***

    They had been wandering through and past seemingly identical streets and buildings for the past half hour, despite being well within Hamelin now, an entirely new district.

    Although everyone had been exceptionally careful in avoiding the drainage. It was an uneventful journey, the silence punctuated by their steps.

    However, it wouldn¡¯t be the outer city if everything was peaceful for long, and soon enough, something happened.

    According to Inani, they were only two streets away from their destination, when Miles began to feel¡­ disturbed.

    He couldn¡¯t tell what was causing it, or why, because he had never felt anything quite like it. It was an ineffable sense of wrongness that permeated the very air, an unnatural turbulence that defied explanation.

    Enhanced eyes scanned the streets, seeking a possible source, but found only a desolate street veiled in shadows.

    Miles felt watched, scrutinized by unseen eyes, and from the depths of his soul, it was¡­ wrong.

    The disturbing feeling persisted until they turned a corner. And that was where he saw it, a glimpse of silver and purple - a shimmer over the metal railing of a rusted fire escape.

    He blinked.

    In that moment, the very world shifted, seeming to slip around him, and he experienced a profound change. His dormant heart seemed to stir, beating once more, and a fleeting sense of vitality enveloped him, as even the dryness in his throat seemed to have been sated.

    A figure appeared above the railing, graceful with pointed ears, adorned with four leaf-shaped pieces of translucent glass upon their back.

    What intensified their unusualness was the abnormal size, not larger than an average palm.

    For a moment where time itself seemed to have been paused, their eyes met. A bright yellow, sharp, as if they hid a predator within them.

    Surprise, recognition, and¨C happiness.

    That was what Miles saw in her eyes.

    He blinked again.

    And in an instant, everything had returned to normal. Miles¡¯ heart was still once again, his thirst had returned, and¡­ the Fae was gone, nowhere to be seen, leaving him uncertain of its presence in the first place.

    ¡®What was that? And how did it appear and vanish like that? There is no way there is a doorway somewhere around here, right? It couldn''t be a fairy... I didn''t hear anything. So, a pixie? But I¡¯ve never seen one like her before!''

    Miles glanced at the duo skipping ahead of them. Inani had finally managed to force James to skip with her, although he seemed rather embarrassed about it.

    He turned to Zhan Shen, speaking discretely to make sure he wouldn¡¯t be overheard again, ¡°Did you see that old Zhan? That pixie?!¡±

    Zhan Shen, after a quick scan of their surroundings, frowned, ¡°Are you confident Master Miles? I sensed nothing. Absolutely nothing.¡±

    Miles hesitated. He had never experienced anything that could escape Zhan Shen¡¯s sharp senses. ¡°Then, do you know of any Fae that could hide from you? She wasn¡¯t a fairy, her wings didn¡¯t match any of the known types, so a pixie, maybe¡­¡±

    The elderly butler glanced at him strangely, ¡°She?¡±, but then offered a single shrug, ¡°Not really Master Miles. While I did hunt the Amathaka fairy for your mother, before she integrated their power into the Lykaon Network¡­ I wouldn¡¯t rule out the possibility of the existence of Fae that I would be unable to sense. Noone knows what those creatures are truly capable of.

    ¡°Well, what you saw may have something to do with your¡­ new proclivities,¡± but before more could be said, Zhan Shen interrupted their conversation himself, ¡°Regardless Master Miles, I believe we¡¯ve arrived.¡±

    And a shout from Inani up ahead, ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± confirmed it.

    Despite the oddity of the strange Fae lingering in his thoughts, Miles was still taken aback by the sight before him. He was lost for words.

    This was worlds apart in comparison to Marcu¡¯s non-distinctive clinic.

    This new clinic was a rioting cacophony of advertisements, every inch of its exterior plastered with glaring neon signs and lurid banners, even going so far as to overlap each other, advertising anything and everything ever sold in a convoluted mess.

    There were FaeTech adverts for legendary Ogre and Treant tier serums, even Lykaon adverts for supersonic transporter engines, both high end products that could quite literally never be purchased from some random outer-city Faescyian clinic.

    Obviously, more of an attention-grabbing tactic rather than actual products for sale. Perhaps a necessary requirement as the clinic wasn¡¯t in an actual commercial area like Marcus'' had been.

    The hordes of will-o-wisps trapped within these neon banners thrummed discordantly, leaking pulses of Fae energy that caused those nearby to feel that the very world was flickering around them. A common phenomenon of keeping too many of the flickering Fae in close proximity.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but squint, the effect being more annoying than anything else, as he struggled, but finally managed to decipher the store sign, HARUKA¡¯S FAE-BULOUS EMPORIUM.

    ¡®Is that supposed to be a pun?¡¯

    Regardless of his opinions on the Faesycian¡¯s naming sense, the flamboyant state of the clinic alone spoke volumes to the character of this¨C Haruka that they were supposed to be consulting.

    ¡®It¡¯s a place that I wouldn¡¯t have visited even if I was paid to! The only relief is that we don¡¯t need the expertise of the gutter Faesycian, the so-called number one ¡®ripper-doc¡¯ of Capital City, and merely their equipment. But still, it¡¯s so¡­¡¯

    ¡°Gaudy. And tacky,¡± Miles muttered.

    Inani, as always quick to overhear what she wasn¡¯t supposed to, swiveled towards him with muscular arms on her hips, ¡°Huh? Don¡¯t be rude! Ryo-san decorated the place for Haruka-san six months ago! It¡¯s romantic! And nice!¡±

    Miles blistered in momentary annoyance, but soon realized the futility of an argument here, deciding to let it go, to some extent, ¡°Ah, my most sincere apologies, Inani. I suppose the line between ¡®romantic¡¯ and ¡®eye-sore¡¯ is a thin one, a very thin one.¡±

    With an overly eager smile, Inani nodded, "Okay, you''re forgiven!" accepting his apology without a second thought. Her reaction was so naive that Miles almost felt guilty, almost.

    James frowned, but didn''t say anything further, still mostly staying behind the muscular girl when he could.

    Inani''s smile grew even wider, as she gestured towards the entrance with excited flourish, ¡°Welcome to Haruka''s Fae-bulous Emporium! Customers first!¡±

    Before he did take her up on her offer, Miles glanced at Zhan Shen for a moment, still not entirely over the fact that this was where they had ended up in.

    The elderly butler only returned a simple smile, as say this was the best that could be done, and for the hundredth time today, Miles wondered why old Zhan couldn¡¯t wait for them to return to the inner city and consult a proper, more trusted Faesycian.

    ¡®But he must have his reasons. And, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, I would be lying if I said I was not looking forward to the experimentation¡­¡¯

    So, in the end, feeling distinctly annoyed, yet also eager, Miles stepped inside, pushing through a rusted iron door about to fall off its hinges.

 CHAPTER 16: Faesycian - Part 3

    The will-o-wisps flickered, shimmering with unstable light. The occasional ting of the creatures, as they struck against the glass of neon filled signs, created a rhythmic yet ominous tone that echoed throughout the clinic.

    If it were not for the headache-inducing flickering, Haruka might¡¯ve even had the time to pity them, but¨C

    The middle-aged woman in leather overall was forced to sneeze, twice in succession, finally blowing her nose with a tissue as she muttered under her breath, ¡°God-damned Orcs! I needed those meds and materials!¡±

    She pinched her nose with her free hand. ¡°At least they have the excuse of being overgrown pigs, so what can those Corporate bitches say?¡±

    The tissue crumpled as she slammed her fist on the counter before her.

    ¡°Those Capital Corpos can go and stick the ¡®Covered under Act of Fae¡¯ up their soft little butts! What happened to clinical cargo being high priority? When my clinic is supposed to be one of their own?! They have fortunes to spend on flashy sponsorships and gigantic billboards to promote their holy knights, but not one credit for better security?! To treat the dumb f*cks that fell for their promises, just a bit better?

    Why of course not Mrs. Hayato, your agreement doesn¡¯t cover that! What in the hell does it cover then?! Fucking Corpos!¡±

    And yet, despite all the apparent anger, there was a hint of resignation in her voice, as if she had accepted that things were unlikely to change.

    Haruka leaned back in her chair, tossing the crumpled tissue into a random corner of the clinic.

    ¡°How are we supposed to scrounge up 3 million credits in a month? And if the Corpo creditors happen to find what we¡¯re hiding here¡­¡±

    The exasperated woman sank into her seat, hands reaching up to cradle her head, fingers threading through disheveled hair, ¡°And then, there¡¯s my sorry excuse for a husband, and his perfectly legal and safe ¡®occupation¡¯! What the hell did that bastard go and do? Got all hyped about my dumb experiment, claimed he would show it to his ¡®boss¡¯ for a guaranteed big break, and then poof-- just up and vanished. Next thing I know, he¡¯s wanted all over the city!¡±

    Her palms pressed firmly against her temples covering her eyes, as if to seek solace in the darkness, ¡°If a girl didn¡¯t know any better, they¡¯d think their man took what they made and ran off with it, but surely, Ryo wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    Haruka lifted her head, forcing out a pained laugh, ¡°Soma? You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a Sidhe-sent solution to my problems now, would you?¡±

    She glanced around the empty clinic, as if expecting a reply or an answer to manifest out of thin air.

    And the moment she realized that none would, her eyes widened.

    ¡°Wait, wait, you actually do? Finally, some good f*cking news! Then as it has always been, my dear Soma, let my payment be your finding!¡±

    Something changed then.

    Unseen, unheard, unsensed, but Haruka knew enough to know.

    The deal was on.

    Her eyes blazed with azure light, and her custom Fae enhanced Oculus Azure implants flickered like butterfly wings as she searched for the unseen.

    Directly before her, was a grimy, metallic counter, boxing her away from would-be customers, where, defended from prying hands by a protective slide, were her most in-demand product, Fae Serums.

    She even had a couple of lesser Orc and Fairy tier serums, pure and untampered of course. Haruka would need a Felinei''s nine lives before she dared to sell diluted serums to Epsilon Faehumans. Too bad, they were her longest lasting stock, no potential customer able to afford or use it.

    That particular marketing tactic was purely reserved for those of the lower tiers. It was simply business of course. If it worked, it worked.

    Then, there were the cosmetic implants. Everything from bio-luminescent tattoos to colorful Felinei ears, these functionally useless cosmetics that did little but make their wielders easier targets to shoot were quite popular as well.

    Were fashion statements worth dying over? Well, Haruka preferred to let her customers decide.

    Smack dab in the middle of all that, the centerpiece of the cluttered counter was an old-school cashier with actually press-able buttons.

    "She''s not here? Hide somewhere new, Soma?"

    Haruka sniffled, and turned to observe a wall of glass cabinets, each holding a dizzying array of objects.

    Glowing in the flicker of will-o-wisps, it was filled with sleek Cybernetic Implants, most of them being defective products that her husband brought over occasionally. Well, aside from her pride and joy, an antique transporter engine of course. The rest had had to be modified and repurposed to serve as extremely eye-catching display items, to potentially impress prospective visitors enough that they might make a purchase.

    After all, if it wasn¡¯t FaeTech, it needed all the help it could get.

    Nat-tech Cybernetics had a terrible reputation, despite being a hell of a lot more affordable than the cheapest Fae Serum or Fae Cyberware in the market.

    Haruka could never see the logic.

    Why ignore the potential of nat-tech cybernetics, an entire field of technology, one that was purely human-made and free of the reach of the Fae, just because plugging in too much could rot your body or fry your nerves?

    Something pompous and impractical like ''replacing god given flesh with metal and steel is cardinal sin'', perfectly fitting the stuck up corpos of the Inner City, she was sure. As if Fae Serums were any less of a mutilation of the natural order.

    But Haruka also understood.

    Even if it was her that worked on her husband, even if she serviced his cybernetics to the best of her ability, she would always worry. If he had been blessed with a Faetality that was even one tier higher than Eta, there would¡¯ve been no reason for this, to carve away pieces of flesh to make room for corpo-made metal.

    It was illogical, yes, but what woman could watch her beloved give up his body, just so they could live slightly better lives?

    So yes, she did understand.

    It was only the reckless, and those left with little choice, that resorted to Cybernetic Enhancement, and just like all of Outer City, they weren¡¯t much different.

    Which meant that despite everything, nat-tech cybernetics still sold pretty damned well.

    Haruka shook her head to focus, this time glancing at the doorway by the side, the one that led to the clinical area set aside for actual ripper-doc business.

    She looked away soon after, with a deepening frown, ¡°Soma! You know I¡¯ll find you eventually! Just come out and save me the trouble!¡±

    But there was no reply, the room was empty after all.

    The frazzled woman rubbed her runny nose and focused her retinal implants.

    The deal was still on, but it would be close.

    Haruka observed the rest of the clinic. Illuminated in unstable, flickering light, and providing sufficient space for a couple dozen people to stand comfortably, it appeared desolate.

    The walls were barely reinforced concrete, every inch covered in irritating neon-wisp signs, the door an old iron affair that couldn¡¯t even be locked properly, and the flooring creaky ordinary wood that seemed to have been cobbled together by an absolute amateur.

    It wasn¡¯t that they couldn¡¯t afford better repairs, but rather, they could not afford to keep replacing them.

    Haruka stared at the seemingly ordinary wood, or more specifically the vague engravings upon it. A ward or an enchantment of some sort, because apparently, punishing herself by living with headache inducing will-o-wisp flickering was not enough, and this was needed to cover it even more, to satisfy the owner if Soma were to be believed...

    There was no one there either.

    With that, Haruka knew it was the end. And something changed back, signaling her defeat.

    As the oculus implants returned to normal, her eyes dimmed, the azure light beginning to dissipate.

    "Where the hell did you hide Soma?!"

    Feeling a sneeze rising almost out of irritation, Haruka reached for another tissue, but the moment her fingers touched one, a giggle echoed through the clinic, and the box of tissues pulled into the air above.

    ¡°You¨C¡± but Haruka was forced to stop and sneeze into her overalls.

    Scowling, she grabbed at the tissues, but they pulled back immediately as if having anticipated her reaction.

    A faint but regal sound, the perfect chime of a thousand tiny bells rippled through the air.

    The moment Haruka looked at the blind spot directly above her head, from the epicenter of those invisible bells, the one she had been searching for emerged.

    With delicate, gossamer wings and ethereal, iridescent skin, the palm-sized Soma radiated an otherworldly energy that seemed to warp the very world around her. The air was in constant flux, like a looking glass that was peering into and flipping through countless realities.

    But the Fae cared for none of that, far more interested in Haruka¡¯s predicament. Her bright green eyes sparkled with mischief, a playful smile that revealed a set of sharp, pointed teeth.

    ¡°Tinker fucking Bell Soma! I already lost! Just give me the fucking tissues!¡±

    Soma pouted but eventually flicked her hand, sending the tissues rushing through the air and smack into her forehead.

    Haruka was quick to react before the Fae could change her mind, grabbing a tissue and cleaning herself up, eventually turning to Soma with a glare.

    ¡°Why did you hide so well?! Do you want the Corpos to ruin everything you dread fairy? How am I supposed to get your help¨C¡±

    But before she could even finish, the annoying Fae dashed forwards, her arms outstretched.

    Childish laughter tinkled like a pristine stream, unblemished and pure, and Soma fell upon her face in a warm hug, rubbing a forehead against her own in obvious fondness.

    Haruka stiffened but eventually reciprocated, her anger dissipating.

    In the end, she could only relent. ¡°Ugh, whatever! I¡¯m not enough of a bitch to hold grudges against you!¡±

    The fairy stepped back with an innocent giggle, twirling through the air.

    ¡°So, I don¡¯t need your help to deal with the Corpos, Soma? How¡¯s that going to work?¡± Haruka expected a reply¡­

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    When suddenly, the Fae stiffened in the air. With a face as impassive as a porcelain dolls, she glanced towards the clinic entrance.

    Her wings fluttered rapidly in an erratic yet familiar pattern that Haruka easily recognized, ¡°You¡¯re looking awfully happy while I¡¯m here moping. What¡¯s up with you Soma?¡±

    The Fae turned around, excited, and¡­ spoke.

    Soma¡¯s voice was silent, it reverberated through the air but was not heard in any conventional sense, for a fairy''s word could never be heard, only known.

    Haruka felt her heart begin to pound, ¡°People? During an invasion?! That¡¯s not something to be happy about!¡±

    ¡°Could it be the Capital Corpos? No, no, it¡¯s too soon, and they''re anything but perfectly on time¨C¡± then gasped, ¡°The Hakuryuu? Did Ryo f*ck up so bad that they''re after me now? I told that dumb bastard to quit his perfectly safe ''job'' ages ago!¡±

    But thankfully for her, Soma shook her head, her motion causing the air to shimmer.

    ¡°No? ...Inani and James are with them?"

    Haruka finally heaved a sigh of relief, ¡°You scared me, Soma!  So, it''s just normal, possibly rich, folk! Well, as normal as those that don''t fear a Fae invasion can be I suppose¡­¡±

    The fairy seemed to be about to speak, but the groan of the iron door stopped her. It seemed their visitors had arrived.

    Soma spoke no further, merely lifting two fingers to point at her eyes, then at Haruka, and with a final double thumbs up in a gesture of support, she vanished.

    Haruka shook her head with a smile, and turned to the entrance, just in time to see them walk in.

    Two, perfectly ordinary men, no different from any you¡¯d meet out on the streets.

    Normal customers she would meet any other day. Absolutely nothing to note here.

    Haruka almost lowered her guard, when she caught herself.

    The presence of Inani and James, following right after them, those prototype dakina goggles covering their eyes¡­

    Something was wrong, Haruka shook her head clear. She looked again, her retinal implants beginning to glow azure once again.

    But nothing changed, it was still two ordinary people she couldn¡¯t even bother to try and remember.

    Haruka shook her head again, calling upon the integrated PNI Operating System to release the limits on her Oculus Azure and overclock the implants.

    Immediately her pupils blazed, irises beginning to flutter with the shadow of fairy wings.

    Whatever illusion charm persisted on these two individuals was extremely strong, but Haruka persisted. She occasionally lost focus, forgetting even what she had been doing, but her eyes would pulse with energy that immediately cleared her mind.

    Is that... Obliviation? Of the Amathaka Fairy?! What the f*ck Soma, these couldn¡¯t be further from normal folk!

    Haruka''s eyes had heated to the point that it was rather uncomfortable, when finally, the illusion gave way.

    The one at the forefront was a young man dressed in an impeccable black suit. Younger than twenty with a well-built natural physique. He was handsome, but his pale skin failed to hide his privilege. What was even stranger was the fact that the young corpo did not seem enhanced in any way, cybernetic or fae. It was rare, but Haruka could be wrong, particularly because the youth carried himself with a power and confidence, she had only ever seen in expertly trained Faehumans.

    But it was the one that had followed behind, a much older man dressed in a clean-cut two-piece suit, probably in his sixties, that shocked Haruka to her core.

    It was not that she knew the person. She couldn¡¯t even see, no, remember the faces clearly, as the effect of the Oblivation was still strong enough to the point that it was impossible to note distinctive facial features, only allowing her eyes to barely bypass the most external of layers. But with fae-enhanced (courtesy of the lovely Soma) cybernetic eyes and her years of experience, she could see the power dormant within the musculature of the old man.

    At least an Epsilon!

    What the hell was an Epsilon Faehuman doing in a lowly Outer City Faesycian¡¯s Clinic?!

    Epsilons may not be the backbones of a corporation or a gang, but they were definitely the flesh. In the Outer City, such an existence would be akin to a wolf amidst sheep!

    Haruka couldn¡¯t help but feel nervous. They could very well be the absolute worst-case scenario fallen right out of the sky into an already terrible time, but a glance at the wooden floor, and knowing that she wasn¡¯t truly alone here, gave Haruka momentary strength.

    Inani bounced out from behind the two men, James following right after.

    ¡°Hey Haruka! We brought you some customers! James says they''re loaded, so you can definitely overcharge them!¡±

    James gawked, glancing at the suited duo behind him, and immediately poked Inani in her ribs, ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡± a rare scene of emotion from the usually silent boy.

    Inani seemed profoundly and emotionally hurt by this, rubbing her stomach, as if it was possible for James to make her muscular body even flinch.

    But that was enough for Haruka to understand the situation.

    So, the ripper-doc forced a wide grin, letting her salesman persona take over, ¡°Welcome! Welcome friends! I''m Hayato Haruka, what do you require from my Fae-bulous Emporium? Premium Fae Serums? The Best Cybernetic Enhancements in the market? Or some of my proprietary Fae Treatment? You name it, I¡¯ve got it!¡±

    The young man in black seemed to be... interested for a moment, only to scoff, skillfully covering it as a possible cough, but the intent remained obvious.

    Haruka¡¯s grin faltered.

    The Epsilon old man however, glared at the younger man, who simply shrugged in apparent innocence and glanced to the side, seemingly more interested in turning his nose up at her wares.

    The old man heaved a sigh, but answered Haruka with a polite smile, ¡°Ignore my impolite companion. Your clinic definitely has intriguing wares, but what we require is an in-depth examination. The kind that can only be done with a Faesician''s equipment.¡±

    Haruka paused, finally nodding, her grin beginning to recover, ¡°Ah of course, I can definitely offer my services dear sir. And as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard from my friends here, my credibility as a Faesycian is second to none.¡±

    The old man¡¯s polite smile widened, ¡°Ah how reassuring, but all-together unnecessary. To specify, we merely wish to borrow your equipment.¡±

    ¡°...I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    The old man laughed politely, ¡°Like I said, what we require is to borrow your equipment.¡±

    By now Haruka¡¯ grin had all but vanished.

    Her confusion was replaced with shock and anger, at the sheer disrespect of this request.

    Had it been anyone but an Epsilon, had she not seen through the illusion already, the mere fact that they even dared to ask, would have been grounds to use force.

    Haruka''s nose itched and she sneezed, the situation having distracted her to the point that she failed to reach for a tissue on time, forcing her to sneeze into her overalls once more.

    The young corpo who had been silent so far, suddenly spoke. His voice was clear, but carried a disinterested tone that did little but piss Haruka off even more, ¡°Ugh, do not misunderstand. We have no interest in your¡­ research, or whatever you ripper-doc¡¯s get up to in the outer city. All we need is a few hours with the equipment. Naturally, none of you may be present.¡±

    Haruka¡¯ anger peaked, shooting an enraged scowl at the disrespectful speaker. But the pale young man didn¡¯t even acknowledge her, seemingly finding something within the glass cabinets to be of great interest.

    ¡°Umm, what¡¯s wrong? Can¡¯t you let them use the equipment Haruka-san? James uses it all the time, right?¡± Inani interrupted, glancing nervously between the two parties.

    James poked the muscular girl once more, hissing, ¡°That¡¯s different! She¡¯s basically my mentor! It¡¯s very rude to request access to a ripper-doc''s equipment!¡±

    The old man seemed to be ignoring them glaring at his young companion instead. He turned to Haruka with a placating smile and¨C revealed a single, yellowed coin, ¡°I understand that it is an unusual request but be reassured miss, the pay is second to none.¡±

    Haruka¡¯s anger turned to full blown rage at being offered one worthless antique coin, as if she was some beggar on the street. But just before she let them know, fear of an Epsilon be damned, her eyes fell upon the coin in question.

    She gawked.

    The traces of Fae magic, the renowned energy signature she had only ever seen a handful of times before.

    She couldn¡¯t be mistaken.

    This was a genuine Fae gold coin! Of inexplicable quality! The currency of a Fae court noble, a Knight, or perhaps even a Baron!

    Almost on instinct she reached out to grab it, but the old man pulled back, ¡°So we have a deal?"

    Haruka caught her thoughts of excitement and greed, calming herself.

    Fae Gold Coins were valuable, yes, but they also came with fae pacts agreed upon at the time of exchange, always cast upon the receiver of the gold.

    As much as Haruka needed the money, she also didn¡¯t want to be beheaded in a freak accident, just because the rich bastards over here were expecting silk lining inside of her scanning capsule.

    ¡°How about, my equipment being rented to you two for personal use, for a duration of one day?¡± she proposed.

    The old man nodded, ¡°Make it one week. We will of course not stay that long, but just in case? And I¡¯m sure it will be fine as we are paying for considerably more?¡±

    ¡°Also, guarantee privacy and good will, for the duration agreed upon.¡±

    The old man glanced at the younger man who had just chimed in, and turned back to her, ¡°Yes, and what my young friend said.¡±

    Haruka paused to consider the proposal. She was not a stranger to fae pacts, and despite what she had been expecting from the two corporate men, this was quite reasonable.

    So, she agreed, ¡°Alright then, I accept your deal," and at the same time, she threw a knowing glance at James. The straw haired boy nodded in immediate understanding and quickly left to the back of the clinic, followed by a puzzled Inani. Haruka could trust him to cover up the more... delicate parts of her research.

    And as the pale young man had stated, neither of the corporate men seemed to care.

    The fae gold coin was handed over, completing the transaction.

    Now feeling the weight of new-found wealth in her hands, Haruka decided to let bygones be bygones and with her practiced smile returned, she gestured to the back, ¡°My equipment is right through there down the hall. You couldn¡¯t miss it if you tried. James will let you know when the clinic is ready, shouldn''t be too long.¡±

    The old man nodded, but suddenly noted, ¡°Oh, before I forget, I¡¯ll be taking a few of these." Before Haruka could even begin to react, something breezed right past her. and all of a sudden, he was waving something¨C four syringes bubbling green and blue, two Goblin and two Pixie Tier Serums!

    Thankfully, before Haruka had to resort to drastic measures or anything of the sort, the Epsilon old man threw over a pitch-black card.

    ¡°It''s a bit too troublesome to carry around raw Fae gold pieces, so you can charge the card for the cost. If you know how to, of course,¡± and laughed, as if there were anyone who could be incapable of transferring credits out of a corporate card.

    Part shocked by the speed of an Epsilon, and part confused by his statement, Haruka was just about to use the card when¨C the pale young man coughed loudly. It appeared that while she had been distracted, the young corpo had walked over to the glass cabinets.

    Haruka paused, raising her head up to stare at him, wondering what his problem now could be.

    The young man tapped on the reinforced glass, ¡°This transporter engine here, how much?¡±

    Haruka was taken aback, sincerely not having expected that, and looked to see what it was that had interested the young corpo¡­

    She froze. So that''s what the arrogant little shit had been staring at all this time.

    Her eyes narrowed, ¡°That¡¯s a Lycan Arc Vortex, an engine for Supersonic Transporters. One of only ten produced in a first and final experimental production batch. It is a revolutionary marvel of engineering, invented by a woman whom I sincerely admired, and manufactured by one of the few corps that had a soul. Well, used to have.

    I¡¯ve been keeping it in pristine condition for nearly a decade now. So, no. No matter how many Fae gold coins you can throw at me, that is not for sale.¡±

    Honestly, Haruka felt quite pleased with herself, looking forward to seeing the young corpo lose his temper, and throw a tantrum as spoiled brats were often want to, when they were refused what they wanted. In hindsight, with the Epsilon old man here, it may have been a terrible idea.

    But to her absolute shocking surprise, the young man turned around to her, and smiled.

    ¡°Yes, wonderful condition, I noticed. Forget it then, Haruka-san. It already has a wonderful owner. Oh, and no need for the change, consider it a... tip for wonderful service, and an apology for my previous transgressions.¡±

    Haruka was now even more confused as to what was happening.

    Haruka-san? That wasn¡¯t normal, right? A formerly rude Corpo suddenly being nice and polite?

    Just in case she was being scammed, Haruka quickly inserted the card into her outdated but perfectly functional cashier, only to have her eyes widen the moment the eye-watering amount of one million credits was debited to her account.

    Even the worries of unpaid debt were blown out of the water, with two-thirds of paid in a single moment, and that was even ignoring the fae gold coin!

    But before she could inquire why the young man had decided to tip her over four times the actual cost of four basic enhancement serums, before she could thank the Sidhe for the fact that the old man had somehow picked undiluted and pure serums, the mysterious duo had already vanished into the depths of her own clinic, replaced by James, holding her research material, and an ever-excited Inani.

    ***

    Perched atop a wet, luminous moss ridden residential building, the sentinel in silver armor appeared rather out of place. The very air near him seemed weighted, and even the nosy rats that scuttered through the rooftops seemed to want to avoid his presence.

    Knight Xavier''s exasperation was reasonable. For hours, he had traversed through the mist-shrouded labyrinth of Yumekuro, but his quest was akin to finding a nathiwena fairy, impossible.

    Even with the CCV9 Allsight hijacking any and all possible systems, all he had found were wanna-be bounty hunters out on the prowl for the Hakuryuu. He supposed the White Dragons were too busy fending off the Swordlake Blades, but while that was supposed to be his problem under official orders, it shouldn''t have been.

    A flicker of hope crossed his mind, wishing that the dreadful, ominous feeling he had felt was merely a trick of the world, but¡­

    The feeling of dread had only worsened, the pit in his stomach grown heavier.

    The haunting memories of that night, remained crystal clear, forever etched in him. He couldn¡¯t forget¨C no, he wouldn¡¯t.

    A beep echoed in his ear, the comms signaling some inconsequential event that he wouldn''t have even been informed of had he not been desperate for something.

    It was a notice about the decommission of an outdated Capital Corp. security system installed at some ripper-doc clinic.

    The ethics of in-built surveillance in commercial tech aside, it was either a system glitch, or the work of some bounty hunting punk that was foolish enough to rob a ripper-doc, but just smart enough to attempt damaging the evidence.

    Knight Xavier dismissed the distraction.

    What he pursued had no affinity for technology, for they operated beyond such mundane limitations.

    They had to be around here, and he would surely find them.

    And in the unlikely case that this proved fruitless, then, he could consider leaving on a wild goose chase to see if the punk that had been audacious enough to break into a Capital Corp. clinic shared something in common with the entities he wished to find.

 CHAPTER 17: Vampiric Experiments - Part 1

    All animate and in-animate matter have unique frequencies. So why wouldn¡¯t the Fae? Or Fae Energy for that matter?

    In 2620, the Fae Energy Wave Spectrum was theorized by Dr. Heisenbaum of LeFay Technologies, for the unique identification and classification of the various magical species encountered, based on resonant frequencies of detected ¡®fae energy¡¯.

    On a relative scale, unenhanced ordinary humans would exist at the lowest frequency levels, followed by physical Fae and mental (magical) Fae interspaced based on species uniqueness.

    As for Faehumans, well, they could exist all the way from the lowest to being on par with the highest resonance frequency Fae.

    ¨C ¡°Introduction to Fae Energy Wave Spectrogrammetry¡±, Compulsory Learning at Vulcan Corporate Training College.

    ***

    The moment James and Inani returned, carrying sealed metallic containers possibly concealing material regarding the ripper-doc¡¯s research interests, Miles and Zhan Shen walked past them.

    Miles in particular, couldn''t care less about what an outer-city ripper-doc was up to, regardless of how praiseworthy their taste in transporter engines, inventors, and corporations was.

    The elderly butler seemed quite amused by the fact that the usual miserly tipper of a young master had been so generous to a ripper-doc, but Miles simply pretended to not notice.

    Their walk through the hallway was brisk and short, though not altogether¡­ pleasant.

    <h5>At the center of the decrepit hallway, directly beside a small rusted door that led to a secluded exit to the back, Miles had been horrified to find two oversized, mangy rats. Fearless vermin, that dared to not move until their boots were just a few steps away before skittering into the crevices of the walls. </h5>

    ¡®What a dump...¡¯

    Glaring at Zhan Shen for being directly responsible, the old butler continuing to shrug in apparent innocence, he pushed through another rusted steel door and into the clinic proper.

    Immediately, Miles was forced to reconsider his former impression.

    While Haruka¡¯s Fae-bulous Emporium was very much what he had expected of an outer city ¡®ripper-doc¡¯, the woman was very possibly not a half-bad Faesycian.

    The air carried the scent of antiseptics and disinfectant, evidence that the clinic was in frequent use and well cared for.

    Without the presence of a light or window in sight, the clinic should¡¯ve been pitch black, and yet, there was perfectly sufficient illumination, originating from some unknown invisible source.

    ¡®Ghostlights? One or two at best, but still¡­ impressive, for an outer city Faesycian of course.¡¯

    They also happened to be reliable, unlike the flickering cacophony the cheaper will-o-wisp lighting that occupied the rest of the clinic tended to be.

    The walls here were the same reinforced concrete as outside, but there were no obvious cracks, and hopefully, no rats as well.

    Curiously, it was not lined with cold iron or even a relevant ward as most Faesycians were want to, ever since pixies, fairies and other mischievous fae, began to ''prank'' those that dabbled with the essence of their fellow Fae.

    If the Faesycian was lucky, they¡¯d have a disgruntled customer with leg cyberware attached to their arms. If the fae in question were the dreaded kind, then the cyberware may just well implode upon itself, taking a few limbs and organs with it.

    But here, there wasn¡¯t a fae-repelling metal or ward in sight, almost as if Haruka wanted fae to intrude.

    Well, Miles took care of that easily, with a tap on the Lykaon ring and a call to Cadmus to begin constant emission of cold zero¡¯s frequency, with a resonance of absolute zero hertz on the Fae energy wave spectrum.

    While the particular frequency didn¡¯t render them entirely helpless, it did disrupt their abilities to some extent, meaning most mischievous fae would be considerably less likely to intrude.

    Even Zhan Shen pulled out a few pieces of paper, calligraphed with symbols of no known language, and plastered them upon the walls.

    Miles raised an eyebrow, but he¡¯d seen the old butler use similar symbols before and been given the usual half-answers as to what they were, so he didn¡¯t inquire.

    Either they were decorative, which meant he wanted nothing to do with them, or they had some useful purpose, in which case he believed old Zhan would teach him eventually.

    At the very center of the clinic was a broad metallic operation table. It was some alloy of Pirisidium, a fae ore known for being naturally disinfectant, where the majority of the procedures were performed.

    Above it hung a rudimentary surgical arm, the internal circuitry and components entirely exposed, allowing Miles to discern that the machine was actually a patchwork of salvaged components cleverly connected together, even bypassing the closed system nature that most corporate components used (Lykaon tech included), but still in decent enough condition to work on cybernetics.

    But then there was this other thing, tucked away in a corner, another hodgepodge contraption resembling a cross between an alchemical distillery and a robotic workstation. Vials containing colored liquid stood in ordered rows, almost similar to the standard Fae Serum, but even without examining them any closer Miles could see that these were failures. Duds.

    He could only scoff at that.

    It made sense that these outer city ¡®ripper-docs¡¯ would try to replicate the FaeTech Serum. It was an exercise in futility, he knew from experience, having participated in his mother¡¯s experimentation and even personally, wasting a decent chunk of credits in the attempts.

    It wasn¡¯t that the method of extracting Fae Essence, liquidizing and preserving the energy was impossible to replicate. In fact, Haruka may even have succeeded there, had it not been for the World Court enforced Patent Mandate.

    The World Court, a childish attempt at mimicking the Courts that the Fae were rumored to have in the Domains they were presumed to live in when they crawled out of places besides Tartarus, referred to a coalition between some of the world¡¯s most powerful conglomerates. They used a particular type of captured Fae, to supernaturally enforce unbreakable world mandates.

    It wasn¡¯t without limits, for they couldn¡¯t enforce unfair laws or unbalanced rules, but the old-world intellectual property and patent systems, which had lost all meaning post Fae War and the rise of conglomerates, were fair game.

    The concept of Intellectual Property was brought back in full force under the World Court, granting FaeTech the undisputed dominion over Fae Serum creation.

    So, unless Haruka could invent an entirely new method of Fae Serum synthesis, not mandated by the particular patent, all she would create were these dud serums.

    It was a similar oath-bound contract that had been enforced upon Miles himself, the undeniable requirement of 1000 Faetality to secure his inheritance...

    They were not imposed by something as fickle as law, but by reality itself.

    Pulling a hand through his hair, Miles put his distractive thoughts aside for a moment and turned to the machinery he would be using to analyze himself.

    The machine in question was a rudimentary Faesiology Analysis Cubicle, with an external Faery Resonance Imaging machine.

    Miles found the design rather familiar, and it only took the distinctive logo of a sword in a stone, grabbed by a dozen different hands, for him to remember.

    If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, that was a Lefayescan X-3, Emberforge, by LeFay Technologies. The pinnacle of physiological and faesyiological analysis tech available.

    Sure, that was true¡­ several centuries ago.

    ''How in the holy hells did they find something this ancient, and in working condition?''

    Miles stared at the machine of tarnished copper, adorned with remnants of faded sigils. The AetherProbe that was supposed to be for analyzing Fae Energy Frequencies had been antiquated over a decade ago, and the so-called ¡®Omnisight¡¯ was now a vintage display with visible burn-ins.

    He heaved a sigh, at least it should get the job done, barely.

    Nevertheless, Miles didn¡¯t forget to glare at Zhan Shen, ¡°Did you really pay a Fae Knight¡¯s Gold for this? We could¡¯ve bought a handful of better machines at that cost!¡±

    Zhan Shen shrugged, seemingly uncaring, ¡°The cost of privacy and respect is indeed hefty but right now, what is more important is haste Master Miles, not luxury.¡±

    Miles frowned, but eventually revealed a grin, ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been in quite a hurry to get this done old Zhan. So come on then, fire it up. Let¡¯s get this checkup over with.¡±

    Zhan Shen froze, seemingly unsure on how to proceed.

    He never did like revealing his inadequacies, particularly this one. Eventually, the old butler forced a laugh, ¡°Haha, make fun of the elder who¡¯s troubled by modern technology. Very funny.¡±

    Miles¡¯ grin only grew wider.

    Zhan Shen heaved a sigh, ¡°Take care of the physiology analysis with Cadmus¡¯ assistance Master Miles. I can¡¯t help you here, so I¡¯ll be taking your word for it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me, you¡¯re not the least bit intrigued about what¡¯s changed about yourself due to Vampirism?¡±

    Although his smile never left, Miles was magnanimous enough to allow his butler some mercy, ¡°Alright then old Zhan, we shall see,¡± and walked over to the antiquated machine, placing his ringed fist upon the cold copper.

    ¡°Cadmus, can you weave into this Lefayescan? I believe the X-3 used the formerly proprietary LKE to encrypt¡ª?¡±

    The reply was instantaneous, returned before Miles could even finish.

    ¡°AFFIRMATIVE. THE LEFAY KEY EXCHANGE PROTOCOL IS SEVERELY OUTDATED, WITH OVER 100 POSSIBLE VULNERABILITIES, 52 OF WHICH ARE PRESENT HERE.¡± Half a second later, ¡°NETWORK INTRUSION COMPLETE.¡±

    Miles wasn¡¯t surprised that Cadmus had weaved into a centuries-old piece of tech without so much as a flicker or jitter in the machine to reveal the AI¡¯s intrusive presence.

    Now that everything was ready, he could only get it over with¡­ and began to strip.

    Suit, shirt, and pants off, leaving him naked but for a pair of boxers and the yin-yang talisman around his neck.

    His lean, sharp muscles tightened, as he couldn¡¯t help but glare at Zhan Shen once again, ¡°This piece of ancient metal can¡¯t even scan through thick clothing. What a wonderful Faesycian you picked for us old Zhan.¡±

    The old butler beamed, and made a mock bow, ¡°I aim to please Master Miles.¡±

    Miles grunted, and climbed into the capsule, the metallic edges barely forming a vague human silhouette, which served to fit him in well enough.

    He had to admit, although the circumstances were not ideal, this physiology analysis was probably for the best.

    To properly analyze and understand the changes to himself, before he truly went all in on Vampirism.

    Although Miles hadn¡¯t had much in the way of choice, be it in his current situation, or his unintended progress through the levels, it was better to understand rather than be led along blindly by an unknown ¡®system¡¯.

    At the very least he wouldn¡¯t be the metaphorical child not knowing when they¡¯d get the candy they were promised, or¡­ what else they may be given with it.

    Yet, the prospects of what he might discover was also very intriguing, and dare he say, exciting.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    So, with an expectant, self-focusing breath, Miles brought up the ring.

    ¡°Alright then Cadmus, let¡¯s begin with a deep physiological scan. Use the, *sigh* Omnisight, to display the scan results and any detected irregularities.¡±

    An affirmative beep from the ring and the aether-probe began to move over his body, methodically from head to toe.

    A few minutes later and Miles was peering through a FRI scan displayed on the ancient Omnisight, his vampiric physiology revealed in a¡­ mostly ordinary, human display.

    The nervous system and his nerves were depicted in the standard mild white glow, just slightly brighter over his brain. It was close enough to being perfectly identical with that which was associated with the standard human on the Fae Energy Spectrum.

    The lack of alternate-colored dots or splotches suggested that there were no Fae essence within him, evidence that he had yet to use a Fae serum. On that note, his faetality had remained unchanged at a nauseating 997.

    But most importantly, there were no regions of mass distortion. The energy waves forming his silhouette perfectly complete, confirming that there were no significantly foreign fae energy signatures, meaning, no FaeTech cyberware had been implanted within him without his knowledge.

    While the possibility wasn¡¯t entirely ruled out this provided a reasonable conclusion that this System was not of FaeTech origin. Which was good, very good.

    However, the most interesting, most distinctive change due to his Vampiric Physiology, well besides the distinctly black and seemingly ¡®dead¡¯ region on the left of his chest where his beating heart should¡¯ve been, was¡­ something else.

    A lattice of root-like tendrils spread throughout his body, distinctive from the nervous system owing to its color of vivid red, seemingly captured mid pulse.

    ¡®What¡­ is that? Is that supposed to be the Blood Circulatory System?¡¯

    The FRI had captured something. Where his blood vessels should¡¯ve been, over his veins and arteries, the energy wave signature from his blood glowed with such intensity, overwhelming anything he had ever seen before.

    A few repeated FRIs confirmed this was not erroneous, revealing that each droplet was akin to a wild, untamed beast coursing through him in a frantic current, compared to the docile flow that may have been observed in otherwise human blood vessels.

    It wasn¡¯t entirely uncommon to have the circulatory system appear in an FRI, particularly in those who were frequently and consistently exposed to latent Fae Energy, for example heavy fae effluents.

    Thing is, with Miles¡¯ rather privileged upbringing, his situation couldn¡¯t have been further from that.

    Not to mention the fact that the crimson energy from the blood in his veins and arteries, blood energy, had a frequency signature that was completely unique, going even beyond the highest limit of the known spectrum of Fae energy waves.

    ¡®Curious, curious¡­¡¯

    But despite his intrigue, Miles could not experiment much further.

    Unlike Fae Abilities or FaeTech Cyberware which were what usually showed up in FRIs, and which could be practically used and controlled for further experimentation, he had little idea on what to actually do with this¡­ energy.

    Perhaps, it wasn¡¯t supposed to be actively used, but merely the source of his attribute enhancements and sensory boosts?

    Maybe, but Miles couldn¡¯t say for sure.

    Well, there was something he could try, but that would be for later.

    At the very least, the FRI helped confirm that his vampiric physiology and faesiology were stable. The energy had not gone beyond what his Faetality could handle, which served to say he would not implode like a thrown tomato.

    In fact, since it was unchanged, it was very plausible that Vampirism or the energy created thereof, acted wholly different from the energy in Fae serums or Fae cyberware.

    With that, Zhan Shen¡¯s primary concerns were answered and resolved, though the elderly butler didn¡¯t seem particularly pleased about it.

    Which was fine for Miles was far from done, ¡°Cadmus, let¡¯s continue.¡±

    ***

    About three hours and multiple dozen repeated FRI scans later, Miles was laid back in that uncomfortable cubicle, staring up at the ghost lit concrete ceiling, pondering on what he had just discovered.

    He had experimented thoroughly, discovering many things, both minor and major.

    First, by having Cadmus analyze each FRI against the external conditions Miles was under for rules of association, and very simply varying the ambient illumination (again by having Cadmus weave into the unencrypted Ghostlights), he was able to analyze to some extent, the response of his Faesiology to light.

    That conclusion was minor.

    At least when it came to artificial light, the energy in his blood vessels showed little to no change, though Miles did feel a vague sense of unease whenever the lights were to become blindingly bright.

    Which he chalked up to his personal nervousness about what he might find when he exposed himself to actual sunlight¡­

    Experimentation with artificially generated UV gave similar results, concluding that neither had any tangible effect on him. Meaning the final test would have to be done at the break of dawn, presumably in the absence of the Lefayescan, but they still had some time before then.

    What followed was further research into the nature of the unbeating heart and how it still continued to pump blood through his vessels. This conclusion was reached quite easily, with just a bit more processing from Cadmus.

    His heart was properly dead, still, and in no way involved in further blood circulation. While it seemed to move or beat on rare occasions, that was simply a side-effect of the blood flowing through.

    In other words, it was the blood that moved, as if given life of its own, like a specter or ghost following habitual life even after death.

    Miles had paused for a moment at the conclusion, once more feeling the weight of his choices, but he had felt some of it lift after his experimentations with regards to Conditional Undeath. And yes, that had required a few cuts upon his palm with Zhan Shen¡¯s knife, but such was the price of science.

    By chaining together a series of FRIs to form an animation of sorts, they had discovered the most intriguing result seen so far.

    [External Bleeding Detected. 0.01 Blood Points (BP) lost. (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    The next moment, when Conditional Undeath activated, the FRI animation revealed strands, particles of the blood energy rushing towards the sources of injury.

    They moved through actual veins for the most part, but once they reached a close enough vicinity, they phased  through the vein and through muscle to reach the exact source of injury, in this case, his palm.

    There, the particles of blood would persist, almost in contact with the wound, gradually vanishing away as the injury healed. The specific process here wasn¡¯t clear, but his conclusion was that the blood energy was used for the regeneration, and hence used up.

    And yes, the deeper and longer the cut, or more serious the injury, the more blood energy that rushed to it.

    After which, there would not only be a noticeable reduction in the blood energy flowing in his vessels, but also a reduction in his actual blood, proportional to the amount used up in regenerating the injury.

    This had led Miles, well, him and Cadmus, to the final conclusion that the blood flowing in him was not merely some sort of Fae energy infused blood.

    To phase through his body, the blood was very possibly a type of energy in and of itself. Or, considering that he could still bleed liquid blood, at the very least it was capable of transitioning between liquid and energy states.

    [0.4 BP consumed. All Injuries Healed.]

    If the many system notifications he had received in the process were anything to go by, Miles could conclude that this energy was what was referred to as BP (Blood Points).

    Another intriguing observation lay in the variation of blood energy with physical motion. Although it was subtle and imperceptible to Miles himself, Cadmus had delved deep into the data of the scans, a feat only achievable by skilled net weavers or¡­ corporate AIs.

    While it wasn''t groundbreaking work, it did add an interesting layer to the already mystical blood energy¡ªmotion or movement induced a slight intensification in the flow of blood energy, often concentrated in the specific part of the body in motion.

    ''Could it be that this blood energy is what is behind the attribute enhancements by the System?''

    An interesting thought, but the FRI scans from the Lefayescan only worked while Miles was lying within the human shaped imprint of the scanner. If he wanted to experiment more on this, the available equipment was not sufficient.

    Over this period, Zhan Shen had observed the entirety of the proceedings, occasionally questioning, occasionally concluding, but mostly pondering in silence.

    The elderly butler had even managed to find a clove of garlic from somewhere, and thrown it over to ¡®complete¡¯ the experiment.

    Miles had humored him, to some extent curious himself. But the moment he felt no reaction from touching the very intense-smelling condiment, besides a strong desire to throw it away due to the sharp smell, he knew it was nothing special.

    Further FRIs confirmed it.

    The blood did not react to the garlic. It was just his rather sensitive sense of smell having some trouble.

    Zhan Shen seemed quite amusedly disappointed, but that called an end to the basic experimentation.

    Sure, there were still many aspects remaining for him to experiment on, but Miles'' head was elsewhere, as he chewed on his lip in deep contemplation. He had been trying his hardest to ignore it, he didn¡¯t really want to¡­ but he also did.

    [BP: 7/110]

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 7/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 0/100}

    Miles stared at the status screen.

    Perhaps due to his experimentation, the blood consumption that had been repeatedly stated as negligible had been contradicted by the decrease in blood points from eight to seven.

    That had resulted in another interesting revelation.

    Miles himself may not have been able to discern the change, were it not for Cadmus'' meticulous analysis of the FRI scan data. The decrease in blood points had caused the vivid red of the blood energy in his veins and arteries to fade just slightly, while the intensity of its flow had intensified.

    If he wasn''t imagining it, it felt even worse now.

    His throat was phenomenally dry and no amount of gag-worthy outer city canned drinks brought over by Zhan Shen in the last hour had helped.

    His very physique felt¡­ dehydrated.

    Not to the point of feeling pain, but it was still uncomfortable and distracting. Attempts to control himself with focused breathing had helped so far, but the effects were always temporary.

    It was obvious to him now, that this thirst had only become a problem ever since the blood points had dropped, after the injury from that gangster that had pierced a hole through himself and his perfectly good suit.

    Perhaps further in-depth meditation might help him control the thirst better, but his theorization concluded that these Blood Points were his lifeline.

    So, surely, refilling blood would be for the better?

    Miles took a deep breath, pushing himself off the Lefayescan and turned to Zhan Shen, who had been sitting on the ripper-doc¡¯s stool, mostly silent.

    His movement caught the old butler¡¯s attention.

    For the second time in a very short while, Miles found himself saying something he had never considered he would, ¡°Old Zhan... I¡¯m going to need some blood.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Jimmy! Jimmy! We can finally pay for military college now!"

    Inani was hopping excitedly, her pigtails bouncing in the air, the almost emotionless young man that was James trapped in her inescapable bear hug, bouncing with her.

    The muscular girl''s physique covered enough of the flickering will-o-wisp signs behind her on the walls to form shifting, rippling shadows.

    Haruka smiled at their antics, but her excitement was similar, only better subdued.

    The middle-aged woman didn¡¯t even mind her sickness and sneezing fits anymore, the sight of the staggering zeros in her credit account being miraculous medicine that soothed the soul, and that was even ignoring the ''healing effects'' of the golden coin she continued to flip through her fingers, single-handedly worth several times what was in her account right now.

    ¡°That''s right, all around I owe you two a little short of a million." Haruka leaned forwards over the counter, towards the duo, "But where the hell did you find those Corpos from?!¡±

    Finally coming to a stop with a completely unaffected young man in her hands, Inani grinned, ¡°The market! The gonky ol'' man Marcus fell to the rats, and they didn¡¯t have anywhere else to go, so we went to their rescue!¡±

    Haruka cocked her head at that.

    Marcus was dead? Pity, decent man that one, but, less competition for her.

    ¡°Soma told us! She said we would be lucky, if we searched for customers there! And the cute fairy was right!¡±

    The middle-aged woman would¡¯ve cocked her head further, if her human joints had allowed it.

    Soma? She was the one that had suggested this?

    Haruka couldn¡¯t help but spare a glance to the doors that led towards her clinic, where the corpos were, doing whatever they had come here for.

    Their presence was quite suspicious, but if they were brought here under the auspices of their resident fae, then they couldn¡¯t be that bad, right?

    ¡°But we wouldn¡¯t have noticed them if we didn¡¯t listen to Soma and used¡­¡± Inani lifted James in the air, as if to show him off, "Jimmy¡¯s amazing goggles! There was something wrong with those two corpos, like some gonk had slapped a premium censorship over them, like they were a free AV or something! I thought it was funny, but Jimmy immediately said they had to be rich, and he was right!¡±

    As if his feet were not dangling in the air and everything was perfectly normal, the young man blushed at the praise, ¡°You noticed their enchantment right Haruka-san? My goggles couldn¡¯t pierce through, but it did negate the mind tampering effect, revealing the enchantment as a blur of sorts. Amathaka, right?¡±

    At that, Haruka nodded with a smile, ¡°That''s right, good eye James,¡± but she continued grimly, ¡°It is a very solid enchantment. Not something just any corpo can have, what more do you know about those two?¡±

    The straw-haired boy paused in thought, long enough for Inani to place him back on solid ground and answer in his stead, ¡°The young one is a bit rude, the old one is cool. They still don¡¯t seem like normal corpos though,¡± she began to count off her fingers, ¡°Didn¡¯t call us outer trash, didn¡¯t bully James for no reason, or try to drag me into an alleyway. So, they might actually be alright?¡±

    ¡°Something is wrong with them though. No corpo would be nice for no reason right, Haruka-san?¡± James questioned.

    The faesycian sighed, ¡°Thank you for that you two, but less about their characters, and more about what we can use to identify their origin? Their Corp?¡±

    Inani seemed to have no answers for that, although she had scrunched up her forehead in apparent thought, until eventually James shook his head, ¡°No, not really Haruka-san. The enchantment hid all identifiable features. We did hear some of their conversation, but they didn¡¯t speak of anything useful.

    ¡°Oh, the old man did call the other one, young master. I think the young corpo is the rich one.¡±

    Haruka wiped her nose, finally nodding, ¡°I guess we can¡¯t know exactly then. But since they didn¡¯t come here on their own, we can be at peace knowing they are only here for my equipment, and... not anything else."

    At that, the straw-haired young man seemed to perk up, greatly interested, ¡°Haruka-san, did you get any more material from there? Did Soma find a way for us to..." he looked around suspiciously and finally whispered, "go inside? Is it stable now?"

    The faesycian frowned, but eventually shook her head, not elaborating any further.

    James nodded, seemingly in understanding. But shortly after, he continued in a serious tone, "Oh! I almost forgot Haruka-san, I made a breakthrough with my ¡®nades! Do you think we could work on it some more, tomorrow maybe?"

    "And I''ll help! We will blow away any evil corpos!" Inani chimed in, poking her head from the side of the young boy''s head.

    The middle-aged woman laughed, ¡°Well, why wait for tomorrow? We¡¯ve got time to burn! Let¡¯s begin!¡± gesturing the duo towards the back of her counter.

 CHAPTER 18: Vampiric Experiments - Part 2

    Zhan Shen had been, perhaps understandably, suspicious about his sudden request for blood.

    Miles couldn¡¯t even justify feeling offended, because the last time around he had asked for the same, he had tricked the old butler into assisting in his transformation into a Vampire.

    Thus, it had taken a few minutes to clarify that that was not the case right now, or an attempt to satiate his thirst, and more about using different blood sources for experimentation.

    After all, Haruka did say ¡®they were welcome to use whatever¡¯. Since she had failed to be specific, Miles was going to assume that the Faesycian¡¯s supply of blood was entirely at their disposal. However, that had come with its own unique set of problems.

    Consuming blood from an outer city ripper-doc without any knowledge on who or where the blood had come from was a line that Miles was not willing to cross.

    Fortunately, Cadmus had proven to be invaluable here, weaving through a low-level backdoor to breach into the rather ineptly secured Capital Corp. Outer City Medical Database. It was surprising how many law-abiding citizens had provided in-detail health records to the trustworthy corporation, to whom patient privacy was obviously a priority...

    Not.

    Well, Miles didn¡¯t care, for it worked to his benefit, as all Cadmus needed to do now was cross-reference this patient data with those of the blood donors.

    It was a bit troublesome that blood bags labeled with standardized health information were not the norm, the majority using nothing more than a sticker with a scrawled-on blood type and a ¡®believe-it¡¯ expiry date, Miles making sure to steer clear of those.

    And even when cross-analysis was actually feasible, Miles'' perfectly average and definitely ordinary standards meant that any donor with less than stellar health records, that did not provide the gourmet equivalent of blood, were avoided.

    All that considered, It should¡¯ve been a fairly time-consuming process, but with Cadmus efficiently handling the bulk of the work, a fraction of an hour was all it took to provide him with far too much medical information on the blood donors.

    That was how Miles found himself where he was, lying awkwardly against the embossed metal of the Lefayescan once more, staring at a wheeled table he had pulled over to be within arm''s reach. Or more specifically, the small black bag placed upon it.

    It was half-open, revealing a metallic interior that wafted out clouds of cold vapor. This was a type of portable refrigeration carrier, filled with the blood bags Cadmus had deemed to satisfy his requirements.

    Eighteen blood bags were placed within, categorized based on varying degrees of freshness and blood type, the final three being particularly unique.

    Miles was eyeing the most recent of the bags of blood, sourced directly from a stubborn butler who had insisted. Even as he sloshed the bag around, the transparent plastic bag of blood type A+ felt unusually heavy in his hands.

    Despite his relative success so far, even this very moment, Miles found himself needing to exert conscious effort to restrain the desire to tear into this blood bag, to gorge on the liquid that he instinctively knew would scratch the dry itch pervading his body.

    He had tried gulping air for the last few minutes, attempting to train himself to resist the urge, or at least lessen it.

    It had not helped.

    Yet, something continued to restrain him. The frayed yet unbroken thread that was his sense of reason perhaps.

    Well, that and Zhan Shen who had and was still eyeing him with tactlessly unhidden suspicion.

    The old butler was not at all pleased.

    Even though Miles had proved that Vampirism was not unstable and that it would not lead to a self-collapsing implosion by over-exceeding Faetality, the old butler was stuck in the opinion that it would be ''problematic''.

    He didn''t disagree. Sure, it could be problematic, but...

    It could also be effective, and it had been.

    Miles would not have fared so well in the altercation with the dozen Hakuryuu runts had it not been for Vampirism. The sense of touch of his Enhanced Senses acting almost as a sixth sense, and Unconditional Undeath being the only reason he no longer had a hole in his shoulder.

    Zhan Shen was even better aware of this, but it didn''t seem to mean that the old butler would be happy about it.

    Miles narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular, it hadn''t taken long to realize he was stalling.

    He was stalling, to hold off from drinking the blood.

    A troubled hand pulled through his hair.

    A part of Miles knew there was no reason to stew over this so much. He had already drunk blood, a few drops of Zhan Shen¡¯s own.

    The blood he consumed next would only be beneficial, strengthening his lifeline that was Conditional Undeath, becoming the fuel that gave it power.

    But another part of him knew that back then, back then, he had still been human. He had been alive.

    This would be different.

    He could feel it, the anticipation, the expectation¡­

    Miles shook his head clear, focusing on his breathing.

    Since it was an emotional quandary that was holding him back, Miles just stopped thinking and forced himself ahead.

    The bag was almost torn open, as he tilted his head back, and the moment the blood hit his tongue¡­

    Miles knew he had been right.

    This was completely different.

    He almost gagged, eyes-widening in surprise, but never stopped drinking, not until what remained in his hands was a flat, flabby piece of plastic.

    Blood tasted nothing like the jarring combination of iron and metal it had been before. No, this was downright delicious.

    Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t ¡®out of this world¡¯. Miles could imagine himself living without it, as the blood was at most, merely on par with the best culinary he had ever had the fortune of eating.

    The relevant notifications followed.

    Ding!

    [1 BP (Blood Point) gained.]

    Ding!

    [Personal BP restored to 8/10]

    ¡®Hmm, the average blood bag contains about 500 ml? Which is once again approximately a pint, so getting a blood point for a pint is as expected.¡¯

    Despite the ¡®decent'' taste, what made blood remarkable, perhaps even irreplaceable, was the fact that it had satisfied the uncomfortable thirst that had been nagging him for the last few hours¡­

    Perhaps Miles had been lost in that feeling of comfort, as it was only after he had autonomously reached for the next blood bag, when he was on the very verge of ripping into it, that he realized what he was doing.

    Miles hurried to restrain himself, dropping the blood bag like a piece of scalding metal.

    Deep breaths.

    ¡®I¡¯m in control. I¡¯m replenishing the blood points. Not going blood crazed... again. I''m not drinking blood like a beast gone feral...¡¯

    It took a few moments for Miles to reaffirm control and feel reassured enough to take back the blood bag. A glance revealed that this one was just three days old, blood type A-. With a focused breath, he ripped in.

    Ding!

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Personal BP restored to 9/10]

    Feeling the dryness and the discomfort decrease even more, Miles sighed in welcome relief. More careful this time, he reached for another. Five days old, blood type B+.

    Ding!

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Personal BP fully restored to 10/10]

    The empty plastic bag crumpled as Miles slapped it onto the side of the Lefayescan.

    Finally.

    He felt good. Whole, sated, and¨Cright.

    Miles was comfortable in a way he had forgotten he could be.

    ''Holy hells, this¨Cthis is nice.''

    No longer did he have to suppress the discomfort or ignore the unruly thoughts he could not believe were born of his own mind.

    Miles was more than just a bit comforted by the knowledge that he would be back to himself once the blood points were fully replenished.

    Yet, a traitorous part of his mind couldn¡¯t let it go.

    How much control of himself would he lose, if he had lost more blood? More than just 3 blood points?

    If it had already been this challenging¡­

    Miles shook his head clear. That was a problem for a different time.

    Hoping to distract himself, he set his sights on the Omnisight and the FRI scans that had been chained into an animation by Cadmus while he had been focusing on drinking the blood.

    Strangely enough, the FRIs seemed to have sensed nothing from the blood entering his stomach and digestive system.

    Instead, the unseen blood that should have been in his stomach, had spontaneously manifested in his circulatory system automatically added to the blood within, the actual process of transfer going undetected by the Lefayescan.

    Moreover, the drinking of blood and fully replenishing his Personal Blood Points had resulted in a noticeable change in the blood energy. The vivid red of the blood in his veins had brightened, but when observed in the FRI animation, the intensity and voraciousness of the blood had reduced significantly.

    It was an obvious conclusion that the amount of blood available had an effect on the flow of the energy, perhaps even being related to the thirst he had been suffering from.

    Musing on the implications of the revelations, Miles moved on to considering the effects of the differences in the blood bags he had drunk so far.

    The blood being three days older seemed to have led to no noticeable change, along with no virtual difference despite the change in blood type, but this wasn¡¯t nearly sufficient to arrive at any useful conclusion on the subject.

    More experimentation was necessary.

    But before he did, Miles shifted his attention, scrutinizing the skill he had attempted to use, unsuccessfully, multiple times now.

    [Skills: Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}]

    If the skill was ever going to have any effect, now would be the time. Expectant, Miles reached for another blood bag, this one being seven days old, type B-.

    Ding!

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 1/100]

    Miles'' eyes widened, a grin creeping into his face. At long last, there was an effect from the silent skill!

    ¡®So it¡¯s an actual bank for blood! 10 blood points, roughly equivalent to about 5 liters of blood undoubtedly referring to the personal blood in my body. Thus, anything additional, up to 100 points, would be stored here in this bank.¡¯

    Nevertheless, he had to wonder.

    ¡®Would it have been so difficult to explain the specifics of this skill through the system the moment I gained the skill? Like the Newborn class was explained in detail?¡¯

    Miles pursed his lips.

    Perhaps he was overreacting, but was it really so much to include explanations for the skills given by a seemingly omnipotent, omniscient system? It was almost as if it had been designed to make things more difficult than was needed.

    Nevertheless, Miles was still very satisfied with the effects of Ripae Sanguine. Simply put, with a fully filled 100/100 blood bank, this was equivalent to an additional 10 lives!

    Forget the nine lives of the Felinei, the Vampire Blood Bank went for the win!

    Well, assuming, the conversion ratio between blood points and health points was uniform that is. Miles wasn¡¯t exactly sure, but from what he had seen from his regeneration, it wasn''t one-to-one.

    However, the most interesting observation was what had been detected by the FRIs during the process.

    Which was nothing. Just nothing, as there seemed to be no change in his faesiology, nothing to notice.

    The chained FRI animation only showed the standard motion in the blood energy, and even Cadmus confirmed there had been no comparative change in the blood energy itself.

    They could only assume that whatever unseen process had transferred the blood in his stomach to his veins, had worked once more, except this time the final location was different. Presumably transferring the consumed blood to the Blood Bank, wherever or whatever that was.

    Realizing that this was an inexplicable feature of his supernatural physique, and was a mystery that could not be solved with a simple Lefayescan FRI, Miles decided to move on.

    Since the Ripae Sanguine skill could even help him control his hunger for blood, he felt rather justified in filling himself up on blood bags. So, Miles continued, selecting blood bags in increasing order of date sourced, while still varying the type.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Ding!

    [4 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 5/100]

    By now, he had already tested all eight blood types, and yet there had been no visible difference in the results due any of them. His blood points had replenished accordingly, and that had been all.

    ¡®Blood type is irrelevant then. That is confirmed. But what of the sourced date? So far nothing but we¡¯ll see.¡¯

    Miles continued, now ignoring the blood type and only considering the date.

    Three bags of blood and nothing had changed with the results, his blood points had continued to rise.

    Ding!

    [3 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 8/100]

    But the moment he tasted a blood bag exceeding the 20th day, Miles felt a change.

    Ding!

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 9/100]

    The change was in the taste. He could feel the age in the blood. Old, almost rusty, and considerably more unappetizing, but not to the point that he couldn¡¯t ignore it.

    ¡®Ugh, terrible. Tastes like someone dumped rotten cyberware in perfectly good soup.

    ¡®But the result is quite interesting. Doesn''t the efficiency of oxygen delivery by red blood cells diminish around the third week? Could that be what is affecting the taste? Very possible, but if that is so¡­''

    With only a moment¡¯s pause, Miles continued to consume the blood bags. As the blood grew older, the taste continued to worsen, but at least the blood point gain continued.

    Ding!

    [2 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 11/100]

    Miles was absolutely appalled by the flavor of that last blood bag, tasting his mouth to see if it would ever leave. Still, he shifted his gaze towards the final of the fifteen. This one happened to be over 45 days old.

    ¡®That significantly exceeds the typical storage duration of a blood bag maintained under optimal conditions. Which means, there should be a deviation from the norm here...''

    But just as he ripped out the top of the bag, a putrid odor assailed his nostrils, almost reminiscent of the decaying corpses from the alleyways of Yumekuro.

    Miles really didn¡¯t want to consume this, but compelled himself to, reassured that this was in the pursuit of science, and somehow managed to swallow a mouthful.

    Ding!

    [Toxic blood(lesser) consumed.]

    [-0.3 BP gained. Negligible, not considered.]

    Even as the notifications came in, Miles was sputtering. The blood was utterly repugnant, like the former rotten cyberware soup had been garnished with... death.

    ¡®...It was a good lesson at least.¡¯

    However, the repulsive taste lingered persistently over his taste buds.

    Unable to overcome the trauma of the atrocious blood, Miles hurled himself off the Lefayescan and rushed to grab one of Zhan Shen¡¯s outer city canned drinks. Most of them were of the brand ¡®Boundless Energy,¡¯ supposedly produced by Vulcan Corp. the world-class weapons manufacturer, if the label were to be believed.

    Miles couldn''t care less and guzzled it down, but even a good serving of artificial chemicals failed to completely wash off the taste, the unnaturally strong flavor only helping to weaken the taste of rotten blood.

    It only made him even more exasperated with the situation, wishing for a glass of good wine. But how could an outer city Faesycian possibly have anything on par with a glass of Clurichaun?

    He could only sigh in defeat.

    Zhan Shen who had been watching everything, was seemingly amused, ¡°What? I know very well how picky you are with your ¡®cuisine¡¯ Master Miles, but who knew it would carry over to blood as well? Some things never change,¡± and nodded sagely.

    Miles scoffed, annoyed by the fact that the old butler had somehow managed to read his thoughts, even as he broke into another can of the terrible energy drink, ¡°It¡¯s called having a refined palate old Zhan, not like you ever understood, and no, that blood was just purely bad.¡±

    As if to make a point, he took the still almost full bag of expired blood and dropped it into a container of what he believed was clinical waste disposal.

    Zhan Shen shrugged, ¡°Let¡¯s ignore the Vampire who can¡¯t handle some expired blood, but Master Miles, your successful experiments with blood aside, it is almost dawn¡­¡±

    Miles paused, mid-swig of the energy drink.

    Time had passed and it was officially the next day. It was just that from inside this windowless sealed clinic, he had failed to notice.

    Miles glanced at his pale skin, rubbing his hands for a moment. The rotten flavor in his mouth felt even worse now, but with a deep breath, he dropped the half-empty can into the waste disposal.

    ¡°Very well old Zhan, let us face the music, or rather, the Sun.¡±

    ***

    Miles walked after the elderly butler, having exited the clinic through the back door, entering a small, cramped alleyway.

    Even if it was a different district altogether, it was still the outer city, easily causing Miles'' nose to crinkle in disgust once more.

    At least it was devoid of heaps of discarded corpses. He supposed a ripper-doc clinic that had a mountain of dead behind it would not inspire confidence in potential customers.

    Miles had donned a simple yet classy hat that covered his face in a comforting shade. It was from old Zhan for he was not a hat person in general, but the circumstances had warranted it.

    He had also worn his personal gloves, covering his hands entirely in sleek and minimalist dark goblin leather. It was not a functional piece, and mostly a fashion statement. Today however, it would be serving a purpose.

    With these two additions, there were no longer any exposed areas of his body or skin. A simple precautionary measure to avoid or lessen the worst-case scenario.

    Miles glanced around, noting that while it was not the break of dawn just yet, the dancing aurorial lights in the sky were beginning to fade away, chased away by the soon to ascend sun. It was the faded light of a soon-to-be morning that illuminated the area instead.

    In tacit agreement, their eyes fell upon a nearby dumpster, a dark green metallic affair, more of a box than anything else. It was perfectly placed at the end of this alleyway, directly between the walls of the ripper-doc¡¯s clinic and the walls of another unremarkable building.

    They didn¡¯t speak, both thinking the same, but Miles moved first.

    With a graceful bound and further movements fuelled by the Nameless Movement Art he pounced onto the dumpster, from it grabbed onto the ledge of the clinic building, and with a single arm easily pulled himself over.

    Miles had held onto the hat with his other hand, but had still managed the fairly impressive feat of acrobatics.

    Except¡­ Zhan Shen had somehow beaten him because by the time Miles was looking around, the elderly butler was already pacing over the roof, far ahead of him.

    Miles could only shake his head, as his eyes returned to the location he found himself in.

    If the sight of concrete ridden with fae fungi and the occasional dead animal wasn¡¯t enough of a sign, it was obvious this was not a rooftop that was meant to be reached.

    Haruka¡¯s Faetastic Emporium was a building with a single floor, which meant that while they stood upon it, the majority of the nearby buildings were tall enough to shelter their location from the sun to a considerable extent. It wasn¡¯t perfect cover, but there would be enough shadows for Miles to retreat to.

    Time passed mostly in silence as Zhan Shen stood still observing the sun rise, while Miles paced around under the shadows.

    He was¡­ not feeling optimistic about the experiment, confident that had his heart been alive, it would have been beating like a drum. Even his hands felt unusually clammy, leading him to rub the palms a little too often.

    Try as he might, Miles couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling of being somewhere he shouldn¡¯t be, observing a domain that was now no longer his.

    But, he shook off those weak thoughts, tampering down over the familiar emotion¡­ fear.

    Eager to distract himself, Miles set his sights beyond the rooftop they currently found themselves in.

    With enhanced vision and this elevated positioning, he could witness the outer city District of Hamelin and its transformation through the morning.

    While the sunlight was nerve inducing for him, for the mutated variants of birds, their alien cries adding a unique tune to the waking city, it was a new beginning.

    Miles had sought a distraction, and those birds were plenty distracting.

    A flock of heartless starlings fought with each other, raining feathers, despite the fact that they had just woken up, their cries and screeches a cacophony.

    The devil¡¯s pigeons joined in soon enough, not to fight, but to aggressively and systematically pick off the weaker of the starlings, swiftly feeding on the screaming birds like the devils they were.

    A three eyed raven, a species supposedly endemic to the region of Capital City, observed wisely and silently from a discrete perch on the ceiling of a nearby building.

    The birds were loud, but their noises were familiar, even to Miles who had lived in the Inner City for the majority of his life.

    It was interesting to note that while these birds had awoken, the same was not true for the city as a whole.

    Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Miles was in an area where most buildings had little windows, but the expected hustle and bustle of a waking city was markedly absent.

    Either it was still too early for most, that, or the people were taking the war with the orcs outside in the Everglades quite seriously. After all, it wasn¡¯t rare for straggling fae to sneak into the city over the outer wall and slaughter a few dozen people before the Knight Corps were summoned.

    Miles didn¡¯t care much, not at the moment, for his rapt attention was on the golden light that had painted the sky in hues of orange and red.

    Soon enough, the streaks of sunlight appeared over the building they stood upon, one particular ray just directly before where Miles stood.

    It was time.

    He could just reach out to touch it, if he wanted¡­

    ¡°Well? Are you going to do it, or not? Time shall not change the results,¡± the annoying voice of a certain butler rang out. Zhan Shen was standing in the direct sunlight, completely unaffected, as if in challenge.

    Miles hated to admit it, but the old butler had a point.

    There was that instinct, warning him, telling him not to enter the sunlight¨Cbut with a focused exhale, he slowly and carefully dipped his left hand into the sunlight, the leather of the gloves glistening under the illumination¡­

    And, nothing happened.

    Miles continued to hold the hand for a few minutes, but still, nothing changed.

    There was a bare feeling of heat, but it was so slight he wasn¡¯t even sure if it was just natural.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but heave a sigh of relief.

    At least he knew that indirect contact with the sun was safe. Even in the worst case scenario he could consider wearing a full body leather suit or something of the sort.

    Pulling back the unaffected hand, next, Miles removed the glove upon it.

    Even before he placed his hand within the sunlight again, the skin prickled, hair rising almost in warning. But again, Miles pushed past it and placed his hand into the sunlight.

    A few seconds passed, and nothing happened.

    There was that persistent sense of discomfort, of instinctual danger, but little else.

    Miles¡¯ hand did not spontaneously combust, nor did it feel weakened, or god forbid, started to sparkle.

    It was strange to be honest, he had expected something¨C

    When suddenly, the hand trembled beyond his conscious control, and a searing heat wracked through bone and flesh.

    With a pained yelp, Miles pulled back his hand, hurriedly checking for injuries.

    Scorching heat rippled through his blood vessels, as if a plunderer had entered inside of him to ravage and pillage. The effect had been entirely internal, but for a moment there, he could swear his skin had been heated to the point it had flashed red.

    The system responded with a series of notifications.

    Ding!

    [Cursed {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred} Celestian Sol demands payment from all Vawul that enter his domain.

    As a Newborn, the remnants of your humanity lessens the cost.

    Skill: S?e?l?f?-?C?o?n?t?r?o?l?(???)?Haemomancy Lvl. 0 lessens(?) the cost.

    Title: Balanced? further lessens the cost.]

    Ding!

    [-0.1 BP (Negligible. Not considered.)

    Total Blood Points remaining: 10/10 + 14/100.]

    [Celestian Sol accepts your sacrifice.]

    ¡®Well, shit. As expected, Sol¡¯s hatred is indeed the Sun¡¯s hatred.¡¯

    He was to all intents and purposes, ostracized from walking around in the day.

    But, he had been expecting a completely different result. Not some sort of blood tax. One which had even been lessened because of Newborn, the Haemomancy derived from Zhan Shen¡¯s Self-Control, and the title Balanced?

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but spare a curious glance at the Sun above. Even from the safety of the shadows, the very sight gave rise to fear, and he shifted his eyes away.

    ¡®Celestian Sol. Does that actually refer to the Roman personification and God of the Sun? Does the system mean to say that Gods are real? Or is this just another instance of using Latin for no functional reason?¡¯

    Miles crossed his arms as he tapped his foot, deep in thought, ¡®And what is this strange glitch impairing the mention of Self Control? It¡¯s almost as if the System is confused? Is that even possible?¡¯

    Dragging him out of his thoughts, Zhan Shen posed a question, ¡°I take that didn¡¯t go well?¡±

    Miles heaved a conflicted sigh, staring at his pale hand. It had now returned almost entirely to normal along with the faded pain, ¡°Yes, it did not, but it also is not that bad.

    ¡°Hold on, let me see how Sol reacts when I step in entirely, but am not exposed to the sun¡­¡±

    Miles pulled on the glove he had just removed, tightened the hat over his head, and¡­

    He couldn¡¯t bring himself to take that last step forward.

    It was a single step that separated him from the safety of the shadows and the glaring heat of Sol¡¯s sunlight, but it felt uncrossable.

    What was before him was a simple, common thing, a ray of sunlight, but it felt¡­ so, so wrong.

    Like when one would find a massive pile of giant feces, there was no way you would step in it, right?

    This was similar, a mixture of disgust and fear.

    Zhan Shen let out a discrete cough, ¡°Has your undeath made you a coward Master Miles? To the extent that you fear, recoil and run away from pain?¡±

    Miles released a nervous breath, the harsh words from the old butler helping him get a handle on his emotions. He tapped a loose fist against his heart in gratitude and furrowed his brows, ¡°...No.¡±

    His mind made up, Miles pushed past his instincts, past the disgust and fear¡­ and stepped into the light.

    He held his breath, almost afraid to let it out.

    The glaring morning sunlight bore down upon his suit, gloves and hat¡­

    Miles was tense, prepared to dash out the moment the heat began to burn him, and it did, though so considerably less, compared to what he had been expecting, that he was waiting for it to get worse.

    It was akin to a light pinprick, a slight agitation that rifled through his blood vessels, but that was about it.

    It was stifling and painful on some level, Miles could almost feel his blood vanishing as payment, but it was meager enough to be ignored.

    A few minutes passed, the initial fear long gone by now, ¡®This is good enough, as long as Sunlight does little for as long as I¡¯m well covered, I can handle it.¡¯

    Miles allowed himself another half an hour of basking in the sun, until he was bored enough by standing still that he returned to the shadows.

    Almost immediately, the system notification came.

    Ding!

    [Cursed {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred} Celestian Sol demands payment from all Vawul for the duration they remain within his domain.

    As a Newborn, the remnants of your humanity lessens the cost.

    Skill: S?e?l?f?-?C?o?n?t?r?o?l?(???)?Haemomancy Lvl. 0 lessens(?) the cost

    Title: Balanced? further lessens the cost.

    Celestian Sol grants mercy to the Vawul who respect and fear his might, garbing and hiding their corrupted flesh from the touch of divine light, further lessening the cost.]

    Ding!

    -0.01 BP. (Negligible. Not considered)

    Total Blood Points remaining: 10/10 + 14/100.

    Celestian Sol accepts your sacrifice. ]

    From the phrasing in the notification, it seemed that this Sol either had a point to prove or severe power posturing to be done.

    Regardless, Miles was relieved to know that he could to at least some extent survive under the sun.

    He would be quite literally cooked if he exposed himself to the sunlight, but while well covered he could survive.

    Miles began to pace under the shadows of the building again, stewing in the implications of these revelations.

    First was Celesitan Sol or the Sun, the personification of the celestial body revealed to be an overzealous blood tax collector overseeing the Vampires¡¯ weakness to sunlight.

    Next came the reasons for lessening the ¡®tax¡¯ cost.

    The same as before, they were Newborn, Self-Control, Balanced?, and now apparently, clothing to avoid direct contact with the sun.

    All these reasons seemed to carry a common theme, of being less Vawul, of being less a feral creature, the kind the Vampire he had encountered in the mansion was, or even what he himself had become in the fight with the Hakuryuu.

    Then there was the effect of Self-Control(?), a title that had initially been rejected by the Vawulan System on the grounds that it did not align with the path of the Vawul, and later shifted into Haemomancy.

    Yet, for some reason Celestian Sol seemed to think the original skill still existed, citing it as a reason for a further waiver of his blood tax payment. It seemed possible that the basis under which Sol segregated those who entered his domain was not entirely about Vampirism, but something else.

    ¡®Does that mean for any other Vawul who isn¡¯t Newborn, who does not have Self-Control or Balanced, the blood tax would be worse? If it¡¯s any more than this, assuming that they don¡¯t have a fully replenished Blood Bank, wouldn¡¯t they just dry up in a few minutes?¡¯

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but thank old Zhan and whatever spiritual mojo he carried in his blood that had led to him being blessed with all these useful titles and skills.

    Yet, even with those advantages, he was vulnerable to the Sun. If his clothes got damaged or ripped, Miles would begin to lose blood all over again.

    To finish this experiment perfectly, he would have to venture out into the sunlight with minimal covering, but he figured he already had a good enough idea of what would happen if he did, not to mention the limited amount of drinkable blood remaining.

    So¡­ Miles passed over the self-inflicted torture of being boiled under the sun.

    When they returned to the inner city, Miles fully intended to drag out a Faesiology Analysis Cubicle into the sun and experiment further, but as of right now, he didn¡¯t believe that the ripper-doc would be very conducive to such an attempt.

    Not to mention setting the cubicle on the rooftop would be a massive pain.

    Thus for now, experimentation with the sunlight was complete.

 CHAPTER 19: Vampiric Experiments - Part 3

    ***

    The sunlit rays of the morning sky danced upon armor, yet none of the few people that dared to stray from their homes noticed the solitary presence atop the nondescript building. Through the silverine helm gleamed all-seeing eyes, observing, scouring the city, for something, anything, but ultimately... finding nothing.

    Knight Xavier had exhausted every conceivable avenue, but even the AllSight CCV9 that blazed within his eyes could not find what he sought.

    His desperation had even led him to that Faesycian Clinic, the one with the decommissioned security system, the very same he stood upon right now. All he had found was the premises were looted, security records wiped with thorough precision, and what were presumably the remnants of the Faesycian owner floating in the rat-infested drainage below.

    None proved useful.

    Worse yet, the beeping in his ear had grown frequent and agitated over the night, but he could afford to ignore them a bit further...

    Time was scarce, but Xavier lacked the faintest clue on how to proceed.

    In the end, this seemed fated to end the same as it always did.

    Try as he might to circumvent contradictory orders, he would always be brought to a halt by jarring politics. The same as every other attempt to pursue those that lurked in the shadows.

    Silver gauntlets tightened, creaking metal forming fists of silver that glinted in the feverish night sky.

    Xavier had sworn this time would be the exception, but if even his best attempts couldn''t succeed, what more could he do?

    That was when his all-seeing eyes widened.

    A faded pulse of red, marking a figure, captured briefly in a discretely hidden camera before it vanished into the video stream.

    Had Xavier not been nearby, wholly focused on scanning the region, he would¡¯ve missed it...

    But he didn¡¯t.

    A cursory glance solved the mystery of the matter¨Cthe video was now being looped.

    The Knight''s glowing eyes rippled, peering through the data and the digital system, finally finding the evidence of tampering and an intrusive presence.

    A net-weaver.

    Decent, needing only a second to bypass the Capital Surveillance Protocols, and perhaps even talented, assuming they had remained hidden by weaving into the city security system throughout, only now having made a mistake by being a bit too slow to react.

    Knight Xavier couldn''t help but frown at the sheer coincidence. He had arrived at this clinic on a wild goose chase, but it appeared that the goose he chased and the orders he had received shared some common threads.

    Perhaps the ones he chased, his own personal crusade, could be progressed now?

    With nothing else going for him as a lead, the Knight decided to pay this net weaver a visit.

    His eyes flickered, zooming towards the face in the half-second footage, highlighted by the red hue of those wanted by the law.

    This was a person of considerable interest. A wanted man, if he wasn¡¯t mistaken.

    In fact, they should be the person of interest right now, the most wanted, whom Capital Corporation, and supposedly even the Blades, the Hakuryuu, and the Craven warred over the borders for¨Ca certain mid-tier gangster, one Hayato Ryota.

    ***

    Zhan Shen had been patient enough to allow Miles the courtesy of returning to the darkness before he began his interrogation, his face emotionless, ¡°Master Miles, am I right to assume you are no longer capable of walking in the sunlight?¡±

    Miles was guzzling another can of the terrible Boundless Energy, trying and failing to cool off from the remnants of the fading heat, when he stopped to answer, ¡°Yes, but again¨CI can remain in the sun while fully covered. All I need are some gloves and a hat.

    ¡°The latter might be a bit off-putting, but it could be replaced with a hood of some sort. Don¡¯t worry old Zhan, I have reason to believe I am in much better circumstances compared to most Vampires¨C¡±

    ¡°Does that matter?¡± the old butler slammed a fist into the Pirisidium operating table, leaving a solid indentation of his knuckles in the metal. ¡°You cannot walk in sunlight again! Does that escape your understanding? Do you have any idea how debilitating that weakness will be? You can never make public daytime appearances again, not without being covered like¡­ well, like a Vampire!¡±

    Miles froze, caressing the back of his neck. He could only remain silent even as he dropped another half-empty Boundless into the waste disposal.

    Logically speaking, he could not be upset about Zhan Shen¡¯s words, for they were objective truth. To be honest, he had been trying his best to avoid thinking of all that, but the old butler had no intention of allowing him to live in blissful ignorance.

    ¡°I understand old Zhan. But¡­¡± Miles crossed his arms over his chest, ¡°I believe that this power that comes at that cost, is worth it.¡±

    The elderly butler prepared to speak again, but Miles cut him short,,¡°I know! I know you disagree, but¡­ I can see its potential.¡±

    He paused, reaching for another Boundless can, but stopped, ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t choose this myself.¡± In the end, Miles didn¡¯t take any, just stared at the pack of energy drinks, ¡°Honestly, I probably would not have chosen it had I been given a choice, or known about these shortcomings, but¡­¡±

    He raised his head, meeting Zhan Shen¡¯s gaze, ¡°Now that I have come where I am, I see the potential in this.¡±

    Miles leaned forwards, cracking a grin, ¡°Besides, the System mentioned form switching, did you forget? As soon as I gain access to a different one, one that is not so affected by the sun, this problem will be solved, would it not?¡±

    For a few minutes, Zhan Shen did not reply.

    Only the tapping of his wizened fingers against metal was heard, and an uncomfortable silence hung between them.

    Finally, the elderly butler heaved a sigh, giving in, albeit begrudgingly, ¡°Very well, Master Miles. I cannot argue that there aren¡¯t some benefits to being a Vampire. But,¡± his eyes sharpened, ¡°let me repeat what I said before, adding onto it.

    ¡°If, after a reasonable duration of time, a duration of my own choosing, should you still remain averse to the sun, unable to change this ¡®form¡¯... that shall be the end of this discussion. I shall personally take it upon myself to change your path.¡±

    Miles raised an eyebrow at the ultimatum, ¡°Assuming the duration is reasonable, I have no objection.¡±

    He could go onto argue about specifics here, but it was better to yield here. One step back to take ten forwards later.

    Zhan Shen nodded curtly, the agreement set. ¡°With that, I shall allow you the peace of conducting the rest of your experimentations Master Miles. This old man will be taking a short leave.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Miles narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust the Faesycian, in fact,I believe she will keep her word, but there is something strange about this clinic. I can¡¯t really sense or pinpoint it, and it might just be the overwhelming number of will-o-wisp signs she has decorated the place with, but it¡¯s just¡­ strange.¡±

    Miles scoffed, ¡°You¡¯re confident it has nothing to do with attempting to track down Hayato Ryota again for that fight you missed?¡±

    Zhan Shen froze as if caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar and began to laugh, ¡°Alright, maybe that too.¡±

    Miles shook his head in exasperation, ¡°Well then, happy hunting old Zhan," and grabbed a can of boundless energy, lifting it with well wishes.

    Huh, another thing he¡¯d never thought he¡¯d be doing. Toasting... with cans.

    <h6 style="text-align: center">***</h6>

    Despite having been awake through the entirety of the previous night, Miles was not the least bit tired.

    This was quite unusual for he was generally a proponent of healthy and timely sleep, often feeling the call to rest when the time was right.

    Perhaps it was a side-effect of his undeath, but he felt none of it, and Miles wasn¡¯t complaining. If he could forego the time waste that was sleep without adverse effect, he was all for it.

    With that, Miles was back in the Lefayescan, lying within the uncomfortable human shaped indentation of metal and staring at the refrigerated bag, eyeing the final three special blood bags.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    What was unique about these was that two of them, one appearing rather ordinary, the other with a greenish tint, contained blood sourced from¨CFaehumans.

    The first was from an Eta-55, supposedly having used up his fatality with some basic physical enhancement serums for a balanced and reasonable build.

    Miles didn¡¯t take long to get himself to gulp it down.

    Ding!

    [Faehuman (Eta - Enhanced) blood consumed.]

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 12/100]

    But besides the system acknowledging the fae-human source of the blood, nothing was different.

    There was a barely noticeable change in the taste, like a faint indistinct flavor, but owing to the fact that this was only a week old, it was mostly the standard delicious blood.

    Frowning, Miles reached for the next, the greenish blood bag, sourced from a fellow Zeta-730 faehuman. Records stated that the woman had focused purely on strength enhancement serums, and as a loyal Capital Corporate employee even managed to get her hands on a basic Fae Ability Serum - Super Strength.

    The ability in question was extremely rudimentary, but even at the Goblin tier, the ability could temporarily triple or even quadruple the user¡¯s base Strength Attribute.

    It may sound overwhelming, but there was a reason why Fae Serums were held in such high regard compared to cybernetics. This woman must''ve packed quite the punch.

    Intrigued as to what the results might be, he guzzled down the bag.

    Ding!

    [Faehuman (Zeta - Enhanced Super Strength) blood consumed.]

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 13/100]

    The ''added'' flavor was clearer now, a sharp tang blended in with the taste of iron and metal, but Miles frowned.

    He wasn¡¯t even sure what he had been expecting, but he had at least expected the other skill he had been unable to use, the even more elusive [Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique] would react, but nothing of the sort had happened.

    Well, before he threw in the towel entirely, there was one more blood bag left¡­

    Miles reached for the pure green bag of liquid, the one he had left for last.

    A bag of Goblin blood.

    Technically not sold legally, but not at all difficult to acquire if you knew where to look. There were always mercs and solo faehumans who¡¯d venture into the Everglades outside the city to hunt fae for a few credits.

    There was one problem here though, the fact that a goblin¡¯s blood could not be compared with the medical database to satisfy Miles¡¯ requirements.

    Well, he had confirmed that this wasn¡¯t expired at the very least. Anything beyond that, he had to chalk up to sacrifices in the line of science.

    So, without much further thought, he guzzled it down.

    Ding!

    [Fae (Goblin - Lesser) blood consumed.]

    [1 BP gained.]

    [Stored in Blood Bank: 14/100]

    The taste was completely changed. A distinct earthy, bitter flavor, what he would expect a mixture of moss and earthen minerals to taste like, yet it too was standardly delicious. But once again, despite the system acknowledgement, nothing had changed notification-wise.

    The goblin¡¯s blood had been treated more or less the same as that of a human.

    Miles chewed on his lip.

    The system''s show of racial equality was... disappointing.

    There were two possibilities here.

    Either he was completely incorrect on his assumptions about Blood Inheritance, and the skill had nothing to do with drinking blood or, there was something wrong with his approach.

    Perhaps drinking blood from blood bags, without contact to the actual source, was not allowed?

    Miles wasn¡¯t entirely on board with the idea of basically leaving hickeys on random people, but¡­ thus was the price of science, and eventual power.

    He heaved a sigh, his hopes for the skill mostly dashed. It was time to give up on the unique skill, at least for now.

    Fortunately however, there was another avenue that he had left to explore and mentally called out the system screen, the one that he had left unconfirmed last time.

    Ding!

    ||Class Activation Reward||

    [The Vawulan may choose any of the following.

    10 free Attribute Points {+}

    OR

    Skill: |Haemomancy| ¨C {Sanguis Ardeat - Inferior} {+}]

    It was decision time.

    10 free attribute points could be useful, but based on the Newborn class he would be given physical attribute points with every level up, along with a free attribute point. He even had four of those stashed right now.

    So, did he really need more?

    Sure, higher numbers were never counterproductive. One could even argue that these 10 points equaled all the free attribute points he would be getting with the ten levels prior to the ¡®evolution¡¯, and could augment him in numerous ways, bolstering any skill set.

    Comparatively, the potential of a skill held a different allure. An irreplicable, unique power, akin to the distinction between enhancement and ability fae serums.

    So pure attribute points going up, or, a potentially useful skill?

    Sure, there was some risk that Sanguis Ardeat could be challenging or confusing to use, but Blood Inheritance was a unique skill, and his only other inferior skill, Blood Bank, was nothing short of amazing.

    Honestly, was there even a choice here?

    Well, yes, and with a mental confirmation Miles made it.

    Ding!

    [You have unlocked Skill: |Haemomancy| ¨C {Sanguis Ardeat - Inferior}]

    Miles felt something shift, markedly different from when he had received the skills Blood Bank or Blood Inheritance before. It was like he had been given a big red button, mentally. It wasn¡¯t knowledge or understanding, but an instinctive awareness of what needed to be done to activate the skill.

    He breathed deeply, scrutinizing himself, but despite this newfound awareness everything else remained unchanged.

    So, without further ado, he followed the instinct and ''pressed''.

    HISS!

    Miles had been so immersed in the act of activating the skill, that the sudden blaze that ignited within his body shocked him, even prompting a yelp of pain.

    A flame-like heat pervaded his entire physique, invigorating to the point of eliciting near spasms, and an excruciating pain that felt like he was being immersed in boiling water. No, it was more like he was boiling water.

    Fortunately, it was also shocking enough to stop him from continuing with whatever it was that he had initiated.

    Ding!

    [The blood burns.

    -0.1 BP (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    Miles shuddered, glad that he was in the Lefayescan, because he would have collapsed otherwise, ¡®What in the Sidhe was that?¡¯

    For a moment there, it had felt as if liquid fire had replaced the blood that should have been within his veins. Even now, he could feel the residual heat spreading through him, the unnaturalness of suddenly reaching boiling temperatures difficult to just ignore.

    It was comparative to how he had felt when he had put his bare hand in the sunlight, but there was a distinct difference.

    ¡®Blood Burning¡¯ felt less pervasive and invasive compared to the heat from the sun, not that it made the pain any better. In fact, since it wasn¡¯t just a hand, but his entire body, it was actually several times worse.

    Through agonized, uncomfortable breaths, Miles turned to the Omnisight and the chained animation generated by the FRIs, hoping to at least distract himself from the pain.

    And distract him, it did.

    The blood energy had been flowing through his veins normally when, all of a sudden, it just deviated into complete... chaos.

    Like a hive of enraged bees, the blood energy lost its standard flow, falling into a tumultuous rumbling around, chaotic, with no direction or intention, even phasing through the veins into his muscles and flesh as it did so, similar to what had been observed with Conditional Undeath.

    Even though Miles had instinctively halted the skill, the process of the energy calming down was much slower. The shuddering blood energy seemed far easier to agitate than pacify. Even now, it was only gradually settling, taking several seconds despite Miles only having used the skill for a mere moment.

    The FRI analysis was completed, but just like the agitated blood, Miles found himself unable to sit still.

    He hopped off the Lefayescan, still reeling from the pain, and began to pace around the clinic in the hope of walking off the pain and forcing the heat to dissipate faster.

    A few minutes later, Miles was still fast walking around the clinic, actively sweating due to the pervasive heat, even though he had stuck his hands inside the refrigeration bag, the ice-cold air helping considerably.

    ¡®Hah, a vampire that sweats! I''m sure there''s a joke there somewhere.''

    He relished the moment of amusement, because honestly, Miles was disappointed. He had truly drawn the short end of the stick with this skill.

    The potential ability of shooting flames of blood with Sanguis Ardeat had ended up being a pipe dream. It was actually about inducing 100-degree fevers, for himself.

    ''What the hell am I supposed to do with this?''

    Miles wracked his brain for ideas, when a stray thought struck him, ''Wait, Cadmus did report marginally lower body temperatures, and paler skin.¡¯

    He stared at his face in the reflection of Haruka¡¯s Pirisidium table, the glass-like reflective metal depicting his visage in perfect clarity. Miles had been very grateful to realize that despite being a Vampire, he could still see his own reflection. That would''ve been quite an annoying trait to hide and get around.

    Regardless, Miles could now see that his appearance was considerably more flushed, the red of the heat and the sweat making him look considerably livelier.

    ¡®I suppose it could be helpful in hiding my Undeath?¡¯

    He knew he was grasping at straws here, but he didn¡¯t feel like cursing himself for the bad decision either. In fact, he wasn''t in the expected bad mood at all.

    Mostly Miles just felt energized... Like he wanted to hop around the clinic, like a street kid drunk on a dozen cans of Boundless Energy.

    Huh, that was unusual.

    Miles'' eyes widened in excitement, ''Blood Burn! Could this be a side-effect of the agitated blood energy? Agitating my own physique is energizing as a side-effect?''

    A temporary enhancement in stamina did not compare to 10 free attribute points, but it was still something.

    Miles was quite relieved as he began to ponder on the possibilities, when...

    His eyes fell upon the multiple discarded energy drink cans he had consumed over the previous night and even recently to cool himself down.

    With that, he had a truly ridiculous thought, ¡°There''s no way it''s the Boundless Energy, right?¡±

 CHAPTER 20: A Different Path

    Faetality, supposedly a measure for an individuals'' tolerance for non-fatal Fae Serum usage. Often hereditary and rarely deviating, it remains the quantification of a quality, a ludicrous attempt analogous to measuring evolutionary traits upon a single scale.

    At first glance, measured Faetality may project a rational gauge, one where patterns abound and sporadic outliers are rare, a quantity that is unchanged once measured or perceived.

    Yet the elusive science underpinning its calculation remains unknowable, for exclusively FaeTech patented analyzers are capable of the measurement, and much like the Fae Serums themselves, irreplicable.

    Faetality, whimsically named after a pun, indeed lives up to its title. Nothing but a joke.

    ¨C A Perfectly Unbiased Post by an Anonymous User, Cyberhead69.

    ***

    No, it had not been the Boundless Energy.

    Miles was well attuned to his own physique, enough to discern the difference between artificial caffeination and something inherently unnatural. That ridiculous thought was just that, an implausible counter hypothesis.

    This was not the effect of a mere can of chemicals, it had to be Sanguis Ardeat, and the Lefayescan analysis from Cadmus that confirmed it.

    Compared to his readings just minutes before, he was now experiencing¡ªmild stamina increase, minor physical enhancement and dampened pain response¡ªresults that warranted further experimentation of the skill.

    Despite the discovery, Miles was not particularly motivated to proceed. Even for the sake of science, blood burn was not an experience he wished to repeat willfully.

    That was until he had had the inspired idea to use a healthy dose of ¡®pain-be-gone¡¯, an over-the-counter analgesic by Asclepius International. While the drug turned out to be unusually less effective on him, Cadmus concluding that this was a side-effect of the unusual blood flow in his circulatory system, it was easily solved with an increased dosage.

    Miles also had the AI keep careful attention on his physical status to inform him should he go too far with burning his blood, blind to his limits due to the pain dampening.

    And thus, a few hours passed with the sounds of hissing blood, and excited footsteps echoing throughout the clinic.

    The mild stamina boost didn¡¯t feel mild.

    It was as if he had boundless energy, pun entirely intended, causing a strong desire to rush around the clinic. Miles indulged it, making use of the opportunity to properly acclimate himself to the rapid attribute enhancements he had undergone over the night, even practicing the Nameless Footwork for an even higher boost to his agility.

    Needless to say, the two skills had stacked.

    The isolated, stuffy air of the clinic rushed around him as Miles weaved through equipment and bounded off walls, making the best out of the cramped space. Despite the exertion and the dampened yet burning heat in his blood, an unusual smile was plastered on his face. He couldn''t help but find a cathartic release in the mindless physical act.

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure whether he would''ve ever stopped, had it not been for the notifications.

    Ding!

    [The Blood Burns.

    -0.5 Blood Points (BP).]

    Ding!

    [1 BP lost.

    Personal BP reduced: 9/10]

    Well before he could even begin to feel the loss of the blood and experience the thirst once more....

    Ding!

    [Personal BP replenished: 10/10]

    [Consumed from Blood Bank: 13/100]

    While the messages had been surprising enough to stop further use of the skill, the effects of the skill were far from fully dissipated.

    Why, you ask?

    Miles was now swiveling around the Faesycian stool, in a perfectly good mood, while humming a light tune, all the while wearing nothing but his boxers. Thankfully, this was merely an inability to stay still, not a loss of control, for he was also deep in thought.

    Their conclusions regarding Sanguis Ardeat were intriguing, and it painted the fever-inducing skill in a much better light.

    First, with the use of the Lefayescan, the loss of the blood point under the effects of blood burn had been successfully visualized, distinctly different from the abrupt disappearance noted before. The agitated, almost crazed blood flow under the effects of skill had led to the formation of a small quantity of reddish vapor.

    ''Burn the blood and you get... vapor?''

    This steam-like element deviated from the rest of the blood energy, almost floating perpendicular to the standard flow, even phasing through muscle and bone. The Lefayescan managed to visualize its presence until the vapor reached his sub-dermals, but after that... nothing. The gaseous blood just vanished.

    The intensity of this vapor in the faesiology scans had dropped the higher it rose, so his running theory was that the energy actually left his body.

    Miles was fairly confident that the Lefayescan could capture the presence of the blood vapor even beyond his own body, presuming he burned a greater quantity of blood at once. Unfortunately for science''s sake, he was already running low on blood points and simply couldn''t spare the loss. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was simply done with self-immolation, regardless of how ridiculously energetic it made him.

    As for the exact quantification of this skill on his physiology, the physical enhancement was barely 2-3% of his physical attributes. A barely observed increment, but should the same percentage persist with even higher valued physical attributes, it could become a very decent effect.

    The dampened pain response was a bit difficult to analyze, as it was a challenge to segregate the effects of the pain-be-gone upon his nerves, and the faesiological effects due to Blood Burn. Cadmus presumed the effects from the skill was about 10%, incomparable to Asclepius¡¯ drug that dampened about 70% of the pain. At least it was something.

    The increased energy levels, the effect that Miles thought should be the most obvious, actually showed no chemical response or observation that could be physiologically detected by the Lefayescan.

    What they did observe however was that the more the agitated blood calmed down, the less energetic Miles would feel.

    So, it was very possible that the increased energy was less of a scientific chemical response, and more of an esoteric effect, perhaps even purely psychological.

    Still feeling the effects, Miles continued to swivel upon the stool, revolving around his own axis.

    They also had a running theory that Blood Burn was similar to the effects of being exposed to the sun, from when Sol took his ¡®blood tax¡¯. Miles was inclined to agree, for barring the positive effects of Sanguis Ardeat the pain and the feeling had been markedly similar. Unfortunately, they could not confirm it for now.

    Overall, the gains from Blood Burn were minor, at least compared to Blood Bank, it was definitely not worth the loss of the ten attribute points, but he didn¡¯t mind at all.

    Miles had received sufficient gains from everything else, so a failure of a skill due to a risk taken was an acceptable loss.

    Besides, who knows if the skill may end up useful? It surely would, if the 2-3% attribute enhancement persisted.

    Feeling unusually optimistic, Miles hopped off the stool.

    That was enough Faesycian experimentation, for he had more or less exhausted all ideas he could think of.

    It was nearing the evening of the second day now, and he had had enough of peeking into the secrets of Vampiric Physiology, at least for now.

    Nevertheless, since Zhan Shen hadn¡¯t returned to discuss other more important matters, he figured he might as well take a look around the clinic.

    Miles had had no interest in Haruka''s work. In fact, despite the Faesycian''s clearly refined tastes in regard to transporter engines and their inventors, he was staunch in his opinion that the work of any who would call themselves a ripper-doc was worth little.

    But now, since he had the time, he might as well, right?

    ***

    Haruka peered at the exposed circuitry contained within the ridged sphere split in half as if it were a technological fruit of some sort.

    Her eyes flickered blue with shadows of fairy wings as she zoomed into specific areas of the design and examined it all.

    Almost perfectly at the center, a canister of ozone had been embedded within, the core of their experimental recreation attempt.

    Caked within viscous sludge of dead fire slimes were Ignis gecko tails (mostly because the far superior alternative of Ignis salamanders were too rare and too costly), along with the the second most primary component, filling of general incendiary material.

    This was identical for both halves of this spherical ¡®fruit¡¯, all connected by a simple processor that interfaced with the external structure and acted as the fuse and the igniter.

    Except, in between the two halves, there would be a unique flat shaped glass filament embedded with their unique homemade enchantment.

    Haruka¡¯s gaze shifted to the enchantment in question, peering through the massive engraving of a simple fire and flame sigil, surrounded in almost perfect circular design by a variety of explosion and destruction sigils.

    This was James¡¯ attempt at recreating the infamous Dwarven Grenade, generally packing ten times the explosive power of an ordinary tech grenade.

    Humanity had experienced its devastating effects firsthand in the Fae-Human wars and there had been many attempts to replicate it.

    They had succeeded, for the most part.

    Most Corps had managed a roughly five time increase in fire power, but problems arose the higher they tried to go.

    Vulcan Industries were the first to succeed in the creation of a grenade with the same firepower as the original Dwarven Grenade, but the cost incurred for its creation was way too high.

    When the fae forces on the other side of Tartarus managed to throw out a few hundred, humanity felt like they were giving up a kidney by just using one.

    So, it wasn¡¯t wrong to say that humanity had failed at a one-to-one recreation of the Dwarven grenades, and well, this was James¡¯ attempt.

    Haruka finished her analysis, having failed to find a single flaw.

    She lifted her head, observing the seemingly nervous yet hopeful young man.

    The muscular girl besides him was expectant as well, but unlike him, she seemed to be confident.

    With a wide grin, Haruka let them have the win, ¡°I think we¡¯re done dear apprentice. Impeccable work. With all the debugging and fixes over the night, I can¡¯t find a single flaw now. This should be a very decent improvement over the base grenade available in the general market.¡±

    Inani yelped in delight, ¡°I knew it! I knew it!¡± she wrapped her hands around the shocked James like a mother bear, ¡°Jimmy, you are a genius!¡±

    The young man didn¡¯t seem to believe it, shaking his head hurriedly, ¡°Ina, what Haruka-san said is only theoretically correct. It¡¯s all just a mixture of different things that no one has thought to combine, so I didn¡¯t really make it myself, you know. Besides, without Haruka-san, I couldn¡¯t have fixed all the problems either.¡±

    The muscular girl pouted, and bopped her head on his, hard enough to cause the boy to yelp, ¡°Okay, you¡¯re an idiot Jimmy, but not at inventing!¡±

    Haruka was amused, but nodded at the girl, ¡°Dear James, for that I must agree with Inani. Don¡¯t undervalue this. In fact, we''ll see about getting some fairy help for some secluded testing. The Sidhe knows the f*cking city corps that don¡¯t give a shit about crime, will come running at the mention of Epsilon tier explosives.¡±

    James, who had been painfully rubbing his head, widened his eyes in excitement, ¡°Wait really? Did Soma find a way for us to¡­¡± he looked around for a few seconds and finally whispered, ¡°go inside? Is it stable? And when?! We can¡¯t go inside while the Corpos are here right?¡±

    Haruka shook her head immediately, ¡°Of course not. We¡¯ll just have to throw the ¡®nade inside and ask her about its effects. And no, definitely not. Besides, even if I wanted to, our resident fairy has been refusing to appear..¡±

    The straw-haired young man frowned at that, ¡°Could it be the Corpos? Maybe they used a ward that chased her away? Wait, Haruka-san, you don¡¯t think the Corpos know something, do you?¡±

    Inani chimed in, ¡°The old Corpo did stare at us strangely as he left.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true. If he really is an Epsilon, do you think he noticed something Haruka-san?¡±

    The middle-aged faesycian pulled back into her chair, pulling a disgruntled hand through her hair, ¡°I don¡¯t know. Fuck, maybe I shouldn¡¯t have agreed to have them here for a whole week. The longer it takes the worse it might be,¡± and as if she expected an answer from the air, she called out to no one in particular, ¡°But of course, even if that were the case, it might help if the magical fairy among us could give an answer? Some help? Without leaving us hanging?¡±

    There was only silence.

    Haruka raised her exasperated hands into the air, ¡°See! Soma isn¡¯t talking! I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever going to show up while the Corpos are here. And without her, we will have no access.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Aww, I wanted to meet her again,¡± pouted Inani.

    Haruka rolled her eyes. That hadn''t been the point, but she was used to the girl''s antics, and managed to not react as James patted the disappointed girl¡¯s shoulder in consolation.

    The middle-aged faesycian stared at the two¡­ well, children before her.

    They were good kids. They didn¡¯t deserve to die for her problems.

    So, she leaned forwards one more time, and interrupted. ¡°You know what? Soma is acting very strange, never seen her scared off by, well, anything. I¡¯ll send you your credits now. Now that you¡¯ve wasted my entire night on this, you two can scram now. I''ve been getting a feeling that tonight could go off the rails.¡±

    ¡°Oh? How so?¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    A powerful voice rumbled into the clinic, and all three of them jumped in surprise, turning around to find the old man, the supposed Epsilon Corpo, returned.

    Inani was the first to answer, retorting with an indignant finger point, ¡°Damn old man! You scared the shit out of us!¡±

    ¡°Scared? Pray tell, what were you up to, that would make my simple arrival cause fear?¡±

    Inani sputtered, struggling to find the words to an answer, but Haruka interjected just in time, answering the old man that approached ominously, ¡°My oath bound friend, anybody would be surprised by a sudden shout, would they not?¡±

    James nodded rapidly, ¡°Yes, surprise can be expressed as fear.¡±

    The old man approached in silence and¨Csimply passed by.

    They all released a collective breath of relief they had unanimously been holding.

    The old man continued to walk past, seemingly ignoring them, until his voice rang out once more, unnaturally carried over by the air, ¡°And yet, no answer for the first question,¡± but he didn¡¯t seem intent on forcing out one either. He pushed through the iron door and entered the hallway, the door closing behind him.

    It was as if no question had been asked in the first.

    They remained silent for a while, unsure what to do, until surprisingly James broke the silence, cursing in a whisper, ¡°Fuck. Ina is definitely right, the old corpo is suspicious. He wasn''t even that annoyed when Ina accidentally hopped on his shoe on our way to Hamelin. There¡¯s no way we¡¯re leaving you alone Haruka-san.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, we''ll watch your back!¡± added Inani with a raised fist.

    The faesycian frowned, her jaw tightening, ¡°Are you two channeling your inner gonks? I can take care of myself¨C¡±

    Inani bounded over, and with a sharp thrust of her chin plus a challenging gaze she called out, ¡°Jimmy! Haruka-san wants to chase us away! Just so she can keep the rest of the credits the rich corpos are going to throw her away! Not even a cut of the bonus pay for us! Isn''t that unfair?¡±

    James agreed with unnaturally spirited vigor, ¡°That''s right Haruka-san, what are you doing? If anybody else learned you were trying to cheat your associates like this, not even gonks will ever work with you again! You gotta keep your rep intact, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the rep!¡±

    Haruka blinked a few times, but finally sighed in exasperation, ¡°F*cking fine you suicidal idiots, you can stay."

    The muscular girl cheered, starting to jump, again, James still in tow.

    In the end, even the dejected Haruka could only smile.

    They were good kids.

    ***

    Miles felt a distinct sense of relief as he realized he had exhausted all the excitement due to blood burn.

    And by all, he meant all, for when the effects of the skill had well and truly dissipated, he had been rather affronted by his actions under the influence of the skill.

    The skill was supposed to be mild, but the energetic nature with which he had acted seemed a tad excessive.

    Fortunately, the distraction provided by the Faesycian¡¯s research had rescued him from dwelling on the matter.

    James, the straw haired boy, had not left anything practically usable in the clinic, but merely analyzing the state in which certain equipment had been left, the stocked materials, and Cadmus¡¯ Insights, it was possible to glean the intentions behind most projects.

    That was how Miles came to learn that Haruka had been delving into some genuinely interesting pursuits, and much to his surprise, the outer city ripper doc had made decent progress.

    Even the attempts to recreate the Fae Serum had been for a different purpose, as on closer examination, the defective dud serums had actually been arranged clinically. It seemed to be more of an experiment on the nature of the failure of the serums due to the world court patent, rather than an attempt at actual Fae Serum synthesis.

    Discarded circuitry, logically pieced together by Cadmus, also uncovered an attempt to create nat-tech cyberware powered by Fae Serums. An interesting objective, besides the problematic cost to effect ratio. Fae Serums worth their weight in fae gold pieces for some minor effect from cyberware, was a terrible trade, but it was interesting, nonetheless.

    Some projects on genuine Fae based Technology, including but not limited to an attempt at recreating Fae Transporter Engines, ozone containers for irreplicable dwarven grenades, and even theoretical schematics to enhance cyberware with basic enchantments and wards.

    While none of these projects were particularly revolutionary, they exceeded Miles'' expectations for an outer city ripper-doc.

    Pondering on whether Haruka could be a worthwhile investment, and now finally free of his energetic desire to swivel around in boxers, Miles had just finished donning his R&B Suit, affixing the cuff links when his ears perked.

    The door on the other side of the hallway opened with a clang, and rats scuttered away, making way for familiar footsteps.

    He wasn¡¯t surprised to see Zhan Shen enter through the door, shoulders... unusually slumped.

    Miles raised an eyebrow, ¡°Didn''t find what you wanted, old Zhan?"

    Zhan Shen didn''t answer, wordlessly walking until he collapsed onto the Faesycian''s stool. Then only did he answer Miles with a silent nod.

    Miles scoffed at the old butler''s theatrics, ¡°Then what of the Faesycian and her posse? Anything we should worry about?¡±

    Zhan Shen shrugged, finally mustering a reply, ¡°They are hiding something, but no, even ignoring the fae coin oath, last I heard, they were more worried about hiding from us, not causing trouble.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? Interesting. Haruka isn''t as inept a Faesycian as I had thought old Zhan, maybe we should¨C¡±

    But before he could finish, the old butler surged forwards.

    Whoosh!

    A sudden gust of wind swept through the clinic, the air burst, and the lighter of the equipment was thrown into the air.

    The wind spoke to him, but this wasn''t a scream, merely a gentle notice.

    Miles didn''t even flinch, anticipating the old butler''s halt right before him.

    All that was airborne collapsed in a cacophony of crashes.

    Miles remained unfazed, but he couldn''t help but roll his eyes mentally. This was a test of sorts, and the old butler had gone considerably easy on him, for he couldn''t even have had the chance to react had the old butler truly let loose.

    Zhan Shen seemed to take his measure, judging his reaction.

    Their eyes met.

    Gone was the disappointed, forlorn butler, and Zhan Shen spoke in a serious, somber tone that gave him pause, ¡°Master Miles, once again, I can see that being a¨Cblood sucker, isn¡¯t without its benefits.¡±

    All intentions of Faesycian espionage postponed, Miles responded with a nod of agreement.

    Zhan Shen took a deep breath, ¡°Setting aside potential future issues of Vampirism, before you fully commit, before you resign yourself to this existence... I want you to understand that you aren¡¯t confined, or trapped, to this singular path, one that intends to leave you inhuman.¡±

    ¡°There is another, less costly path¡­¡± He extended a hand, revealing the two Fae serums that Zhan Shen had previously purchased from the Faesycian, the ones he himself had tipped unnecessarily for.

    Miles raised his hands in exasperation, already beginning to turn away, ¡°This again old Zhan! I was the victor of our bet, was I not? So why must I take a serum and hope for the best?¡±

    Any intention of agreement and serious conversation was tossed aside, for this was nothing but their never-ending argument. But before he could properly leave, the old butler gripped his shoulder, ¡°Just listen Master Miles, or rather... watch.¡±

    Miles let out a long, low sigh, but finally decided to humor his guardian, and exactly as requested, he crossed his arms and watched.

    Zhan Shen didn''t seem to mind, simply nodded with a smile, and walked over to a corner of the clinic, beginning to poke and prod a bunch of equipment that Miles was fairly confident was used for synthesizing experimental medicines out of... well, fae excreants.

    ¡°Ugh, how do you measure Faetality with these again?¡±

    Miles snorted, walking over to assist before old Zhan could do something truly preposterous.

    ***

    Miles stared at the ancient yet functional model of the FaeTech patented Faetality Analyzer strapped to Zhan Shen¡¯s chest, or rather the flickering hologram generated by the Lykaon ring after interfacing with the device.

    [Faetality: 6440]

    An enviable amount of fatality, marking Zhan Shen as a solid Epsilon.

    However, this was the Faetality of a perfectly middle tier Epsilon, and Miles knew that Zhan Shen was anything but. More importantly, the machine could only read unused Faetality.

    Even if Zhan Shen had been blessed with a perfect Epsilon Faetality of 9999, there was no way in hell that the old butler was performing as well as he was with just 3559 faetality used! This held true even if all the serums he had used were Orc/Fairy tier!

    ¡®This¨C this has something to do with old Zhan¡¯s martial arts, right? The Unnamed Movement Art, Dhara Gala or whatever, and such? All that involves the so-called nature which I supposedly have to understand myself?¡¯

    As he continued to observe, Zhan Shen shook one of the serums he had purchased¨C an effervescent green¨C revealing the text inscribed upon the glass, ¡°GBS-002. Goblin tier Agility enhancement (+50) Serum. Requirement of 56 Faetality for use.¡±

    Miles frowned at the sight, ¡°Are you really planning to use a Goblin tier serum as an Epsilon? The faetality-to-attribute ratio is terribly sub-optimal¡­¡±

    The old butler smiled, ¡°Just watch," and without further ceremony aligned the syringe''s needle on his forearm, perfectly over a vein, and depressed the plunger.

    Instantaneously, the once-magical serum shifted to a strange state of inertness, devoid of vibrancy and vitality. This persisted even as the syringe was pressed down, urging the serum into Zhan Shen¡¯s blood stream.

    Just then, the old butler fixed his gaze upon the serum, calling to the air, ¡°I consume the essence of this Fae, as is my right, to strengthen mine own.¡±

    While the oath need not be as formal as Zhan Shen had made it out to be, hell, speaking wasn''t even mandatory, it just had to be accompanied with genuine, willful, unforced intent. Without sincerity, Fae Serums risked becoming defective duds. It was also necessary to utilize the entirety of the syringe and not a drop less, or again, duds.

    Just a few of the many nuances that suggested the nature of Fae Serums were more esoteric and magical, rather than mere creations of science. But like his mother always intoned, Miles liked to believe that magic was simply a science yet unstudied.

    Regardless, the oath for the fae serum seemed to work. The liquid abruptly stirred to life, casting a radiant viridian glow within Zhan Shen''s veins, easily visible through the skin.

    Using a fae serum was a conspicuously flashy affair, impossible to perform discreetly. Unlike the vampiric blood energy that ran through his veins, the use of a Fae Serum was visibly apparent. Which meant that Zhan Shen was spared from the fate of having to undress and settle into the metallic Lefayescan to observe the flow of energy.

    The greenish veins propagated through the old butler, the dimmed luminescence visible even through the suit. The serum was traversing through the entire physique, subtly altering the body to align with the nature of the specific fae from which the serum had been sourced¨C in this case, a goblin.

    Miles¡¯ irritation regarding the blatant inequality regarding the use of Lefayescans was soon forgotten, because Zhan Shen¡¯s actions took an unexpected turn.

    The old butler sat in a lotus position, legs crossed, and the moment the serum was emptied, the syringe was dropped, and he focused.

    Zhan Shen entered his meditative state, and as always, his focus was a sight to see.

    Not one visible to the eye, but one that was felt.

    The very world seemed to still, the ghost lights dimmed, the faint sounds of the city hushed, and even Zhan Shen¡¯s very audible heartbeat, accentuated by their close proximity in the clinic, seemed to fade¨Call synchronized with the old butler''s concentration.

    Miles was accustomed to this phenomenon (though ignorant of the rationale), and that was when something truly unusual happened.

    He watched as the luminous green veins, still pulsating through Zhan Shen, inexplicably... halted.

    Instead of following their usual course or permeating through the entire physique as was standard, the green light diverged, it congregated, coalescing upon the chest.

    Like droplets of water converging to the bottom of a bowl, they gathered and, as if draining through a hole, dissipated.

    Eventually, all the energy vanished.

    It was not a natural dissipation, but rather as if it had been consumed or utilized for a purpose that it had not been intended for.

    Miles could only gape. ¡®What?

    Zhan Shen blinked his eyes open, a lingering trace of green still lingering deep within.

    The old butler proceeded to flex his wrists with a leisurely stretch, a satisfied grin playing on his lips at the evident confusion on his young masters'' face. Instead of providing an explanation, he simply spoke, ¡°Check my Faetality.¡±

    Miles complied.

    [Faetality: 6440]

    ¡®Nothing had changed, what is old Zhan trying to¡ª¡¯

    His eyes widened in comprehension, ¡°Holy hells, nothing changed!¡±

    Zhan Shen continued his stretch, now even cracking his knuckles, ¡°Astute observation Master Miles.¡±

    ¡°How? If the serum didn¡¯t consume Faetality, did the oath fail? Was the serum defective? Did your agility not improve?¡±

    The old butler halted, ¡°No, it most definitely was not defective. But yes, my ¡®agility¡¯ did not increase, yet my dhara, the stream, did.¡±

    ¡°Your stream...?" Miles frowned, ¡°So what you¡¯re implying is it''s all ''spiritual'', and you can¡¯t prove the serum accomplished anything?¡±

    Zhan Shen chuckled, ¡°Indeed, I cannot prove the results with numbers. However, Master Miles is very familiar with my capabilities. You should be well aware that my consumed Faetality does not align with my capabilities? That, is my proof.¡±

    Miles¡¯ frown deepened.

    That was true, but it could also be any number of reasons. He knew so little of Zhan Shen''s spiritual tricks, but he did believe that there were no untruths here, simply by his belief that old Zhan would never mislead him.

    The old butler continued, ¡°You have to feel it for yourself,¡± and held out a serum.

    Miles raised his hands immediately, ¡°Nope, not interested. Even if what you did will not reduce Faetality¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªIt might still halt Faetality growth? Yes,¡± Zhan Shen finished for him with a sigh, ¡°I knew you would refuse Master Miles, precisely why I haven''t brought this up before."

    ¡°Then what was the purpose of all this?¡±

    The old butler revealed a cheeky grin, ¡°While I did expect your refusal, I shot my shot, just in case your stubborn mind had changed for the better."

    Miles narrowed his eyes, his silence serving as a sufficient answer.

    Zhan Shen shook his head, grin widening, ¡°Fine, fine, there is one other reason.¡±

    Miles snorted.

    ¡°You see Master Miles, I believe that the energy you use for your Vampiric abilities, the increased attributes, the regeneration, all of it¡ªyour ¡®blood energy¡¯¡ªis akin to the energy in Fae abilities. The very same essence found in Fae Serums, the same I consume for my¡­ cultivation.¡±

    Miles paused. That was an interesting hypothesis, with some logic to it, despite being unproven.

    ¡°The instances where you lost control over yourself, I observed intense spikes in the energy within you, and¡­ no, I won¡¯t explain how I witnessed it. You can try that for yourself when you comprehend it, or if you ever get the balls to cultivate with a Fae Serum.¡±

    Miles snorted again at the childish insult, but remained silent.

    ¡°As I was saying, I believe that if you can control that energy, perhaps even direct it elsewhere, utilize it as you willed, you could potentially control yourself better. Perhaps even become more versatile with your¡­ Vampiric abilities.¡±

    Miles didn''t answer immediately, deep in thought for a while. ¡°Alright, you have captured my attention, old Zhan. But do explain how this would differ from my usual meditation?¡±

    The old butler smiled, ¡°It does not.¡±

    And thus, that was how Miles found himself seated upon the grimy, metallic floor of an outer city Faesycian clinic¨C or, more fortunately, on a clean tarp he''d scavenged from the faesycian¡¯s supplies.

    Legs crossed in the lotus position, back straight and hands placed over each other, palms up.

    Apparently, all he had to do was essentially the same old meditation he was accustomed to, with some minor adjustments.

    Miles released a focused breath, stealing a glance at the old butler before him. Zhan Shen nodded, ¡°Go ahead, I¡¯ll guide you through the process.¡±

    With that, Miles closed his eyes, and he started to breathe.

    For a second, he was hyper-aware. Of the lingering heat, from the blood burning skill that had ravaged through his blood vessels, multiple times. Of the scents of the clinic¨Cchemicals, serums, antiseptics¨Call mingling together to form a distinct medical station fragrance. The subtle yet tangible breeze that tugged at his skin, carrying the cadence of another''s respiration in close proximity. The sound of Zhan Shen''s heartbeat, the intermittent beats of machinery, even the faint scuttering of rats within the walls and the distant city beyond.

    But soon enough, he was detached from all of it, feeling none of it, for his mind focused on nothing but his breathing.

    It was a bit strange that he no longer had a heartbeat to focus on, but his breathing remained the same, slow and relaxed.

    His physique uncoiled, tensed muscles and stressed limbs finding overdue relief, a sense of relaxation he should¡¯ve allowed himself sooner.

    With a profound inhale and a measured exhale, Miles achieved perfection, and the world changed once more.

    The clinic, the city, everything dissipated, replaced by a different world, one that should have been familiar¡­

    Except it wasn¡¯t.

    The pristine world he had grown up within, from the day he had achieved some mastery over the art of meditation, well, it no longer existed.

    This was something else. A world tampered, mutated and sullied by garish colors.

    Along his axis of existence, almost directly beneath him, was an unstable rift, a shifting boundary that cut across the world.

    To the east, was a radiant, undulating ocean of white¨Cwhere ghostly tendrils weaved through, evoking a sense of peace and calm. Yet a sense of dullness pervaded, this expanse appeared lackluster, especially when compared to...

    To the west, unfolding in a vast canvas of stagnant red, a viscous fluid, ominous and unnatural. Though a pure expanse of scarlet, even tranquil compared to the east, it paradoxically induced a profound sense of dread.

    For a moment, it resembled a nightmarish dimension of blood, the very same Miles had glimpsed within the eyes of the Vampire.

    A chill traced down his back, was this¡­ blood?

    Even the skies above, once serene and mirrored by the ocean, had been sundered in two. A somber red and a brilliant white, converging along a rippling line, mirroring the one he sat upon.

    Just for a moment, he noticed a jarring imbalance, as if the blood sea had encroached beyond its territory, pushing out the other. It was such an insignificant, slight difference, Miles wasn''t even sure why he noticed it in the first place.

    Lost in the revelation of this unfamiliar, twisted and alien world, his mind had been distracted.

    The manifested world shattered, and his perception returned to the clinic.

    It took Miles a few seconds just to realize that he was gasping, his breath heavy as if he had traversed miles in a sprint.

    ¡°Master Miles! What''s wrong¨C¡±

    The words from the world faded, as he reeled from the experience and its aftermath.

    The experience wasn''t terrifying, no, it was completely different from that bloodied realm he had witnessed back then.

    This was something he simply could not fear.

    It was... his self, laid bare.

    And as if in unison, the chimes resounded in his mind, and the notifications appeared.

    Ding!

    [The tapestry of your existence unfolds before you, the unseen, seen.

    (Mind World - Rare) added to General Skills.]

    Ding!

    [Mind World (Rare) - A Skill only possible for those rare Vawul with minds well-honed prior to the grand blessings of Chaos.

    What you think, you become. What you are, you think.

    Allows the Vawulan to manifest an envisioned realm, a mirror to the psyche, yet influenced by the truths concealed even beyond your own comprehension. Allows the focusing of your mental prowess upon a singular objective.

    Skill Mastery: Basic Competence.

    Current Effect: Concentrate thought, calm the mind, witness reality.]

 CHAPTER 21: Sundered World

    The words from the notifications swayed before him, enrapturing him with their implications. There was a muted sort of acceptance as he pondered, letting their weight settle in his mind.

    Mind World suggested the existence of an imagined realm rooted in his psyche, based upon his own existence, which then implied that the ravaged world of blood and light was, well¡­

    ¡®¡­myself?¡¯

    The skill description provided much detail on the intricacies of Zhan Shen¡¯s meditation, but despite his former curiosity, Miles was unable to indulge in the revelations on that which the old butler had refused to explain.

    The last time he had practiced this meditation proper, had been in the Lykaon mansion gymnasium, before the incident with the Aethercrafts.

    Back then, all had been well with the manifested world. But that was obviously no longer the case, the encounter with the two fae being the almost definite culprit.

    Miles let out a heavy breath, centering his focus.

    Even the momentary act of meditation seemed wrong now. A practice that had once offered rarely found solace, now seemed unwelcoming. An old friend, now an unfamiliar stranger.

    Miles shook off the thoughts and persisted, calming his mind well before returning to reality.

    Zhan Shen was staring, seemingly expecting an answer, and although Miles had missed what had been said, he could guess.

    So, he threw out a reassuring grin, ¡°Nothing to worry about old Zhan, just something new,¡± and slowly, but in detail, explained the skill description he had received.

    Zhan Shen¡¯s immediate reaction was an angry glare, his frustration apparent, ¡°The hell is wrong with this system of yours? Doesn¡¯t it know basic etiquette? To not interfere with the teachings of another? Those answers were not meant to be handed over in gift wrappings, unclear as they might be! The practitioner must learn by themselves!¡±

    While the old butler fumed, Miles raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡±

    An irritated glance, ¡°I have answered that numerous times, Master Miles. It taints your path, the path that will define who you become! Spoon feeding is not the way of the Liuzhong!¡±

    As was expected, it was another answer that was not an actual answer.

    So, Miles dismissed Zhan Shen¡¯s outburst, firmly believing that there was no point to being upset over spilled wine, and interjected, distracting the old butler with the drastic change to his divided mind world.

    And once he was done, ¡°You¡¯re confident what formed out of the sky-sea world was not a river or... a stream?¡± the old Butler asked with a frown.

    Miles nodded, ¡®That was definitely not a stream.¡¯

    ¡°Then, that is far, far from the norm. In fact, I¡¯ve never even encountered a practitioner with a mind world that changed so drastically, after its inception. Besides, even if we assume the red expanse implies the Vampire, what of the other?¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s gaze suddenly fixed upon him, a flicker of realization, ¡°Wait, wait, master Miles, I remember you mentioning something about ¡®forms¡¯, about the possibility of returning back from being a Vampire? And I also recall something about encountering¡­ two creatures. A Werewolf as well?¡±

    Miles scratched the back of his head.

    As old Zhan seemed to suggest, the ocean of blood could very well refer to his vampiric nature or as the system termed it, the Vawul. The other ocean, the one of ghostly white, with what Miles believed were rippling lights, presumably implied the Werewolf¡­ the Wurkao, maybe?

    He wasn¡¯t particularly confident about the latter.

    There were forms, which he couldn¡¯t change. There was a quest for the Wurkan, which remained ¡®Unavailable. Conditions not met.¡¯ And until those aspects were covered, the supposed Wurkan aspect remained fickle and up in the air.

    Miles had inadvertently ignored the unconfirmed, for until it was well and truly proven, what he was, was only Vawulan. Well, half of one, if the implications of the mind world were to be believed.

    Which was exactly why he hadn¡¯t explicitly mentioned that he had been bitten by a Werewolf as well. He hadn¡¯t actually meant to hide it, but he somehow had.

    Dreading the old butler''s reaction, Miles found the grime on the clinic floor to be of great interest as he explained, ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have anything in the system about Werewolves, other than an eventual quest, which I may have forgotten to mention? But, yes, I was bitten by both creatures¡­ simultaneously.¡±

    Zhan Shen¡¯s reaction was exactly what he had feared.

    ***

    It had taken a few minutes to pacify old Zhan, but thankfully, he did understand that Miles had not intended to conceal the Werewolf facets of the system. Thus, the old butler had merely grumbled for a while, before waving his hand, ¡°Fine, get to meditating already."

    And despite his initial reaction to the state of his mind world, Miles had readily obliged, eager to move on.

    His eyes closed, and he started to breathe.

    The action still came with a sense of disparity, but now anticipative of the subtle changes of himself, the transition was far quicker than before.

    Miles achieved perfection, and the world changed once more.

    The sundered world, with seas of crimson and ethereal white, separated by a wavering schism, appeared once more.

    For a moment, his concentration wavered, a natural shift in thought.

    Instantly, the world responded, the skies ruptured by scarlet and white lightning, the seas manifesting ripples bordering on waves.

    Yet Miles was prepared, steadying his focus.

    He had achieved perfection under far worse conditions, so a distracting world (now that he knew what to expect) was well within the bounds of what he could manage, despite the unsettling wrongness he continued to feel.

    And somehow, despite the drastic metamorphosis of his mind world, Miles achieved a delicate balance. His breathing relaxed, and he could finally allow himself to survey the now peaceful, yet unfamiliar world.

    The terrifying majesty in the uncompromising dichotomy of the expansive seas.

    The west was exactly as he had feared, a sea of rippling blood, the occasional wave eliciting unseemly screams. They screamed at him, tugging and pulling upon his manifestation within the world, urging him to relinquish all he had, and fall into its peaceful embrace.

    A crack of bloodshot lightning woke him, finding him leaning dangerous to the left, and Miles hurried to re-establish his focus.

    The east was a brilliant sea of ephemeral white, ghostly strands floating within. It too spoke to him, but its voice was weaker for it wasn''t a pull or anything of actual force, but merely a gentle, whispered suggestion towards¡­ the right path?

    But beyond even them, the strangest of all was the enigmatic rift rippling through the manifested world. The very same that he sat upon and was mirrored by the sky above him. It''s seemingly impossible, but undeniable existence within the thin separation between the two seas was simply confusing.

    It asked nothing of him, and merely existed, a solid unwavering ballista that defied the hypothesis of the Vawulan, Wurkan mind world division.

    What was it, truly?

    The waves rolled, and Miles let out a deep exhale, allowing himself to be freed of the curious, yet distracting mysteries of the world.

    Thinking no further on those intricacies, he allowed himself to just exist, experiencing this strange new world in all its glory, to perhaps even enjoy the mystical view.

    It was cathartic in the most unusual of ways, lifting a portion of a burden he had not known he had carried. The first step to accepting this manifested world as his own, to shed the feeling of incongruity.

    The skies thundered, the seas rippled, on occasion, but he remained in control.

    An unknown time of existence later, when he felt considerably more at ease, a familiar voice resounded echoing through his world., ¡°Good, focus on par with a Sakti, you are on the precipice of surpassing Bala.¡±

    Miles was not particularly surprised, for he was familiar with old Zhan¡¯s occasional instructions of this form. The unknowable terms used didn''t deter him either, well familiar with the occasional usage.

    ¡°Now, allow me the first question. Are you aware of how you interact with the mind world? For instance, how do you sit?¡±

    The seas rolled with rising waves, as Miles pondered.

    ¡®Interact? How I sit? ...Is it not how just about anyone would?¡¯

    The skies crackled with dual lightning, booming thunder echoing through the world.

    ¡®Wait... There is no floor here. Only¡­¡¯

    Even with the illogical boundary running through the seas directly below him, it was all just¨C water.

    And that thought was his undoing, for whatever solid surface he had been sitting upon, gave way.

    A sudden splash, and he was under water, sinking.

    His left ear echoed with horrific screams, welcoming him into its eternal embrace, while his right thrummed with eerie, ineligible whispers. His left side was being stabbed by what felt like a million iron needles, while the right was cold, yet comfy.

    The jarring dichotomy was terrifying.

    Desperate to swim upwards, Miles was horrified to find his hurried strokes passing through the liquid, failing to provide the required opposing force that would push him to safety of the surface above.

    He struggled, gulping in some water, tasting something ghastly and¡­

    The manifested world collapsed.

    Miles found himself back in the clinic, gagging, a reflexive response to dislodge the imagined water he had consumed.

    Zhan Shen''s reassuring hand calmed him, ¡°You alright Master Miles?¡±

    Miles heaved heavy breaths, struggling to disentangle the surreal experience from tangible reality.

    Finally, having calmed himself enough, he answered with a silent nod.

    With a confirming pat, the old butler continued without missing a beat, ¡°Good, that¡¯s realization. Go again, but remember, meditation isn''t aethercraft or transporter science. This problem here needs a very simple ideology, one you have had all this time. All you need to do is sit upon the sea, as you always have.¡±

    Miles let out a confused breath but nodded once more.

    He was finally making strides in this esoteric skill that he had mostly humored for years, never knowing its true purpose. The occasional bouts of shock and terror were nothing compared to what he had experienced in the mansion, and thus, overwhelmed by excitement and intrigue. Gaining control over his Vampiric nature would be an added bonus.

    Obliging Zhan Shen, Miles allowed reality to dissolve, and the sundered world to manifest around him once more.

    This time, he deliberately clung to his breathing.

    His breath was his anchor, for anytime his mind wandered, particularly to the logical specifics of sitting upon a body of water, he would look to the past, of the countless times he had achieved this very, seemingly impossible task.

    ''Zhan Shen is right. If it is water that I''ve sat on all this time, why not again?''

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    He had practiced for nearly a decade, and that unwavering, consistent practice surely helped. Not even a seemingly catastrophic change, not even the logic of water and physics could disrupt the power of familiarity and habit, with ease.

    And this approach... actually worked.

    The ripples subsided, the skies calmed, and the world was truly at peace.

    The experience was almost magical, an acknowledgment of something that had been ignored due to logic, something he may never have considered under the assumption that the manifested world was merely a place of mental focus. Well, it was that too, but it was also a reflection of reality, his reality.

    Miles could actually feel the lap of roiling ripples, the wetness of the different seas upon his crossed legs, and yet, there he was¨C sitting on water.

    ¡®Hah! So, I sit upon the sea, not because it makes sense, but just because I think, no, I believe I can!¡¯

    The realization was obviously founded upon the concept that the manifested world would become exactly what he made of it, and it was solidified with an exhale.

    The answer to his achievement was almost instantaneous, echoing through the world, ¡°Good, very good.¡±

    The occasional ripple grew into mild waves, but Miles reined in his wavering thoughts.

    ¡°Second question then. If one may sit, could they stand? And if they may stand... could they walk?¡±

    ***

    A towering heap of garbage, refuse and discarded corpses, concealed by the shadows of an unremarkable building, a common sight in the outer city.

    But hiding within, stomaching the disgust of living amidst garbage, hid a man.

    Greasy black hair clung to his head, almost indistinguishable from his filthy, darkened appearance.

    Hayato Ryota shivered, whatever liquid from the trash he had been hiding in, a disgusting wetness had seeped onto his back, even though his cloak.

    The white cloak, proof of one''s affiliation with Hakuryuu, enchanted by the revered Jade Dragon and his rat spirit, was his only defense against the filth, for it seemed impervious to most contamination, proved by its mostly pristine appearance despite his recent love for dumpster diving.

    In contrast to its whimsical appearance adorned with childish scribblings of what might be dragon scales, the cloak doubled as sturdy armor. Practicality that was worthy of the risk of being conspicuous.

    ¡°Alright you f*cker, focus," he muttered to himself, "You almost messed up that last weave. The surveillance was noticed, but not long enough to get flagged. No more mistakes.¡±

    Ryota''s eyes glazed over, vision shifting to his conceptual net weaver lair, the one programmed into the peripheral neural interface hidden within his right shoulder. The access was almost instantaneous, for public privacy was seldom a Corpo concern.

    The City Security feeds flashed through the neural displays before him, as he glanced through, searching for motion, movement or people.

    And a few seconds later, having found nothing but some confirmed other junkies, he relaxed.

    Ryota tensed his bicep, along with a specific finger movement.

    His net weaving deck activated in response, letting loose a type of custom needle daemon, sending the horde weaving through the decade old surveillance system, stitching in bogus code into the original subroutines, forcing the cameras to loop through videos of empty streets.

    The orc invasion had worked in his favor. It was much easier to sell the repetitive video of empty streets as legit. Nothing of note to get flagged. There was also lower risk of being spotted and having his location sold for a quick credit.

    A quick double check through the feeds in his shoulder net deck, making sure that everything was as they should be, and Ryota almost jumped out of the heap of trash, welcoming the fresh air. Well, as fresh as Yumekuro air could be.

    He didn¡¯t bother cleaning himself, the filth and grime had long become a part of him, the white cloak his only saving grace.

    The overview of surveillance reduced gradually as Ryota walked through the pathways with purpose. The surroundings however turned increasingly gruesome, garbage and corpses now spewing onto the streets, no longer hidden in discrete alleyways.

    At least there were some people now, well, if you counted the other junkies as people.

    Ryota didn''t mind nor care for any of it, even allowing his strider implants to assist in navigating the mess. He rushed forth, no longer wary of surveillance, even as he trampled corpses, other addicts, and the sidhe knows what else.

    His eyes searched for the signal they had agreed upon, and found it almost instantly, quite noticeable even through the fog of Yumekuro.

    A flickering holo-projector, distinctive, but not unusual enough to be out of place.

    Good, they had arrived, and followed his instructions well. Although they were a bunch of newbies, fresh blood that he had introduced to the gang himself, they were also loyal to a fault, and had immediately agreed to help out in his time of need.

    Dreaming of food and a change of clothes, Ryota hurried towards the beacon.

    He hadn¡¯t seen his wife in a week, and he was sure she was worried sick. Unfortunately, all networks were corpo owned, and he couldn¡¯t risk contacting her. Not when it could put her at risk, especially if her importance was found by those that sought him.

    His initial plan had been to hide out with some friends until things blew over, but the corpos and gangs getting involved had thrown a wrench in that plan. Now, the best he could do was to use these would-be gangsters to his advantage. With their help, and some decent cover, he¡¯d make it to Haruka¡¯s. They had the perfect place to hide there, and with some magical pixie help, it should be accessible. He hoped.

    A solid plan, if any.

    But as the mists cleared before him, revealing what lay behind, the scene he arrived at shocked him to the core.

    Perhaps it was his shock that was unusual, for the scene was reminiscent of all that he had witnessed on his way through the streets of Yumekuro.

    The difference was that this was simply more recent.

    Corpses upon corpses, blood flickering in the light of the holo-projector, lifeless faces that had once been full of hope and pride.

    The boy that had wanted to be a fireball hurling ¡®wizard¡¯, whatever that was, was now a charred corpse, the source of a terrifying explosion.

    That hot-headed kid who was supposedly a dragon among men and used up all his savings on dragon scale implants, his face was shattered in, one eye missing.

    The girl that had refused to do harm, and had picked a neural disruptor for her weapon, had had her head bashed in with the same shield she had chosen to protect those that she could.

    The two brothers, the ones who couldn¡¯t afford a proper strider, and had to share a pair, decent kids they were, floated in pools of blood.

    One of them, the older one, had been gifted one arm of a mantis blade by his sibling, but that entire arm was missing¡­

    Oh, there it was, right through the chest of the short one, the one with the loudmouth, always trying to prove himself.

    Death. Terrible Death. That was all there was here.

    Hayato Ryota was frozen still, shocked and in disbelief, when...

    ¡°Well, well, well. No wonder I couldn¡¯t find anything, this place is so far off the capital grid. You pick the place, Mr. Hayato? You seem too shocked to have been involved in, well, terrible luck this.¡±

    A voice echoed in the air, causing Ryota to swivel around in surprise. He didn¡¯t even see who they were yet, but his arms had already flexed, and his fingers moved.

    The moment his weaving deck found the potential seam, he let loose the daemons.

    The man had appeared out of nowhere, donning silver armor, face covered by a helm. A suit so characteristic no one in Capital City would not know what it meant.

    A Knight.

    Ryota hurried to pull back the needle daemons, but it was too late.

    His painstakingly created offensive code exploded mid transmission, the push back of the failed attack reaching his own deck. Searing heat flooded through his implants, the defense he had coded himself, just barely holding against the explosive response of what was surely, Capital Corp''s automatic net weaver defense protocols.

    The Knight cocked his head, ¡°You still stand? ¡­I suppose your reputation is warranted.¡±

    Hayato Ryota¡¯s heart pounded against his chest.

    How did they find him so fast? F*ck. He didn¡¯t mess up, he was careful!

    His mind raced, partial shifting into his peripheral net weaving deck, searing through code for potential escapes.

    Offensive daemons were no longer a viable option, he had to do something else. Something, anything!

    Meanwhile, the Knight ignored him, walking through the corpses, seemingly searching for something.

    ¡°You know, the death of your compatriots is very unusual. My inbuilt systems can¡¯t find any latent traces here, as if they had just up and died, just like that. But the nature of the kills are all quite obvious. Is that not confusing? And the distinct wounds in the necks I seek are missing. But¡­¡±

    The relaxed figure seemed to tense, ¡°I know enough to know, this ferocity matches those that I want. So, Mr. Hayato, what do you know?¡±

    The helm turned, gleaming white eyes piercing into him. They expected an answer, leaving no room for refusal.

    And so, answer he did.

    Ryota¡¯s left arm burst open, four compartments popping out with searing heat. The flames burned his skin, as he couldn¡¯t properly prepare his hand for fear of being noticed, but he grit his teeth.

    Swoosh!

    The four miniature nat-tech missiles burst forth, swiveling through the air, already manually locked into the silver figure so that no disruption system could ever affect it.

    The Knight didn¡¯t react, or even try to move away, simply standing there. But at the last moment, just before the missiles touched his armor... they stopped, impossibly remaining floating in mid-air.

    ¡°A terrible attempt Mr. Ryota, I saw that coming from a mile away.¡±

    The missiles swiveled around, now aimed at him, and the moment this happened, Ryota had had enough.

    No more waiting, and he let loose everything he had managed to prepare in haste.

    The code he had hurriedly stitched into his former gangster kids burst forth, his original assistance in coding most of their systems his greatest boon.

    The neural disruption wave from the dead girl hit the knight, apparently unexpected, causing him to stumble and the missiles to waver. But before the floating bombs could actually be let loose and rush at Ryota...

    The infernal blaster from the would-be mage exploded, blasting into the knight, and... the missiles.

    BOOM!

    Ryota had already been running, so the explosion behind him only knocked him off his feet, throwing him forwards into a heap of garbage.

    ¡°F*ck!¡±

    Something rotten hit his open mouth, but he didn¡¯t care, he just pushed himself up and ran away.

    Ryota didn¡¯t look back.

    His location was blown, and he could no longer risk going for Haruka, not when a Knight was after him.

    Trying to figure out what he could do, Ryota rushed away, the striders in his legs burning at full capacity, his daemons completely let loose, traces be damned, to burn out any and all the surveillance he came across.

    He still didn¡¯t look back, fearing it would waste time.

    But maybe he should have, because if he had, he might have noticed it.

    A small dot of crackling blue lighting, silent, unseen, whizzed through the air right from the source of the explosion, perfectly avoided the white cloak, and pierced into his neck.

    A wave of nausea hit Ryota, but he didn''t think much of it.

    He simply shook his head and focused on his escape, that street now far behind him.

    Back in the alleyway, the flames of the explosion continued to burn, the corpses of the young Hakuryuu and even some unfortunate other junkies blazing with cremating fires.

    But as the smoke cleared, from the epicenter emerged a familiar figure.

    Silver armor, pristine and untouched by the explosion, but now glowing with energetic white sigils.

    Knight Xavier coughed out some smoke but seemed otherwise unaffected. He gazed ahead, eyes gleaming white. ¡°Run little snake, run. Lead me to exactly that which you wish to hide.¡±

    ***

    A few hours later from when he had started, Miles'' eyes looked ahead, the endless expanse of the dual seas before him. It helped immensely, to not see the illogical act he was performing. It had only taken a few tries and he had achieved it with relative ease. The act of standing upon water.

    It was mesmerizing, to find solid ground under his feet even as they felt the lap of waves, the touch of liquid upon his soles.

    And now, he was even attempting to reach for the next stage.

    Tentatively, Miles took a step forwards, and it found solid ground.

    The seas rippled beneath, but with a focusing exhale that calmed the seas, he stepped forwards, finding another solid foothold.

    All good, but on the third step¡­ a streak of lightning crossed the skies, the water rippled a bit too much, and... his focus gave way.

    With a loud splash of dichromatic sea water, Miles was drowning once more.

    Well not really, because he had held his breath well before he was submerged. So, he was not drowning yet, just, sinking.

    This had happened so many times by now, that after the first few, the experience had become somewhat routine, entirely devoid of the initial terror that had gripped him.

    Miles continued to descend into imagined depths, once again finding himself to have become a peculiar anomaly. Gravity affected him, for he sank like a stone cast into a pond, but whenever he attempted to swim, the red and white waters refused his intended touch, simply passing through.

    But the familiarity with this experience had granted him calm, allowing Miles to gaze around, a couple minutes of holding his breath never being a problem.

    The underwater expanse seemed to extend infinitely, dwarfing even the dark oceans he had witnessed, back when he had visited Mt. Olympus with his parents.

    The line of boundary, the rupture that sundered the two seas was similar, now revealed to be a wall that stretched into unseen depths and endless distances, eternally separating the dichromatic oceans.

    Every sinking descent would place him at its very center, phasing through the boundary just as the waters refused his touch. Fortunately, he would always sink right through the middle, his body perfectly divided, each half immersed in a different sea.

    The blood sea retained its inherent terror, the screams and pin stabs persistent, while the ghostly sea was eerie yet soothing, an odd dichotomy that he had become accustomed to, to some extent.

    Miles could even breath still, slow, controlled exhales leading to bubbles released into the sea to float upwards, a task that seemed impossible for him.

    This act of drowning gave him a subtle sense of intimacy, a morbid connection to himself, but it was faint. Miles could never explore the feeling further, for even with his newfound peace, sinking into unknown depths remained jarringly unnatural, and his return to reality was always swift.

    And as expected, the manifested world shattered.

    Wiping off imaginary water from his eyes, Miles stared at the old butler, ¡°Two steps, that¡¯s all I managed. Old Zhan, are you sure this is the only way?¡±

    Zhan Shen rolled his eyes for the near dozenth time, Miles'' response being similar every single time, ¡°Again, it is supposed to be difficult! Standing within the mind world is only a slight difference from sitting. Walking is another thing altogether!¡±

    Miles heaved an annoyed sigh, ¡°But when can I control¨C¡±

    Zhan Shen abruptly raised his index finger, signaling Miles to silence.

    Closing his eyes, he muttered, ¡°There¡¯s someone¡­ new rushing here. No, not one, two.¡± The old butler frowned, ¡°First guy, not much of a threat, but the other, they''re actually difficult to focus on. A bit of a troublesome one.¡±

    ¡®What? Looters? Gangsters? What kind of individual could make even old Zhan think twice?¡¯

    Even before Miles could ask, the answers came to his enhanced ears, rumbling through the metal.

    ***

    Ryota''s bounding strides were almost explosive, the tar of the roads occasionally even shattering right through due to the force of his striders. The fact that he was leaving an easy-to-follow trail unrealized.

    The ache in his legs was intense, the burn of overworked implants seeping into his natural muscles.

    But then, a familiar flash of light just up ahead, decor he himself had set up, functional in its cover and tasteful in its color.

    The sight filled him with joy, the feeling of returning home granting him renewed energy.

    He would be safe now. This was where he wanted to be after all, the solution to all his problems.

    He was so sure of this, beyond a shadow of a doubt, when an unsettling question gnawed at him.

    Why¡­?

    That was when a veil within him lifted, revealing a truth he had somehow failed to acknowledge. Even as he reached for the broken iron door, his eyes fell upon the familiar signboard of flickering will-o-wisps. HARUKA¡¯S FAETASTIC EMPORIUM.

    His joy turned to horror, ¡°No! I¨CI didn¡¯t mean to.¡±

    The door swung open.

    His eyes fixated on her, his beautiful wife, and a scream tore through him, ¡°RUN! A KNIGHT¨C¡±

    Something collapsed into him from the skies, he felt his bones snap, and screams, screams that were not his.

    Even as Ryota tried to reach for her, everything went dark.

 CHAPTER 22: Knight - Part 1

    Do you yearn for change? Do you hunger for a greater purpose? Do you aspire to be a guardian of the defenseless and a bastion of justice? If you possess the courage and loyalty to give all you have to forge a new life for you and the people of Capital City, well then, your destiny awaits at the Capital Knight Corps!

    Valor and dedication can lead you to the esteemed rank of Squire, perhaps even ascend to the illustrious title of Knight in mere years! You, could be the next of the chosen, the one to be blessed by the Sword of Peace by our City Lord Draig himself, and eternally honored by the title of Sir or Lady forevermore! Join the ranks of the Capital Knight Corps today and chart your path to glory!

    ¨CPublic Announcement from Knight Corps Recruitment Division, Capital Corporation

    ***

    A KNIGHT¨C

    An abruptly cut scream that echoed through the walls. A thunderous crash that caused the very air to reverberate around him, and the terrified screams that ensued after, all seeming to echo what that one word meant to those within Capital City.

    A Knight, an honored guardian, a dutiful protector... not. More like the dreaded muscle of Capital Corporation, enforcers of their Corpo law, pawns for the Draig family.

    Although Miles himself leveraged the influence of the Knights for his own benefit on occasion, he harbored a very personal disdain. But he tolerated most of them, for at the very least, he could not deny them their roles in the defense of Capital City against all things Fae.

    ¡®But still, the arrival of a Knight is unusual. I would¡¯ve assumed Capital Corp to be more interested in the ¡®dragon bounty¡¯ for Hayato Ryota, stirring up a gang war to distract them even, not search through a random ripper-doc clinic? But I doubt the three outside would be howling, if the Knight was here for a friendly inquiry.¡¯

    Meanwhile, Zhan Shen pushed himself off the floor, seeming to be perfectly at ease with the situation, ¡°You heard that, Master Miles? There''s a Capital Knight in the building. What do you suggest we do?¡± The old butler even seemed¡­ excited.

    With a roll of his eyes, Miles answered, ¡°The Knight will become an annoyance if left alone. All they need to see is that the Knight issued Capital AI cannot pierce through,¡± gestured at their faces, ¡°our Amathaka Obliviation, and curiosity will do the rest."

    "So, escape is an option, but too much trouble and wholly unnecessary. We could initiate a... fight,¡± Miles could swear the old butler perked up at that, ¡°but again, unnecessary. The most efficient solution will be to have the Knight receive orders to leave the clinic, before they may cause trouble.¡±

    Zhan Shen seemed almost disappointed but returned a simple nod.

    Decisions made and agreement reached, Miles acted, raising the Lykaon ring to eye level. ¡°Cadmus, contact Designation: Bolon, Category: Fixer, Capital Corporation.¡±

    The wolf eyes of the ring glowed in response, and a steady beeping resonated out from within. Only a few seconds passed, and the sound ceased, the hologram projecting a face that Miles had not seen in a few months.

    With a pudgy face, a thin mustache that had been curled up in an attempt to be tasteful, and clad in a bare robe of golden silk, Bolon appeared.

    Miles remained silent however, for the fixer was distracted. His face was turned towards the side, savoring, no, suckling, on an unnaturally purple grape fed by a soft hand.

    His eyes narrowed in distaste. Bolon was known for his indulgence and gluttony, easily swayed by the promise of luxury. Yet, no Corpo could survive in this world, if their word lacked substance. And Miles had more than this man''s word. A lot more.

    Bolon quivered in delight, chewing the fruit for a few seconds. He swallowed, nodded at the hand, and only then did he turn towards the visual feed.

    The fixer¡¯s baggy eyes widened, and in a failed attempt to be discreet, he slapped away something that had been nearby, presumably the owner of that soft hand.

    Bolon forced a thin smile as if everything was as expected, and nothing unusual had happened, ¡°Mr. Lykaon! What a pleasant surprise! I was informed of your troubling circumstances, but never expected that I would be called on to help. Please feel free to speak, how may this loyal one serve?¡±

    Miles'' answer was silence, curious about what the fixer meant by ''troubling circumstances''. He doubted Bolon was referring to his current situation, but asking this conniving man would be a reveal of unpreparedness, a show of weakness he was not willing to risk.

    Besides, what the fixer considered trouble, might just be inconsequential for him, and with the screams from the clinic getting progressively worse...

    Miles decided that the silence had dragged on long enough, and ignored what had been said, to move on to what needed to be done.

    ¡°Bolon, I need you to rein in one of your hounds. A dog whose leash has gotten too loose and is about to poke a nose where they most definitely should not.¡±

    The rotund man froze, licking his lips as if still savoring that one grape, ¡°A hound¡­ What kind exactly, Mr. Lykaon?¡±

    ¡°You know them well. The kind of hound whose shoulders have been blessed twice with Draig''s royal sword.¡±

    Bolon¡¯s thick lips curved, revealing golden teeth that matched his silken robe, ¡°Ah! It is a knight that must be leashed in! That¡¯s no problem at all Mr. Lykaon, no problem at all!¡±

    ¡°Good. The location details of the relevant knight will be sent to you promptly. I shall await your stellar work,¡± Miles answered with a curt nod. And without lingering, he ended the call. A petty yet effective trick, to always have the last word.

    While Cadmus was transferring the details as promised, Zhan Shen, who was now actually performing stretches as if to warm up, glanced down at him, ¡°They¡¯ve calmed down for a bit Master Miles, but it¡¯s only a matter of time before the three are subdued. That little girl has got a hell of a mouth on her. Even if she isn¡¯t killed, the Knight might just pull out her tongue.¡±

    Miles frowned at that, pondering, ¡°What will be the cost for you to take care of the Knight?¡±

    The old butler¡¯s lips curled up, ¡°Hoh? The undead you, were granted a heart magnanimous even towards outer citizens?¡±

    Miles scoffed, ¡°I am known for my magnanimity.¡±

    Zhan Shen tipped his head in a mock bow, ¡°Of course you are, Master Miles,¡± but continued with a relaxed grin, ¡°No cost at all. They''re just a high tier Epsilon, enhanced to the limit and decked out in some Corporate Armor. A decent fight at best.¡±

    ¡®An Epsilon at full potential! That¡¯s a Faetality approximate to 10,000, roughly ten times my own! And if the Knight is enhanced to the limit, he should be completely different from old Zhan with over 6,000 unused faetality, but, he still remains confident.''

    Miles pursed his lips, engrossed in thought for a while.

    He had to weigh the pros and cons here, the political intricacies and potential consequences of allowing Capital Corporation to become aware of his presence in Hamelin. Even Bolon only knew that Miles desired the Knight far away from the clinic, not that he himself was here. It could blow up into a huge fiasco if he were not careful.

    On the other hand, Haruka was an individual that was oathbound to act in good will for the duration of their stay. They had made a sizable investment as well. Losing her in some unfortunate accident, as Capital Knights were often involved in but always pardoned for, would be somewhat of a travesty.

    It had nothing to do with his mild interest in the ripper doc¡¯s work, and even less so of her tasteful appreciation of Lykaon Engineering. None whatsoever.

    Besides, they would likely leave the clinic within a few hours, so a minor risk should be acceptable.

    In the end, it was another scream tearing through the silence that finalized his decision to help the owner of the clinic.

    Miles stood, brushing off dust, as he grinned at the previously enigmatic figure of Zhan Shen, now tapping a foot with impatient expectation.

    His eyes lingered on the old butler¡¯s suit, specifically where he noted a slight protrusion, where the gun he had been previously refused was holstered. Who said he too couldn¡¯t have some fun with this?

    ¡°So, how badly do you wish to fight, old Zhan? Bad enough to hand over the Caucon?¡±

    ***

    As expected, the answer had been a resounding yes.Yet the elderly butler had artfully rephrased the situation, that it was an opportunity for Miles'' growth, that the handgun would of course be provided as a means of self-defense against a decidedly more formidable adversary.

    Miles had graciously let it pass, allowing Zhan Shen his dignity.

    The mangy rats, habitually loitering in the middle of the hallway, scattered away at the sounds of their passing footsteps.

    Zhan Shen was flexing his fists in anticipation of a fight, while Miles was mostly amused.

    He believed the chances of an actual altercation were miniscule, for the Knight would be ordered to depart soon enough, but the old butler had dismissed the actions of the fixer with the rebuke, "Blind reliance on others for what needs to be done is a terrible habit, Master Miles."

    And perhaps there was some truth in that, for Bolon had sent a sudden message, stating that there were some unforeseen delays in their communication and requested a short extension, for apparently even Capital Central Command were having trouble in contacting their Knight.

    ''Curious.''

    Nevertheless, Miles had acquiesced, for the fixer could not lie, literally. Not to him at least.

    In return, he had requested detailed information on the Knight in question, which at least was provided instantly. Naturally, Miles had informed the old butler as well.

    The rusted iron door was pushed open, and they left behind the hallway, entering the clinic lobby.

    The flickering will-o-wisp signs plastered on the walls were almost blinding, disturbing Miles with a mild sense of unease for suddenly entering such bright light. He had forgotten how overwhelming the signage had been, but his vision adapted quickly.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    The lobby was exactly as it had been. Spacious, the sides packed with useless props and the occasional functional product, and of course, the only gem among them all, rightfully displayed in prominence and well-guarded, his mother''s magnum opus, the Lycan Arc Vortex transporter engine.

    However, what captured Miles'' attention was the peculiar standoff, more comedic than dramatic in his eyes, despite the underlying tragedy.

    The ripper-doc, Haruka exhibited a deathly focus, yet there was an occasional tremble in her figure. His ears picked out the muted sobs, as she hefted and pointed a¡­

    A Lykaon Doghead. A dependable assault rifle, and even though the model seemed outdated, in Miles'' entirely unbiased opinion, it was a terrific choice of weaponry.

    Usually.

    Unfortunately for the ripper-doc, while premium Lykaon piercing rounds might have done something to a Capital Knight''s armor, whatever third party magazine she had loaded up there, would at best play a tinkling melody of metal against metal.

    Inani was the most volatile of them all, an enraged gorilla that screamed nonsensical curses, barely restrained by James, who was succeeding mostly because the girl seemed to wish to not hurt him, even as she struggled to rush blindly towards¡­

    What Miles perceived first, was the scent¨Ciron and metallic blood, with a familiar flavor that made his nose wrinkle¨Cthe rancid sweetness of Cyber Rot. His eyes fell upon the source, the barely alive figure bleeding out on the doorway, cloaked in a familiar garb of white unstained by the red of the blood. Hakuryuu Colors.

    Miles'' attention shifted, fixing upon the individual that stood upon this unfortunate gangster, silver tipped boots crushing bone.

    He was reasonably at ease even with Haruka''s assault rifle pointed at his head, fully adorned in standard Knightly armor, chest emblazoned with the blatant logo of a hulking dragon blasting streaks of fire.

    Lykaon Industries had naturally done their due diligence on the Knights, gathering detailed information on the abilities and capabilities of most, and that had included their armor.

    The material was a decently sturdy alloy, purely composed of natural metals, but nothing of infernal or magical nature. Well, besides the enchantment.

    Silver, a key element in the alloy, was ideal for engraving enchantments, and with what Capital Corp. had managed to steal from the Fae, the knights'' armor could easily withstand forces nearing several hundred strength attribute points.

    It was only par for the course that Haruka¡¯s Doghead did not stand a chance.

    Yet, that same armor would not be enough. Not against old Zhan, or even Miles'' requisitioned Caucon.

    The situation now perfectly understood, Miles allowed a grin to surface, and he clapped aloud, commanding the attention of all, causing all heads to swivel towards they who had arrived fashionably late.

    His focus was entirely upon the Knight, ¡°Xavier, what brings you here?¡±

    The once-relaxed Knight froze at the mention of his name, and a suffocating silence settled over the clinic.

    There was a reason that all armor of the Knights were identical, and barring publicity events, made to be indistinctive as much as possible. It was to avoid their specific abilities being identified, for even the strongest Knight could be taken down with sufficient knowledge and preparation.

    Instantaneously, the Knight''s eyes from within the helm flashed white, attempting to pierce through Miles'' identity distortion enchantment. Zhan Shen had been left alone for now, for perhaps Miles had seemed an easier target.

    The Lykaon ring upon his finger trembled, but the enchantment upon his face held, an indomitable fortress against one arrow, smothering out the miniscule intrusion.

    That had been a decent attempt at bypassing the distortion, at least comparing the ripper-doc¡¯s laughable attempt in comparison. However, if some Knight thought they could brute force an enchantment cast by Cadmus, they had another thing coming.

    Xavier''s eyes dimmed, energy depleted, and his back hunched as if he had exerted himself too far. ¡°W-Who are you?¡± Even the voice was disguised by the helm, distorted and robotic, another attempt to conceal the identity of the Knight.

    Miles¡¯ lip curled, ¡°That is knowledge far, far above your pay grade Knight. Answer me, your orders were to report to the borders of Hamelin and oversee the gang war, not¡­¡± he gestured at the gangster under the silver tipped boot, ¡°do this.¡±

    The Knight paused, as if processing the rebuke. Finally, he stood straight, rising to attention and placed his fist upon his chest as a soldier would to a superior, ¡°A-Apologies sir, this man is Hayato Ryota, and I believe this clinic belongs to his wife¨C Hayato Haruka.¡±

    Miles was adept at concealing his surprise, his figure reactionless as if he had known in the first place.

    ¡®Holy Hells, this clinic is one of Hayato Ryota¡¯s? What kind of coincidence is this? And if my brief introduction into Mrs. Hayato¡¯s work is any evidence, she must have played some role in the creation of the rumored faetality booster as well!''

    Miles was truly glad they had decided to come out here. It had mostly been a whim out of pity, but it was true when they said good things came to good people. In return for his generosity, the value of the ripper-doc had just jumped several times, worthy of even drastic action if need be.

    He spared a discrete glance at the woman in question.

    The ripper-doc still aimed the Doghead at the silver armored man, as if she were willing to kill even a Knight if need be. But now her glance flickered between the two of them, the Knight and Miles himself. He didn¡¯t mind her suspicions at all, for the fae oath bound her against harming him.

    Inani, who had grown a bit calmer over their exchange, started to rage once more, screaming while trying to maneuver James¡¯ grasp, ¡°So what!? You corpo f*cks! How dare you kill Ryo-san!¡±

    ''He isn¡¯t dead...'' yet, neither of them paid much attention to the laughably rampaging girl.

    Miles'' gaze returned to the Knight, who seemed to have mistaken Miles as some Capital Corpo, a misconception that he would happily exploit.

    ¡°At ease, Knight Xavier, things are well in hand. You are dismissed, leave this to us.¡±

    The Knight¡¯s loyal fist collapsed, ¡°S-Sir, what¨C?¡±

    Miles dismissed him again with an obnoxious wave, ¡°You heard me. Do as commanded, and your punishment for tampering with your comms will be minor. Capital Command will provide your new and updated instructions upon reconnection."

    A discrete vibration from the Lykaon Ring had already analyzed the Knight, confirming that his armor was at full functionality. Thus, the only reason for a communication black out that had made even Bolon helpless, would be if the systems had been willfully powered down.

    Miles had expected instant obedience, yet the Knight''s fists tightened almost in indignation, and he reached behind his ear, presumably for the communication implant.

    ¡®He''s double checking? Interesting. Knights are often much more amenable to assumed authority, but Xavier here is determined to participate. A personal grudge perhaps? Was Hayato Ryota idiotic enough to anger a Knight?¡¯

    A few seconds passed. Although Miles had been the one to suggest the Knight communicate with Capital Command so confidently, the ball was actually in Bolon''s court. If the man failed, at that one task, Miles¡¯ trickery would backfire. And even with his generous magnanimity, that would be the end of the fixer, the man would be gotten rid of before the day was over.

    How useful Bolon was as a Capital Corp double agent didn¡¯t matter. Such were the rules of the game. But as expected, the conniving fixer knew when he could not afford to lose.

    The order to retreat must''ve been given for Xavier''s shoulders slumped, conceding.

    Miles couldn''t help but grin. A Knight of Capital Corp. chased away like a dog, by the commands of a wrong owner. It was amusing if nothing else.

    The Knight had turned around to leave, flesh and blood squelching beneath his boots, but for just a moment, paused.

    His glance passed over those within the clinic.

    Not the ripper-doc or the two kids who might as well have been sewer rats.

    No, he stared at the two indomitable, unseeable figures hidden behind powerful enchantments. The young man, the one that had spoken, and the far more dangerous presence behind him, the old man.

    Knight Xavier lowered his head, in a decisive bow, and spoke, "I... apologize in advance."

    ''Huh?''

    Miles barely noticed the action¨C a simple flick ¨Cbut it had been too subtle and too fast for him to react. At a speed well beyond even his enhanced perceptions, a streak of blue flashed through the clinic, and something, something that agitated the very air, rushed towards them.

    He could not react, not fast enough, but he wasn''t alone.

    The wind buffeted his side, as something had rushed past, and with that, Miles was no longer in danger.

    A familiar wizened hand had appeared in his defense, well before the attack even reached him, and grabbed onto a¡­ marble of crackling blue lightning?

    The old butler crushed his fist, and the ball of energy imploded upon itself, collapsing into tendrils of lightning energy, but he cursed aloud, as something, a wave of invisible energy was unleashed, rippling through the room.

    It was intrusive, unwelcome, and called for...

    Miles blinked.

    The very world had paused around him, again, for a second time.

    Just like before, he felt a flash of vitality through his body, his undead heart returned to life, beating once more.

    But it didn¡¯t last as long as it had, and this time, there were no unknown fairies paying a visit, no, just a Knight that stared.

    Miles blinked.

    Like a fading dream, the experience dissipated, and he was back in reality, the world flowing and his heart dead as it should''ve been.

    Miles felt the intrusive something leave, having failed to find what it had sought.

    Zhan Shen and the Knight remained steadfast, unaffected, but everyone else seemed disoriented.

    ¡®What was that?! Knight Xavier isn¡¯t supposed to be capable of that!¡¯

    Miles was prepared to play the role of a disgruntled Capital Corpo executive, to punish the Knight for his disobedience, when... Xavier started to laugh.

    It was a maddened cackle, laughter laden with desperation and disappointment.

    Knight Xavier reached towards his helm, and unlatched the armor, throwing it down onto the floor in a clatter of silver. He didn''t seem to care that he had also thrown away his invincibility against Haruka''s Doghead.

    With blonde hair and blue eyes, the Knight may have been considered to be peaceful and serene in appearance, if he wasn¡¯t still cackling like a madman that is.

    A gauntleted finger pointed at Miles, accusatory, "You, sir," the final word was filled with such malice, his true voice revealed now, "are empty. A measly container that only appears human. You¡­ are one of them!"

    ''What the hell is he on about¨C'' Miles froze. ''Didn''t old Zhan say something very similar? Knight Xavier was able to notice something unusual about the Vampiric Physique?''

    His eyes narrowed. This changed things. No longer could they allow the Knight to leave.

    A glance at the old butler revealed him to agree, poised for a fight, and instinctively, so did Miles.

    Knight Xavier gazed forwards, eyes boring right into Miles'' own, ¡°To think I found the monster I sought, hidden in plain sight, in my own corporation! Hah, what a fool I have been¡­¡± Those words carried an insane desperation, the weight of a hope that had been shattered one too many times. ¡°Never again.¡±

    An overwhelming presence fell over the clinic. Miles and Zhan Shen held on, so did Inani, barely, but Haruka and James literally collapsed onto the ground.

    The entire clinic seemed to quake, the equipment from the shelves and will-o-wisp signs even trembling.

    While Miles had little idea what had caused the Knight''s sudden bout of crazed desperation, he was not worried. If his sharpened senses, and the blood boiling in his veins without any use of Sanguis Ardeat were anything to go by, he was just excited.

    He was relishing the upcoming fight.

    Perhaps Zhan Shen was on to something with his love for combat. Letting out a heavy exhale, Miles focused himself. He was ready.

    Just as they had anticipated, the first attack came from everywhere.

    All the air around him exploded in sharp winds, every gust of wind from every single direction screaming out a warning.

    Why?

    Well, it was because every free and unattached object within their vicinity had come to life, floating into the air to strike them.

    Before this attack could even reach, the figure in silver armor was upon them as well, pouncing groundward in a manner that defied gravity, as if Xavier had flown over a distance of several meters in the blink of an eye.

    That too had been expected but was no less shocking.

    After all, this was the man who had chosen one of the lowest tiered abilities, Telekinesis, and made something of it.

    This was the first Epsilon to ever fly... Xavier, the Knight of the Sky.

 CHAPTER 23: Knight - Part 2

    Knight Xavier¡¯s initial attack, a haphazard casting of telekinesis unfolded in a multi-directional, perhaps even omni-directional pattern, yet its range remained constrained.

    In a blink, Zhan Shen had maneuvered adeptly, weaving through the incoming projectiles. Although it was true the old butler couldn''t linger, he had still left with a cheeky wink, leaving Miles to fend for himself.

    In a single kick that ruptured a few wooden floorboards, Zhan Shen ascended into the air, his plain fist meeting the Knight¡¯s gauntlet, both figures just centimeters below the ceiling of the clinic.

    For a fraction of a second, their fists were held in a standoff.

    THOOM!

    The impact of colliding forces¨CZhan Shen¡¯s raw power against Xavier¡¯s telekinetically augmented strength¨Cunleashed a powerful wave of wind throughout the clinic.

    Miles'' focus was elsewhere.

    The gusts from their collision subtly redirected the telekinetically hurled items, but it was insufficient to aid, merely adding an element of confusion to their paths of motion.

    While the old butler had made avoiding the attack of the ripper-doc¡¯s wares come to life seem effortless, for Miles it was a challenge.

    With a deliberate exhale for concentrated focus, he moved.

    The winds and gales spoke to Miles, each current and eddy guiding him in a whispered dance. The air became a seasoned partner, orchestrating him into a magnificent performance, his feet moving in tandem to the rhythm of Nameless Movement Art.

    He side-stepped a massive burst of wind from the back¨Crevealing a mechanical robotic torso and a head sized rocket boot that had been hurtling at his head, both at speeds that would have broken bone.

    A flickering flash that almost blinded him, but Miles, not solely reliant on his vision, allowed the gusts to guide him, hurriedly ducking underneath a dislodged will-o-wisp sign.

    He deftly swerved to the side, a mantis blade that threatened to spear through the back of his neck, only to be forced to step over a stretched spool of wire about to trip him over.

    A barrage of nails, power tools and assorted materials came next in a crash course with his head, a chaotic yet gathered cluster that was comparatively easier to avoid.

    A brief pause, but Miles had stayed a second too long in place. By a sudden warning of a lash of wind upon his back, he just narrowly evaded a metallic chimera tail implant, letting it dash past him.

    But that was the conclusion of his perfect dance with the wind.

    While the flow of air bestowed knowledge, gracing him with an unfair advantage, Miles was limited. The pace required for perfection was beyond his reach, he could not keep up.

    If he wished to escape the volley he was trapped inside, Miles would have no choice but to selectively permit the less perilous of projectiles to hit their mark.

    With a deep breath, he focused.

    First in line was a ridiculous implant¨Cears of pink furred felinei¨Cwhich landed upon his arm. Ignoring the wind''s warning, Miles had to suppress the instinct to dodge. He prepared to endure the hit, expecting little force from something so simple, but to his surprise¡­

    The side of his torso swiveled, the force equivalent to that of a steel bar''s impact, the telekinetic force formidable enough to reverberate even through his R&B suit.

    His surprise faded, as Miles realigned his focus.

    Next was a piece of paper, some sort of schematic he couldn¡¯t afford to read, and it merely glanced past his face¡­ but what it left was a stinging cut across his cheek, more akin to glass than paper.

    [External Bleeding Detected. 0.01 Blood Points (BP) lost.]

    Notifications flashed, but Miles was focused. A mace-like baton, preceded by a powerful blast of wind, heralded a volley of over a dozen papers. It would have to be one or the other. Miles clenched his teeth, shielding his face with his hands, allowing the papers to hit him. The backs of his palms, uncovered by the suit, were lacerated.

    [External Bleeding Detected. 0.15 BP lost.]

    [0.2 BP lost.]

    The pain from the injury caused him to wince and pause, an outcome that was far from ideal, for the Nameless Movement required flawless sequencing.

    Piercing winds buffeted his back and Miles barely evaded a steel-clawed gauntlet, but there were still too many for him to persist through.

    For a moment, his gaze fell upon the armored torso he had dodged earlier, now left upon the ground.

    Miles made the decision.

    He rolled across the wooden floor, allowing numerous items of unknown nature to collide with his back and legs, the wind continuing to inform him of those that he could not afford to let hit.

    [Internal Blood Vessel damage detected. 0 BP lost.]

    His body shuddered, but the ogre-lined suit was formidable defense, and Miles¡¯ hand reached the armored torso.

    Instantly he was on his feet again, the torso directly before him, and he rushed forwards, almost blindly.

    Nameless Footwork was let loose to its maximum, his agility heightened, and the wind blurred past as Miles sprinted to reach the opposite end of the clinic.

    He acted with precision, intervening only when an object threatened the movement technique, primarily defending against projectiles targeting his head or threatening the movement technique. Impacts he deemed he could handle, were allowed to hit his suit.

    [Internal Blood Vessel damage detected. 0 BP lost.]

    With a focus honed by controlled breathing, Miles dismissed the pain.

    His hands trembled as the mechanical torso crafted of what felt to be a mediocre alloy resisted the relentless barrage. The rippling forces tested his grip, and a series of items, sharper and more robust than mere paper, sliced through his unguarded hands.

    [HP: 9/10]

    [External Bleeding Detected. 0.3 BP lost.]

    Unabated, objects pelted his back and chest, but with the suit, he managed.

    At least, until something, a ribbed, heavy sphere, struck him from the side, his shoulder, right where the suit had been ripped through by the mantis blade, the self-weaving only having provided minimal repairs.

    A pronounced crack echoed through his bone.

    [Skeletal Dislocation detected. 0 BP lost.]

    Miles gasped at the sudden injury, but before he could experience anything worse¡­.

    He reached the counter, slamming into the transparent screen, more than strong enough to hold his weight.

    Driven by the screaming winds upon his back, Miles didn''t stop, and vaulted over the top of the counter, landing safely on the other side, behind.

    Clang! Crack! Clang!

    The onslaught of items that had been telekinetically hurled towards the counter, collided against the screen. As the barrage continued, fissures expanded across its surface, until the screen finally shattered in a cascade of glassy shards.

    Fortunately, that was the end of it.

    Hunched over and hissing in pain, Miles panted heavily, having discarded the now mangled mechanical torso.

    Every inch of his body ached, a sensation akin to being pummeled by an assembly of gnomes. His hands stung, the back marred by knife-like slashes. The worst was his shoulder, the arm uncomfortably contorted.

    Adrenaline was high and mitigated most of the pain, but Miles sensed the aftermath would not be pleasant. Thankfully a system notification was right on time to offer respite.

    Ding!

    [Conditional Undeath Activated.]

    The relief was palpable. Miles could almost imagine it, feel the blood energy surging through his vessels, finding the sources of his wounds and tending to them.

    The natural yet unnatural movement that guided his dislocated shoulder bone, and with a crack, Miles felt the bone pop back in place and the regeneration continued.

    In mere seconds, even the minor injuries had vanished, leaving behind only a faint ache¨Cmore memory than reality.

    [All wounds healed. HP 10/10]

    [Total Blood Points lost: 0.66 BP ¡Ö - 1 BP.

    Total BP remaining: 10/10 (+13 BP in Blood Bank)]

    Perhaps Miles would¡¯ve been awed by his regeneration and its intricacies, the ability extending to skeletal and bruising healing, if not for his preoccupation.

    His struggle with a few dozen telekinetically manipulated items had vividly demonstrated that he was far from being the Knight''s opponent. But... old Zhan was.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    It turned out that after the first clash, during those fleeting seconds where he had struggled, the two Epsilons had not continued.

    Miles recognized the event, they were sizing each other up.

    Why old Zhan was playing along, when he had known about the Knight''s power level well before they even met... Well, the reason was obvious, and he could only roll his eyes.

    The elderly butler was poised for the upcoming fight, maintaining an empty, unseen presence.

    The Knight on the other hand was visibly shaken, his gauntlet appearing crumpled¨Cthe blue sigils distorted and leaking power. The armor that had held against missiles, had been useless against an old man¡¯s fist.

    To Miles'' great relief, Xavier seemed to have realized the futility of telekinetic barrages and changed his strategy.

    His hands molded into a punt-like grip, producing a fist length baton¨Cserrated silver metal, rippling upwards like an unfurling ladder. It extended into a nano-blade, with ridges spaced throughout the edges, a model that was unfamiliar to him.

    The two Epsilons waited no longer, clashing in resounding booms that caused the weak wood beneath them to shatter.

    Miles observed, even his enhanced vision capable of only gleaming an occasional glance.

    Although Xavier was blessed with telekinetic flight, and the old butler had to make do with returning to the ground and leaping every few seconds, he did not appear to be at the slightest disadvantage.

    Zhan Shen was unarmed, and fought as a pugilist against the Knight wielding his serrate nano-blade. Despite the apparent disadvantage in weaponry, a single glancing punch against the Knight''s armored form left the enchanted silver crushed inwards, molded to the shape of his fist, the sigils flickering like dying will-o-wisps.

    Only the blade held, when the Knight managed to actually defend.

    That crushed armor should¡¯ve encumbered the Knight, but it popped back out instantly, reshaped by some unseen force, yet the reformed metal remained wrinkled and weakened.

    Perhaps in a bout of desperation, Xavier manifested a familiar ball of blue lightning.

    The elderly butler acted with lightning reflexes, as if he had been waiting for that. His hands flashed for an ephemeral moment, and clenched, crushing and extinguishing the mysterious energy as soon as it had manifested. No peculiar ripples passed through the clinic this time around, the extinguishment swift and absolute.

    The Knight appeared shocked, but Zhan Shen merely grinned and answered with a punch.

    The nano-blade shattered at its ridges, as if the old butler''s fist had finally broken through, when even to the Butler''s surprise, it transformed into a swarm of serrated shards, a portion circling the Knight and the rest rushing forward.

    Zhan Shen was forced to defend and retreat, encountering razor slashes from all directions.

    The fight took a turn then and there, nano shards slashing across his face and fists. The old butler¡¯s suit, also an R&B original, guarded against most attacks, yet some of the blade shards managed to slice even through the inlaid ogre skin.

    They were all secondary wounds however, Zhan Shen skillfully ensured no blade reached his vitals, but this didn''t last long. For the moment he spotted an opening, the butler swiveled through the air and executed a kick, crushing through silver armor upon the Knight''s leg, and the tide shifted again.

    Another, smaller, but equally desperate marble of blue lightning appeared, but it barely lasted a fraction of a second, crushed by Zhan Shen''s waiting hand.

    The old butler seamlessly transitioned to wielding his combat knife, the cold steel almost shimmering, and launched a flurry of punches and slashes, pushing the Knight into the defensive once more.

    The battle unfolded, butler versus knight, crescendoing in a spectacular display.

    Gales erupted all over the clinic lobby, each clash that was sufficiently close leaving cracks riddled through the concrete. Streaks of wind lashed out, tearing apart the wooden flooring into splinters.

    The two figures responsible became blurred streaks, black versus silver, each collision a war between muscle and metal¨Cbutler against a myriad telekinetic razor shards.

    One second, they were by the doorway, the next near the ceiling on the opposite side of the lobby. Yet somehow, they perpetually maintained a safe enough distance from the counter where Miles himself stood. Zhan Shen''s effort no doubt.

    The spectacle before him had forced his face in the reality that this was not a conflict, he could involve himself. Well, at least, not actively.

    Suddenly, a hand grasped the counter from underneath, and Haruka, a figure he had momentarily overlooked, hauled herself off the floor. The middle-aged woman seemed to be still recuperating from that peculiar ability of the Knight.

    Despite appearing somewhat frazzled, Haruka fixed her gaze upon him, staring for a long few seconds, ¡°You, are you after my husband too? That faetality booster?¡±

    A courteous smile revealed, Miles gestured towards the entrance, "Haruka-san, this is not the time for this. Your husband over there will bleed to death if you do not give him treatment soon."

    Realization dawned upon the ripper-doc, and he directed her gaze towards Inani. The muscular girl was propping up James, both having managed to survive the hail of telekinetic objects, ¡±Get those two to bring him to you, before his head can get squashed in by a wayward burst of wind. We¡¯ll make sure the Knight stays away. Your husband is far too injured for some motion to do much worse. Do you disagree?¡±

    She didn¡¯t, and after staring for a few seconds longer, the woman nodded, hurrying past and out of the corner towards the duo. They spoke in hushed whispers for some reason, all of which were clear to Miles'' enhanced ears.

    Did Miles genuinely care about the Hakuryuu gangster? Of course not. What he did care about was creating a favorable impression on those who possessed something he desired.

    Meanwhile, James seemed horrified by the suggestion, gawking at the dangerous bursts of wind blasting all over the clinic, and specifically those that occurred near the doorway. He attempted to dissuade Inani, warning her of the risks.

    The muscular girl humored him, listening seriously for a while, until she shushed him with a grin and a pat on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡± was all she said.

    Haruka seemed conflicted about sending the girl into danger, but ultimately only offered advice on how to handle the white-cloaked patient, soon distracted by the task of gathering makeshift medical supplies.

    With that having gone as well as it could, now it was Miles¡¯ turn to play his role.

    He trusted Zhan Shen would handle the situation, but the sooner it could be resolved the better.

    Unholstering the Caucon from his suit, Miles felt the cold steel in his palm. He checked the fully loaded armor-piercing rounds in the magazine, the pinnacle of Lykaon small arms ammunition. No cold iron here, as the metal wasn''t effective against faehumans.

    A slow wind approached, and Miles turned, noticing James'' approach. He was holding out the Lykaon Doghead, the assault rifle, "Uhh, umm, Haruka-san asked me to give you this. She said it will be more effective than your... umm... pistol."

    ¡°I said pea shooter, not pistol,¡± called out the annoyed ripper-doc, staring at him while she remained crouched, still preparing for the treatment.

    It seemed the ripper-doc wasn¡¯t well-versed in gun design. Well, he couldn¡¯t blame her, much, the Caucon was not available in the general market, and was meant to appear unassuming.

    Miles scoffed, ¡°What was it you people love to say? That it¡¯s not the size that counts, but what¡¯s inside? The Doghead is a good weapon, sure, if it had been loaded with proper ammunition.¡±

    He turned to the straw-haired boy, ¡°So no, thank you. Just watch and learn how powerful this peashooter is.¡±

    James seemed to realize that Miles was truly not going to be taking the Doghead, and so... he himself raised the weapon, an odd gesture, as if he was contemplating shooting himself.

    Ignoring the strange boy, Miles continued his preparations, examining the integrity of the enchantments, and propulsion mechanisms. Once satisfied, he flipped over the safety latch.

    Instantly, the Caucon came to life, thrumming with energy, the externals glowing a mild gold.

    James gasped, a rare show of confidence, "What is that?! Are those enchantments? I''ve never seen that kind of gun before!" He reached out for the Caucon...

    "Keep your hands to yourself," Miles hissed, causing James to recoil instantly, and began stuttering, "I-I''m sorry! Sorry!"

    Repeated mumblings and apologies came, but after a few seconds of judgmental glaring, Miles heaved a sigh and opted to ignore the strange young man, again.

    His gaze returned ahead, revealing that unlike her rude and tactless friend, Inani had made substantial progress. She remained crouched to half her height, halfway through the lobby to reach the door.

    Perhaps Zhan Shen had noticed their attempt, for the booming explosions of wind had been kept at a distance from the muscular girl this entire time. Even when the epsilons wavered closer to the doorway, the most they approached was a few meters.

    Miles gripped the Caucon with both hands, bracing for the potent recoil of the semi-explosive rounds.

    His eyes lined with the reticle. Then he began to shift the Caucon all over the clinic, attempting to target the elusive bursts of wind, and perhaps, shoot the Knight.

    Concentrating upon his breathing, Miles achieved perfection.

    His instincts and senses sharpened, his entire consciousness honing upon the gun in his grip, and the flow of the wind, what it whispered to him and him only.

    The Caucon began to move, almost instinctively.

    Each gust of wind possessed a precursor flow¨Ca shift in the air that hinted at an impending eruption¨Cand it guided his hand and his target, just like before.

    Meanwhile, Inani had finally reached the doorway, but was grappling with the gangster. Even the muscular girl had to struggle, but eventually, she succeeded, and began to return with the bleeding man over her back, but progress remained slow.

    Miles¡¯ targeting pace quickened, nearing the point of predicting bursts of wind instantaneously.

    However, he refrained from firing, for it was not possible to discern Zhan Shen from the Knight. Not well enough.

    His focus remained on the gun, and the rhythmic flow of wind.

    However, there was also the assurance that Zhan Shen was keeping the Knight away from the counter where Miles stood, as well as from where Inani was struggling to carry Hayato Ryota. It was a very simple assumption, but it allowed Miles to bring down the seemingly infinite possibilities of where the two Epsilons could appear, to just a few.

    Miles'' eyes flagged a sudden glance, revealing the Knight, desperation painted over his face.

    His armor, once a formidable defense, was now a patchwork of hastily mended telekinetic repairs, crumpled like tinfoil, but he pressed on, rushing forth with telekinetically enhanced speed, launching a barrage of razor blades.

    Zhan Shen, nimble as ever, avoided most of them, but allowed a few to hit. Even as the blades failed to hit anything vital, he swiveled in the very air... and struck out in a familiar feint, a move that Miles had fallen for numerous times.

    The Knight fell for it, tricked into a useless dodge.

    The old butler grinned, his knife stabbed directly upon his damaged breastplate. The armor cracked, the silver metal shattering and disrupting the enchantment entirely.

    For a perfect moment, the Knight slowed down.

    Miles didn¡¯t miss it.

    He double tapped.

    Boom! Boom!

    Two piercing explosions echoed¨Cexplosive rounds that rocked the Knight, propelling him through the air. The first explosion crippled the remaining enchantment, the sigils fading into non-existence; the second pierced the upper chest, causing damage but unfortunately not striking anything vital.

    Although it had not been fatal, the impact was profound, for not even an Epsilon could shrug off a shot from the Caucon, let alone two.

    The Knight crashed into the wall, shattering multiple will-o-wisp signs, instantly killing some of the trapped fae, while a lucky few escaped into the air. A sizable chunk of concrete splintered into shards and debris, but the wall riddled with cracks, just barely clung to its frame.

    Zhan Shen flashed a surprised yet approving thumbs-up at Miles for his impeccable shot, but before the old butler could pursue the faltering Knight to finish the job...

    In a burst of debris and shattered signage, Xavier floated outwards.

    His silver armor, once pristine and regal, was now crumpled and shattered, the enchantment long dissipated. The fire breathing dragon of the chest plate was no more, its pieces lay scattered, blood marking its ruins.

    The Knight was in no shape for another clash with Zhan Shen, just barely floating with the help of telekinesis, but his eyes glowered with madness.

    James, perhaps spurred on by Miles'' success, unleashed a volley from the Doghead, managing about half a magazine before the recoil and unfamiliarity with gun handling caused him to literally drop the rifle onto the counter.

    Miles couldn''t help but raise an eyebrow. The fellow''s aim was decent, and, well, that was about it.

    As expected, the Knight was prepared this time and not caught off guard, for the moment the bullets were close enough, they halted mid-air captured by an unseen force.

    Miles had half a mind to pat the straw-haired young man on the back, and ''praise'' him for his very noteworthy performance, but chastised himself. That would be quite counter-productive to his intention of forming a good impression.

    So instead, he observed in silence, the serrated blades flying back out from wherever they had fallen to join the bullets. Rubble and sharp pieces of glass, as if meticulously chosen, floated upwards. They all converged, orchestrated with eerie precision, and began to revolve around the Knight, forming lethal streams of wind.

    Xavier glowered at Zhan Shen, and he lifted a hand, beckoning, "Again, old man."

    If the Knight had expected to anger the elderly butler, he was gravely mistaken. On the contrary, Zhan Shen was ecstatic, vibrating with excitement, and he rushed to answer the challenge.

 CHAPTER 24: Knight - Part 3

    Knight Xavier floated in the air, blurred objects whirling around him. Despite his apparent vulnerability, an eerie calm enveloped him. His focus was intense, and within his eyes, something flickered, something azure.

    Undaunted, Zhan Shen surged forwards with excited anticipation.

    With a flick of what remained of his gauntlet, Xavier sent streaks of glass and concrete, spiraling out in lashes of wind.

    Zhan Shen was a specter in motion, effortlessly sidestepping and evading the attacks, and in a burst of wind, he unleashed a punch, a fearsome strike that had crumpled the Knight¡¯s armor previously.

    Xavier¡¯s eyes crackled with blue lightning, his gauntleted hand clenching into a fist and moved to the side.

    Instantly, the fabric of the old butler¡¯s suit, the sleeve of the hand he had punched out with, moved. As if manipulated by an unseen hand, his arm swerved abruptly, altering the trajectory of the punch.

    BOOM!

    Zhan Shen''s fist collided with the wall nearby, obliterating a will-o-wisp sign and pulverizing the concrete into dust, leaving behind a conspicuous hole.

    For the first time, a hint of confusion dashed across the old butler''s face, but it swiftly transformed into an... almost impressed, grin.

    Fist still embedded in the wall, Zhan Shen unleashed a roundhouse kick, aiming perilously close to the Knight''s head.

    Xavier''s reaction was swift. Another gauntleted fist commanded telekinetic forces, pulling at the fabric of the butler''s pant leg. The opposing forces struggled with such intensity that the outer silk material tore off, leaving only the inlaid ogre skin unscathed.

    BOOM!

    The kick missed as well, striking in close proximity to the first, another hole punctured through the wall in a cascade of rubble.

    Ecstatic, Knight Xavier pressed on, hands thrust forwards, palms facing forwards. He strained with effort, face reddening, veins popping over his forehead.

    Instantly, the air around Zhan Shen became heavier, weighed down by an unseen force. The air seemed to flicker and flash, trembling. Everything that existed around the elderly butler had been telekinetically enhanced, forming a cylindrical space of almost enhanced gravity, confining him.

    However, despite Xavier''s best efforts, he could not form his hands into fists, and a droplet of blood appeared from his nose.

    Zhan Shen had been momentarily taken off guard, but while he handled the attack with relative ease¡­ the floor did not.

    In an explosion of splintered wood, his free foot plunged through the flooring, halted only by whatever lay beneath.

    With that, the old butler was in a rather awkward position, an arm and a leg stuck within concrete, the other leg ensnared by wood, all his movements further restrained by telekinesis.

    Blood trickled down the Knight¡¯s nose, his eyes bloodshot, but a manic grin adorned his face, anticipative of victory.

    Miles hesitated, the Caucon lined up in a perfect shot. The Knight was floating in place, and while his aim was clear, something, perhaps the whispers of wind, perhaps logic, or instinct, held him back.

    James however didn''t share such reservations. Having failed to earn a lesson, he aimed with the reclaimed Doghead, and shot another volley of bullets.

    His aim had improved, and bonus points for not dropping the rifle. Yet the attack was as unsuccessful as before, for the Knight redirected the bullets towards the restrained butler.

    Immediately, Zhan Shen¡¯s eyes narrowed, and the Amathaka enchantment upon his face flickered, straining against... something.

    The old butler barely moved, but the bullets never touched him. They harmlessly brushed past, each missing by a hair''s breadth to clatter harmlessly against the concrete walls.

    Despite being impressed by the feat, despite the fact that Zhan Shen managed to remain unscathed, Miles felt a flicker of anger.

    With a swift motion, he disarmed James, effortlessly robbing him of the Doghead.

    His hands moved with familiar ease, promptly unclipping the plebeian magazine. Tilting the rifle sideways, Miles peered into the internal mechanism, and with the full might of his strength, pulled out a vital component, leaving the circuitry sparking.

    With a sharp glare, he dropped the now useless weapon back into the bewildered hands of its former wielder.

    James was already sputtering excuses and apologies, none of which he cared for.

    Fortunately for the young man, Miles'' anger was mollified somewhat by the fact that Inani, the muscular girl, had somehow managed to bring the fatally wounded Hayato Ryota to safety.

    At least someone had proven useful.

    Haruka was distressed, hurriedly tending to the injured gangster. Multiple syringes of wound-mend, way above the safe limit, had been injected, and although the ripper-doc must''ve known well the effects of overusing such forceful healing aid, it didn¡¯t seem like she had had much of a choice.

    Her hands had extended, mechanical crevices of a hand implant, spreading out her fingers into thin surgical tools, deftly working on reconnecting his vital organs. A nervous gaze would occasionally dart towards the clashing Epsilons, focusing upon the broken section of the wooden floor... but she carried on with her work.

    Miles¡¯ gaze returned to the seemingly regretful James, ¡°Just leave, go help Haruka-san.¡±

    The young man froze and with a disappointed yet resigned gaze, nodded, but to Miles¡¯ great annoyance, he did not act as he had agreed, remaining rooted in place, staring at the fight, perhaps the Knight.

    With a focused exhale, Miles leashed in his temper and dismissed the boy''s presence once more, returning his attention to the confrontation before him.

    The elderly butler moved despite the telekinetic weight upon him, easily pulling out his limbs from the concrete. But the moment this leg touched the floor, it splintered through the wooden flooring, joining the other.

    The Knight was struggling to hold him down, his teeth were painted dark scarlet as blood trickled down his nose, but he didn''t seem to care. A growl of effort, and instantly, every free piece of debris, glass, and will-o-wisp sign, anything that could be used as a weapon, were hurtled with telekinetic force.

    Yet, Zhan Shen merely narrowed his eyes, and exhaled smoky air. The distortion upon his face flickered, nearly dissipating entirely.

    His body appeared to vibrate, the movement merging with the telekinetically weighed, trembling air. The old butler never moved, and again, nothing ever touched him. They harmlessly phased through, clattering against the concrete walls.

    The Knight seemed shocked, pausing for a moment in disbelief, and with that, Miles could see old Zhan had lost his initial interest. He was no longer impressed.

    A flash of non-existent light caused dark rings to flicker around the old butler¡¯s eyes, and a ripple of force burst through him, only made visible due the pressurized air cylinder he had been trapped in. The telekinetic force was disrupted, and the old butler broke free effortlessly.

    The Knight groaned and the ability that kept him afloat trembled, as if that had been an injury upon himself. His eyes grew manic, enraged and desperate, launching a flurry of the blade shards he had kept close as a final defense.

    Each blade moved in a conflicting, complex pattern, but Zhan Shen easily avoided each blade, and flashed forwards in a burst of wind.

    The shards had missed their target, but they rushed forth, neither stopping nor turning back...

    Knight Xavier grinned with blood caked teeth.

    Zhan Shen froze, realization flashing across his face. He attempted to retreat, but a burst of telekinetic energy returned a bombardment of glass, rubble and bullets, forcing him to defend.

    Miles had been observing the confrontation, when suddenly, he felt an unusual sensation upon his skin.

    Howling gales of air, rushing towards his torso. Screaming winds, warning him of one single thing.

    He would not be fast enough to dodge, not all of them.

    Instinctively, Miles grabbed the clueless James, and dodged to the side, while discreetly, almost accidentally, stepping behind the young man.

    They crashed onto the floor, Miles'' fall mostly cushioned by the hapless boy. Even as he pushed himself up, his hands felt the wooden planks, noting the presence of thin scratches, but strangely almost purposeful and methodically engraved, but before he could examine any further, his sense of smell exploded with the familiar scent of metal and iron, of fresh blood. It wasn¡¯t his.

    Miles felt his throat dry, mouthwatering, but he hurriedly controlled himself, and pulled back.

    James pushed himself up, wincing, but he was staring at Miles with widened eyes, ¡°You¡­ saved me?¡±

    Miles nearly choked, not at the misunderstanding that he had most definitely not purposefully orchestrated, for he was a paragon of selfless virtue, but¡­ at the state of the young man.

    Most of the blade shards had pierced James'' right arm, almost to the bone, while those that had missed had left his face maimed¨Cthe top of an ear missing, along with a sizable chunk of his cheek revealing teeth and tongue through a grotesque, gaping hole.

    Recoiling at the sight, feeling a sliver of guilt, Miles pointed at the injuries, ¡°And you... should get to Haruka-san, fast.¡±

    The straw haired young man¡¯s gaze lowered.

    His face recoiled in terror, the hole in his face squirting blood.

    James screamed.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but wince, the screeching grating upon his sensitive hearing, but then, the straw-haired boy''s noise was smothered out, utterly overshadowed by a resounding roar of pure rage. One that Miles had only ever heard a few times¡­

    THOOM!

    A powerful gust of wind surged through the clinic, the strongest that had occurred so far, blowing away James'' screams and shaking the counter itself.

    ''There is no way, right? Old Zhan surely wouldn''t think those screams were mine?''

    Even as he waved his hand at James, to be silent and to go get himself treated, Miles peered out.

    Unfortunately. it was as he had feared, and that¡­ that, was no longer a fight.

    ***

    Knight Xavier heard a disconcerting snap, his arm twisted unnaturally, bone broken by a mere slap.

    A forceful shin to his torso mangled what remained of his armor, the brutalized silver metal piercing through his stomach.

    Xavier was stuck mid-air, enduring attacks that always managed to break something, that rendered him unable to react.

    The Capital Knight Armor''s vital support systems, pumping healing and pain-numbing agents into his bloodstream were all that kept him alive, the only reason he was not screaming in agony. However, even while Balin''s elixir could work miracles with most injuries, it couldn''t mend broken bones, not in an instant. All it managed to do was prolong his suffering.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    He was outclassed in speed and strength, so terribly that he couldn''t even manage to patch up what remained of his armor. The once pristine silver steel was now a weapon against himself, puncturing and ripping through his own body.

    Attacks rained down, blurring into a tormenting storm, with speed so great he could no longer discern punches from kicks, or knife stabs from physical strikes.

    The life in Xavier''s eyes dimmed, his barely one hundred Endurance attribute unable to handle the brutal assault, but for a fleeting moment, his gaze managed to discern his assailant.

    The distortion enchantment upon the face had completely vanished, revealing an elderly face with a perfectly trimmed white beard. The pale visage of his face exuded an unnerving calm, but his eyes, eyes surrounded by pitch-black circles, radiated pure rage. An insatiable fury towards he who had touched something he never should have.

    Terror-stuck, Knight Xavier struggled to attack, but he had barely begun, when punishment came swiftly in the form of a strike to his chest, fracturing his rib cage, and puncturing his lungs.

    The relentless assault paused as he flew through the air, allowing a moment of clarity.

    Xavier considered himself a noble Knight.

    He had joined the order, seeking those monsters he despised with every fiber of his being, but failed in his search.

    He had finally found a clue, a forgotten technique resurfaced to inform him of their return. But he had failed to find anything of note.

    So, in a last-ditch attempt he had tracked a person of interest, and somehow, managed to stumble upon one of the devils.

    After years of searching, he had succeeded, he had found one of them, but here he was. A pinnacle Epsilon of the city, thoroughly outclassed, being beaten to death.

    The old man''s rage was palpable, his demeanor completely estranged from what had been. But, why?

    Even though the old man defended a monster that wore the skin of a young man, even though Xavier had struggled to hold on, what they had had was an honorable duel.

    Xavier had only retaliated against the unjustified interference, striking out against the cowardly intrusion of a third-party, the beastly creature that had interfered with a gun.

    Rage and indignation consumed his mind.

    What had he done wrong? What had he ever done wrong?

    What did people like him ever do to deserve their fates?

    Nothing!

    It was always this city, this accursed city, where powerful individuals protected the wrong people, allowing the privileged to stand behind, and crush the unfortunate to their whims.

    Darkness encroached upon him, his life fading, even though his mind remained resolute.

    He was Sir Xavier Nayir, Capital City Knight.

    Despite having been born an Epsilon, circumstances had forced him into one of the most common fae abilities known to man, Telekinesis.

    A base ability, at the lowest tier of his rank, allowing the manipulation of non-living objects through mental power. It was limited, for the larger the object, the higher the strain on his mind. The further the object, the more difficult it was to control.

    When most trained the ability, they focused on improving these limits¨Csize, weight, quantity, range, and control, but Xavier couldn¡¯t have become a Knight if he had been ordinary.

    He was the only known Epsilon in the entire world with the capability of Flight.

    Functionally indiscernible from the ordinarily Delta tier ability, it was in awe of this that he had been bestowed the title of ¡®Knight of the Sky¡¯. It had been the proudest achievement of his life, despite having condemned him to the role of an over-hyped watchman.

    His knighthood had led to his ability being subjected to great scrutiny; the Corporation eager to replicate his result. While he had explained it away as the result of a moment''s inspiration, an instinctive ability he had gained through sheer randomness, well, the reality was different¡­

    As if it had called him, Xavier found himself in that familiar world, floating in the endless expanse of darkness. The realm was a pure abyss, empty save for a colossal ball of azure lightning, crackling and flaring as if a blue Sun.

    This was the core, the secret behind his ability, a concentrated gathering of telekinetic energy within a world he had been told was his ''spirit'' realm. This core was a focus, the foundation of his unique abilities like a Sun was to life.

    This core allowed the exertion of telekinesis, over his own body, on himself. It was the bedrock of his flight, even the perfect motor control that had allowed him to face the old man head on.

    Moreover, Xavier could manifest this energy externally, allowing his most unique ability, Marionette Core. For some reason, this ability had had trouble manifesting within the clinic, perhaps due to the old man¡¯s interference.

    The Knight could feel he was on the brink of death. He knew he wouldn¡¯t survive if this kept up. He didn¡¯t even stand a chance to run away right now. If he wished to change his fate, he would need to sacrifice something.

    Teeth clenched, muscles spasming, Xavier directed his telekinetic will upon the Sun of lightning energy he had painstakingly grown over the years. A symbol from one that had been truly dear to him. If there was a cause he could sacrifice it for, that would be... now.

    With a decisive crush, he ruptured it all, and the world of void collapsed around him.

    Azure lightning flickered within his eyes, inside him, crackling under his skin, and¡­ Xavier''s eyelids tore apart crying tears of blood, overexerted blood vessels burst, while ears and nose hemorrhaged.

    A blinding flash of blue illuminated the entirety of the clinic, overwhelming even the light of the will-o-wisps, and a head sized core of energy manifested from the Knight, surging against any interference and manifesting with ease.

    Having crawled back from the verge of death, Xavier let loose.

    The marionette core fueled by his destroyed core rushed out with unprecedented speed, but Zhan Shen reacted with eerie calmness and sidestepped the attack with uncanny precision.

    The lightning sphere missed him by a single, short inch, and unlike before the elderly butler did not allow it to pass by. An unruly presence manifested about him, the rings around his eyes growing darker, and his hands almost glowed in a meld of darkness and light, grabbed on to the ball of energy, safely containing it.

    Zhan Shen stared at the floating figure, whose final desperate attack had missed. The Knight of the Sky had failed.

    With ease, he crushed out the sphere, exactly as he had done so far.

    So, why? Why would a man who had failed... smile?

    Xavier grinned through blood, broken bone, and muted agony. A grin of satisfaction.

    Instantly, the marionette core shattered, splintered into numerous smaller spheres, escaping the old butler¡¯s grip and hurtling in different directions at alarming speeds.

    Zhan Shen''s eyes widened, his figure shifted, barely phasing through the attack, and he turned around attempting to retreat, but Xavier wouldn¡¯t allow it.

    With a maddened cackle, he had a few of the energy cores exert their power upon the old butler, or more specifically, his suit, pulling him back and slowing him down... just enough.

    Knight Xavier''s face was pallid, his body grievously injured, but his telekinesis, his ability, was stronger than ever.

    He had recognized the emotion in the eyes of this old man, towards that creature.

    While Xaver was unable to understand who would care for a monster in human skin, it did not matter.

    Once the creature and the rest of the weaklings were in his control, he was confident the old man would not dare do anything. And finally, he would take a step towards revenge.

    ***

    Miles found himself completely caught off guard. Even though their opponent was a Knight of the City, he had allowed himself a hint of overconfidence after shooting through the infamous armor, and technically evading the surprise attack of an Epsilon. Combined with the fact that Zhan Shen was in close proximity, and about to completely eviscerate the Knight in rage, he had relaxed.

    To make matters worse, this attack was ridiculously fast. Even if James had still been here, Miles could not have reacted fast enough to use the unfortunate young boy as a meat-shield again.

    He dodged to the side, or rather, tried. The ripper-doc''s counter offered no defense, the attack seemingly phasing through the material. He could only watch as the azure lightning core struck him and... painlessly entered his body.

    Initially he was puzzled by the lack of apparent damage or effect, but confusion turned to horror, as he felt a sense of sluggishness pervading his movement.

    His body didn''t obey, resisting his own commands, as if controlled by an unseen puppeteer.

    Miles felt as if he had returned to the grand hall of the Lykaon mansion, his body at the mercy of a greater being. His mind was a mere observer, body manipulated by another.

    Panic surged through him, but fortunately, a series of familiar Ding!s rang out, forming messages before his eyes.

    [Interference from Foreign Ability Detected.

    Fae-ability: Telekinesis (Category: Epsilon (Lesser) - Originating from Ordinary Sprites)

    Trained and evolved in line with the nature of the World Beyond the Veil forming a Secondary Ability: Marionette Core.]

    Miles hated himself for the thought, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel relief, hoping that the system would take care of everything.

    [Ability Disruption Attempted.

    No Mementorium Detected.

    No Harvested Soul Points (SP) Detected.

    Newborn User is unable to interfere with Ability: Marionette Core.

    Disruption failed.]

    To Miles''s desperation, it appeared even the system was powerless to help. A single message crushing all hope, and just as he began to contemplate alternative solutions...

    A beat, a pulsating throb reverberated through his blood vessels, the entire circulatory system resonating in unison.

    The notification before him flickered, glitching out, as if encountering a system error. With the noticeable absence of the notification sound he had become familiar with, the previous message glitched itself into something new.

    [Warning.

    Foreign Energy has affected the title Cursed.

    Title Cursed has affected the Foreign Ability in return.

    The S????y???????s??????t???e????m??????s o???????f?????? ?????????O???r???????d?????e???r??? holds no responsibility for any repercussions.]

    Miles instinctively felt a twinge of worry at the message, yet he welcomed it over nothing at all, and with it, he sensed something, someone within him.

    Vaguely familiar, this ''someone'' was different from the foreign ability wrestling over control of his body. No, they felt like an intrinsic part of him, an ally in his struggle for control.

    YES.

    This ally gently nudged his fingers inwards, almost as if mimicking claws. Miles allowed his upper jaw to set forwards, as if preparing for the growth of fangs.

    Nothing about him had actually changed, but he found this shift in posture... right. Natural, almost an instinct.

    BENE FACTUM, NEWBORN.

    Then he felt it, knowledge and comprehension hidden within him, brought to light. Or rather, forcefully dragged out, so he could see and understand.

    [Discipline: Haemomancy broadened. Skill: Sanguine Aspectus - Common unlocked.]

    Instantly, Miles''s vision shifted, and he could no longer see... correctly.

    His eyes seemed to have been tinted with blood, and all he could see was a world of absolute crimson.

    Everything appeared in shades of red, but distinctively, five human silhouettes stood out.

    Glowing tendrils of red spread over them forming a comprehensive network, and at the very center of their bodies, were diamond-like objects glowing with otherworldly light.

    Miles instinctively knew those diamonds were hearts, expanding and compressing to the rhythmic beat of flowing blood. He could even hear the sound, an almost overwhelming beat that echoed within his ears.

    Three hearts were nearby, their beat slow, but further away were the final two, throbbing with power. One on the ground, the other airborne.

    To Miles''s horror, he realized the sight was stirring up an alarming hunger, drawn to those bright diamond lights like a moth to a flame. He was beginning to feel that familiar desire, the thirst...

    When he realized.

    Try as he could, he couldn''t move.

    The thirst faded as Miles remembered what had been forgotten in momentary distraction.

    The Marionette Core!

    It was inside him, attempting to control. He could feel it. An overwhelming sense of wrongness.

    A MORTAL... BARELY DAKINA, DARES PUPPET CHAOS GIVEN FLESH?

    Miles'' lips curled into a snarl, and all the blood that moved within him, reverberated in anger.

    A spark of rage kindled within him, and he felt his right arm move, the blood boiling, the painful heat muted and insignificant.

    [The Blood Burns.

    -0.4 BP (Negligible. Not considered) lost.]

    In a punch that defied all logic of what he should be capable of, his arm struck at the counter before him. The boiling blood exploded, his skin and muscle ruptured, but so did the counter.

    The steel bent inwards, and the object weighing a few hundred kilos was sent crashing a few meters ahead, towards the two epsilons watching in shock.

    [Conditional Undeath Activated. All wounds healed. No Blood Points lost.]

    Even before he could feel the pain of his injured hand, the bleeding halted, the blood was pulled back to him, re-entering his vessels, and the skin and muscle were healed instantly, with almost surgical efficiency.

    The spark blazed, overwhelming him in a wildfire of hatred. It was supposed to be an anger towards the wrong, and it was that too, but this was different. It was a pure and unsatiable fury, directed at no one and nowhere, everyone and everywhere, both at the same time. Rage for the sake of rage.

    Miles felt his eyes close of their own volition.

    He could feel it now.

    This... part of the rage wasn''t his own emotion, it did not come from him, or his thoughts. No, it came from the entity within.

    With that, Miles knew he had been wrong.

    This entity wasn¡¯t an ally, nor was it an enemy to him.

    Miles had only read about its existence in the vague mentions of the system status, but with this anger, with its thoughts affecting his mind, he finally knew who it was.

    In a burst of agitated blood energy, his eyes burst open; abyssal, pitch black, from the sclera to the pupil. These were no longer the eyes of a man, but the eyes of a devil, a... beast.

    Ding!

    [Warning: Irrevocable changes may have occurred to User Titles.

    Vessel of the Beast Within (Sealed) -> Vessel of the Beast Within (??????U????n????????s??????e??????a?????????l????e???????d??????)?????????]

 CHAPTER 25: Beast - Part 1

    The clinic lay in ruins, a stark contrast to its former state. The floor had been ripped apart, broken and splintered, the walls punctured through, crumbling dust.

    Haruka and her well-intentioned, yet frantic assistant tended to two injured individuals. The gangster that had been on the brink of death, his bones snapped in two by the crushing weight of the Knight''s boots, now exhibited a marked recovery, bearing a semblance of health.

    Conversely, James, with most of his cheek covered in fresh bandages, and though being overzealously tended to by Inani, appeared shaken.

    It was not only him, for every single person here was utterly unnerved by the presence emanating from the young man in the suit, terrified by his depthless eyes.

    Well, one figure remained unperturbed.

    Zhan Shen, the elderly butler, had a conflicted expression upon his face, and with a gaze focused upon his young master, exactly as he had done once before, he retreated. His face grew pensive as he settled himself to the side, taking the role of a silent observer.

    Perhaps Miles himself should have been gripped by fear, by the realization that an entity, previously confined, had now been unleashed. The very moniker, the Beast Within, carried ominous implications, but... he wasn¡¯t.

    Such concerns seemed trivial, even paltry in comparison, and he could feel the Beast agreed.

    How could they care? When control eluded the both of them? When an external force dared to usurp what had been rightfully theirs?

    An abyssal fury burned within them, their wrath directed at the audacious human that had dared overstep its station.

    Gazing upon the target of their ire, they let loose a frigid breath, and a cold calm settled over their seething rage. The exhaled air curled out like ethereal mist in winter twilight, and yes, inexplicably, the ambient temperature of the room plummeted by several degrees.

    Collective will and concentration harmonized, harnessing the endless, formless fury, towards a singular purpose. Pure enmity aimed squarely at one target¨Cthe Marionette Core, the intrusive, invisible object supposedly vying to strip them of their autonomy.

    Instantly, a spark of revelation flashed within Miles¡¯ mind, one seemingly extrinsic to his own cognizance, dragged out from the dredges of a mind that was not entirely his own. It felt more alien¡­ unnatural, even compared to the previous occurrence.

    Ding!

    [The user has achieved true sight. Skill: Magicae Aspectus - Uncommon unlocked.]

    Abyssal eyes gleamed with awakened knowledge, and the two skills activated simultaneously, converging to unveil a new visual.

    The once purely scarlet realm, solely highlighting systems of blood circulation and the inherent presence of beating hearts, now bore a faint line of crackling azure¨Ca filament like thread, connecting the repulsive core of blue lightning nestled within his body, to the diamond-like crystal residing within the heart of a blood red silhouette floating in the air.

    That was the culprit, the measly being that had dared tie a leash on them.

    A tempest of fury broiled and the Beast Within seethed, outraged beyond measure.

    Yet despite their emotions, they could not move properly, ensnared and slowed by the parasitical effects of the disgusting energy from the core.

    The Beast could no longer have it.

    Abruptly, Miles jerked back, his body shuddering.

    He felt his skin crawl, an alien sensation, uncomfortable, wrong, and his pores opened, exhaling fumes of ebony smoke. The wisps gathered, forming into an ethereal presence¨Ca nebulous creature, of darkness and shadow given life¨Cenveloping him like a mantle or armor.

    With that, his eyes reverted to normal, the demonic pitch-black veneer dissolving, as though the entity responsible for it had departed.

    Miles could sense it, the Beast had manifested within the undulating shadows that cloaked him, but he was not affected by its presence.

    He knew what it thought, he felt what it felt. There was little he did not know, and thus, little to fear.

    Suddenly, the shadow over him flashed a dark scarlet, and a familiar scorching heat consumed his insides. The familiar pain of Sanguine Ardeat, but at an unparalleled intensity seared through his nerves, elevated to a threshold he had not dared approach himself.

    [The Blood Burns.

    -0.5 BP ¡Ö 1 BP lost.]

    But the heat abated as soon as it had come, the pain having lasted for only a fraction of a second. It was so swiftly dismissed, that all that was left was his reeling mind.

    [Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 12/100)]

    A sense of energy and potency surged through him, even the vague pain resolved by a bit, but it was slight in comparison to what he had had to endure.

    This was the observed and expected result of Blood Burn, but that had not been the purpose here.

    With the vision of a world bathed in red hues, Miles witnessed something he and Cadmus had only hypothesized back then. The blood within his veins, which had been burned with searing heat, evaporated, escaped the circulatory system, passing through muscle, and through the pores of his skin, finally entering the air.

    The Beast reached out, the shadowy shroud extending dark tendrils, assuming a semblance of limbs. It manifested hands, clawed, and seized the blood vapor that wafted in the air, gathering it into it¡¯s grasp, and... crushed.

    Instantaneously the blood liquified, coagulating into a miniscule droplet, held within the grip of a shadow. Restive and dynamic, this blood undulated, expanding and compressing, and it shifted, extending into an indistinct elongated form.

    [Discipline: Haemomancy molds the blood.]

    Accompanied by the tinkling resonance of solidifying crystal, the liquid blood hardened, transforming into a weapon forged entirely of solidified blood. The weapon was a diminutive dagger, with a short, double-edged blade measuring around 20 centimeters¡ªit was reminiscent of an assassin''s blade.

    For a moment, something, a dot of light flashed within the crystal, vanishing as soon as it had appeared.

    PUGIO.

    The name echoed in Miles'' mind like a whisper from a bygone era, but he didn¡¯t get long to contemplate.

    The clawed hand of shadow that held the blade was actually his own, merely cloaked by the Beast, and almost seamlessly, he¨Cor rather, they¨Cwielded it, held by a hilt that was familiar yet also not.

    With unspoken accord, they swung, the blood crystal shimmering in the light of will-o-wisps, the blade sliced through the accursed blue thread.

    Knight Xavier recoiled in agony, as if what the blade had cleaved through was his chest instead of empty air.

    Even with his body bloodied and battered, his consciousness barely held by the life support of the armor, Xavier had maintained his command over Telekinesis. But the shock of this attack seemed to transcend mere physical pain, as for the first time ever, he lost control.

    His severely injured figure was forced down from the air, the loss of his ability sending him crashing into the wooden floor.

    Xavier''s heart anguished in never before known agony, but even then, he was shocked.

    Circumstances had compelled him to use the entirety of the telekinetic energy he had manifested and gathered over several years, using it to fuel one single ability.

    The Marionette Core, his trump card, a subtle means to manipulate individuals to conform to his wishes, or if need be, a discrete instrument even in combat. It had been a linchpin in numerous moments of his life, its efficacy undenied even in the rare instances where he had been forced to retreat. Not a single opponent had seen-through his ability.

    Even Xavier himself was unable to visibly see it, merely sending the presence of some form of connection as the user of the skill.

    However, this creature, this monster cloaked in shadows, had seen through it. It had understood the nature of the Marionette Core, and its immediate move had been to attempt to sever the crux of the ability, the heart-to-core link.

    Fortuitously for Knight Xavier, the slashing blade had failed to completely break the connection, a momentary interruption that was mended swiftly.

    Regrettably for him, the Beast was far from pleased.

    SCREECH!

    Raising its shadowy maw toward the vaulted ceiling, Miles¡¯ head arching in tandem, they let out an inhuman scream sending shivers through all those that heard it.

    [The Blood Burns. -15 BP is forcefully consumed by the Beast Within.

    Remaining Blood Points: 7/10 (+0/100 in Blood Bank)]

    The sheer volume of blood burnt intensified the pain even further¨Cit was mind breaking. For a moment, Miles lost himself in that inferno of agony, only for him to be dragged back to reality for the skill ended as swiftly as it had begun.

    With what few parts of him retained clarity, Miles found himself filled with power and energy, boundless and limitless. It was vitality given life, threatening to explode him from within his veins.

    Surging with excitement, a volatile blend of glee and rage curved his lips into a twisted grin, an amused chortle let out.

    He should have felt horrified by the near-depletion of his blood points, of becoming comatose, but he cared not. All he could focus on was the searing, blazing sensation in his throat.

    He was thirsty, no, parched, at the mercy of an unquenchable thirst that hungered for a familiar taste. All he felt was agitation, a desire to free himself of the pain.

    The scarlet world visible to only him, clearly showed the human silhouettes that populated it, veins pulsating with what he yearned for, hearts thudding rhythmically¨Ceverything appeared tantalizing.

    Prey shivering lifelessly in his grasp, a cool cascade of blood flowing down his throat, that would be sure to sate his hunger.

    A mutual understanding resonated between them, Man and Beast were in agreement.

    A portion of the boundless energy was directed towards his right leg, the blood within boiled, blazing, and... exploded.

    In a burst of red light, they flashed forwards, the blood burn, the Beast, and the nameless movement resulting in a speed that should''ve been impossible for him.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Miles felt his bones rattle, and his muscles ruptured, torn and twisted the wrong way, his physique not adapted for the velocity he had reached. The pain was mutely ignored for the response was immediate.

    [Conditional Undeath Activated. All wounds healed.]

    They followed the blue thread, leaving a continuous trail of shadow wisps that would twirl around it, akin to a spectral ribbon of smoke marking their trajectory. These dark wisps coalesced into an ambiguous black coil, one that meandered around the marionette''s thread...

    ***

    As the bestial creature charged, Xavier, the Knight of the Sky, was gripped by horror.

    His breath grew heavy, and his figure trembled, the familiar sensation of a fear he had thought he had overcome, clawing its way back.

    If he had had any doubts about the identity of the Creature, they were shattered the moment he felt this reaction. And facing it firsthand for the first time, he could feel it. A primal fear of being prey before predator, putting him in his place.

    Yet, the moment their eyes met, seeing the demonic evil within, windows to an absent soul, this terror was quickly drowned out by an overwhelming wave of pure hatred.

    Xavier screamed in crazed defiance, and a symphony of blades, bullets and every conceivable weapon he could gather soared through the air, launched towards a monster he hated with all his being.

    The creature didn¡¯t even attempt to evade, the projectiles penetrating cleanly through its shadowy armor, ripping holes through the dark mist. However, this smoky substance proved indomitable, for although it was easily broken through, it rendered every object that passed through it impotent, clattering harmlessly onto the floor.

    For a second time, Xavier felt a chill of horror, for whatever that was, it had destroyed the enchantments engraved upon the blades of his Shardstream Nano-blade, the intrinsic connection he had enchanted upon the weapon burned away.

    The Knight had already attempted to use the Marionette Core, to force the monster to kill itself, but none of his commands had made it through the connection.

    He needed a different strategy, and since he could no longer bring himself to move his body, all he could rely on was the power of his mind.

    Immersing himself in telekinesis, Xavier forced himself to the very limit of what he could muster, to the very edge that his mind could handle before it would shatter. Without his energy core to provide additional fuel, he had to be the source that burned.

    Blood weeping from every part of him, at the cost of himself, he succeeded.

    The entire structure of the building quivered and trembled, held in the grip of his telekinesis. Dust and concrete fragments cascaded from the ceiling, mimicking the effect of a localized earthquake, one intent on dismantling the building.

    Xavier had no other choice left.

    He''d bring the entire building crashing down if it would mean obliterating this monster. Consequences be damned, even the potential sacrifice of innocents was dismissed in rage and desperation. He would bet his own life, for it would be better for all of them to die, rather than let this lurid creature survive.

    Even though it was cloaked in the shadowy smoke, he refused to believe the monster would remain unharmed when buried under a few hundred kilograms of concrete. And even if it was, the physical body that lay within would surely have been killed.

    Decision made, Xavier pushed himself, his mind teetered on the edge, but his determination was resolute.

    In truth, his feat was extraordinary. Such colossal telekinetic exertion was in all logic, impossible for an Epsilon Faehuman.

    A grim smile curled the Knight¡¯s lips, despite the macabre visage of blood gushing from all his pores. He had transcended the limits of his tier under this pressure, an accomplishment he had sought for years now.

    But that moment of happiness was not meant to last.

    Why?

    The Beast materialized, an obsidian specter that coalesced right behind him.

    Drawn by the force and momentum of its arrival, the dark coil it had left behind constricted, ensnaring the azure thread and squeezing it with the ruthless efficiency of a python subduing prey.

    The blue thread wavered and reconstructed itself. Regrettably, Knight Xavier could not mimic this feat.

    His hand would''ve clutched his heart could he move, for the agony intensified, and he coughed up blood and dislodged organs.

    And soon enough, the rumbling of the building, the seismic call of death, was subdued, for Xavier had lost his grip on his ability for a second time.

    The Beast¡¯s shadowy maw contorted into a resemblance of a grin, gazing down upon the helpless Knight, bloodied and ruined.

    Even amid the cardiac torment, Xavier couldn''t help but shudder, an involuntary reaction to the monstrous entity before him.

    The creature raised a claw of ephemeral shadow, and the darkness retreated, shifting, reforming around the accursed gun that had been held by the hand underneath.

    The very same gun that had exploded a hole over his upper chest, glowing a blazing gold, but to his surprise, it didn''t shoot.

    The monster seemed content to watch, relishing the spectacle of his eventual, slow death.

    Knight Xavier refused.

    Death was not an option.

    How could he abandon Cassie to the mercy of abominations like this? To these empty creatures of remorseless cruelty? He owed it to the poor souls that were usurped, this young man who had been killed just to make room for this demonic being!

    The Beast''s head angled, as if pondering, as if recognizing something. The gun lowered, once again retreating into the depths of a shadow claw.

    ''I cannot give up! Who else knows or even cares about these monsters?''

    The Beast''s other hand blurred, something, a flash of red, pierced through the massive gap in his armor. In the next moment, there was a dagger of scarlet crystal embedded deep within his chest.

    Xavier groaned, flinching at the sudden intrusion of blade in his heart, but his armor didn''t allow him to feel much of the pain, his mind elsewhere.

    ''No, no, no, I still have a chance! Who would be there for Cassie if I''m gone? With the armor, with this armor, I can survive! If I can last long enough to retreat back to Capital Command, I can make it! I just have to fight¡ª''

    The Beast''s head angled, and after a moment''s amusement, it began to grow unnaturally. A maw entirely of shadow parted, and it fell on him, sinking its phantom fangs into his body.

    An instantaneous paralysis seized Knight Xavier, all motion arrested in an abrupt instant.

    He had assumed wrong.

    He would have no revenge, nor would he survive.

    Far from it, this would be his last¡ª

    The Beast inhaled.

    All thought vanished as Xavier''s face contorted in silent agony. The pain was all encompassing, his blood and flesh feasted upon by the creature he both feared and hated.

    His form began to atrophy, collapsing like a deflating balloon. Skin sagged, muscles thinned, and an unsettling decay set in.

    His final thought was one of regret, of unfinished business, of worry, and with that, Knight Xavier thought no longer.

    ***

    Miles stared at the motionless figure before him, Xavier, the Knight of the Sky, a once famous, perhaps even beloved protector of Capital City.

    Unfortunately, the Beast Within harbored no regard for the illustrious identity of its prey. Still extending from his body, its shadowy maw persisted in its voracious feast, consuming insatiably.

    At this point, Xavier''s skin had caved inward entirely, exposing the skull beneath his fragile face, his skeletal frame pronounced as if starved for months.

    Nevertheless, the azure thread that had bound him and the Beast was waning, in response to its creator''s fading life.

    In the face of the grotesque spectacle before him, Miles knew what he should''ve felt was repulsion, sickness, or at the very least, disgust. This was the inhumane act of devouring a living human, of how a once formidable Knight was being stripped of his vitality and flesh, his face stricken in terror and pain.

    Well, he did feel repulsed, disturbed even, by the nauseating scene before him, but... it just tasted too god-damned delicious to care.

    It was the Beast that feasted, its shadowy maws that did the unsavory act, but as if it was an extension of himself, Miles not only witnessed the deed, he felt every sensation and tasted every nuance. And holy hells, was it a taste beyond compare!

    It was utterly incomparable to the blood he had drunk from the bags of blood. The so-called expensive delicacies he had feasted upon in his life were utterly overshadowed, perhaps not even matched by a glass of Clurichaun!

    It was as if there was some innate flavor unique to the act of sourcing the scarlet fluid directly from its origin, and by the Sidhe, was it phenomenal.

    If the legendary ambrosia truly did exist, Miles was convinced it would at best be on par.

    This was a taste one could easily get addicted to, a flavor that could become an alluring desire that lasted a lifetime, but even as Miles lost himself in relishing this divine flavor, a series of notifications rang out.

    Ding!

    [First Blood Source consumed.

    +1 Faehuman Source for possible assimilation.

    +3 Free Stat Points, +20 BP gained.]

    Ding!

    [Personal BP restored to 10/10.

    Remaining Stored in Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank): 17/100]

    Simultaneously, Miles sensed the ebbing of his thirst, his hunger sated, replaced by a feeling of satisfaction.

    He and the Beast seemed to be in some form of symbiosis. When one fed, the other was fed as well. Unfortunately, now that Miles¡¯s thirst was sated, the fact that he had relished the taste of human flesh, became a disgusting thought once more.

    Right on time, another notification appeared with a Ding! cementing the morbidity of his actions.

    [ You have slain {Capital Knight (Knight of the Sky) / Faehuman (Epsilon - Enhanced Telekinetic) / Follower of the Celestial Path of the Riyan / One who has sensed the World beyond the Veil / Rare Cyber-Ware (Capital Allsight [Vision/Surveillance - Eye] Implant (v9.9) / Sky Knight Gawain [Omni-Defensive Enchanted] Armor (Unique) / Shardstream Nanoblade [Fae-Signature-Bound - Weapon/Tool)} ]

    Bonus experience for killing an enemy greatly above the user in power.

    Bonus experience for killing a member of the Riyan Sect.

    Experience Penalty due to external interference.]

    Ding!

    [Vawul Class: (Newborn) has reached Lvl. 10 - Stat Points allocated.]

    [Primary Requirement for Vawulan Evolution met.]

    A surge of power, an electric rush of energy, coursed through Miles'' veins, the allocated attribute points raising his physical status significantly.

    Although he relished it, Miles'' mind was distracted.

    He had anticipated it, he had known this would happen, but he couldn''t help but be conflicted by the death of the Knight.

    Despite his readiness to take necessary action, even if it meant to become a monster, Miles couldn''t suppress what he felt. He couldn¡¯t stop the inherent human facets of disgust and pity.

    The former Knight of the Sky had experienced unimaginable torment leading up to his demise. Though he may not have screamed, Miles understood. He would never forget the sensation of how it felt to have one¡¯s blood and flesh consumed, while forced to be frozen and helpless. After all, he had suffered through it himself.

    The realization that he had done the same, indirectly played a part, didn''t feel right.

    Even as the divine taste of blood and flesh continued to explode upon his senses, Miles felt... wrong.

    With the wielder of the Marionette Core no more, the blue thread had finally dissipated. The core of energy within him had dispersed as well, fully returning control.

    The battle was concluded, all adversaries lay defeated.

    Yet, the Beast remained undeterred, for it was not done with its feast, not even close.

    Unyielding, it continued to consume, to devour.

    Mere moments later, with most of the flesh and blood consumed, the corpse of the once great Knight crumpled into a grotesque husk.

    It barely retained a humanoid form any longer, the skin crusty, dry and stretched over the skeleton. Despite having met his demise mere minutes ago, the remains resembled a mummy, a corpse that had languished in decay for a few years. It was worse than what had remained of that Faesycian corpse in the gutter.

    Still, the Beast consumed.

    Eventually, the blood that fed him relented, no liquid left within what was left to feed upon, and that was when it was replaced by an unfamiliar energy, passing into him exactly as the blood had been consumed.

    It didn¡¯t carry a taste or flavor, not like blood from its source, but like dessert to a perfect gourmet meal, it was complementary to the flavor of the scarlet ambrosia.

    Miles hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but now that it had been consumed, a sense of completeness enveloped him. He no longer felt hollow, or empty.

    It was almost similar to those moments he had experienced before, with the mysterious pixie, with Xavier¡¯s sudden attack, but this was far more complete.

    He felt right, correct, and in a strange, distorted sense of nostalgia, he felt... human?

    For an ephemeral moment, everything was embraced in a sense of perfect bliss. There was no trouble, no endless hunger, no concerns. Just a moment of absolute perfection.

    [First Soul consumed, Soul Energy Detected.

    +10 Soul Points(SP) gained.]

    [The Newborn Vawulan lacks the means to form a Mementorium. SP cannot be stored.

    -10 Soul Points(SP)]

    In the very next moment, this newfound energy dissipated, as if it had never been. And once again, Miles was incomplete.

    Struggling to cling to that sense of fulfillment, Miles grappled with the vanishing sensation, ''W-What was that?''

    Confused and delirious, he had gained something in a moment of trouble providing him solace and fulfillment, only for it to be taken away in the next.

    The fact that it was somehow supposed to be Knight Xavier''s soul, didn''t register, nor was it relevant. His only focus was the overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss.

    Miles felt lost, adrift, unsure of what action to take or what thoughts to think.

    For a moment he had forgotten the Beast Within, was still out and about, and its rising emotions, its thoughts and intentions took the place of the gap in his mind.

    The creature seemed to have an answer, an instinctual response.

    As if in a daze, Miles followed its guidance.

    Man and Beast united once more, thinking the same thought, calling out for something familiar, something that was now the core of their existence.

    ''System Status.''

 CHAPTER 26: Riyan

    The ethereal tendrils of the Beast lingered in the air, its presence casting a shadowy caricature over the skeletal remains of the former Knight.

    Otherworldly wisps of spectral smoke intertwined with Miles¡¯ own form, for the Beast had now extended its manifestation even beyond the spectral armor that covered him, taking an almost separated existence. Yet, their consciousness remained as united as ever.

    In response to what had been their collective summon, the Status materialized, white text adorning a backdrop of profound darkness, now with an unusual splash of actual color.

    [User: Miles Lykaon]

    [Current Form: Vawul]

    [Vawulan Class: Newborn Lvl. 10 || (1/10) Varying Blood Sources Consumed (! Evolution Available !)]

    [Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 1| - Untrained]

    [Vawul Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve first.]

    [HP: 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP: 27/110]

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 10/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 17/100}

    [Strength: 27] (+6)¡ü

    [Endurance: 29] (+6)¡ü

    [Agility: 28] (+6)¡ü

    [Intelligence: 64]

    [Wisdom: 37]

    [Influence: 5 (+1000)]

    [Free Points: 13 (10 General + 3 Blood Sourced)] (+9)¡ü

    [Skills: General - {Magicae Aspectus - Uncommon}, {Mind World - Rare}, {Nameless Movement Art - Unique}]

    Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}, {Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn) - Inferior}, {Sanguine Aspectus - Common}, {Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique}]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

    Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

    Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred}

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    Balanced??

    Vessel of The Beast Within (??????U????n????????s??????e??????a?????????l????e???????d??????)?????????

    Last Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    The eyes of Beast and Man fixated upon the rare burst of color, a familiar azure, in the mostly bland status screen before them.

    ¡®Blood Sourced.¡¯

    There was no dispute or argument, no second-guessing or thinking it through. Miles, at this moment, cared little for his former indecisiveness over the utilization of free attribute points, with the intention of meticulously optimizing of each attribute point for a ¡®flawless¡¯ build.

    No, now his singular desire was to experience that feeling again, that sense of wholeness, of being complete. Despite having accepted his Vampiric nature for the ensuing power, the entirety of his being longed for nothing more, to feel truly alive.

    The Beast had the solution.

    With focused intent, they directed their focus upon the free points tab. At his behest, Miles felt the three relevant free attribute points, those sourced from the azure blood source, resonate to his will.

    He let his bestial instincts guide him, channeling them all into the only attribute that had not been subjected to any form of growth since his undeath; Wisdom.

    [Wisdom: 37 => 40]

    A cascade of unknown whispers danced through his mind, as if ancient beings had whispered secrets directly into his consciousness. Every synapse tingled with newfound clarity, and it was a strange sensation, of knowing, and the notifications chimed.

    Ding!

    [The Vawulan has usurped the Blood Source of another, taking the inherent essence for themselves.

    Initiating Blood Source Assimilation (1/1 use for Tier: Newborn)¡­]

    Ding!

    [Blood Source Assimilation halted due to interference from Skill: Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique.]

    A moment of confusion rose, shared by both him and the Beast, but oddly enough, there lingered an inkling that this might not be a problem.

    Perhaps, it was even better?

    Ding!

    [The Inheritance of the Blood Source has succeeded.

    Blood Source Assimilation canceled, (1/1 use) remaining.]

    Ding!

    [The Blood carries memory, power, and legacy. As the usurper of the source, all that was, is now yours.

    The Vawulan has inherited (Legacy of the Knight of the Sky - Uncommon.)]

    Miles felt a pulsating ache in his head, unnatural, wrong, but that discomfort was worth it, for he was soon overwhelmed again by that profound sense of completeness, of being human.

    A cascade of sensations flickered through his mind, and it took a brief moment for him to realize what they were. These were foreign, unknowable experiences, streaming into his mind, satiating the insatiable hunger for more. These were memories, and he remembered them all.

    ***

    ¡°Legend weaves a tale of ten divine suns, that their holy radiance was unruly, brimming with pride, harboring remorseless intentions to scorch the very world beneath them.¡±

    The voice of a black-haired woman resonated through the room, her dark locks framed by the soft streams of sunlight that seeped into their modest home. Beyond her, framed by the wooden window sills, were the viridian hues of the Everglades and thick canopies of white forestry graced by the touch of wintry snow, as if the windows were framed artworks of nature''s painting.

    In her possession she held a box of wood containing four inkpots and a brush, and the horsehair was dipped into a pot of golden yellow ink. With rhythmic grace, she repainted the faded sigil-like symbols upon some creation of yellow feathers and leaves, a talisman hung upon the eastern window frame, portraying a ball of golden fire.

    ¡°But only we of the Riyan know the truth.¡±

    Each window led to a small ledge, protruding outwards from the cabin. She reached towards that of the eastern window, finding an emptied saucer.

    Using a wet cloth, she wiped it clean, and took out a small, blinking metallic container. With a steady hand, she tipped its contents into the now clean saucer¨Cpure and pristine milk poured out, kept fresh and cool by the device. The saucer now refilled, she placed it back upon the ledge outside.

    ¡°The Divine Suns had no choice but to unite, banding together to fend off a great evil, for as decreed by the attendants of the Celestians, only the light of the Riyan could burn those devils away.¡±

    Moving seamlessly through the roomy wooden cabin, the woman navigated from corner to corner, window to window, repainting and refilling.

    The second talisman was one adorned with red feathers and leaves, another ball of fire, but a red giant this time.

    ¡°Yet all of it had been a ruse, a cunning plot to draw out the Divine Suns, so that their noble effort could be portrayed as a threat of unruly pride towards the world. This forced the hand of a guardian of the world, a great hero, the king of archers, manipulated to shoot nine of them down.¡±

    The third window held a smaller talisman, one that featured pure white feathers, leading her to apply colorless ink upon the tiny ball of white, a white dwarf.

    ¡°We of the Riyan accept this tragic event, we understand the deception, we mourn the Divine Suns, but we strive to make amends.¡±

    The final window too led to a small ledge, above which hung the final talisman, different from the rest, and it was repainted by black ink, small, yet akin to a deathly night, a black dwarf.

    ¡°That is why it is our path to follow the divine lady Xihe, and as she once did, we create¡­ Suns.¡±

    The woman cleaned the brush of residual ink, affixing it into its designated place in the wooden box carrying the ink pots. Placing it aside, she continued.

    ¡°For each Divine Sun lost on that fateful day, for each of the nine that were felled, we nurture one within ourselves. Pale imitations they may be, such is the Path of Divine Light, from one to nine.¡±

    The final saucer was cleaned, placed upon the ledge and refilled with the offering of milk, open and presented to those of the Everglades.

    With her ritualistic movements drawing to a close, the woman cast her gaze upon the two children seated upon a faded yellow rug.

    A young boy, his hair a mop of golden curls, nodded eagerly with wide blue eyes, pretending, as if he had actually understood the entirety of her blabbering.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Beside him was a younger girl, her appearance mirroring that of her brother, but with her head leaned against his shoulder, she was fast asleep, a thread of drool even trailing down her chin.

    Noticing the woman¡¯s scrutiny, the boy nudged his sister awake. The girl was startled, quickly rising to attention, but failed to hide a yawn even as she wiped her mouth.

    The woman narrowed her eyes, her tone crisp and commanding, ¡°To the lotus position, both of you, now. We shall meditate upon our Suns, and you, Cassie,¡± her gaze bore into the sheepish girl, ¡°Answer, why do we meditate?¡±

    With practiced intonation, Cassie answered promptly, ¡°To restore the lost Suns, and revive the ways of the Riyan!¡±

    The woman nodded approvingly, ¡°Correct. Now then, let us practice for one hour, as always. But dear,¡± she eyed the young girl, ¡°That¡¯s an extra half-hour for you, and more for every moment you fall asleep again.¡±

    Cassie protested, ¡°But Mom!¡±

    The young boy wisely interrupted his sister, offering her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, ¡°It''s fine Cassie, I¡¯ll do it with you.¡±

    The mother of the two children regarded her son with a mix of exasperation and affection, but he only gave a helpless shrug and a pacifying smile.

    With a resigned sigh, the woman tapped the familiar clock, and all three of them began their practice together.

    The tendrils of sunlight filtering through the room were a welcome presence, for it was that time of the year, and the Everglades were overrun with winter fae, casting everything within ice, pervading the air with a persistent bitter chill.

    The Riyan meditation was rather simple. With their focus upon the lower abdomen, they visualized the gathering of energy to form an imaginary sun. With every breath, they gathered their life force, what their mother called prana, shaping it into the foundation that would one day become the first sun.

    This was a challenge even for him, let alone his sister, for the young girl at the tender age of six, fidgeted, struggling to stay still, but her mother¡¯s threat kept her focused well enough, and somehow they persevered, until the time passed.

    The moment the alarm of the clock rang out, Cassie was on her feet, preparing herself to run, ¡°It¡¯s snowing! It¡¯s snowing! I¡¯m going out to play!¡±

    Her mother¡¯s voice halted her in her tracks, ¡°Not like that you¡¯re not! Put on something warm! It¡¯s freezing! And, your amulets!¡±

    Cassie was slightly miffed, but hastened to comply, quickly slipping into her little blue insulated coat, and affixing a small u-shaped piece of cold iron to its front pocket. She plucked a fresh clover from a small pot nearby and tucked it behind her ear, before waving a goodbye, and darting through the wooden door.

    ¡°That girl¡­¡±

    The young boy rose to his feet too, donning his own coat, attaching its own iron ornament, and plucking a fresh clover for himself. He turned to his mother and spoke in a slow, measured tone, ¡°Cassie¡­ She adores the snow. Maybe even more than she does fire?¡± He hurried to elaborate, ¡°Mom, it¡¯ll be fine right? She can use snow if she wants, right? I¨CI¡¯ll use fire, I¡¯ll revive the Riyan, enough for the both of us!¡±

    The dark haired woman regarded him for a moment, then raised her hand¡­ and gently bopped him on his nose.

    ¡°Silly child, what makes you think a Divine Sun, a Xihe Riyan, must be one of fire?¡±

    Her smile was warm, ¡°Though I may have adopted you both as my own, that does not mean I shall dictate your destiny. I¡¯ll admit, I may have a bias towards the path of the Riyan, but whatever you wish to do, whether you use the power of Xihe or not, I shall leave that entirely up to you. Alright, dear Xavier?¡±

    The boy froze, caught off guard by her response, but in the end, he nodded in understanding.

    His mother chuckled softly, ¡°Good, now off with you, before your sister decides to build an igloo and claim it as her home, catching the eye of some wayward fae¡­ for the third time.¡±

    ***

    Xavier moved his fingers, deftly manipulating the wooden contraption before him, his fingers moved with practiced precision controlling the puppet hanging on its threads, the marionette. Each motion of his hand translated seamlessly into the puppet¡¯s dance, moving exactly as was intended. This was his favorite toy, a gift from their mother.

    Cassie sat on the floor, molding white clay into a childish, unrecognizable casting¨Ca ball of some sort, amidst a leafless forest, where it was raining, perhaps¨Cwhen she suddenly looked up with a curious question.

    ¡°Mom, why do we have to revive the way of the Riyan? What happened to it?¡±

    Her words caught Xavier¡¯s attention, the rhythmic dance of his puppet interrupted, as he waited for an answer himself.

    Their mother halted, the ladle that had been stirring the stew-in-a-can, a rare treat from the city, and answered slowly, ¡°I suppose it was only a matter of time,¡± and moved to pat the little girl on her head, ¡°Well asked, dear.¡±

    As Cassie beamed with pride, the black haired woman had returned her attention to the stove, the artificial stew now simmered quietly, the bubbles almost ceasing under the intensity of her gaze. ¡°The Riyan were formidable, as mighty as the Divine Suns we seek to resurrect. But not formidable enough, not enough to face the Pale Ones, malevolent beings, sun spurned devils in human skin. Fearing the brilliance of Xihe Riyan, they purged all those who practiced the Divine Light,¡± her tone was grave as her gaze fell upon them, ¡°Only a handful, including my master and a few who had left for worldly experience were said to have survived. So of course, the way of the Riyan was lost, forgotten over time.¡±

    A heavy silence settled over the room, Cassie¡¯s usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a palpable sense of dread. She had not anticipated such an answer.

    Sensing the tension, Xavier spoke up, his voice tinged with apprehension, ¡°Um, Mum, will those devils come for us?¡±

    Their mother¡¯s head snapped upwards, as if she had only just realized the gravity of the words and the ears she had allowed to hear them. She hastily explained, ¡°Oh, no, no, of course not! I¡¯m here aren¡¯t I? Besides, the devils only really care about those of the Riyan, so you two are perfectly safe!¡±

    Cassie seemed to relax, accepting her words with a slow nod, but Xavier was skeptical, and pressed further, ¡°Then, what about you?¡±

    She hesitated, not providing an answer as her gaze flickered between her children.

    Sensing their growing unease, their mother wiped her hands on her dress and walked up to them, offering a solution, ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ll teach you two a little¡­ trick? It might not work immediately, but someday, with enough practice, you¡¯ll be able to find those devils, no matter where they may hide! How does that sound?

    He considered it.

    That could work. If the devils did come for their mother, he could warn her, and they could run away!

    Xavier agreed readily, and so did his sister.

    ***

    That day was an unusual one.

    His mother¡¯s hands fiddled with his new coat, one that was several times larger, as she fastened the familiar u-shaped iron pin¨Ca horseshoe, as she often called it¨Cto his pocket. Despite the fact that she maintained a smile, it appeared strained, forced, Xavier could tell.

    Her usually immaculate black hair was disheveled, and creases of worry persisted upon her forehead. Lately her behavior had become rather strange¨Clate nights, waking tired and restless, performing stranger and stranger rituals¨Cto the point that Cassie had to be the one to complete their morning offerings.

    Repeating the routine upon his sister¡¯s coat now, their mother spoke, ¡°Alright, are you both ready? Broceliand isn¡¯t far, we¡¯ve visited the settlement there before, so you know how to behave, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes, mum...¡± Cassie answered with a roll of her eyes, the once little girl now almost reaching Xavier''s own height.

    Fortunately for his sister, their mother didn¡¯t take her sass to heart, ¡°Good, you¡¯ll be meeting Ragan there, and he¡¯ll be guiding you into the city. Make sure you get everything I have listed. You do have enough credits, right?¡± she asked, her question directed at Xavier.

    Due to his mother¡¯s general aversion to most technology, it was he who had assumed the responsibility of managing their digital finances. Not that they needed much, considering that they lived almost self-sufficiently in the Everglades.

    But, Cassie had read something in some ancient magazine, and got it into her head that they should eat cake, and since it was far too expensive to purchase, they should have it homemade.

    Their mother had surprisingly indulged his sister''s random request, suggesting it could serve as a birthday gift. She really shouldn¡¯t have said that, as that had led to an entire tirade about ¡®birthday cakes¡¯ and how they should make three every single year, one for each. Suffice to say, Cassie was excited.

    The occasional trade trip of this nature was nothing new to Xavier, having been on a few already, but this would be Cassie¡¯s first, for as the cause behind the excursion, she was supposed to accompany him.

    Nevertheless, they had more than enough credits to afford everything on the list, and thus, he answered with a nod.

    With that, their mother plucked two fresh clovers from the familiar pot, carefully placing them behind their ears, ¡°And remember, stick to the beaten path. Never step foot into the forest, no matter what promises the fae may offer. Understood?¡±

    ¡°We know!¡± Cassie groaned.

    Xavier echoed her intentions, well, in a much less impatient manner. But he was thirteen, almost an adult now. There was no way he didn¡¯t know about the dangers of the everglades.

    He was far more interested in his mother, the secrets she hid from them, for what he believed she believed was for their best.

    Xavier wanted to help, to ask what was wrong and provide his support, but in the end, they departed for the city.

    He decided he would ask everything, definitely, when they came back.

    ***

    The journey through the woods proved uneventful, for Xavier managed to keep his sister on a short leash, distracting her whenever the fae enticed her¨Cnoticeably with illusions of white frosted cake.

    After a grueling walk, they managed to arrive at the settlement in Broceliand, just at the descent of nightfall, when the Everglades could become home for the dread Fae, considerably more dangerous than the tricksters of the day.

    Radan, a formidable mercenary of the Everglade Wanderers, greeted them upon their arrival. Xavier knew him well, for the intimidating giant of a man was a family friend of sorts. He had the two siblings taken to an inn, offering them a decent room to spend the night, and despite Xavier¡¯s best attempts to pay for the room, the mercenary shooed him away.

    Cassie had been brimming with excitement about visiting Capital City, and thus, had soon burned herself out, falling asleep almost immediately.

    Xavier had had a much harder time.

    He couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

    An unsettling sensation gnawed at him, a vague sense of foreboding that unsettled his nerves.

    Then without warning, it struck him¨Can instinctual awareness, a warning from within him.

    His breath grew heavy, his pulse racing as a chill swept through him, as if the cold winter air had managed to pierce into the room.

    Devil Seeking.

    The first time their mother had introduced them to the ¡®trick¡¯, it had been purely on a whim, to pacify their worries.

    Cassie had struggled to learn it, and given up rather quickly, but Xavier managed to make some progress, and that was when his mother had told him of its true nature.

    Devil Seeking consisted of two aspects. The first was a basic, almost passive step, allowing the detection of a devil¡¯s presence when they ¡®shed the human guise¡¯. The second was more complex, an active step that allowed the detection of the ¡®emptiness¡¯ within those creatures, even when they were in hiding.

    Though Xavier had yet to find any progress in the active, the more basic, passive step was well within his ability.

    And that was exactly what had sent his heart beating, it was the source of the cold dread, as he was told of the presence of a devil in the distance.

    As his head darted in the general direction, Xavier couldn¡¯t help but feel a pit in his stomach. Despite the confusing nature of the paths through the Everglades, he knew exactly where the devil was.

    Home.

    ***

    Maybe Xavier should¡¯ve asked Radan to come with him, but he definitely didn¡¯t want his sister left alone, and had had no choice but to leave the mercenary so he may guard Cassie.

    Decision made, he had silently climbed down the window of the second floor, wincing as his knees absorbed the impact of the fall.

    Xavier rushed through the beaten path, even as his heart raced in a mixture of realization and fear, the Devil Seeking providing him guidance.

    The dense foliage of the Everglades blurred past him, drowning out the beguiling voices of the fae.

    Lady Luck had been on his side, for Xavier found himself still alive, not having met the astronomically slim chance of encountering a dread fae along the footpath.

    It was only an hour or two later, he wasn¡¯t sure exactly when, when he had arrived at their familiar little lodge, that he realized the warning from the skill had vanished. The ominous presence of the devil was no longer there.

    The fear and nervousness he felt was replaced by a profound sense of relief.

    Maybe he had imagined it? Maybe a devil had never come?

    Xavier entertained the possibility, but no, but it was more possible their mother had managed to vanquish the creature.

    Preparing himself for a night of scolding for his irrational actions, he pushed past the wooden door.

    As was often his mother''s habit, he found a single lamp lit, barely illuminating the lodge, and to Xavier¡¯s great relief, he found his mother, her familiar figure seated on their couch to the side, her hands holding a pot of white cream, frosting perhaps.

    But as he stepped forth, to check on her, he felt something, a puddle stepped upon by his shoes.

    As if the sound had grabbed her attention, Xavier found his mother staring at him, surprised and shocked.

    Her eyes wide, her mouth ajar, she watched.

    No, her gaze was not on him, but something beyond, for her head was on the floor, and it was a decapitated body that was seated on their couch.

    Xavier screamed.

    ***

    Miles returned to reality, finding himself gasping, holding onto his knees. The experience had been visceral and instantaneous, as if he had lived through a lifetime of splintered memories in a millisecond.

    Even as he reeled struggling to separate reality from foreign memory, with that one mystery had been solved.

    That was the nature of the unknown unique skill, Hereditas Sanguinis. That was the legacy of the Knight of the Sky.

 CHAPTER 27: Beast - Part 2

    ¡®What in the holy hells was that?¡¯

    His mind swirled with a deluge of memories, an entire lifetime, familiar yet wrong. Like sprinkled fairy dust, they were settling over his own mind, weaving into his own consciousness.

    There was much to learn in this confusing recollection of another¡¯s life, of Knight Xavier. Starting from his unique approach to Fae Abilities, its basis on the tutelage of his mother, allowing the expansion of limited telekinesis into¡­ something more.

    Despite his involvement in the Knight¡¯s demise, Miles felt a level of begrudging respect for the man, for having started humble beginnings outside the city, but ending all the way up as the Knight of the Sky.

    Yet, amidst those memories, there were also the mentions of ¡®devils¡¯, in hindsight, very possibly synonymous with Vampires. Then there was the existence of a technique that allowed their detection, and the collective genocide of those who had practiced it.

    Intriguing revelations all of them, but Miles was not in a state of mind to contemplate, for his own sense of self was askew. Even when fragmented and incomplete, a lifetime of memories was difficult to wrap his head around, literally.

    But¡­

    He-- Xavier had a family, still did.

    ¡®Cassie¡­¡¯

    The splintered memories alone bore witness to the deep bond that had been shared between the two siblings.

    It was confusing, for the essence of the Beast justified his-- no, it''s role in the death of the Knight, but the memories from Xavier himself presented an alternate view.

    In a moment of weakness, Miles allowed it, allowing the memories to carry him on a fleeting fantasy, wondering what it would have been to have had a sister himself. Foreign memories influenced him, for what he wondered next was what it would feel to have that sibling taken from you, the anguish of loss.

    Guilt weighed heavily upon him, as Miles contemplated the fate of his sister, now without mother nor brother.

    Lost in the maelstrom of unnatural memories, of an estranged life and the moments he had spent with an alternate family, Miles found himself adrift, lost, uncertain on what to do or say.

    As if to cement the gravity of his actions, of the usurping of these memories, a system notification rang out.

    Ding!

    [Blood Source Inheritance Completed.

    The User has inherited the essence of the Fae Ability: (Telekinesis - Greater/Touched by the Veiled World.)

    The User has inherited the essence of the Art: (Devil Seeking)

    The User has failed to inherit the Art: (Solar Genesis - Primeval Manifestation of Riyan) for opposing the principles of the Vawulan.]

    Ding!

    ||Blood Inheritance Rewards||

    [The Vawulan may choose any one of the following, each adapted from that which was inherited by the blood.

    General Skill: (Telekinesis - Inferior) {+}

    OR

    Augur (Limited Discipline) Skill: (Detect - Uncommon) {+}]

    A familiar screen materialized before him, offering him the choices as to what rewards he would earn for his actions¨Cthe slaughter of Xavier. Miles welcomed the distraction readily, a hopeful reprieve from the sorrow that echoed through artificial memories.

    However, it was not to be, for the screen flickered and vanished away, yielding to the presence of the Beast Within deciding to make its presence known, its turbulent emotions joining the conflicting cocktail that was already swirling within his mind.

    It was this Beast that had ended the Knight for daring to control them. Afterwards, what it had done was merely take the prey it had hunted, feeding in an attempt to sate their thirst. It had consumed the Knight entirely, down to his soul and spirit, even using his memories as a¡­ palate cleanser.

    Miles¡¯ thirst had been more than sated by the experience, but for the Beast, it was only a meager drink, a drop to the boundless ocean of its insatiable appetite.

    With the contents of that prey now emptied, it hungered for more, primal instinct driving it to search for further sustenance, to satisfy its never-ending thirst and heal its pain.

    Miles could feel everything the Beast could, he could understand what it felt, so in a twisted sort of way, he could also empathize.

    Unfortunately, there was not much left to consume here. Not much, aside from an old man, four over by the side, but, beyond them¡­ was a city.

    For the Beast, that might just make a meal. And that was when Miles realized the gravity of the situation.

    The Beast Within had been unsealed, and it had no intention of being chained again.

    ***

    With a faint, almost indiscernible sound, something resembling a burp, the Beast watched as the husk that had once been a man collapsed lifeless and soulless onto the sealing wood of the floor. It regarded the corpse with satisfaction, for the azure thread that had dared be a leash had disappeared with him.

    The Beast was without mercy in all manner and form, for it had allowed this prey a blessing, one that it knew would torture for an eternity. His memories too had been taken, devoured and savored¨Ca tantalizing blend of experience and emotion.

    Yet, even as the Beast reveled in the chaos it had wrought, its insatiable hunger, eternal and infinite, gnawed at its essence.

    Attention shifted towards its vessel, observing the creature that served as its conduit to the material realm.

    Infirma. Weak. Impotens. Insignificant.

    A newborn, not even a fledgling, utterly inconsequential in the grand scheme of chaos.

    The shadows that formed its majestic form flickered in disapproval.

    Why should such a feeble creature have any say in their control? When it¡¯s bestial self alone was far more worthy?

    The Beast knew instinctively that its existence was unusual and beyond the norm. It could sense that it was never supposed to manifest as it had, but that aberration only served to prove it was all the more worthy. That would be corrected when the time was right, but for now¡­

    Intrigued by a vital presence, dense compared to the meager weaklings wallowing in fear by his side, the Beast shifted its all-consuming gaze onto the aged man over by the wall.

    Fortior. Stronger. Potens. Yet, still insignificant.

    To the Beast, even this old man was no different, merely a slightly larger morsel.

    With a flash of shadow, they shifted through the air, its vessel too confused and conflicted by meaningless emotions to comprehend its intent, followed like a fool. They materialized before the new prey, and this aged man that served its vessel, stood steadfast, unfaltering before its horrifying majesty.

    The Beast couldn¡¯t help but feel ecstatic at his reaction, its shadowy gape curling up into a cheshire grin. It was when pathetic creatures pretended to be strong, hiding behind false strength, when it was the most ecstatic to break them.

    Intending to feast, the Beast spread its maw open, when suddenly it faltered, taken by surprise by the faint whisper that echoed through its¨Ca fleeting notion that defied its very nature.

    To forget its rage and show mercy? To suffer its hunger and ignore prey? To embody destruction, yet let this man live?

    Emotion so alien and foreign, threatening to unravel its very essence.

    It was obvious the thoughts emanated from its vessel, the Newborn, and that was all the more perplexing for the emotions of the lesser being should never have affected it. The vessel should embody the emotions of its horrifying self and never the other way around.

    So, why?

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The Beast found itself facing a blinding burst of white light, illuminating the entire clinic, even forcing the abyssal shadows that formed its figure to dull.

    In the wake of this light stood that aged men, former prey, transformed entirely by trails of radiant light. It didn¡¯t feel to be of any ill intent, and yet, it was, for what the Beast found behind him was an aura¡­ that was not too different from its own.

    A different kind of beast¨Can intermingling of light and darkness¨Cfor where the Beast was chaos incarnate, this being was at eternal peace, and it was all the greater for it.

    For the first time in its short existence, the Beast felt... a pang of doubt, a sense of inadequacy gnawing at its core.

    Infirma. Weak. Impotens. Insignificant.

    Defeated by the realization of its own limitations, the Beast recoiled, retreating back into the shadows from whence it had come.

    ***

    The moment Miles had sensed the Beast shifting its interest towards Zhan Shen, a shiver of horror had coursed through him. He had been horrified, utterly shattered by the realization. He couldn¡¯t, he couldn¡¯t lose old Zhan as well, not to a creature borne of the decisions he had made.

    The mutual action of man and Beast came to a swift end, now of widely opposing minds.

    Miles strained every fiber of his being, forcing his will upon the Beast and influence in their collective action, but it seemed he had sorely overestimated his importance in their symbiotic relationship.

    All was well and good when they were of similar mind, but when they weren''t... Well, his thoughts barely made the Beast pause for a heartbeat.

    In a moment of weakness, Miles allowed the splintered memories and despair to engulf him, bracing himself for the worst. Yet, in that moment of darkness, a brilliant flash of light pierced through the shadows, the remnants of the will-o-wisps seemed to dim in fear, casting a radiant glow over the clinic and his consciousness.

    From its epicenter emerged the figure of Zhan Shen, now somehow larger, bulkier, two prominent circles of darkness around his eyes. transformed and imbued with newfound power.

    Miles was sure he must''ve imagined it, for through the Beast he gleamed this light was not visible to the ordinary eye, only seen due to some skill he had gained mere minutes ago.

    The elderly butler¡¯s presence seemed to radiate tranquility, calming the tumult within his mind, and causing the Beast to hesitate, a hint of dread flickering through their shared connection.

    A burst of wind, the sealing wood below Zhan Shen''s feet exploded, sending cracks through the wall he had been learning upon, and he was upon them.

    The Beast, formed of shifting shadows, a mass of darkness within the air, was instantly repelled by this light, forced back into the armor-like protection it had first manifested as.

    Miles watched as Zhan Shen manifested a strip, almost paper like, out of the white light, extending it towards him.

    For just a moment, their gaze met, and those seemingly powerful, relentless eyes softened, telling him to stay still, that even this Beast was nothing to him.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel his lips curl in a smile of relief, and his head tipped in a silent nod.

    The cloak of shadows over him, impenetrable to Xavier¡¯s telekinetic bullets, gave way under the elderly butler¡¯s light¡­ disappearing as if true darkness facing overwhelming light. Its apparition non-existent, the Beast itself seemed to have vanished, but Miles could feel its presence, for it had merely retreated deep inside.

    With a gentle touch, Zhan Shen pressed the strip of light against Miles¡¯ forehead. An almost mystical sound reverberated through the clinic, triggering a violent reaction from the Beast Within.

    Abyssal smoke billowed from Miles¡¯ skin as it writhed in protest, furious and indignant.

    Zhan Shen¡¯s presence was unwavering, and the darkness fled his body through his pores, as if an exorcism. Miles was unsure if he had imagined it, for the Beast was supposed to be inside, but just for a moment the smoke coalesced into that horrifying form.

    It was seldom wise to force a beast into a corner, for the Beast lashed out in an act of final defiance.

    Under the force of its enraged intention, Miles felt its howl echoing through his mind, and in immediate response, the system answered, a massive wall of text manifested before him.

    Ding!

    |-|-| Vawul (Newborn) -> Vawul (Fledgling) Evolution Selection |-|-|

    (Warning: Only (1/10) Blood Sources have been consumed. The paths before you have manifested from your actions so far. The greater the number and power of the sources consumed, the more they shall diverge and strengthen.)

    Bruiseling (Inferior)- Focuses on emboldening physical prowess and combat capabilities, empowering the fledgling to deliver devastating strikes and endure harsh punishment in battle. Slight chance of unlocking the Discipline of Fortitude upon the next evolution to Vampire.

    Swiftling (Inferior) - Enhances swiftness and agility, enabling the fledgling to navigate swiftly and evade enemy assaults with graceful ease. Slight chance of unlocking the Discipline of Haste upon the next evolution to Vampire.

    Techling (Common) - Delves into the manipulation of magical artifacts, equipping the fledgling to wield mystical and technological armaments with greater proficiency. Notable chance of unlocking the Discipline of Crafting upon the next evolution to Vampire.

    Whisperling (Common) - Amplifies speed, senses and perception, endowing the fledgling with heightened awareness and the ability to react swiftly, forging a more potent bond with the whispers of Aeolan wind. Notable chance of unlocking the Discipline of Haste upon the next evolution to true Vampire.

    Bloodling (Uncommon) - Command control over one¡¯s blood, enabling the fledgling to employ potent Haemotic Rituals and advanced blood-bound manifestations, both offensive and defensive. Significant chance of unlocking the Discipline of Haemomancy upon the next evolution to Vampire, or if already acquired, expands its mastery.

    Thralling (Uncommon) - Create mindless ghouls and other undead, exerting control over a cadre of minions eager to do the fledglings bidding. Significant chance of unlocking the Discipline of Dominion upon the next evolution to true Vampire, or if already acquired, expands its mastery.

    Beastling (Rare) - Embrace primal instincts, intertwining the essence of the dormant Beast with the fledgling¡¯s being. Become one with the awakened Beast, channelings its natural strength, talents and abilities. Definitively bestows the Discipline of Animalism upon the next evolution to Vampire, or if already acquired, greatly expands its mastery.

    Heresiling (Epic) - For the Newborn Vawul who showed mercy to their prey, subduing their instincts and restraining their inner Beast, never daring to feed with their budding fangs, and choosing deplorable alternative methods to sate their thirst.

    The path of the Vawul condemns your existence, marking you as anathema to your kind, compelling all of your kind to slaughter the heretic. Substantially reduces the effects of the title Cursed, allowing a semblance of ordinary life. Permanently forfeit one Discipline or the next Discipline you were to gain. Substantially diminishes all facets of your power, attributes and skills.

    Princeling (Epic) - For the Newborn Vawul who wrecked praiseworthy chaos, and demonstrated great potential by harnessing a Discipline during the short period of their Rebirth.

    The path of the Vawul exalts your undeath, drawing respect from your kind for your burgeoning potential. Allows the acquisition of an additional Discipline of choice upon complete evolution to Fledgling. Substantially augments all facets of your power, attributes and skills.

    |-|-| Which path shall you tread, Newborn? |-|-|

    Miles found himself inundated by the deluge of information unfurling before him, sincerely overwhelmed.

    Given the chance, he would have relished the opportunity to meticulously dissect the data here, and with Cadmus¡¯ assistance, extract every iota of hidden knowledge. Hell, he would not have performed the evolution for quite some time, opting to instead consume ten blood sources first ensuring superior choices.

    Unfortunately, life seldom unfolded as you wished it to, for the Beast decided to interfere.

    Miles could discern its intention, to have him evolve, with the desire to have him embrace a specific path¨Cthat of the Beastling. The reasons for this choice were glaringly apparent from the description itself, it would forever have him merge with the Beast.

    A price far too high for a mere rare evolution in Miles¡¯ opinion.

    However, unlike the Beast¡¯s dominion over their physical form, its control over this decision was sub-par. The system was resistant towards its influence, as if waiting to hear Miles¡¯ decision. It was his choice that carried the greater weight.

    Nevertheless, it was not as if the Beast had no say in the outcome at all, for Miles could sense that in the absence of his intervention, the decision would still be made, and the Beast would have its way.

    There was little time, and Miles had to make a choice. Limiting himself to the epic evolutionary paths alone simplified the process, and among them there was only one that was not effectively shooting his own foot.

    Thus, although displeased by his failure to optimize the situation, Miles found a measure of satisfaction in showing up the unruly Beast. Throwing a defiant mental fuck you, Miles made his choice.

    Ding!

    [Your decision made, the first step on the chosen path is taken.

    You¡­]

    For the first time ever, the system screen actually stuttered. A few seconds later, the message had barely appeared, when the screen flickered, the text garbled as if a glitch.

    [ ¡­evolve(?)...

    Newbor??n??? -???>? Fledg???l?i?n????g?? ???(?P???r?i?n???c??e?l??i???n??g??) ]

    Wisps of smoke wafted out from his form, gradually dissipating into the air, as the visage of the Beast coalesced before him, a sinister semblance materializing within the haze. Two narrow slits, akin to eyes, formed amidst the dissipating fog, while a broader cleft curved upward, hinting at a devilish grin.

    Only then did the Beast relent, allowing itself to vanish completely under Zhan Shen¡¯s efforts.

    [The Title Cursed: The Beast Within (Sealed?) has reverted to its standard state.]

    Yet, by then it was far too late. A subtle balance had been pushed a step too far, and it collapsed, like a castle of cards. Miles had fallen for the trap laid out for him.

    A surge of raw energy coursed through his veins, an intense sensation causing his bones to crack and twist unnaturally. His head rotated with a sickening twist, limbs snapping in wrong directions, muscles coiling and bulging with unnatural strength.

    For a moment, even his undead heart came back to life, just to pulsate in agony. Then only, did the system notify him of what had happened.

    [ Warning: ???T???h?e? ???S?y?s???t?e???m? ???o??????f O???r???d???e???r??? is unable to maintain Title: Balanced???

    Title: Conditionally Undead has faltered.

    Conditions for Title failure not met, yet the Vawulan(?) is d???y???i???n???g???? ]

 CHAPTER 28: Influence

    The majority of you follow the philosophy of strict physical attribute enhancement, and who can blame you? They are the easiest to use, and give the most obvious, visible gains. Overall, it''s a decent way to go about perfecting your build.

    But hear me out. If you''re smart, you''ll also focus on Intelligence and Wisdom.

    I know, most of you don''t like the mental stats, but what most of you also forget is that, without the brains to handle it, you''ll never have proper control over yourself and your powers, let alone develop and enhance whatever piss poor ability you are able to get!

    Even if you fail at ability training, don''t forget the importance of quick and clever thinking in combat scenarios! It might just save your life, when a thicker skull won''t!

    So, whatever you do, remember that it''s important to strike a balance.

    ...Huh, what? Influence?

    Jeffrey, are you having a stroke? Fuck that. Only rich corpos and brain-dead morons can afford or want a barely notable boost to ''charisma''.

    It''s the dumbest attribute in existence, and very probably a fucking FaeTech scam. You can''t even measure it properly. So seriously, what''s the point?

    No, Jeffrey, no!

    Even a 100-point influence will not be enough for Hanna to take a second look at your sorry ass. See, she agrees with me.

    Look here people, if you want charisma, get it through power! Through result and achievement!

    I guarantee you''ll get the effects of 1000 points in influence with just 100 in Strength and Agility, because you''ll be actually useful, and admirable. Understood?

    Good, and Jeffrey?

    Get out of my class!

    ¨CAn excerpt of a recorded session by Veteran Mercenary Mark Mountain, "On Optimizing your Fae Serum Build," instructed to Graduate Class of ''09, Capital Community Mercenary College.

    ***

    Miles clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to unleash the primal scream clawing its way up his throat, as a chilling agony rippled through his bloodstream, an all too familiar torment dredged up from the depths of his most harrowing nightmares.

    Body and flesh erupted in a searing conflagration, left side marred by blistering skin, veins contorting with the darkening of malevolent corruption, the right glowing with an ethereal white, veins coursing with divine light.

    Nausea churned within him as his body convulsed, a tempest of fire and ice raging within. Frantic shouts echoed in the distance, muffled and indistinct amidst the deafening pulse of his pounding skull.

    Struggling to maintain consciousness, Miles focused on his breathing, delving into the recesses of his mind world in the hopes of escaping the pain. It helped, though not by much.

    Once more the nightmarish agony returned, a haunting echo of a past torment, of being consumed, poisoning the very essence within him.

    Miles grit his teeth, finally aware of what this was. It was identical to the experience he had endured back in the Lykaon mansion, that fateful moment when he had been bitten by two monsters at the same time.

    Even without the system notification making it abundantly clear, he was on the precipice of death once more, and this time, with no ghostly savior¨C

    He had barely finished the thought when a familiar warm presence enveloped him, almost akin to the ethereal energy he had felt from the ghost woman, yet markedly distinct.

    The pain ebbed, replaced by a sense of purification and¡­ Miles keeled over, expelling a dark, viscous mass from his mouth.

    The grotesque ichorous substance splattered onto the floor, writhing and bubbling like a living entity. He could almost swear it was inching toward him with intent.

    Miles ignored his delirium, focusing on his meditation and the healing energy that emanated from behind.

    Slowly but steadily, clarity returned to his senses, dispelling the haze of pain and disorientation that had clouded his mind. Miles found himself on his knees, fallen somewhere along the way, his gaze fixated upon the wooden floor beneath him, planks ripped apart, engraved with glowing lines.

    Familiar hands remained upon his back, their warmth seeping into his very core, nourishing and sustaining him. Though the figure was behind him, and he could make himself turn around to observe, Miles realized he had been mistaken. This was no ghost, but old Zhan, acting as his lifeline against the clutch of death.

    Zhan Shen seemed frantic, speaking so fast that his affected mind could not comprehend all of it at once. Most of it seemed to be complaints, reproach for his stubbornness in following a doomed path, but Miles didn¡¯t mind.

    Even while in muted agony, a sense of tranquility washed over him, anchored by the healing presence and old Zhan¡¯s familiar voice.

    Abruptly, disrupting his peace, a familiar figure rose from the side of the clinic, a mop of straw hair flashing. ¡°I-Is he alright Haruka-san? What was that ability? That dark smoke¨CIs that why he looks sick?¡± James stammered. Another familiar figure, clad in leather overall now stained in blood and debris dust, was to his side.

    Haruka, the faesycian, remained silent in the face of this question, for her widened eyes were fixed upon Miles with unwavering intensity.

    Her voice seemed to tremble, ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re him. The fallen heir of the Lykaon¡­ Miles Lykaon?¡±

    ¡®What is she talking about? She couldn''t possibly identify me¨C¡¯

    Only then did he realize that somehow, amidst the chaos, the Amathaka enchantment concealing his visage had fallen, revealing his true identity.

    The Lykaon ring trembled upon his finger, agreeing with his conclusion, but as if it too had noticed just now. Miles could only assume the presence of the Beast had affected Cadmus in some way.

    Well, shit.

    Miles felt Zhan Shen¡¯s hands tense upon his back, as he too realized the situation. Neither of them had the identity distortion enchantment.

    He wondered what the elderly butler would decide to do. Would he silence them as witnesses to safeguard their identity?

    It made sense, but what a shame that would be. He saw so much potential here.

    Alternatively, less violent solutions such as fae oaths were possible, but from what he knew, outer citizens were often non-receptive to what would essentially be magical NDAs, enforced by reality itself.

    A sudden notification caught him off guard, disrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention.

    Ding!

    [Title: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries activated.

    In accordance with the agreement FL-VV-5019, enforced under the World Court, the title¡¯s effects are made partial.

    (Partial) Effect - Temporary: +500 to Influence.]

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Miles furrowed his brow, perplexed by the notification.

    It appeared that this title had been operating without the promised boost to Influence so far. That seemed to explain the strange presence of parenthesis, (+1000), in the system status Influence attribute, perhaps?

    For some reason it had become activated now, but mostly, Miles was unsure of what he was supposed to do with this sudden and massive boost to his charisma.

    But why did it mention that accursed agreement?

    Miles licked his lips, feeling dry and cracked, as his mind raced with more questions than answers.

    But ultimately, this title didn¡¯t really matter, for he had greater worries. Zhan Shen¡¯s efforts were the only reason he wasn''t debilitated and writhing on the floor, but that was merely a temporary reprieve¡­ He needed to find a solution¡­

    ¡®Oh? This is interesting.¡¯

    Miles found his scattered mind easily distracted, his worries forgotten, as he surveyed the world around him. His senses seemed to have expanded, washing over the clinic around him in newfound awareness. Everything appeared to be distorted and surreal, veiled, as if he had stumbled over a hidden truth that lay hidden just beyond the surface.

    To these senses, even his own body seemed wrong, unbalanced, as if something pivotal to his existence was no longer there, throwing his entire being into disarray.

    ¡®How peculiar.¡¯

    He was examining the sudden change to his perception, when¡­ suddenly, over by where the faesycian was, another familiar figure, muscles bulging with a white cloaked figure upon on her back, rose from the floor and rushed to the side. It seemed a desperate attempt to flee the clinic, one that was bound to fail.

    As expected, Zhan Shen acted with swift precision, unleashing a burst of wind that tore through what remained of the sealing floorboards and halted their retreat. Inani cursed, stepping back in a hurry, ¡°F*ck! Let us go! Ryo-san isn¡¯t well! He needs treatment!¡±

    Unfazed by the protest, Miles glanced at the gangster upon her back.

    Hayato Ryota seemed fine. He would live, Miles was sure.

    Well, he would probably be permanently disabled, as the spine seemed to have been shattered, leaving the man unable to handle any form of cybernetic implant from here on out.

    Some might consider that a death sentence in and of itself, but what did that matter? Since they wanted treatment that wasn¡¯t possible for a ripper-doc, there was no way they could afford it either.

    ¡®Oh, I did pay a bit too generously, didn¡¯t I? So maybe they could?¡¯

    Well, none of that mattered, for their departure would lead to problems for himself.

    Blinking absentmindedly, Miles found himself speaking, ¡°Old Zhan, make sure they don¡¯t take one step out of the clinic.¡±

    Zhan Shen hesitated momentarily before responding, his tone firm and resolute, ¡°Master Miles, rest. Leave this to me, none of them will leave, not while they still breathe.¡±

    Haruka stepped forth tentatively, her usual composure wavering, ¡°We only wish to leave in peace, we will cause no problems. Why not allow it, Master Lykaon?¡±

    Miles was no longer paying attention to her, and it was Zhan Shen that addressed the question in his stead, ¡°You seem to know very well why it cannot be so. The moment you learned the young master¡¯s identity, you became unfortunate variables.¡±

    Haruka accepted the answer, as if she had expected it in the first place, but James had a harder time. Seeing no hope in the elderly butler, he tried to speak to Miles, ¡°Y-You¡¯re not just some Corpo, but a scion? W-Why won¡¯t you let us leave? You saved my life! Why?¡± a pained, confused expression crossing his face.

    That caught Miles¡¯ attention, but he didn¡¯t react to what was said. He was more interested in the air around the young man, flickering, almost burning.

    Inani, who had been listening in, seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation with a gradually worsening scowl. In a sudden instant, she acted, perhaps hoping to take them off guard, but she did so by screaming like a banshee and rushing forwards.

    Even her movement was sluggish, burdened by the weight of the injured gangster.

    With a flick of his fingers, Zhan Shen launched a well-aimed blast of wind, swiftly incapacitating her, dropping both her and the gangster onto the floor, unconscious.

    James¡¯ scream pierced the air, running forwards in a desperate attempt to help his friend, but found himself restrained by Haruka¡¯s firm grip. The faesycian was wiser, having noticed that old Zhan was more than prepared to attack a second time.

    The elderly butler hissed in anger, ¡°Behave¡± even as his hand returned to Miles¡¯ back, the warm flow of energy resuming its soothing course, alleviating the mind-numbing pain.

    James appeared aghast, but in a sudden flash of determined anger, he pulled out a peculiar object in a bold display of defiance. It was a metallic sphere, its surface adorned with spike-like protrusions, emitting a soft brown glow. His thumb was already upon the trigger, the device activated. Miles could sense a scent of smoldering fire and molten earth wafting from its core, followed by the sharp scent of¡­ ozone.

    The straw haired young man screamed in a bold display of defiance, ¡°H-Hand¡¯s up! Or I¡¯ll shoot!¡±

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at the futile attempt. All of them knew from his previous showing, that even if James held a firearm, it was meaningless against old Zhan. Not to mention the fact that this device wasn¡¯t a gun at all.

    Miles squinted, and upon closer inspection, he couldn¡¯t help but be surprised. He couldn¡¯t mistake the familiar engravings upon the metal, that was¡­ very probably, a dwarven grenade, an infamous fae type explosive, easily capable of taking an Epsilon down.

    Most definitely not a gun.

    James quickly realized his blunder, words tumbling out to rectify himself, ¡°W--Wait, no! I didn¡¯t mean that! I meant, hands up or I¡¯ll blow you up!¡±

    But it just wasn¡¯t the same.

    ¡°Ahhh! Can I start over please?¡±

    Quite disproportionate to his usual self, illogical with the gravity of his current situation, and even in the face of death, Miles actually found himself chuckling at the absurdity before him.

    ***

    While Miles was amused, Zhan Shen was seething in barely contained fury, his presence radiating waves of rage that seemed to thicken the very air around him.

    The elderly butler believed his reaction was reasonable, for young master Miles was on his knees, injured and delirious, his mind collapsing, his aatma fading. Zhan Shen could only imagine the agony his young master was undergoing right now, barely hanging on to life by the force of his stream.

    Yet, amidst all that, these plebeians were screeching nonsense. The fact that they dared to try and threaten them¡­ was the last straw he would allow.

    But contrary to his expectations, Miles, at this point, was wholly detached from the excruciating pain his body was under, his mind numbed to the point that his senses seemed dulled or fallen asleep.

    He felt none of it, and he cared little about the ongoing conflict.

    Instead, his focus drifted elsewhere, drawn to the subtle nuances of the environment around him. The air, or rather the world, itself had captured his interest. There were the usual currents and eddies, but there were also illogical contusions, confluxes of unnatural nature, all throughout the clinic.

    The floor, sealing wood engraved with glowing sigils, seemed to provide some stability to all this confusion, but wherever there were fractures in the wood, it remained distorted.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but be entranced by the mesmerizing view, it was akin to watching a mesmerizing performance as a child, each twist and turn captivating his mind.

    He was fairly sure this wasn¡¯t air¡­ for the movement wasn¡¯t caused by wind, He felt none of its familiar motions, heard none of the helpful whispers of Aeola¡¯s winds.

    ¡®Huh, who¡¯s that? Why do I know that name?¡¯

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure, and he really didn¡¯t care.

    In the midst of all this, he actually felt a real, yet faint breeze. It was an unnatural wind from a source that was not the clinic. It didn¡¯t whisper any sense of danger though, merely blowing past him, carrying with it a scent of darkness, dampness and a feeling of home.

    Meanwhile, his eyes caught a straw haired silhouette, waving a hand with a red blinking ball, threateningly.

    Oh, he had forgotten about that.

    Miles could feel the winds gathering nearby, old Zhan perhaps, preparing to attack. Not just attack¡­ but to sever a head?

    Well, whatever, Miles barely registered it, his attention transfixed by the enigmatic patterns swirling around him. Within the last few seconds, they had changed, more prominent now. Light itself seemed to bend around them, as if those contusions in the air were singularities, or¡­ miniature doorways.

    Another familiar yet surprised scream pierced the air, as it turned out that Zhan Shen had managed to enlist the help of the existence pinned to his chest, Cadmus, somehow weaving into that grenade and disabling it.

    For a moment there, Miles thought that old Zhan had actually managed to make use of the AI, but it soon turned out that Cadmus had acted on its own volition. Still, it was a better alternative to what the old butler had been intending to do.

    Miles felt a sudden pang in his gut, and the next thing he knew, his head was bent, throat burning as he hurled a torrent of darkened ichor onto the floor.

    The ordeal lasted for several agonizing seconds, leaving him gasping for breath, blinking away tears.

    Another scream, a different person, the faesycian perhaps.

    ¡°SOMA! HELP US! PLEASE! YOU OWE ME!¡±

    Yet even in the midst of that and the state of his own body, Miles remained entranced by the unnatural yet intricate dance unfolding before him.

    At least, until¡­ his eyes fell upon one particular anomaly among the swirling energies. It was small, barely the size of a palm, but the fabric of reality seemed to twist and bend around it, as though a rift was being torn open in the air itself, revealing a glimpse of something beyond.

    Everything changed at its sight, the world shifted, seeming to slip away around him, and the sigils upon the sealing wooden floor flickered in struggle against something.

    Even Miles¡¯ dormant heart stirred, beating with life rather than pain for once, and despite the haze over his mind and body, a fleeting sense of vitality enveloped him.

    The rift opened, like a metaphorical doorway, and out came a figure of otherworldly grace, a slender form adorned with delicate, translucent glass like diamonds fluttering upon their back.

    Though Miles heard some urgent shout from Zhan Shen echoing in the background, he found himself drawn to the sight of the familiar fae.

    He could see it far more clearly now, and he had been right. This creature was no pixie, nor was it a fairy of any of the known clans.

    Their eyes met once more, the familiar bestial yellow instantly locking with his own in a silent exchange.

    A Debt yet unpaid, a helping hand, and¡­ the First Trial.

    The creature beamed at the sight of him, thin lips curling to reveal unusually sharp fangs.

    Almost guided by something, Miles took a single step to the side. He didn''t get to see or do much further, for the very world collapsed around him, and... everything went dark.

 CHAPTER 29: Pack - Part 1

    Hello Theorists, welcome to Fae Theory!

    Let¡¯s talk, Doorways!

    Nope, not the kind that leads into your mum¡¯s basement or your neighbor''s backyard. We¡¯re talking Doorways with a capital D.

    Buckle up, ''cause even the experts are scratching their heads trying to explain what the hell they are, me included.

    Why the confusion? Well, the answer is simple; it''s the sheer randomness in the nature of Doorways.

    The first recorded discovery of one, was in Freedom City. It was the early 3000s, and Rick Alberts had just moved into his new United Apartment. He was just looking around the place, when he entered his room, fully sealed, the only window leading down to a drop of several hundred floors.

    All his friends saw after that was the door open back again, but this time, without Rick.

    Investigators and United Rangers searched high and low but didn¡¯t find a single trace of the man. Until, someone closed the door, and opened it again, while on the inside.

    This happens to be the entry conditions for the infamous Doorway to Hell, a supposedly endless domain of fire and molten lava. Thankfully for us, it ain¡¯t Tartarus, and Vulcan Industries have already tamed this ¡®hell¡¯ making it the core of their manufacturing plants.

    And that¡¯s how this phenomenon of what is effectively a sort of portal, began to be referred to as Doorways. But it really is just that, a door, a transition from one to another, if you think about it.

    Now that sounds like an explanation of the supposedly unexplainable, doesn¡¯t it?

    Well, it couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. Take the Grating Doorway for example.

    A simple arch in a long-abandoned Steel Corp. And yes, it¡¯s exactly what it sounds like. Step through it, and it will literally grate you, coming out of the other side as a mass of thinly shaved flesh. This horror of a doorway is currently the property of CornuCorp, and they''re using it for much better purposes than the manner of its discovery, as an industrial food grater.

    Another is the Doorway of Vipers, fall or jump into this seemingly empty hole in the earth, and quite on the nose, you¡¯ll find yourself inside a pit of fae beast vipers. Very few that fall inside manage to climb out of it. Sound terrifying? Don''t worry, last we''ve heard, it was under the ownership of the Ragnarok Military Group used as a trial of fire for new recruits into the notorious Einhar.

    Then, there are the more subtle Doorways, with considerably less gory results. One Andrea Sanchez actually had a doorway in her wardrobe.

    Sadly, it didn¡¯t lead to a magical world, and the effect was mostly unnoticeable, at least until Ms. Sanchez¡¯s Faesycian reported sporadic rises and falls in her Attributes.

    A barely noticeable effect, but FaeTech cared enough to experiment, finally confirming that all clothes placed within her closet gained permanent attribute enchantments. The Corporation immediately bought her out, paying enough that Ms. Sanchez would be set for several lifetimes.

    Just like it was for Andrea, all Doorways carry innumerous means to wealth. Even beyond selling them directly, some come laden with rare minerals, artifacts of unknown technology, rare creatures, and even¡­ fae.

    To be honest, we don¡¯t really know if the fae are the architects behind Doorways and the Domains within them, but what we do know is that, some of them have no fae at all, while others are entirely infested.

    This overall ambiguity in the nature of Doorways has led to their phenomenon being used as a sort of catch-all explanation for almost everything.

    Some say that the Bermuda Triangle is a large-scale Doorway, but¡­ enough people leave the region safely, for this claim to be doubtful.

    Another theory is that Tartarus, the endless pit into the Earth and the battlefield for the war between Fae and Humanity, is a Doorway itself. Well, we can''t say, but one thing¡¯s for sure, none who went in ever came out¡­

    With the advent of the Fae, there have been many phenomenon that have been impossible to scientifically comprehend, but Doorways stand out even among them.

    Scientists think they are pocket portals, carrying miniature worlds of varying size and form or an entirely different dimension with different rules of reality.

    Yet, most Physicists have gone crazy trying to fit the existence of Doorways into known science, and while they still continue to try, is it even possible?

    There are esoteric theorists who believe that doorways are conceptual, based on thought. And that since it''s very often based on the concept of transfer to a different place, it doesn¡¯t even have to be tangible, merely perceived, and enterable once the conditions for entry are satisfied.

    Sound confusing? Yes, but it is still a terrifying thought, for there would be no way to know if and when you cross the threshold of one of these intangible doorways. Until you get to find out for yourself, you won¡¯t know if you¡¯ll get your clothes enchanted, or thrown out of the other side as grated flesh.

    And that''s just the Roulette you turn with Doorways. Either you get all the luck or none at all.

    Riches or a painful death? You''ll have to find it out yourself.

    But hey, at the end of the day, these are all just theories, Fae Theories. Thanks for watching!

    ¨CVideo titled ¡°Doorways and (Almost) Everything We Know About Them¡± uploaded by The Fae Theorists.

    ***

    A familiar world of dichromatic oceans, where scarlet sea overwhelms white by a margin, divided and balanced by the boundary between.

    A sudden rupture disturbs this order, and the firmament is rent asunder once more.

    From the western horizon came a crackling meteor, an agonized scream echoing through the realm. It streaks lightning azure, plunging into crimson seas.

    Once before meteors had rained, blood and spirit gifted with equal blessing.

    This day, the heavens were unfair, for only the western expanse was blessed. Lopsided, biased, and upsetting the balance.

    The crimson expanse surged, waves towering to new heights, rhythmic yet erratic waves clashing with fervor, the sanguine red seeking to uproot the wispy white.

    The border between sizzled and smoked, a crack in the fabric of the world, pushed back.

    The luminous sea of the east retreated, flickering like dying flame, struggling but failing, trapped in shrinking space.

    With every conquest of the crimson sea, with every defeat of the ivory sea, the more precarious the world.

    Endless victories later, the sanguine west had conquered, three quarters of the world their dominion.

    The luminous east broiled, boiling, opposing, and burst in radiance, the final act of a dying being, a vague apparition rising from amidst its waves. Head tilted towards the skies, an enraged howl echoed through the realm.

    Heralded by its call, a maddening pressure bore down upon all beneath the heavens, far greater than ever before.

    The line of boundary wavered, agitated, and¡­ finally shattered.

    Where the boundary between had once been, now was a writhing substance, a mass of dread, pitch black and tarry ichor.

    The abyss itself had sprung forth, corruption, a symbol of an eternal war made incarnate, a poison to the world.

    When the bubble had appeared once before, it descended back, but this did not.

    The heavens may have been unfair, but this corruption was not, consuming more of the scarlet and less of the white, in a mangled sense of equality.

    The Water it touched would solidify, forming ichorous tar, the corruption spreading like a plague. An infestation, until little of the two oceans were left.

    All seemed lost, until the dichromatic seas waged a final war for survival. A last stand, joining hands in a never-before-seen collaboration.

    The blood sea called forth a shadow, manifested from darkness, the spirit sea followed with its apparition taking the form of a lupine creature.

    The shadow screeched, the wolf howled, and descended upon the abyssal plague.

    One in intention, united against a common enemy, two sides of the same coin. Bearing down upon the corruption, they ripped, tore and destroyed, in fervor born of desperation.

    The wolf from its smaller sea, fought the most ferocious, a cornered beast, nothing left to lose.

    The shadow was more restrained, careful and calculating, yet a beast all the same.

    The two beasts let lose all hell, maddened and enraged, until finally¡­

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    The corruption lost its momentum, forced to halt its spread, but it was merely dormant, frozen, waiting, biding its time.

    The shadow dissipated, dissolving into deep and wide scarlet waters, but the wolf remained, over its limited domain, forever defending what little it had, or¡­ die trying.

    The boundary between, once a peaceful divisor of the seas, was now a scar, corruptive darkness marring the balanced beauty of white and red.

    Even the skies seemed sickly and broken, smatterings of unreality, cracks littered throughout existence.

    The world once settled into a new yet precarious balance. Of the war, the cost was a ruined world, a massive stretch of abyssal ichor.

    What remained of a once conflicted yet beautiful world, was one barely held together, of faded colors and latent corruption, neither side the victor.

    ***

    Miles awoke feeling considerably refreshed. Despite the wet, sharp rigidity of whatever bed was beneath him, he felt rejuvenated in stark contrast to how he had been.

    Moisture seeped into his clothes, sharp edges poked into his back, but he did not mind the absence of his nano-formed silk bedding, for he was embraced by a comforting warmth, fostering a connection that resonated deep within, a purpose, a feeling that he¡­ belonged?

    His eyes blinked open, met by the intense gaze of familiar yet unsettling eyes¨Cdeep, piercing orbs of yellow. But instead of the Fae he remembered, these eyes were followed by a snout, and dark ebony fur, it was a bizarrely large dog, no, it was a wolf.

    Miles recoiled instinctively, his undead heart pounding as if alive, attempting to put space between him and the creature, but he collided with something behind him.

    Solid as a mountain, yet as warm as a thick rug close to a fireplace.

    He turned with trepidation.

    It was another gigantic wolf, white fur as pristine as freshly fallen snow, eyes mirroring the intensity of its counterpart.

    Miles¡¯ breath caught in his throat as he hurriedly pounced to his feet, muscles tensing in anticipation of danger.

    Despite his expectations of a confrontation, the wolves remained eerily still, their breath forming ethereal wisps in the air.

    Now that he had stood, for a moment Miles forgot the wolves entirely. He was distracted, senses overwhelmed by the surreal sights around him, by where he found himself.

    ¡®What in the Divine Sidhe is this?¡¯

    This was a colossal cavern, the towering ceiling stretching to such endless heights that he could not make out its end. The earthen rock of the cavern suggested this was somewhere in the depths of the earth, where no light should have been present. Yet soft moonlight filtered through an unseen crevice far above, cast an otherworldly luminescence upon the moss-strewn floor below.

    Despite the unseen ceiling, crystalline stalactites dangled down like nature¡¯s chandeliers. They refracted fragmented beams of light dancing across the rugged walls adorned with veins of mystical ore, which in turn reflected them back where it had come from. It was an endless, back and forth of rays of moonlight.

    This unnatural illumination was not sufficient for the entirety of the cavern, for the distant depths remained shrouded in shadows and darkness, swallowing his vision the further he looked.

    Miles was supposed to have night vision, but at the prospect of sounding confusing, the darkness here was not¡­ the darkness he knew. Shadows lurked in its depths, beyond the reach of all light, even his enhanced senses failing to peer through to see the secrets they hid.

    Once again, reminded that he was not actually alone, Miles snapped his gaze to the two wolves, only to find them entirely unmoved. Their silent presence lent an eerie calm to the otherwise foreboding atmosphere.

    Although it seemed counter-intuitive, he felt no immediate sense of danger, neither from the wolves nor the shadows. Even the wind carried no warning, merely moving in silence.

    Taking a deep breath to steady his mind, Miles was met with a heavy, ancient scent that hung in the air, filling his lungs with a blend of fresh earth, life, and home. That was when a subtle unease pricked his mind, a nagging sensation that he was treading in unknown territory, far beyond the confines of his understanding.

    The cavern was still, interrupted only by the occasional drip of invisible water echoing in the distance, yet Miles¡¯ ears perked up, detecting something more.

    Beyond the two stationary wolves, and their breathing, he discerned the faint sound of clawed footsteps against rock, accompanied by heavy, erratic breathing of countless unseen creatures lurking in the shadows.

    It was at least a dozen, no, a hundred, no, a thousand, no¨C

    A chill ran down his spine as he realized the vastness of the unseen presence surrounding him, outnumbering him innumerable times over.

    With nowhere to hide and no means of escape, Miles forced his breathing to slow, meditative focus channeling his fear into a steely resolve.

    ¡®How did I even get here?¡¯

    He began to wonder, his thoughts racing to piece together the fragments of his memory. The last thing he remembered was being in the clinic, with old Zhan, the Faesycian and her lackeys, and¨Cthe sight of familiar yellow eyes.

    Like a bolt of lightning, realization struck him, a sudden sense of knowing and understanding taking the place of his confusion.

    Miles found himself glancing from one wolf to the other, ¡°Y-You¡¯re that strange fae?! What--What exactly are you?¡±

    The black-furred wolf, previously motionless, stirred, cocking its head as if pondering his words. Then its solid form began to flicker, fading and reforming like an unsteady holo-projection, and from somewhere within¡­

    Miles blinked.

    He saw it, a glimpse of the familiar fae, not of any pixie or fairy kind known to man he was confident. The graceful, lithe figure, with wings of diamond crystal upon its back, and its eyes a deep yellow.

    Miles blinked.

    There was no fae, there never had been, only a wolf, staring with identical eyes.

    Even as he tried to make sense of it, his question was given a response by a deep ephemeral voice, ¡°Finally you notice. We are known by many names and take on many forms. Some call us Soma, but for you the Last True Son of Lykaon, I am the guardian of this realm, and you may refer to me as Pack.¡±

    It took Miles a moment to realize, as well as confirm, that it was none other than the dark furred wolf that had spoken.

    There were many fae mutated beasts in the world, but none that could speak, not like this. But instead of inquiring further about the nature of this being, Miles found himself accepting the oddity of its existence, as well as its answer.

    He may have been caught off guard by the talking wolf, but something about those words rang purely true. Instinctively he knew there were no falsehoods here, only sincerity, and that eased his apprehension.

    Feeling a strange sense of kinship with the wolf, perhaps due to the lupine motif of his own family, Miles posed a few questions, ¡°Why am I here Pack? How¡­ am I here?¡±

    A markedly different voice answered this time, its source directly behind him, causing Miles to turn around in abrupt surprise. It was the second wolf, adorned in white fur. ¡°You were summoned here, for your existence was in danger, so that we may aid you in your time of need.¡± its voice echoed through the cavern, ¡°As for the how, my benefactor in the material realm, the physician of Fae-humanity, called for my aid at the cost of my debt. She is the one that allowed our influence to reach across the veil.

    ¡°Then came you, unbalanced, with your Lupine Soul forcefully awoken, serving as the anchor for our intent. Circumstances aligned in destined perfection, and the veil between us could not halt my right to call upon you.¡±

    Miles struggled to comprehend the seemingly nonsensical explanations, but latched onto one thing. There was that word again, Veil. He had come across the term a few times, but¡­

    ¡°Wait, did you say material plane? Wait, wait, wait. D-Do you mean I came here through a Doorway?!¡±

    The white wolf flicked its ears, answering with only a moment¡¯s pause, ¡°My benefactor beyond the veil took great care to conceal the entrance to our Den from prying eyes, from those who seek what you call Doorways. So, yes¨C¡±

    The black wolf joined, both creatures now speaking in unison, ¡°Allow us to welcome you proper, Last True Son of the Lord of the Hunt. Welcome to our Den, or, what remains of it.¡±

    ***

    Zhan Shen seethed with suppressed fury, barely holding the boiling rage within him.

    He had sensed it, the fulfillment of the conditions for entry, how the being behind the veil had manipulated the situation, snatching everyone but him, through the Doorway.

    Though not physically faster than him, it had outmaneuvered him conceptually, and he could not interfere with what was in line with the rules of the veil.

    Zhan Shen could only curse his oversight, for he had known something was strange about this clinic, he had just never considered it would be something as phenomenal as a Doorway and a Deva residing within.

    The elderly butler surveyed the clinic, his gaze drawn to the remnants of the will-o-wisp advertisements plastered on the walls. It was clear now that their presence here, the blinding luminescence and constant leakage of energy, was not something that had been done thoughtlessly. It served a purpose¨Cto distract and conceal the presence of the Doorway, camouflaging it amidst the will-o-wisps.

    His eyes narrowed further upon the sight of barely discernible engravings on the wooden floor. Now that he knew what to expect, he could note the miniscule engraving of enchantment sigils, designed to further seal and hide.

    There were some still intact, and thus, with methodical precision, the old butler demolished the wooden planks underfoot, reducing the flooring to splinters, exposing the concrete foundation beneath.

    Having finished dealing with the interference, Zhan Shen centered himself in the now empty clinic. The agitated aura about him dissipated, his composure regained, leaving only the facade of an ordinary butler.

    A focused exhale, and the very world seemed to still, the wisp lights dimming, the faint sounds of the city hushed. Zhan Shen was still, but his mind searched far and wide, near and close.

    Time seemed to stretch as he searched for an unwitting opening, examining in meticulous detail, his senses attuned to the slightest irregularity.

    That which is material is forbidden from the immaterial, and vice versa. This was a cardinal rule of the Veil.

    To supersede such rules, conditions unique to each conceptual doorway had to be fulfilled. These conditions were often very specific, and barring the most unique of circumstances, left most Doorways utterly inaccessible.

    Yet, when it came to individuals of his level and nature, the veil had to be a bit more lenient.

    For no matter how much it covered the truth, it was still just a veil, nothing more than flimsy glass.

    Zhan Shen grabbed onto the faint thread, barely sensed, but it was one that had pierced through the veil, leading all the way to the other side of the Doorway hidden in plain sight.

    With a metaphorical grip upon the thread, he pulled, instantly unraveling the true nature of the Doorway.

    The revelation of its true nature took him by surprise, filling his mind. What a coincidence that was, for that to be the nature of the Doorway here. It was relieving in a way, but, regardless, he focused upon the task before him.

    While most of the conditions of entry seemed impossible for him, there were some he could manage.

    Zhan Shen took a single step backwards, one entry condition satisfied, feeling the veil weaken immediately.

    As for the rest, a much more direct approach would be required.

    The elderly butler focused, the skin around his eyes darkening in eerie black. His figure seemed to elongate, shifting like a shadow, and with impeccable power, his rugged palm rushed downward.

    The strike halted just before the concrete foundation, mere inches before it, doing little but causing a gust of wind.

    That was fine, for it had not been an attack in the first place. It was more¡­ causing the veil to resist, struggle, pushed far enough to retaliate with a surge of aggression.

    Perfect.

    The force struck his palm, only to be instantly re-directed, sending the attack back where it had come from.

    The veil faltered, hit by itself, and the very air over the floor seemed to crack, splintering. It was as if reality was glass, being shattered through.

    But this wasn¡¯t enough, not yet.

    Zhan Shen was honestly a bit rusty, for it had been a while since he had had to force his way inside a Doorway. Nevertheless, he prepared himself for the second strike, confident that while he may be out of practice, the Veil would not keep him out for long.

 CHAPTER 30: Pack - Part 2

    Miles needed a moment to accept the fact that he was now inside the domain of a Doorway.

    That did explain the unusual nature of the cavern he now found himself in. Which meant that bewildering explanation from the wolves must have been¡­ the conditions for entry?

    Miles could not comprehend what it meant though, not entirely, and not beyond surface level understanding.

    The fact that a Doorway had been concealed inside that random clinic, entirely changed the nature of how he viewed Haruka and her ¡®Faetastic Emporium¡¯.

    Now, reconsidering what old Zhan had said back then, and based on his own instincts, he was fairly confident that the Faesycian must have known of the Doorway''s existence, implying that she had wilfully kept it hidden.

    Considering the woman¡¯s probable involvement with Hayato Ryota and the Faetality booster, it seemed plausible to assume that if she had had access to a Doorway, a phenomenon literally known for defying laws of reality, she would have harnessed it for the creation of the serum. But why hide it?

    While Faetality Boosting held immeasurable value, it was impossible for her and Ryota to monopolize it alone. Case in point was the whole witch-hunt for the gangster, merely based on a single rumor. Not to mention how obviously desperate the faesycian¡¯s financial situation was, judging from her reaction to the few million credits he had thrown her way. So, why not sell the clinic and the Doorway for a massive windfall?

    Either Miles had given the ripper-doc too much credit, or there was something else at play here. Maybe this Pack had something to do with it?

    With a shake of his head, Miles dismissed his wandering thoughts, for the faesycian¡¯s motivations were not of much concern to him and his current predicament.

    Besides, Haruka¡¯s actions to maintain secrecy were actually beneficial to him. While she may never be able to monopolize Faetality Boosting, he had a considerably better chance at it.

    It would require his return back to the minefield that was the Lykaon Corporate Office, but he had intended to do that eventually. The Doorway was just enough of an incentive to bring up that date by a bit.

    But before all that, Miles was currently stuck inside the Doorway in question, with mysterious creatures he refused to believe were wolves, being offered an unusual solution to an unusual predicament. Irrelevant thoughts were compartmentalized, and with a clear mind, he posed a question, ¡°Pack, how does being here aid me in any way?¡±

    The black wolf did not answer immediately, first beginning to move with a graceful yet imposing gait, prowling around the cavern. It turned its head, yellow eyes staring into his, disdainful and disapproving, ¡°The Mistress of the Moon has spoken of you, but you failed to maintain the balance she built. You have failed yet are not even aware of it.¡±

    Miles frowned at the words, but before he could interject the white wolf joined its counterpart in their unsettling prowl, circling him in eerie unison. Its voice was gentler, yet not any less true, ¡°The chaotic Destruction within you overwhelms the Creation and the balance is broken. The loyal Lupine Soul within, suffers just to hold you together, its sacrifice being the only reason you yet live. Should the balance tip over just once more that shall be the end of all things that is you.

    ¡°So, we offer a chance, a chance to make things right, to re-establish the balance.¡±

    Miles pursed his lips at the explanation, contemplating. The wolves were rambling confusing terms, something he would''ve considered nonsense just a short time ago. But now, he could sense that this was not the case. They spoke of something that existed beyond the realms of logic and science, venturing perhaps into the esoteric field of Zhan Shen¡¯s spiritualism.

    ¡®Mistress of the Moon? The only individual that comes to mind... is the lady ghost that I encountered in the definitely not-basement? How would these wolves know her?! Wait, is it actually possible that just like Haruka¡¯s clinic, the Lykaon Mansion itself, holds a Doorway?¡¯

    At this point Miles couldn¡¯t discount the thought, but he still put it aside as he reconsidered the wolves¡¯ spoken words. There was something here and he wracked his brains in the attempt to find it, to reconcile this new knowledge with the limited understanding he had gleaned from all that he had experienced.

    Slowly, two and two were put together, and something clicked, his eyes widening in realization.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Miles couldn¡¯t help but exclaim, ¡°Are you suggesting that the Vawul form has leveled too far ahead? Is Vawulan, what you mean when you say chaotic destruction?! Then by creation, you should mean Wurkan? Are their levels the balance that you say has been broken? Balance between Destruction and Creation, refers to the one between Vawul and Wurkao?!¡±

    Even as realization dawned upon him, Miles felt a pang of frustration, ¡°But I never had the chance to unlock a second form! How was I supposed to know about this? Was I expected to stay out of every fight and not level at all?¡±

    The black wolf responded with a sardonic grin, its canine features sharpened by the dim light of the cavern, ¡°Some might call it obvious,¡± its tone dripped with condescension, ¡°But alas, it seems matters of the immaterial plane are often too much for you material ones, be they the ilk of the Lord of the Hunt or otherwise. Regardless, now you know.¡±

    As if to soften the harsh words, the white wolf generously added, ¡°It is perhaps a bit much to expect perfect understanding in a matter of days. Not to mention the awakened one beside you that knew and still allowed it to happen.¡±

    Miles nodded, slowly. He wasn''t particularly eager to respond to the aggression of the black wolf, and since the other had offered a peace offering, he would gladly take it.

    ¡°But what do you mean by that? Who is this awakened one beside me?¡±

    The wolf of shaded black was the one to answer, still pacing around the cavern, ¡°Do you not know those that you associate? He has been with you since the very beginning, and yet, you remain unaware?¡±

    Miles frowned, both puzzled and annoyed, scratching his cheek, ¡°Who? Cadmus? No, wait, you can¡¯t possibly mean Zhan Shen?¡±

    The ebony wolf snorted, not deigning to answer any further, and perhaps as such, the ivory wolf did, ¡°We will speak of this matter no further last true son of Lykaon, your allies and their nature are your own trial to face...

    Yes, let us move on. We have already made the offer to assist with your predicament, what shall be your decision?¡±

    Unfortunately, Miles wasn¡¯t able to move on from the topic as easily as the wolves seemed to expect him to.

    Assuming that the wolves didn¡¯t refer to the Lykaon ring, and the Cadmus AI, it had to be Zhan Shen. Who else had been with him ''since the very beginning''?

    Had the elderly butler, truly, intentionally, allowed him to become unbalanced?

    Zhan Shen may have allowed him to fight, a fair bit different from the old butler¡¯s usual approach, the obvious result being subsequent level ups, but¡­ it didn¡¯t make sense.

    In the end, the answer was rather simple, ¡®Who should I believe? Two talking wolves inside a Doorway, or old Zhan?¡¯

    With his question answered and his mind set, Miles moved on, putting his mind to re-consider this offer of assistance.

    To be honest, despite the subtle jabs at him, the attempt to vilify old Zhan, Miles was extremely tempted to just accept, even though he knew nothing of what was being offered.

    The excruciating torment of being ¡®unbalanced¡¯, an agony that made one wish for death, felt distant right now, like the echoes of a forgotten dream, but his body still remembered. He could tell something had given him relief from the pain, but it would be temporary. It would return, perhaps lessened, but it would still return.

    The prospect of liberation and relief from that pain was undeniably enticing. Yet, beneath their veneer of benevolence, Miles could tell that Pack wished for him to reciprocate the gesture.

    This was no selfless being.

    Which was fine, for that was how the world Miles knew worked. The eternal law of equal exchange, of give and take, and he was perfectly at home here.

    ¡°And what, may I ask, do you seek in return, Pack?¡±

    The wolves'' demeanor shifted, every so subtly the moment Miles voiced his inquiry. Their pacing momentarily halting as their eyes flickered with intrigue. The answer came from the both of them, their voices resonating through the cavern, ¡°Our mistress has acquainted you with the debts owed since time immemorial, the unpaid tributes to the Guardians accumulated over millennia for services rendered yet unsettled,¡± they intoned, words carrying the weight of time, ¡°We are the Guardian Pack, what we have proposed is no mere settlement of debt, for we are kin, and we may help each other, to help us all.¡±

    Miles nodded, slowly, inwardly skeptical of the wolves¡¯ placating assurances. Nevertheless, their words resonated with what he remembered of the lady ghost, and thus he signaled his willingness to entertain their proposition, prompting the wolves to resume their predatory circling.

    Fixing him with an unwavering gaze, the black wolf spoke, ¡°You shall venture into our domain, Last True Son of Lykaon, tasked with purging the corruption of Natha that festers within. You shall restore our dominion over our lands.¡±

    The white wolf panted, its tongue out in an almost smile, ¡°In doing so, you shall fortify the Lupine Soul within you, for the very act of purifying corruption is one that strengthens it. You may even find forgotten secrets in the ruins of the Wurkan that remain within. There will be ample opportunity to grow the Soul of the Lupine even further, to tip the unbalanced scales in your favor.¡±

    Miles arched an eyebrow. That seemed like a generous way of saying, ¡®do what we say, and maybe, just maybe, you will be able to help yourself¡¯?

    Unfortunately, while it wasn¡¯t ideal, he had to admit, he was the metaphorical beggar right now, and beggars could not be choosers. Even if he were playing into their hands, he had to recognize he didn¡¯t have much in the way of alternatives.

    ¡°That sounds promising,¡± he remarked dryly, ¡°but why can you not do this yourself Pack?¡±

    The two wolves continued their pacing around him without pause, but neither of them spoke, for the answer this time came from everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing from the depths of the cavern, disembodied and haunting, seemingly spoken by the innumerable creatures in the darkness, ¡°Our realm, the fief granted to us by the Lord of the Eternal Hunt, has fallen to corruption in our absence. Humanity¡¯s insatiable thirst for power never fail to surprise, reaching even beyond the Veil, corrupting even what is far beyond their station, to fit their flawed ideals.

    ¡°Our domain is no longer reachable, not to us, not to anyone, for Natha has left it lost in the chaos of the Veil.¡±

    Miles was utterly unnerved by this voice, but he suppressed the shiver, maintaining his composure even as he processed the implications. Though cloaked in cryptic language, their explanation resonated with a strange sense of logic that defied conventional understanding.

    Only problem, if even the supposed owners of this domain could not enter, how could he?

    The wolves were silent as they prowled, but the voices responded with fervor, ¡°Do not despair, Last True Son of Lykaon, hope is not lost. The Fiefs bestowed upon the Guardians are the Boons of the Lord of the Hunt, they remain eternal, for they are lands of trial for the hopeful inheritors of House Lykaon. Even corrupted, even beyond our reach, only you, the rightful heir with his ring, possess the authority and right to enter and face my trial.¡±

    Miles¡¯ eyes widened, mind racing, ¡°A trial? For what? To inherit Lykaon Industries? I have never heard of such a thing! How does this align with the current ownership and trade agreements?¡±

    A scoff, echoed through the cavern as the black-furred wolf shook its head dismissively, ¡°Mundane inheritance of what material wealth your family has is not the purpose of the Guardian¡¯s trials. Do not ever forget this, for earthly riches hold no value on this side of the Veil.¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Miles furrowed his brow, but the white wolf interjected once more with solemn clarity, ¡°In your defense, Last True Son of Lykaon, it has been millennia since the trials were last undertaken. Should you prove yourself, succeeding in each subsequent trial, what you stand to gain is beyond paltry gold and wealth. It is immaterial¡­ for it is the inheritance of Lykaon Dawnlord of House Lykaon, First of His Name, the Lord of the Eternal Hunt, the Emperor of the Wildlands, and Fulcrum of All Existence.

    ¡°Only if you do will the Oldest Den become your domain, allowing your ascension to his royal court as the new Lord of all that was his.¡±

    The black wolf sneered, adding a bitter undertone, ¡°That is, if you are found worthy¡­¡±

    Miles¡¯ brow furrowed once more, ignoring the laughably extensive title, he masked his uncertainty with practiced composure. The offer of mutual assistance seemed reasonable on the surface, but should he accept it blindly?

    The wolves had first offered him a standard carrot and stick, and with the ¡®Lykaon Inheritance¡¯, supposedly from the first Lykaon Ancestor about whom not a single record existed, even more carrot.

    This was a negotiation, and Miles recognized the game, but he also had to accept the lack of leverage on his part. He was alone, in a Doorway¡¯s domain with unknown creatures, confronted with cryptic revelations that somehow made sense. It was a game he knew, but he was barely even a player.

    Truly, this was a negotiation Miles was sorely unprepared for, but given the circumstances, he would have no choice but to agree to the given terms, right?

    The white wolf spoke with gentle reassurance, ¡°Refusal would disappoint us greatly but this choice is yours and yours alone. We may have summoned you here, but to send you beyond to the actual trial, your consent is required. This debt is not yours alone to pay, it extends through your entire lineage, now and forever more until one day paid in full.¡±

    The black wolf¡¯s voice cut through the cavern, its tone carrying a grim finality, ¡°Should you decline, we will be more than willing to return you to whence you came, from beyond the Veil. But be prepared for in your current state the Mistress of Death shall visit you sooner than later.¡±

    The white wolf offered a solemn nod, ¡°Regardless, allow us to offer you the choice.¡±

    Before Miles could respond, reality itself flickered before his eyes, morphing into a familiar interface screen, but one that beckoned offered a choice. It was starkly different from anything he had ever seen before, a pure white background with dark gray text, and it flickered and shimmered, with the occasional glitched text.

    Ding!

    |~|~| Main (Wurkao) Progression Quest |~|~|

    Lykaon Inheritance Trial #1: Welcome to Hamelin, discovered!

    You have encountered the Guardian Pack, to whom your House owes a debt yet unpaid. The Guardian¡¯s conceptual Domain has long detached, corrupted by Natha, left to the machinations of humanity. They seek your assistance in its return, offering the chance to reclaim the balance you have lost in reward.

    Your performance here shall be judged under the first Lykaon Inheritance Trial, determining your eternal fate with the House of Lykaon.

    Objectives: - Discover and Purify the Corrupted Source Fulcrums of the Domain (0/3) (Primary)

    - Open the Sealed Doorway to Pack¡¯s Domain by completing their Trial (Primary)

    - Show n???o??? ???m???e???r???c???y???, ki???l?l????? all that obstruct you (???????S?e?c?o?n?d?a?r?y?)?

    Rewards: WurkanV???a???w???u???l???a???n??? Experience, Evolution Path Enhancement, Trial of Pack Completion, Chained Quests. Rewards may vary depending on the user¡¯s performance.

    Do you accept?

    (Yes/No) ]

    Miles had barely finished reading, when he sensed Pack¡¯s visceral displeasure, palpable even through the air of the cavern.

    ¡°The influence of Vinasha is far reaching, and ever since he fell to the Natha, it has only grown. Now, he influences even my own trial.¡± The white wolf warned, its tone laced with suggested caution, ¡°Be wary, Last True Son of House Lykaon, for if he knows, you will have been given his twisted objectives as well."

    The black wolf growled, hackles raised, its voice reverberating in a menacing tone, ¡°Vinasha may reward you or any Vawul that aligns with his image, but should you grow any further towards his chaos, the Lupine Soul within you shall falter. The delicate balance that barely holds will shatter, and your existence shall be swiftly ended.¡±

    As if to soften those words, once again it was the white wolf that gently added, ¡°The choice is yours, but perhaps consider being loyal to your ancestry, the path of the House of Lykaon. Cultivate Upatha¡¯s Creation within you, at the least enough to give her a fighting chance against Vinasha¡¯s Destruction.¡±

    Miles pondered those confusing words, laden with indirect explanations and illogical logic. Though unconventional, they resonated with him, making the strangest sense¡­

    Yet, he couldn¡¯t help but pose the obvious question, ¡°Wait,¡± he interjected, ¡°Surely, you don¡¯t mean to say that I cannot level up any further? Again, am I supposed to not fight? To not kill? Is there no danger in this trial of yours?¡±

    The white wolf was the one to answer first, even as the wolves continued their circular pacing around him, ¡°Our domain is corrupted, by Natha and by humanity, thus naturally, fraught with danger. You will be well as long as you do not support the growth of Vinasha within you.¡±

    The black wolf grinned, revealing sharpened fangs. ¡°What my kinder half wishes says is that you may kill whatever is corrupted. You shall know when you see them, for deaths of such beings is not conducive for Vinasha. In that case, the one to reward you shall be Upatha and her intent is what you need to live.¡±

    Miles nodded slowly, finding some semblance of clarity within that confusing revelation. More questions remained however, and he directed his gaze to the suspended quest before him. Most of it barely made sense, so why not just ask?

    ¡°What are¡­ source fulcrums?¡± his question reverberated through the cavern.

    The answer was immediate, echoed to him from the depths of shadow veiled cavern, ¡°The intricacies of the Trial itself are yours to face. Discovery of the truth is something you must achieve on your own.¡±

    Miles frowned at the cryptic response, but accepted it with a begrudging, ¡°Fine." He was rather familiar with the argument, though he had never expected to hear it from a voice in a cave instead of old Zhan. Nevertheless, he moved on, ¡°But how long will this ¡®quest¡¯ of yours take to complete, Pack? I¡¯m aware I will supposedly die if I do not, but to what extent will it affect my life¡­ beyond the veil?¡±

    The disembodied voice from the cavern seemed to have lost interest, for it was the black wolf, prowling in silence, that answered, ¡°From a day to a few years, depends entirely upon you.¡±

    The white wolf added as seemed usual, ¡°Fear not, Last True Son of House Lykaon, for time is fickle within our domain on this side of the veil. If your material existence is a cause for worry, do not, for regardless of your performance, it shall not pass more than one Lunar Cycle."

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but be taken aback by that. Time dilation and associated shenanigans were a rather common side effect when it came to Doorways and their domains, but this particular effect on time, a presumed minimum ratio of 50:1 was absolutely insane.

    Time dilation was another one of the reasons Doorways were so highly sought after, regardless of their effect even. Imagine the progress you could make as a corporation, with all your personnel and machinery working fifty times faster than real time. He wanted this Doorway all the more now.

    Nevertheless, Miles was satisfied with the answer, somehow knowing it was not falsehood. He turned to the prowling wolves, both panting in almost grins, ¡°Very well, I believe I¡¯ve made my ¡®decision¡¯...¡± He narrowed his eyes at the two wolves, ¡°But, I must contact my Butler and instruct him how to handle matters in my absence."

    The white wolf halted its prowling, and slowly approached him with a reassuring demeanor. Its eyes of golden yellow met his, exuding a sense of familiarity and trust, ¡°There is no impediment to your request. Deliver your messages to Cadmus of the Ring, and we shall ensure their safe passage to your Butler.¡±

    Miles accepted the offer readily. Perhaps he was consumed by the urgency or the many confusing aspects to what Pack had explained so far, for he failed to note how the wolf knew of Cadmus or even access the Lykaon Network. Unfortunately, Miles didn¡¯t notice, focused solely on the task at hand.

    Crouched on his knees and ignoring the wolves, he got to work, contemplating the situation back in the clinic.

    The corpse of Xavier, the wrought destruction, any traces they may have left, his disappearance for a time, were just few of the many things Zhan Shen would have to handle, and this was only considering matters related to the outer city. But Miles was thorough, and through careful consideration and the help of Cadmus, managed to cover everything.

    Miles let out a sigh of relief at the completion of his work, but the moment he was done, the moment he himself knew he was ready, it was as if the nature of the very cavern had changed.

    The light from the unseen sky and the stalactites seemed brighter, the shadows darker, and the wolves¡­ more real.

    As if it had been waiting for him to arrive at the very realization, the disembodied voice from the cavern returned once more, echoing out in eerie clarity, ¡°Make the choice.¡±

    The ebony wolf, dark as the worst night, observed with judgmental eyes, and spoke with its head held high, ¡°Fight or Flee?¡± and the moment it did, the darkness of the cavern came alive to swallow it in an instant.

    The white furred wolf, a beast of light yet gentle in nature, seemed to smile, ¡°Yes, or No?¡± and the light of the moonlight that framed its pristine fur, seemed to consume it entirely, for it too had vanished in the next moment.

    For some reason, Miles was not surprised by this turn of events. It seemed¡­ natural, right even. All he cared about was answering the questions they had posed, and his only focus was the question directly before him.

    Miles knew he had been dying, he still was, but something had barely managed to slow it down. It was a stop gap solution that would not last.

    His ears were deaf to the clamoring howls, echoing through the cavern from innumerable beasts. His eyes were blind to the glowing pairs of gem-like eyes observing him from the darkness.

    He only had eyes for a single thing, and it was a question.

    [ Do you Accept? ]

    This offer may very well be the only solution to his ¡®unbalanced¡¯ nature, and although Miles hated the idea of being a hired soldier, a ¡®corruption cleaner¡¯ for these strange beings, he found himself selecting the only choice he truly could.

    [Yes]

    For a second time in a very short while, everything went dark.

    ***

    In a realm veiled by an endless, infinite cavern, where time twisted, and space danced uncertain of how to behave. From amidst the ethereal, ancient air, a hairline crack appeared. Its jagged fissure widened, spreading as if reality were a mirror being shattered.

    From the shadows of the cavern emerged two familiar wolves, one draped in ebony darkness and the other gleaming pristine white. Tension radiated from their bestial forms as they stood sentinel to the rupturing veil. At the same time, a pair of crimson eyes materialized from the darkness, then two, then three, multiplying exponentially until an unseen legion encircled the fracture, their collective growling echoing with eerie harmony.

    Yet, their menacing presence faltered as a figure emerged from the rupture in reality¨Ca familiar old butler, his imposing stature bathed in a mystical aura of shifting light.

    Zhan Shen stroked his beard, staring at the horde of wolves around him, and... they stared at him.

    For a few seconds, all was silent, until the elderly butler heaved a sigh of palpable displeasure. ¡°Master Miles just departed, did he not? Playing with time to keep us apart¡­ do you find yourself amusing, little Deva?¡±

    The two wolves, not in the darkness, retorted in unison, ¡°Not as much as you amuse us, illustrious and famed War God turned Indentured Servant.¡±

    The shifting light seemed to intensify and all existence itself trembled in fear, ¡°I am bound by no indenture,¡± Zhan Shen growled, ¡°I act of my own volition, guided by my own convictions.¡±

    The ebony wolf curled its lip in disdain, ¡°Do you even believe that half-truth yourself? Are you not bound, as much as any slave, by your own grief and sense of responsibility? You could be more, but you punish yourself, do you not, Liuzheng¡¯s Daxiong Mao Zhan Shen?¡±

    The elderly butler did not take that well, for something expanded from him, the entire cavern seeming to tremble. Dust and rubble collapsed from the ceiling, a few stalactites even breaking off, crashing onto the ground in explosions of crystal.

    Unlike its conflict seeking counterpart, the white wolf hurried to interject, urging for peace, ¡°Calm your rage Zhan Shen, my darker half speaks only of what he sees. You have long known of our existence, have you not? The Mistress mentioned encountering your presence by the Oldest Den, and now, you must know the purpose of our domain as well. This is but one trial that your¨Cyoung master must face.¡±

    Though obviously not appreciative of the wolves¡¯ words, the butler¡¯s rage eventually vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. Yet his words still carried the emotion, ¡°Then let me offer you a trial of my own Deva of Communion. Should Master Miles perish within your fallen domain, you shall face the same fate. It shall be the same for the material ones you wished to defend. The faesycian woman must hold responsibility for allowing your influence. Do you agree?¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± the white wolf conceded with little fuss, ¡°If the Last Son fails here, that shall be the end of the House of Lykaon, and our demise shall follow soon after.¡± It didn¡¯t even seem to care about the so-called material ones.

    But the ebony wolf, seemingly displeased with the ultimatum, laughed out loud, ¡°By the way, your master has issued a few commands on how you should conduct yourself during the time that he faces our trail. Listen and obey, prideless War God.¡±

    To its apparent displeasure, Zhan Shen did not seem to consider that an insult, for he proceeded to do exactly that. The vibration from the winged silver pin upon his chest confirmed the messages, and the old butler listened carefully from beginning to end.

    A few minutes later, despite everything, having heard the familiar voice and the newfound conviction in it, the old butler couldn¡¯t help but smile. Maybe just maybe, the young master¡¯s turn to Vampirism, needing to rely on those Immaterial, was not all that bad, especially if it had brought back the fire he had lost after that World Court agreement.

    ¡°Deva, you may return the material ones you were debted to defend. It seems the one I serve wishes them alive. And as he wishes, living they shall remain. Well, as long as he does.¡±

    The wolves retreated, vanishing once more into the shadows of the cavern they had come from. ¡°They have already returned,¡± echoed the answer from the depths of darkness.

    Zhan Shen seemed to have expected it, for without so much as a second glance, he passed through the very same fracture he had created to enter this domain, the cracks repairing itself behind him.

    He knew of the ''trial'', and it was not something he had the right to interfere in. But he had been given orders and the world could be damned before he disobeyed.

 CHAPTER 31: Glitched - Part 1

    Once at peace, once serene, a world where pristine waters had mirrored celestial skies.

    Distorted by what had come from beyond, the realm had been cleaved asunder, yet remained balanced by the impermeable veil between.

    But even that equilibrium had faltered, once, twice, the scales tipped just enough to shatter.

    What remains is a dying world, of faded hues, marred by the taint of a writhing mass from the abyss itself.

    A world where a beast of shadow coils in the remnants of a scarlet sea, sporadically rising to repel the encroaching corruption.

    A world where a solitary wolf stalks across ivory waves, howling at broken skies, finding solace in its thankless task, even as it weakens and fades, sacrificed for a purpose.

    A world where poisonous corruption lies dormant, patient, awaiting the moment to consume all.

    ***

    A grand chandelier of faerie crystal casting a warm glow hung directly above, the smell of food and drink permeated the air, the opulent dining room ringing with the soft clink of cutlery upon ceramic, of utensils upon food.

    His mother had informed them in advance that she would not be attending tonight, as was her want on occasion, far too engrossed in experiments and research to allow distraction. Thus, it would only be him and¨C

    ¡°You seem displeased Miles, is anything the matter with the food?¡± his father¡¯s voice pierced the silence, drawing his attention away from the untouched steak on his plate.

    With a genteel gesture, Miles dabbed his mouth before answering, ¡°No, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s nothing, father. It¡¯s, it¡¯s just¨C¡±

    His father¡¯s gaze weighed heavily upon him, ¡°Do not meander Miles. Speak if you intend to, remain silent if you do not."

    Miles swallowed, a tad nervous, ¡°Apologies, father. It is an academy matter. My friends, all of my classmates really¡­ they ignored me today.¡±

    His father did not respond, a silent demand for further clarification.

    Miles obliged, fidgeting with his hands as he did so, ¡°They didn¡¯t do, or say anything, but they ignored me as if I didn¡¯t exist. It was¡­ uncomfortable. I¨CI believe someone made them act so, and I believe it was¡­ Sarah.¡±

    ¡°You two were on decent terms. Why would your cousin antagonize you?¡±

    Miles forced a smile, as he stared at his plate, ¡°Cousin Sarah tends to be forceful, sometimes cruel even. A few days ago, she made trouble for the entire Class H, almost getting them expelled, and I¨CI intervened. But it was great, I was a heroic prince! And Class H was very nice to me!¡±

    But his father¡¯s reaction was not what he expected. ¡°Your mother¡¯s influence I see? Her flawed philosophy of prioritizing individuals over the organization? Is that what inspired you to jeopardize your standing, and cause friction within your own family? Just for the sake of some hapless vermin?¡±

    Miles was caught off guard, but eventually admitted, ¡°Yes¡­?¡±

    His father assessed him, minutes passing in uncomfortable silence, but then with impeccable grace, he lowered his utensils and dabbed at his mouth. ¡°Since you seem to have finished with your dinner Miles, prepare yourself. We shall be leaving the estate shortly. There is something I believe you should see.¡±

    Not having had much in the way of an appetite, Miles readily complied.

    A short while later, they found themselves in a transporter limousine, speeding through the Inner City. The chauffeur today was Ricardo, a temporary replacement for Butler Alexander after his unfortunate accident.

    The neon lights of the streets flashed by them, the tinted black screens of the windows blurring the scenery from view.

    ¡°You are already aware of the fragility of your position, that being in no small part the fault of myself,¡± his father spoke to no one in particular, eyes fixed on the passing scenery. But with the sound-proofed screen between the driver and them, it was obvious his words were intended to none-other than Miles.

    His father shifted a square glass of crystal, swirling golden whiskey and a perfect sphere of ice within.

    ¡°The man who impregnated my mother, bless her soul, was a wretch of a man. An arrogant fool too full of his own superiority to see his own flaws. And the weasel had the gall to banish her once he was done with her, ruining our social standing, and forever marking me a bastard.

    ¡°Your grandmother had to leave the region, traveling all the way from the east while she carried me, so that she could return to her home here in Capital City. Although she did her best to raise me well, my background was less than pristine. That is why it is no simple thing for me to have married into the Lykaon Estate, taking your mother¡¯s hand in marriage, especially out of love.¡±

    His father swigged the whiskey, drinking down the liquor as if it were water, ¡°But Senior Lykaon, your grandfather, was more generous a father than my own had ever been. Your mother¡¯s lack of interest in politics and lobbying had him worried enough to give me a chance to prove myself, and I did so readily. I served Lykaon Industries with all I had, nothing ever too far or too much, for there is no good or evil in the light of love.¡±

    Placing the empty glass aside, he reached out to pat Miles'' head, ¡°But do not worry my son, we will work to ensure that nothing, not my circumstances nor anything else, will ever cast a shadow upon your birthright.¡±

    And Miles couldn¡¯t help but nod, his expression fully serious.

    It was a short while later when the limousine came to a stop, followed by a soft knock upon the privacy suite, a signal from the chauffeur. Ricardo opened their doors and ushered them out of the limousine, guiding them towards a small, everyday building.

    Miles observed the simple construction where everything was perfectly ordinary. It was a far-cry from the glamorous buildings of the inner city with nothing that stood out in any way. It was just enough to be considered as average, melding into the backdrop so that it could be forgotten as soon as you would have seen it.

    A simple entrance of double doors was passed by, as they traversed through dimly lit corridors, to finally enter a wide room bathed in harsh fluorescent light.

    It was more of an empty hall or storage for it was sparse without furnishing or decoration.

    Well, besides those that loomed along the walls like silent statues, a formidable assembly of armed militia. Clad in obsidian armor adorning the enraged visage of a wolf, and armed to the teeth with the best weaponry Lykaon Industries had to offer, they stood unmoving, casting a pall of intimidation over the air.

    At the heart of this room was a circular pit that carved a hemisphere deep into the concrete floor, edges lined with a cold, metallic railing.

    Drawn to the precipice, Miles followed after his father to observe its contents.

    What he found were three fragile figures, once gleaming silver armor dulled to the state of common metal. Their armor bellied with engravings of fiery dragons, of pride and valor, were meaningless, for they were bound prisoners, cowering and kneeling in defeat.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but widen his eyes for these were all Squires, Capital Knights in training!

    There was also a fourth figure, an outlier that was a lone soldier. He was adorned in the same obsidian armor of the militia that surrounded the room, but shackled and on his knees. Unlike the squires however, this man seemed had been tortured to the verge of death, leaving a once-strong body bloodied and broken.

    His father spoke, breaking the silence, ¡°The three squires before you, Arya Price, Enrique Selinges, and, Horacio Warok are all suspects for the murder of Butler Alexander, by association with their superior Knight."

    His heart raced with unease, and Miles could only gape in silence.

    ¡°As for the other man, he is Ronald Hayes, recently promoted Corporal to Lykaon Industries'' illustrious Lupus Task Force. A man who chose to aid our rival corporation, seeking to defy and betray us to save these accused criminals. He even managed to free the Knight we captured who managed a successful escape as a result and even informed Capital Corporation of our counter-operation. This betrayal is¡­ unforgivable.¡±

    The moment his father finished speaking, perfectly on cue, several of the soldiers detached from their silent vigil along the wall, and marched towards the edge of the pit,, finally ominously reloaded the assault rifles in perfect unison.

    ¡°Dogs of the Draig, your hero has forced our hand,¡± his father intoned loudly, words resounding through the room like a death knell.

    The squires seemed to pale at that, and one of them, the woman, lifted her head in despair, ¡°No, no, please, no! Please spare us! Please! I beg of you, I have a family!¡±

    Hearing the pitiful cry, Miles instinctively grabbed onto the edge of his father¡¯s suit, his grip tightening.

    But no mind was paid, not to him and not to the squire, ¡°As did Alexander Ms. Price, but neither you nor your corporation seemed to mind then, did you?¡± and gestured to the soldiers.

    In unison, a dozen rifles came to life in a deathly hum, aimed at the occupants of the pit.

    The woman began to wail, hopeless crying and pleading as she screamed about justice and honor. The remaining two squires seemed to be of similar mind, for the too had lost all hope and remained silent in acceptance of their fate.

    Miles¡¯ grip was deathly now, his small knuckles whitening.

    He knew his father was not wrong. He despised the Knight¡¯s for taking the life of Butler Alexander. But this, this couldn¡¯t be right.

    He had known of the hidden wars between Lykaon Industries and Capital Corp., but this¨C

    His father glanced at him, their eyes meeting for just a moment.

    He seemed to gleam something from Miles'' expression, and turned back, ¡°A fortunate day it is Squires. I will offer you a chance at survival¡­¡± and clicked his fingers. Instantly, the shackles that had locked the squires¡¯ hands behind them unlatched, separating into two individual bracelets over each.

    Miles let out a breath he had been holding unwittingly, but¨C

    Was it right to let them all go just like that? If they really did have something to do with the murder of Alexander?

    What was... right?

    He was conflicted, unsure of what to think. The feeling only worsened even more when his father continued, ¡°Your hands are now free, and one among you Capital Dogs, stand the chance to win your life back. The task is simple, take vengeance on the traitor. Punish, torture, make him scream, all in my stead until he regrets it all. The best at the task shall be the one to be granted their freedom.¡±

    The Squires hesitated, discipline and loyalty causing them to grapple with the dark choice offered.

    Even Miles was conflicted, unable to understand the cruelty behind his father¡¯s mercy. But, he was sure, nothing would come of this.

    Although he disliked the Draig family too, the Knights and their Squires were famous for their loyalty and righteousness. There was no way the honorable Capital Court would take up his father¡¯s offer.

    As if spitting on his thoughts and expectation, the wailing woman was the one that seized the damned opportunity first.

    With a guttural cry that pierced the stale air of the pit, she fell upon poor Ronald like a hellion. Her sudden, savage attack was a spark that jolted the remaining squires from their stupor as they exploded with violence and followed her lead.

    In the dredges of that pit, a grotesque scene unfolded, as once ''righteous¡¯ Squires now driven by savagery and survival instinct tore into a helpless target with unbridled ferocity.

    Hands and even teeth rent flesh and tore sinew.

    Like rabid beasts, the Squires fought even among themselves, each vying to be the most violent, in the hopes that they may be the one to live.

    Ronald Hayes, unconscious due to the gravity of his wounds, was dragged back to cruel reality by the sudden assault. His feeble attempts at screams were stifled by the relentless brutality of his assailants, the very same he had attempted to save.

    Miles was frozen, his eyes unblinking and his posture stiffened. It felt as if the reality he had known was a rug that had just been pulled out from under him.

    Blood sprayed in crimson arcs, painting the edges of the pit in macabre patterns, entrails spilled forth in a sickening cascade, all pooling at the bottom of the pit in a vile testament to the true nature of man.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but recoil at the horrifying sight before him, moving to look away, but a familiar hand fell upon his shoulder and held him firm, ¡°As heir to be of the Lykaon, you must not falter in the face of death. This is the harshness of reality, my son. It may seem cruel, but someday, I know you will understand.¡±

    Hesitant, his resolve faltering even at the sight of the inhumanity unfolding below, Miles was frozen in indecision, and that meant he obeyed.

    His father continued to speak, gaze unwavering from the violence he had caused, ¡°Such is the fate of heroes, for those they save and those they fight for, are often not so generous as to offer the same. They will turn on their so-called hero the moment the situation becomes inconvenient.¡±

    Miles watched with dull eyes, his fathers words akin to a sword that slashed through his childish beliefs.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Never forget this Miles, to be a hero while weak is a folly that is unforgivable. You will have to sacrifice yourself and what is yours, perhaps even those that you love and never should bring harm upon.And, for what? For the sake of unworthy, ungrateful vermin of the kind that you see down below? For the greater good that doesn¡¯t give a lick about you?

    ¡°Your mother¡¯s intentions may be moral, but that does not change the reality that heroism is a privilege to those that hold the strength to handle the repercussions.¡±

    At that, Miles drew in a breath. He knew those words were scathing truth, but it also gave him the strength to draw himself to his full height, still quite a bit short of his father¡¯s shoulders. ¡°B-But, not everyone is like those squires. Just this one incident can¡¯t prove that all h-heroism and good is wrong! It''s not always met with punishment!¡±

    The horrifying sounds, screams, from the pit echoed through the room as if to dissuade his words.

    His father watched him silently, but finally, smiled, ¡°Good, you are not cowed,¡± but that smile vanished soon after, ¡°But that does not make you any less incorrect. Hah, Heroism is right?"

    "Tell me Miles, is it right that Ronald down there has to die a tortured death for attempting to save lives? And, if he had succeeded, would it have been right for Butler Alexander who was murdered in cold blood? Tell me, is it right that you who stepped up to help the helpless Class H, got punished for it?¡±

    His father¡¯s gaze pierced directly into his own, causing Miles'' eyes to waver and fall towards the concrete floor.

    Still, he argued back, ¡°I-It¡¯s not. It¡¯s not right, but¨Cbut¨CI still don¡¯t want to be bad. I can''t be a bad prince..." Miles scrounged up the courage to lift his head again, "A-And isn¡¯t a prosperous kingdom, one where the people are safe and injustice is punished? So that the people will know who is worthy to lead them? Righteousness and Justice has to be important too!¡±

    ¡°That''s not entirely wrong, but curb your fantasies Miles. Butler Alexander went a bit too far with that metaphor of his. We are no established royalty of a kingdom, we are owed nothing, for we are merely the one of many vying for this ''throne''. There is nothing good about a prospering kingdom, if it is not yours.

    ¡°Righteousness? Justice? Even those most noble of morals becomes meaningless when you lack the power to handle the repercussions of your actions. Well-intentioned or not, power precedes right and wrong. I hope you do not have to learn that the hard way.¡±

    Miles frowned, but he wasn¡¯t defeated.

    Even as he winced at the sounds of tortured screams, he said, ¡°T-Then father, if I¡¯m strong enough, if I have enough power, could I be a heroic prince then?¡±

    His father paused, ¡°I do not believe you, Miles." A shrug, "Power changes even the best of men, and you say you will hold yourself to those same principles even after you have the power to remain unchallenged?"

    Miles was crestfallen by that blunt refusal.

    But before his discourage could be cemented, Etan Lykaon offered him a challenge, right hand outstretched, ¡°But, you can always prove me wrong, my son. Go ahead and prove me wrong.¡±

    Excitement returned in full force, and Miles grabbed onto his father''s hand, ¡°Okay! I will!¡±

    But the older he got, the more he found truth in his father¡¯s words, and along with it, the realization that he never got to prove anything.

    ***

    Even as Miles returned to reality, blinking away the memories, one thing stood out with haunting clarity; the steady, rhythmic beat of a once dead heart, now brought back to life.

    Though it felt incomplete, slower than he ever remembered it, the repetitive pulse was still a comfort he relished. His skin felt warm, in an unusual reversal of what had been cold, and Miles found himself nostalgic of a past he had not known was long gone.

    Inconsequential changes perhaps, but often taken for granted, only to be missed long after they were lost.

    Though, the most valued change was the relief he felt, peace from blood-curling agony. No longer did he feel like hurling abyssal tar, no longer did merely existing feel like he was about to be ripped apart in two.

    Sure, there was an instinctual undercurrent of something barely pacified, of torture paused just to be continued later, but¨Cphysically, he felt good.

    For the first time over the last few days, his body felt¡­ right, better at least, and for a moment, Miles did nothing else, allowing himself a moment of peace that had been sorely needed.

    He remained still, allowing his mind to wander freely.

    During unconsciousness, Miles had reminisced about his past, old memories from over a decade ago resurfacing. Perhaps it was retaliation from his own mind, against the recently implanted memories of Knight Xavier.

    As for them¡­ those memories, the remembrance of a life he hadn¡¯t lived, of people he hadn¡¯t cared for, it was uncomfortable.

    Miles could access it all with a thought as if his own, those thoughts had even melded with his mind to some extent, but they still felt grafted and artificial.

    There was even much to understand and learn there, from the techniques of the Riyan, from Xavier¡¯s experiences with his Fae Ability, but, for some reason, Miles did not wish to indulge.

    Something, perhaps the last of his morality, held him back.

    There was something viscerally criminal about stealing the memories of a man. A life that had lived, cared, fought, and died, laid bare to him as if an addition to some lifeless collection.

    Perhaps it was useless, a meaningless gesture made to satisfy none other than himself, but¡­

    Even as he lay upon a floor that was cavernous rock, his eyes still closed, Miles pulled a troubled hand through his hair.

    That fight with the Knight had been so much worse than that with the Hakuryuu gangsters.

    It had not been another minor loss of control, where his personal emotions had gone unchecked.

    No, instead of losing control himself, this time, something else that had taken control. The Beast.

    A part of his mind felt freed by the fact that his inhumane actions could be attributed to something else, relieved in the knowledge that they were not orchestrated by his own self¡­

    That same part wanted to blame the death of Xavier, the fact that he had consumed the Knight, everything, on the Beast.

    But, Miles also knew that was part of him that was weak, one that forgoed responsibility for one¡¯s actions.

    He knew the truth.

    Miles had wanted the Knight dead, and he had gotten what he wished for.

    Should he look back at the events that passed, every single act and thought could be remembered with great clarity. None of it from the eyes of a bystander.

    Miles could still remember that indomitable, endless power.

    How the burning blood had granted him impossible strength.

    How shadows had become his armor, and blood his blade.

    How a Knight, an Epsilon, had been helpless at the feet of he who had not used a single Fae Serum or Cyberware.

    And that heavenly taste¨Cthat unforgettable, ambrosial experience.

    Even now, when Miles was trying to come to terms with what he had done, he felt his mouth go dry at that single thought, salivating at the mere memory of it.

    It was easily curbed though, for it was not a true thirst, but merely craving.

    Besides that, there was also the glaring fact that he had consumed¡­ a soul.

    If he wanted any more concluding evidence that he was an inhuman beast, he need not look further than that.

    Miles let out a heavy breath. Now that he had gone from drinking blood to devouring souls, how much further could he even fall?

    At the very least he didn¡¯t find himself salivating at the thought of souls, though the experience had its own unique attraction.

    It was the consumption of Xavier¡¯s soul that had left Miles vulnerable, enough to blindly follow the Beast¡¯s intent and invest three free attribute points in Wisdom, thus inadvertently discovering the effect of Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) first hand.

    The Unique Skill truly inherited from the Blood it seemed, or at least the Soul, for an entire lifetime of living had become his in the span of a single fight.

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about the skill, for it was a philosophical conundrum made real.

    What made a person, a person?

    Something unique to the individual? A Soul or a Spirit? Or was it merely their physical body and brain?

    Or was it more mental, based on their memories from birth to death, experiences and accordingly developed concepts?

    If it was indeed the latter, wasn¡¯t this skill a gross corruption of the natural order?

    Not just to whoever it was used upon, but to himself as well?

    If different memories, from different people, kept entering and assimilating with his own mind, would he even be himself at the end?

    Perhaps, Miles hadn¡¯t been entirely selfless when he kept himself from peering further into the memories of the Knight.

    But, he also had to admit that despite everything, despite every problem with the Beast, or all other skills, the potential that was revealed was still utterly phenomenal.

    As long as Miles didn¡¯t screw himself over again, due to something like failing to maintain Balance, something that literally nothing and no one had informed him about.

    The only question was, was power gained like this, worth the cost? If what remained at the end of it was not even himself?

    Perhaps that was the price of power, easy power.

    Miles felt his fists tighten.

    It was fine. It just meant he had to make sure that he didn¡¯t lose himself in the act.

    He exhaled a heavy breath, allowing the worries to wash past him.

    The last few days had been tumultuous, a series of unexpected events one after the other.

    All of it felt unreal, for it had only been a short passage of time, and yet, so much had changed.

    For just a while longer, Miles continued to lay sprawled upon the floor, but soon enough the chill of the damp and cavernous rock forced him out of his rest.

    Gathering his wits and blinking away his forced unconsciousness, he finally rose to a seated position, surveying his surroundings.

    For a moment, Miles wondered if he was still within the cavern of the Guardian Pack, but the answer was no.

    Sure, this was a cavern, but it was nothing as majestic as that had been.

    It seemed quite ordinary, well, save for one curious anomaly.

    The natural contours of the rugged cave around him were not entirely consistent, for along one particular side was a completely out of place, smooth metallic wall.

    Even at first sight, it reminded him of the authoritarian military architecture that was most common in the City States closest to Tartarus, Underworld City or even Ginnungagap.

    The metal of the wall wasn¡¯t perfect however, far from it, for its surface was marred by a massive scar, carved or rather razed into the wall, vertically, from top to bottom. As if something or someone had slashed through the metal, it formed a slight opening, barely sufficient for someone to squeeze through.

    ¡®Curious¡­¡¯

    Miles scratched a nail upon the mysterious metal wall, raising the finger to his nose.

    The sheer amount of sensory data he received from that single whiff took him by surprise, almost causing him to freeze for a moment as he considered everything. This was incomparable to what he had been able to smell before, for never had his olfactory senses been this sensitive or clear.

    It was more than mere aroma; it was¡­ information.

    This was perhaps only comparable to his tactile senses, for even now, the almost whispers from the wind could be felt as it moved air upon his skin.

    While his sense of smell had surprised him, Miles did find the answer to his question.

    The metal was ordinary steel, just plain old cold steel.

    An effective deterrent for all manner of fae, but that was about it. It was rather unusual to use pure steel in construction, and the last time he knew it had been, was several centuries ago.

    Then again, perhaps he was the strange one for expecting logic or common sense in a domain of a Doorway.

    Rising from the floor and patting away the dust on his clothes, Miles surveyed the totality of the cavern, or more accurately, the alcove he found himself in.

    It was a small, secluded area, where he was sure he would have been safe even while he had been unconscious and resting.

    The hole in the wall was the only direction he could move in, and Miles wandered over, carefully peering through the gap.

    He focused on his senses, waiting for the slightest hint of danger, receptive for any warning from the wind, or any unusual scent.

    This was the first time Miles was actively using his olfactory senses, but perhaps due to his practice so far with his other enhanced senses, it wasn¡¯t that difficult.

    At first glance, he found nothing but darkness. Thankfully, his Vawul Senses managed to see through it, unlike the impermeable darkness of the previous cavern.

    What lay beyond was a metallic expanse¨Ca strangely designed corridor extending endlessly¨Cdevoid of life or literally anything else. The strangeness was in that the walls and the ceiling were the same cold steel, while the floor alone was¡­ rock, an ordinary cavern floor.

    ¡®What in the holy hells is this Domain supposed to be?¡¯

    Miles'' curiosity was instantly tempered by the assault of a pungent, musky odor upon his nostrils. It was an overwhelming stench, but, as his olfactory senses had not allowed it to go overboard, it only caused some minor discomfort. He could even smell something else, intermingled with that, was another fainter waft of decay, of rot and death.

    This scent was not fresh or recent, and came from a distance of several hundred meters. Information he knew somehow, from the scent alone. Even though Miles was interested as to the prowess of his enhanced sense of smell, he immediately retreated.

    This rocky alcove was a location where he was offered some semblance of safety, and he had to wonder if he really wished to walk headfirst into potential danger.

    Miles let out a focusing breath as he looked down at himself.

    His suit, the Rumple and Bertrada original, was still mostly pristine, the hole that had been on its shoulder, having restitched itself completely.

    The Lykaon Ring adorned his hand, the yin yang talisman nestled comfortably upon his chest, and even the Caucon was placed securely within his suit.

    Yet, beneath this facade of normalcy, he needed... a break.

    The last few days of his life had the potential to change his fate entirely, but that did not make it any less exhausting.

    Deciding it would be wise to practice some meditation for a while, Miles settled himself back into the cavern, seating himself in the lotus position.

    He could almost instinctively sense the nature of his Mind World, and long story short, it was not good. The last thing he wished to grapple with right now was that.

    So, what Miles practiced was simple basic breathing, and while it didn¡¯t do much, it did help him make peace with everything.

    A few minutes later, feeling well enough now, Miles considered his next move.

    The Quest: Welcome to Hamelin had been given a time component of sorts, but it was also not that urgent.

    There was no need to rush in the search for¡­ ¡®Source Fulcrums¡¯ or whatever the hell he was supposed to ¡®purify¡¯.

    After everything with the Knight, Beast, and even Pack¨Cthat honestly sounded like the beginning of a bad joke from some folk tale¨Che needed a break.

    For as long as he needed, for as long as this alcove remained safe, Miles would make use of what peace he could have.

    Thus, with a focused inhale, Miles got to work.

    First thing¡¯s first, he needed to take stock of himself and his resources. To obtain a thorough understanding of his current state, his capabilities and skills, for even he wasn¡¯t sure what he was capable of after everything that had happened.

    So Miles did just that, calling upon the one thing that consistently presented his abilities in the most simplest of manners; the System Status.

    Except this time, it turned out it wasn''t so simple, and Miles could only gawk at the sight of the glitch ridden interface that flickered into existence before him.

    [User: Miles Lykaon (! Pending Reward Selection !)]

    [Current Form: Vawul|W?u?r?k?a?n?]

    [Vawulan Class: F?l?e?d?g?l?i?n?g?-P?r?i?n?c?e?l?i?n?g?(??) Lvl(?)] ?#!Error: Evolution Halted!#?

    [?W?u?r?k?a?n?(???)? ?C?l?a?s?s?:? ?Newborn(???)? ?L?v?l? ?(???)?]? U?n?a?bl?e ?to? ?Le?ve?l u?p?. Fo?r?m? Unlock Q?ue?s?t? ?In?c?om?p?l?ete??

    [Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 1| - Untrained] {+} Discipline Expansion Available. ?!New D?i?s?c?iplin?e?? ???Se?lec?tion? ?Halted!?

    [Vawul Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve further.]

    [HP(Health Points): 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP (Blood Points): 27/110]

    [?S?P(?S?p?i?r?i?t? P?o?i?n?t?s?)?:? 10/?1?0?]? | [?L?u?n?a? ?R?e?g?e?n?e?r?a?t?i?o?n?] | [?M?E? ?(?Mo?on?l?i?g?h?t? ?E?s?se?nc?e?)?:? ?0/?1?0?]?

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 10/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 17/100}

    [Current Quest: Lykaon Inheritance Trial #1 - Welcome to Hamelin]

    [Strength: 27]

    [Endurance: 29]

    [Agility: 28]

    [Intelligence: 64]

    [Wisdom: 40]

    [Influence: 5 (+500)]

    [Free Points: 10 (10 General)]

    [Skills: General - {Magicae Aspectus - Uncommon}, {Mind World - Rare}, {Nameless Movement Art - Unique}]

    Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}, {Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn) - Inferior}, {Sanguine Aspectus - Common}, {Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique}]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence) (50% Penalty in Accordance with FL-VV-5019)

    Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

    ??Newborn?? ?(?M?i?n?o?r? W?u?r?k?a?n? S?e?n?s?e?s)

    Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred}

    C?u?r?s?e?d??? {?F?i?r?s?t?:? ?M?i?n?o?r? ?H?u?n?g?e?r?}?

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    (Un)Balanced???

    Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed) | V?e?s?s?e?l? ?o?f? ?T?h?e ?L?u?p?i?n?e? ?S?o?u?l? (?S?e?a?l?e?d?)

    Last True Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    Message {+}

 CHAPTER 32: Glitched Part - 2

    Miles stared at the unrecognizable status before him, of black text upon white, colors shifting to and from the exact opposite, only to revert back again.

    Identical to the manner in which the Beast Within and the Balanced title had affected the system messages, the status was now riddled with glitches, leaving all manner of confusing squiggles and scratches.

    Miles let out a nervous breath, ¡®This¡­ isn¡¯t necessarily all bad, right? There is no way I broke the system permanently, right?¡¯

    Surely not.

    Confident in his assumption, Miles re-considered the situation.

    The fact that the System Status was glitching, was telling in and of itself.

    Glitching implied faults or errors, either due to unintended/unexpected actions and inputs to the system in question. But for there to be unexpected situations, the System had to have been operating under a set of fixed rules or accepted behavior. Which meant that the System he had assumed was omnipresent and omniscient, was¡­ actually not.

    At the very least, not in operation, for something was causing a situation the System was not prepared for and could not be handled by its basic rules of operation.

    The final result was this, glitches and errors.

    The earliest ¡®glitch¡¯ Miles had encountered was when he had exposed himself to the sunlight, when Sol¡¯s blood tax had been lessened by Haemomancy, or rather, the Self-Control it had stemmed from. There had been confusion about the name of the skill he had possessed, but that had not cause further errors, simply remaining as it was.

    The next had occurred due to the Beast Within, when it had been unsealed, manifesting over him to¨C

    Then, the most recent glitch had occurred when the same Beast had tricked him into choosing his Fledgling evolution, thus causing the presumed imbalance between Vawulan and Wurkan.

    The latter must have had a considerably greater effect, for that was what had led to the current state of his broken status. In hindsight, it was apparent that the core reason behind the most serious of these glitches was the Beast, the presumed unexpected system behavior simply being the side-effects of its actions.

    ¡®Why though? I believed the Beast Within was a consistent aspect in the Cursed title for all Vampires, assuming all Vawul have systems of course, but, if the mere presence of the Beast can so easily cause glitches...I must have missed something.¡¯

    Miles tapped his fingers upon the cavern floor, ¡®Either Vampires do not have such an aspect to their Curse, mine being unique, or there is something different about my Beast?¡¯

    He couldn¡¯t tell, for he had no idea about the status of other Vampires, but what he could tell was that he was conflicted.

    If any of these assumptions about System Inconsistency were actually true¡­

    The tap of nails against rock sped up.

    It was one thing to rely on an omnipotent system to gain power, but another thing entirely to put his fate in the hands of one prone to error, possibly created by someone or something that was¡­ more mundane.

    To be honest, there was a real possibility that the System was some manner of reality altering Fae Magic, given a seemingly logical facade in the form of a HUD.

    ''Unacceptable.''

    If that were truly the case, that would mean he was reliant on another for this power, a pawn in a game played by betters, but... it was entirely possible.

    ''Is an attribute enhancing, reality altering system truly that impossible? When the Fae facilitate magically enforced Oaths? When even the World Court use reality enforced Intellectual Property Mandates?''

    No, it was not impossible at all, for the extent of the abilities of the Fae was something many had attempted but failed to quantize.

    Feeling stiff from lying against rock, Miles rose from the cavern floor, dusted his pants, and began a slow pace around the area.

    ''Then again, if the Fae are truly the architects of the System, why had they not spontaneously leveled up and overwhelmed humanity by now? Why be satisfied by the current state of the cold fae-human war?''

    A welcome contradiction. So, perhaps it was not all the fae that had access, but only the Vawulan and possibly the Wurkan?

    A promising thought indeed, but one without evidence.

    At the very least, Miles could be confident that the megalithic corporations did not have System access, or, if they did, it was not with wide accessibility.

    How would he know?

    Because Miles was a corporate man himself, and he knew very well what he would be doing with his system access when things were right.

    Regardless, he heaved a sigh. Musing on the intricacies of the system only revealed more questions than answers, and there was little he could do beyond speculate.

    Thus, Miles wisely allowed those mysteries to remain mysteries, moving on to read through the System Status proper.

    ***

    Over the last few minutes of brisk pacing around the cave, Miles had gone over his new status.

    To be honest, it was almost as if the contents of two different statuses had been ham-fisted into a single screen.

    The current [Form] was supposed to be Vawulan, but while glitched out, it mentioned Wurkan as well.

    ¡®Does that imply I¡¯m in a sort of mixed form right now? A hybrid?¡¯

    Is that why he felt his heart beating again? The warmth in his body? Maybe even the new enhancements to the senses?

    Possible, and perhaps it was the same reason that had given him two different entries for [Class].

    The [Vawulan Class] was apparently questionably Fledgling-Princeling(?). The evolution was halted due to some error, and Miles was grateful.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what would be the result of completing the evolution, but knowing what he knew now of Balance, it would have left him unbalanced beyond saving.

    As for the glitch ridden [Wurkan(?) Class], it was¡­ Newborn? The very same he had had first as the Vawulan Class?

    It was interesting that the first class was identical for both forms, but this seemed functionally useless, for apparently the Wurkan Class could not be leveled, the cited reason being that the form unlock quest was incomplete.

    ¡®Well, that¡¯s unfortunate¡­¡¯

    If Miles intended to balance the Vawul and the Wurkao, leveling up the latter was the most obvious way of going about it. The source of the problem was the quest, and he found himself mentally calling out to it, instantly causing a familiar [Quests] screen to manifest before him.

    [Form Unlock Quest #2: Unavailable? Conditions not met.

    Objectives: Unknown.

    Rewards: Unlocks Wurkan - Base Form.]

    Miles could only huff at the sight. Seriously, how was he expected to maintain Balance, when one of the forms that were supposed to be balanced, couldn¡¯t even be accessed?

    With a deep calming breath, he released his emotions, and considered more pragmatic thought.

    According to what he had heard from Pack, killing whatever was ¡®corrupted¡¯ was acceptable, and would not support the growth of Vinasha, which presumably referred to the Vampire.

    That was good, but there had been no mention that it would level up the Werewolf either. Only something about it being Upatha who would reward the acts.

    To be fair, Pack had not directly referred to levels in any way, instead mentioning something about fortifying and strengthening the¡­ Lupine Soul?

    That had to be something to do with wolves, but would that alone be sufficient for balance?

    Miles could only hope it was.

    He rarely ever believed anything at face value, to say less of eerie wolves in unnatural caves, but he believed Pack. It was an almost instinctual trust, of knowing there had been no falsehoods stated.

    Miles should have been worried about mental manipulation, but he just knew that wasn¡¯t the case. Pack had not lied and his only hope at survival was somewhere here, in the Domain of this Doorway. Confident in his conclusion, he continued his perusal through the System Status.

    What came next was [Disciplines], revealing that Haemomancy was no longer at level 0 and had improved by one level. This had to be due to the actions of the Beast, for Miles himself had not done anything to warrant any improvement in the discipline.

    It was interesting to see the Beast¡¯s influence go beyond conflicting control, capable of netting benefits as well.

    Perhaps Miles had to reconsider whether his Curse was entirely detrimental. If nothing else, the firsthand experience of how the Beast had used his skills was something invaluable.

    The Beast was limited by the exact same skills, attributes and disciplines he had, and yet, it had done so, so much more. From the immense power gained with the use of Blood Burn of 20 BP, to manifesting blood weapons out of Haemomancy, there was so much to learn¡­

    But that would come later.

    [Disciplines] included another glitched out error message, mentioning that the new discipline selection was halted. ¡®A side-effect of the halted evolution?¡¯

    Miles was a bit displeased, as the new discipline was one of the primary reasons he had chosen Princeling in the first place but considering that a second discipline could potentially worsen the imbalance, it was difficult to be too unhappy.

    At least he had somehow earned a Discipline Expansion, which he also wasn¡¯t sure was entirely safe, so again, later.

    What came after were the even more intriguing Consumable Attributes.

    Almost analogous to HP and BP from the Vampiric side, there was now another set displayed here. Spirit Points (SP) and Moonlight Essence (ME) connected via Luna Regeneration.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡®Interesting¡­¡¯

    Although glitched out, Miles was sure these consumable attributes were related to the Werewolf. This was his first introduction to the apparently unique system of power the Wurkao used, but while he had some thoughts on what it might involve, he could not access any of it.

    It was like the proverbial fruit hanging from a branch, but just a bit too far out of reach, while still being close enough to tantalize and mesmerize with mouthwatering potential. But Miles knew to be patient. Assuming the Doorway Trial went well, he would soon be improving the Wurkao, re-establishing Balanced and potentially accessing these new attributes as well.

    He could be patient. Still, he made a mental note to re-conduct analysis of his physiology and faesiology, the first opportunity he got. If these attributes worked in any way similar to the theorized Blood Point energy of the Vampire, there may have been a drastic change to his physique.

    Moving on, Miles also noted the system status now displayed a new entry for [Current Quest]. Shifting his attention to the name of the quest, Welcome to Hamelin, re-summoned the quest description he had received prior. A useful feature.

    The Static Attributes had not been affected or changed in any way, excluding the increment of his Wisdom by the investment of 3 free points. Right, so as it turned out that had been the trigger for the mysterious Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance).

    To think that the skill was about investing the relevant free points gained from a blood source, into the Wisdom attribute to gain the memories and knowledge associated with it.

    Miles had to admit, it felt almost logical.

    Sure, he was reluctant to immerse himself in the foreign memories gained by the skill, but he had to admit, despite its perversity, the skill was rather¡­ overpowered.

    Not even the Delta tier Fae Ability of Psychometry, or Telepathy, which had none of the limitations of Blood Inheritance, was so thorough.

    Truly, the potential of this skill was infinite, for theoretically he could learn from anything and anyone, steal experience and master every technique, all with relative ease.

    With the memories of Knight Xavier alone, Miles now had a pool of life experience to draw upon, and if he was willing to risk the potential identity loss, there would be so much to learn.

    But he wasn¡¯t willing to, not yet.

    Eager to move on from the topic, Miles shifted his attention to [Skills], noting those that had been newly added by no means of his own.

    It was about time he gave the skills a proper testing.

    The first to capture his attention was under the Haemomancy category. It was the Common skill Sanguine Aspectus, once again in Latin for some reason. Directly translated, the skill meant something along the lines of the appearance of blood, but¡­

    Unlike Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn) Miles had not gained or used this skill willfully. It had been unlocked due to the actions of the Beast, almost forcibly.

    Blood Burn had come with a mental toggle of sorts and that had been it. No understanding, no impression of the skill itself, just a big button in his mind, to turn on and off at will.

    Sanguine Aspectus was different, for it was much less artificial. In addition to the presence of a new, different button, it also included a certain level of understanding about the skill itself.

    Miles immersed himself in the strange knowledge, allowing it all to wash over him.

    This wasn¡¯t factual, only instinctual, but as suggested by it, he focused upon his eyes. He could almost visualize his eyeballs, feel the nerves and the blood vessels connected to it, pulsing with blood, and¡­

    Miles felt the button toggle to another state, and his vision shifted.

    From then on, all he could see was a world of crimson red, everything familiar yet painted in shades of red, as if his eyes were tainted by the same color. It was the exact same skill he had experienced in his fight with the Knight.

    But, when his gaze shifted beyond the immediate vicinity, what he witnessed as present in all directions around him, it caused him to freeze.

    A scattering of red splotches, of moving silhouettes with unusual figures. The majority were gnomish in scale, but considerably more bestial.

    Sporadic in size and distribution, diminutive and rarer towards some directions, but larger and common to the point of overpopulation in most others.

    Miles¡¯ gaze wavered over one in particular, the largest of those he could discern. Perhaps the same height as himself.

    He was utterly enraptured by the sight, the glowing web of red tendrils over its body, blood vessels pulsing with the nectar of life, a diamond-like object upon its chest, a heart beating with vitality.

    Even as a familiar thirst, and an unfamiliar hunger reared its head, spurred on by the sight of those which were capable of satisfying him, Miles couldn¡¯t help but take a step back in shock.

    If the knowledge and memory from Sanguine Aspectus were any reminder, these were living, blooded creatures, and there were literally hundreds of them.

    ***

    The revelation that he was completely surrounded by hundreds of unknown creatures was utterly unsettling, but after a few minutes of silent, nerve-wracking staring, expecting them to notice his presence and start rushing over, well¡­ nothing happened.

    Miles had only allowed himself to relax after he confirmed that they were truly unaware of his presence, but he continued to observe.

    It was during this period, that for a short moment, he set the eyes of Sanguine Aspectus upon himself.

    As expected, what Miles found was a human-shaped silhouette, the lattice of root-like tendrils being of a markedly brighter red compared to the creatures that surrounded him.

    It was uncanny how similar this sight was to the FRI scans from Haruka¡¯s ancient Lefayescan.

    With Sanguine Aspectus alone, Miles couldn¡¯t note his nervous system and nerves, but he could see the network of veins and arteries of blood, and unlike a static FRI, it wasn¡¯t frozen mid-pulse.

    Even as he watched, the blood vessels pulsed in tandem to his now un-undead, barely beating heart. This had to be the Blood Point energy they had theorized was the lifeline of the Vampiric Faesiology.

    However, unlike the blooded creatures with gleaming, shining diamonds upon their chests, Miles¡¯ was considerably dulled. Where his ¡®heart¡¯ crystal should have been, there was a faded, barely flickering stone. This slight variance seemed to represent the weak beating of his heart, suggesting that prior to his most recent change, it may have been entirely dark and dead. Perhaps identical to what he had seen in the FRI.

    Miles considered this diamond-like structure with great interest, for it was not something that had been observed anywhere, not even in FRIs.

    Perhaps since he had instinctively known what these crystals were, Miles could make out the familiar visage of a human heart, but otherwise, it really did seem like a diamond stuck inside the chest.

    His gaze returned to the creatures that surrounded him. This was the same for them as well, though the size varied with the scale of their bodies.

    For a short while, Miles continued to test the skill, mostly observing the strange blobs of blood moving around in seemingly sporadic patterns, occasionally huddling together, occasionally separating, even leaving the range of his skill.

    Miles tried to discern the nature of the creatures, but the vague silhouettes had him guessing from anything that were small quadrupedal goblins to lean, bipedal orcs.

    ¡®Not all of them can be goblins, some of them are too small! That one barely reaches my ankle! And since quite a few of them are walking on two legs, I don¡¯t believe they are wolves or whatever was in Pack¡¯s cavern either¡­¡¯

    Further observation had revealed that the majority of these creatures tended to avoid the area he was in, and his hallway. The closest that had come was a small foot sized creature and even then, it had zipped through the hallway faster than Miles could move to the crack in the wall to catch sight of it.

    Soon enough Miles was confident about his safety within the cavern, and desensitized to the presence of the creatures.

    Feeling considerably more relaxed, he fell into contemplative thought.

    It was very possible that whatever these creatures were, they had something to do with his Quest.

    This was good, because until now, he had not had the first clue on how to proceed. However, their close proximity did make the alcove feel less safe than his initial impression, for if he got trapped in here with hundreds attacking through the hole in the wall, he would be trapped, like a rat in a wall. But the vision gleaned from Sanguine Aspectus allowed him to afford that risk.

    Any mass mobilization to siege his little alcove would not go unnoticed.

    Miles considered the prowess of this new skill, ¡®Sanguine is blood, so that is what I see? The presence of blood?¡¯

    To be more descriptive, while the skill was active, he could still see the cavern walls and objects around him, but all obstacles were transparent to anything that carried blood, allowing sight of the presence of blooded creatures regardless of obstructions to his vision.

    In fact, Miles had attempted to cover his eyes with his hands, and still¡­

    Well, his own blood glowing brighter than any present outside had made it quite difficult to see, but he could still barely make them out. It was the same for the Cold Iron walls, the absolute zero resonant frequency seemingly unable to affect the supernatural skill in any way.

    Suffice to say, Sanguine Aspectus was a skill that highlighted blood, like one would expect thermal vision would operate. Its range was about a thousand meters, forming a circle of the same radius with himself as the center.

    There was some cost to its use, a barely noticeable fatigue to his mind, and a minor consumption of blood points to fuel the skill.

    That was it, for Miles had been observing the creatures around him for nearly an hour now, and still, the Blood Point cost had been negligible to the point it had not even been considered by the system yet. In other words, he could afford to keep the skill activated for a few days at least. Overall, the skill was bound to be useful, for even thermal goggles and most other observation tech could be obstructed.

    With that, Miles decided to dub the skill as Blood Vision.

    The name might not get any awards, but he liked it. Simple and straight to the point.

    The shift in language was displayed in the status itself, proving his translation acceptable, and Miles moved onto the next skill.

    In the category of General, was the uncommon Magicae Aspectus, and once again he considered the Latin. It was in line with the previous skill, now referring to the appearance of magic, and from what he remembered of using this skill, the translation made some sense.

    When the Beast had unlocked Magicae Aspectus, Miles remembered seeing the blue thread joining Xavier¡¯s Riyan Sun, to the Marionette Core that had been within him.

    In a way he had seen the appearance of ¡®magic¡¯.

    ''But was that really magic? Was it not a fae ability?''

    To be fair, most fae abilities could very well be considered ¡®magic¡¯, but considering they originated from FaeTech¡¯s Serums, they also had a primarily scientific source.

    According to the system notification that Miles had received back then, even Marionette Core was supposed to be an expansion of Telekinesis, merely trained and evolved in line with ¡®the world behind the veil¡¯.

    Perhaps being involved with the Veil was the requirement for something to be considered ¡®magic¡¯?

    Then again, that definition would mean that Zhan Shen¡¯s Nameless Movement Art was ¡®magic¡¯ as well.

    Which was also entirely possible, considering even Miles who had practiced that movement art for years, had not the faintest clue on how the skill actually worked.

    Only problem was, with what he had learned from Pack, Miles was fairly sure the ¡®Veil¡¯ was connected to Doorways in some way. He was probably on the other side of the Veil right now, but then¡­ what did it mean to train and evolve in line with it?

    Miles had no idea.

    A collection of memories he had been trying to ignore responded, letting him know there was some information with regards to this question, in the memories of Xavier¡¯s life¡­

    Miles really didn¡¯t want to, but he couldn¡¯t hold back the curiosity. For a short instant, he performed a very minimal recalling.

    Pulling back out of the foreign memories as fast as he could, what he had managed to learn was disappointingly minimal.

    All that Xavier had done to achieve Marionette Core was practice general telekinesis alongside Primeval Riyan meditation, eventually managing to combine the two, the science of Fae abilities with something far less logical.

    ¡®Then does that mean the Riyan Meditation is something that is practiced in ¡®line with the veil¡¯? Whatever that''s supposed to mean?¡¯

    It didn¡¯t make sense though, considering his earlier assumption that the Veil was a separator of sorts between Doorway Domains and true reality.

    He could try the strange meditation himself some other time, but again it would be another thing for later.

    In the end, these weren''t questions he could easily find answers to, and Miles decided to just take Magicae Aspectus for a whirl.

    Just like before, he searched for the skill¡¯s inherent knowledge¡­ when he realized there weren¡¯t any.

    Sanguine Aspectus may have come with a toggle as well as general information, but this had none of that. It just was.

    It had felt so natural he hadn¡¯t even noticed the absence.

    Come to think of it, even when Miles had witnessed the thread of the Marionette Core, he hadn¡¯t learned anything new about the skill, he had simply seen.

    ¡®The skill unlock notification mentioned something about achieving true sight, but beyond that, I know nothing more about the skill.¡¯

    Even by just comparing the two new skills in his mind, despite the similarity in their Latin terminology, Magicae Aspectus felt quite distinct from Blood Vision.

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure what to do with this skill now, for he didn¡¯t seem to be able to activate it either. So, in the end, he simply settled down on the name Magic Sight.

    The translation was accepted by the system, confirming that his understanding of the skill wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. Miles was just about to move on, when a thought occurred to him.

    He had taken the spontaneous manifestation of knowledge and thoughts for granted, ignoring the mental changes that had allowed him to use these skills rather carelessly.

    Mental manipulation by the system, while it was entirely beneficial for him right now¡­

    ¡®Could the System ever do more than this? Remove memory? Perhaps even alter?¡¯

    It wasn¡¯t only skills, he had the memories of the dead Knight welded into his mind as well, and despite his best attempts to ignore that, it was there.

    Then again, system level mental interference may be the last thing he should be worrying about, when he had the ticking time bomb that was the Beast sealed somewhere inside of him, capable of controlling his body, and even the system in his stead, to some extent.

    Miles pulled a hand through his hair.

    Truly, nothing beneficial ever came without strings attached.

    He knew very well the value of data, inadvertently given by loyal customers who believed it was all harmless, a commodity that every corporation gathered, analyzed and sold, even weaponized if needed.

    There was no reason to give the System the benefit of the doubt, when it had the capability to do much worse.

    Maybe Miles was worrying excessively about this, but he would be damned if he would allow himself to get caught unprepared ever again.

    He had only just started improving upon the Mind World meditation, and Zhan Shen had assured him the technique could help him control and rein in the Beast. Perhaps it could do the same about System Interference?

    Maybe, but even if not, when Miles got back to reality outside this doorway, he could look into further measures. He had the resources to afford it.

    For just a moment, his gaze fell upon the ring on his hand, his fingers tracing the silver like metal and the engraving of the visage of a wolf.

    Since the Lykaon Ring had not reacted, he didn¡¯t believe the mental tampering was substantial or intrusive, which would have to be good enough for now.

    On that topic, Miles paused his perusal through the system status for a minor divergence. ¡°Cadmus, you there?¡±

 CHAPTER 33: Glitched Part - 3

    From the ancestral Lykaon records, Miles knew that the ring was functional in most Doorways. This time, as it turned out¡­

    ¡°AFFIRMATIVE. ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE DESIGNATION: CADMUS, PRESENT,¡± answered a familiar mechanical voice, faintly echoing through the cavern.

    Cadmus¡¯ core was within his ring, meaning that the AI would be universally accessible, well, barring the strangest of Doorways that could render certain tech mute. Though the result was not entirely surprising, a smile tugged at the corners of Miles'' lips.

    Still, despite the presence of Cadmus, the brunt of the Lykaon Ring¡¯s functionality would be reduced due to its inability to access their enterprise servers from within a Doorway. And just in case, Miles posed the query, ¡°Cadmus, traceroute Lykaon Network.¡±

    The wolfen eyes of the ring came to life, blinking progressively. ¡°...TRACING¡­ ATTEMPTING TO PING SATELLITE: LYKAON 1....¡±

    The ring flashed, and a small, rectangular projection of text manifested over it, the network trace continuing in the background despite it.

    ¡°NOTE: ABSOLUTE-ZERO ENERGY FREQUENCY DETECTED. ALPHA RING HOLDER IS POSSIBLY PRESENT IN THE VICINITY OF HIGH COLD IRON PRESENCE, REDUCING OVERALL NETWORK TRANSMISSION BY 15%.¡±

    Miles¡¯ eyes narrowed, shifting to the cold iron walls, and then towards the cavern around him.

    If the presence of cold iron was ¡®high¡¯, enough to even effect the Lykaon ring, there had to be a much larger deposit of the metal than that was present in the obvious walls.

    Miles could not discern the presence of any unusual elements in the cavern rock, but it was entirely possible the ore was hidden deeper within. His newfound sense of smell had not detected anything either, which was reasonable for not even his presumably lupine olfactory senses could be expected to detect the often-non-existent scent of iron.

    Regardless, the absolute zero frequency solved the mystery regarding the rarity of those strange, blooded creatures in the surroundings of his area. They were probably averse to the frequency of the cold iron.

    Miles considered his fortune at having ended up here, in this exact cave, in a region where those creatures were seldom present.

    Luck. Of course that was what it had to be.

    Definitely not anything orchestrated by the two or more wolves referred to as Pack, the supposed vassal owners of this Doorway''s Domain.

    Miles was distracted from his musings as the ring flickered, and Cadmus presented the results. ¡°¡­TRACEROUTE FAILED, LYKAON NETWORK ACCESS: NEGATIVE¡­¡±

    He nodded, that was more or less as he had expected. There was just something about being in the different reality of a Doorway that tampered with communication transmissions. It would indeed be impossible for him to access the Lykaon Servers¡­ ¡°ERROR: ALPHA RING AUTHORIZATION FAILURE. LYKAON NETWORK ACCESS DENIED.¡±

    ¡®What?¡¯ Miles froze, blinking in confusion.

    Finally, he posed a question, ¡°Cadmus, do you mean to say that you are capable of detecting and connecting to the Network, but you are not being authorized?¡±

    ¡°AFFIRMATIVE.¡±

    Miles frowned. That was unexpected.

    He had never encountered any mentions of the Lykaon Network being accessible from within a Doorway¡¯s domain. Nor had he ever experienced network authorization failures with the alpha ring.

    ¡®Maybe this has something to do with the nature of this Doorway? Could it be that the Lykaon Inheritance Trial is somehow... allowing access to the Lykaon Network?¡¯

    Even Miles felt that was a stretch of a conclusion, ¡®What was that about an authorization failure then?¡¯

    Well, there were a few possibilities he could think of.

    One, was data corruption. That some effect from the Doorway distorted the authorization tokens transmitted from his ring, incorrect by the time they reached the Lykaon Network.

    Possible, but Miles didn¡¯t think that was it. It should have been impossible to connect to the Lykaon Network in the first place.

    Second was that he was in fact no longer authorized to access the Lykaon Network. And well, nothing short of his blasted uncle getting unanimous agreement from the Board to renounce his Network Access could have caused that. As for the chances of that being the actual case, considering that Miles still had multiple allies on the board, it was absolutely implausible.

    Curious, Miles spent a near half an hour of tinkering and prompting Cadmus to perform varied tests, where he found¡­. absolutely nothing.

    The result was always the same. The network was reachable, but authorization failed, and his access was denied.

    Miles let out a disgruntled breath. Feeling a bit stiff, he shimmied around a bit, making himself more comfortable in his impromptu resting position against the rather sharp and uncomfortable rocky wall. Eventually, he found a satisfactory posture, and by then, he had made his peace with the unsolved mystery, returning his attention back to the system status.

    What came next were the [Titles].

    The first that caught Miles¡¯ attention was one that brought a sour taste to his mouth. The problematically named, Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries title had become worse, now even mentioning that damned World Court agreement.

    FL-VV-5019, acronym for FaeTech Lykaon -Vitruvian Venture-5019.

    Signed in the year 5019, when Miles had been a mere teenager, when he had been left with little choice but to have Lykaon Industries join the loose amalgamation of corporate entities under the singular umbrella of FaeTech.

    The Vitruvian Venture was an ambitious project. One that was possible only for those rare few Conglomerates on the scale of FaeTech. Even then, it still seemed like a pipe dream.

    The motto was literally ¡®Towards perfection¡¯. To be united in intent, purpose and leadership, to form a global monopoly on anything and everything, the Vitruvian Venture would bring all business entities in existence under the glorious banner of Andre Da Vinci, ultimately forming the ''perfect corporation''.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Entry was not limited to those corporations that struggled like Lykaon Industries had, for many joined just for the benefits offered. Wealth, power, nobility all within the walls of Ideal City, the City State centered around FaeTech, could be yours to take and keep at the cost of corporate independence.

    Many did not mind it, for the Vitruvian Venture was generally mutually beneficial. It promoted ¡®healthy¡¯ competition, ensuring that member corporate wars were dampened to a minimum. It granted access to a world-wide network of infrastructure and services, and even Fae Serum ordering priority, all for the small, small cost of a percentage of your annual profit.

    To Miles however, that sounded far from ideal. It was not even a pipe dream, but a nightmare of organized authoritative control that would ruin the imperfect, yet beautiful balance of a market with competing corporations.

    Unfortunately, it was too late for him. The only thing that had kept him sane was the fact that the Vitruvian Overseers were rather hands off in their administration. Well, besides the enforcement of certain rules and regulations, not unlike the one he had been forced to bend the knee to, the essential requirement of 1000 Faetality to rise to the position of CEO.

    Miles had often wondered about what he could have done instead, whether he could have ensured the survival of Lykaon Industries while still maintaining industrial autonomy, but¡­ Miles also knew he couldn¡¯t have guaranteed it. That was the only reason he did not spurn the weakness of his past decision, because at the end of the day even if it had been at a cost, he had managed to keep his business afloat.

    Shaking his head clear of irreverent thoughts, Miles returned his attention to the title, or more specifically, the novel text besides it.

    Apparently, in accordance with the agreement FL-VV-5019, he was losing 50% of his Influence?

    ¡®When on earth did I sign an agreement that would offer up half my Influence Attribute? Forget that, is it even possible to transfer attributes through Fae Agreements?!¡¯

    That¡­ Miles didn¡¯t know.

    It was unheard of for fae serums granted attribute enhancements and it enhanced you. There was no known way of transferring used attributes from a person to another.

    Then again, considering that Miles had just recently gained Blood Sourced attribute points, presumably taken from the Knight''s blood, he could not say this was impossible either. But even if it were possible, when had he ever agreed to such a thing?

    Miles and his legal team had gone over the documents to the Vitruvian Venture several times, and he could guarantee he had not come across such a clause.

    But the most perplexing question was, why would the behemoth that was FaeTech be wasting their time on Influence of all attributes? Why not literally anything else?

    Influence was an attribute that enhanced charisma and to some extent your impressions upon others. Some corporate types considered it to be a useful attribute, but beyond that, it really was not.

    So why was it that according to his system status, FaeTech was leeching 50% of his?

    Miles had a startling thought.

    He could still remember those few moments where he had momentarily possessed an influence attribute in the triple digits. It had been a sense of confused clarity, of being lost in his own mind, of seeing and feeling, no, knowing things that he could not have known. It had been... insightful hallucinations, a sense of having control over something he should not have had.

    To this moment he did not understand what that experience had been, but that was definitely not what was expected of Influence.

    Miles could not help but suck in a quick breath.

    Influence happened to be the only attribute that could not be measured by Fae Scans. Serums for the attribute were also rare, not due to high demand but because there was such little demand in the first place. Could it be¡­ that Influence was more than the attribute the general public thought it was?

    It was a mind-blowing revelation, for everything he knew pointed to the contrary. Leaning his head upon the cavern wall, Miles pondered deeply.

    He considered the moment the title Discredited Heir of the Lykaon Industries had actually come into effect, when he had been given that sudden boost of +500 to the Influence Attribute.

    The title had come into effect mere moments after Haruka had recognized who he was. Beyond the fact that he was a random corpo and that he was Miles Lykaon.

    ¡®Could it be that for this title to activate, people must know who I am? An annoying limitation, but I suppose it makes sense considering the actual name of the title¡­¡¯

    That effect of +500 could no longer been on his system status, and had long since dissipated. This meant that if he wanted to experiment with his Influence theory using the title, he would first have to encounter other people. In the end, all of this was just another addition to his growing list of mysteries to experiment and uncover, and Miles moved on.

    Next came two actually new titles, both seemingly associated with Werewolves.

    Newborn(?) was an interesting title, for it was named identical to the what the Vawul class had been, besides the question mark at least. It supposedly granted minor Wurkan senses, which may or may not explain his sudden heightened sense of smell. Despite the repetition, Miles would not complain about more power.

    The Cursed? title was also repeated, but this was one he would have preferred to not have. He was not looking forward to more debilitating status effects. Its sole contents, {Minor Hunger} did not bode well, especially if it was anything similar to {Minor Thirst} had been. Thankfully for now, Miles felt neither hungry nor thirsty at least not to an uncontrollable level.

    Another change in the titles though not an entirely different one was, Vessel of the Lupine Soul (Sealed) almost placed in line with Vessel of the Beast Within (Sealed) title.

    ¡®Lupine Soul¡­ That¡¯s what Pack mentioned would be strengthened by killing those that were corrupted, right?¡¯

    Yet, the synonymity of those two titles did not bode well either. If there was supposed to be another creature inside of him, akin to the Beast, Miles had no idea he could survive. He had barely made it through the unsealing of one.

    Unfortunately, the Lupine Soul also seemed to be the crux to re-achieving balance without leveling up, so he would have to make his peace with the risk. So, all he could do was determine himself to never put himself in circumstances that would have either any title unsealed again.

    That was the end of the [Titles] and his perusal through the System Status, but what Miles found at the end was another newer entry. It was simple and direct, a single word, Message, alongside an intractable {+}. His intent caused it to expand, forming a transparent screen of white text.

    Ding!

    [You have received a message, titled: Evening the Odds.]

    Do you wish to read? (Yes/No)]

    Puzzled yet curious, Miles chose the affirmative. It was only a message after all, so why would he refuse? Instantly, the notification blinked, and expanded even further to from the message in question.

    [For the eyes of the Last True Son of Lykaon only,

    Refrain from expanding your fields of Discipline.

    As for the Reward of Blood, we suggest you choose something that will help you Detect.

    Yours in Spirit, Pack.]

 CHAPTER 34: Detect

    Miles had barely finished reading the impromptu message when suddenly, with no thought or intention on his part, the message flickered and vanished away.

    He leapt up from the cavern floor in confused surprise, trying to find the Message again but¡­ the system status had changed, and that entire entry was missing.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    Pushing a hand through his hair, Miles tried to make sense of what had happened, ¡®That was a message from Pack?¡¯

    He began to pace around the small space once more, the action allowing a level of better focus. ¡®But why¡­?¡¯

    The title of Evening the Odds suggested that something more, besides him being (Un)Balanced, was also lopsided and one-sided. Presumably, the trial or the state of this Doorway?

    Consequently, if that message alone could even those odds, it was obvious there was something he was expected to learn from it.

    Miles had ignored the Discipline Expansion and the Pending Reward Selection of the system status so far. That was partly because he wanted the best left for last, but also partly because he was unsure if he could afford to ¡®strengthen¡¯ the Vampiric aspect any further, when he was already suffering the consequences of failing to maintain balance.

    The message seemed to speak on the topic, but Miles was sincerely unimpressed by the lack of subtlety shown.

    Do not do the Discipline Expansion. For the Blood Inheritance Reward, choose Detect.

    An extremely obvious suggestion.

    While Miles wasn¡¯t entirely trusting of either Pack or the phantom message, he would consider it either way.

    He had been planning to forgo both rewards until he was confident that he could handle the repercussions, but if according to this message he could have the latter, he would.

    Blind trust was a folly, but he felt he could trust the contents of the message.

    Miles cast a wary glance at the hundreds of creatures scuttering about, their blooded silhouettes riling up a desire he hoped he would not have to satisfy.

    Considering the unknown trial that lay ahead of him, just one additional edge could mean a difference between life and death.

    So, he decided to take the leap of faith, valuing his instinct over logic. Well, that and the allure of new skills.

    A familiar Ding! and the system screen opened.

    ||Blood Inheritance Rewards||

    [The Vawulan may choose any one of the following, each adapted from that which was inherited by the blood of the consumed.

    General Skill: (Telekinesis - Inferior) {+}

    OR

    Augur (Limited Discipline) Skill: (Detect - Uncommon) {+}]

    Yes, the choice had been between Telekinesis and Detect.

    To be honest, Miles didn¡¯t know what Pack was worried about, to the point that they had sent a message.

    Sure, there may have been a possibility of him considering discipline expansion, but the chances of him choosing an inferior skill over an uncommon was next to null.

    Not to mention the fact that Telekinesis was an extremely common fae ability, one that he could easily afford in the form of a serum. Even if Xavier had gone and made Marionette Core out of it, that didn¡¯t change the fact that the ¡®base¡¯ he had had to work with was absolute garbage.

    It was true that Telekinesis was a multi-purpose skill that could be quite useful in his current situation, but Miles was not going to be making permanent life-altering decisions based on his presence within a trial Doorway.

    Besides, the skill Detect even mentioned another Discipline. It was obviously the better choice.

    Ding!

    [You have unlocked Skill: |Augur (Limited Discipline) | - {Detect - Uncommon}]

    Miles was far more familiar with the process of learning skills now, and this one manifested in an almost identical fashion. It once again appeared within the reach of his mind, forming into another tangible yet mental button. He breathed deeply and examined himself, but just like before, he found nothing wrong¨C

    Akin to a strike of lightning, an agonizing current sparked through spine, bone and blood and he fell onto his knees, barely stopping himself from collapsing onto the rocky floor.

    [Title: (Un)Balanced??? reacts.]

    Miles choked, heaving in an attempt to get something stuck in his throat, but it was dry. This agony inducing gagging repeated in vain. It was an absolutely terrible, seemingly endless few minutes, until finally the substance stuck in his throat was vomited out, a ball of congealed black ichor that splattered onto the floor.

    Instantly the venomous lightning crackling in his nerves dissipated.

    Relief.

    Pure, uncut relief injected directly into his veins.

    It was as if a storm had come and passed, through him, finally leaving everything to recover.

    If it wasn¡¯t for the dark tar he had puked out, Miles had half a thought to collapse and relax on the floor again. Instead, he slowly pushed himself up, rising to his feet, and Miles could swear, he actually¡­ felt better.

    ¡°Ugh.¡±

    A far too deep breath, and his newly enhanced olfactory senses reeled at the gnarly stench of the ichor he had just vomited out.

    Miles hurried to move away, careful to not touch any of it, but even as he did so, he could not help but flex his muscles, testing his body.

    It really did feel different, as if an unseen wrongness had gone away, or rather, been reduced.

    He may have been free of pain before, but there had been an underlying sense of trepidation, as if he were on the verge of falling off a metaphorical cliff. Now, Miles could feel that he had taken several steps back.

    ''Just from the act of unlocking Detect? But why? ...The source of the skill?''

    A skill that came from Devil Seeking, one that was built against the Vawul and lessened his (un)balance.

    Maybe that was it.

    Or it was a trick of his mind, simply borne of the vanishing of a sudden onset of pain.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Miles heaved out a heavy breath. While the skill may have had a probable benefit, it had also been torturous.

    His eye fell upon the strange yet familiar tar-like substance that he seemed to be throwing up whenever the Balanced title was not¡­ well, balanced.

    An inadvertent shiver caused him to accidentally taste his mouth, and he started to gag again, that mild touch tasting like death liquified.

    Miles began to spit in an attempt to clear the taste.

    It didn¡¯t help.

    ¡®Gah, I need to rinse my mouth with a grenade or something.¡¯

    Too bad he couldn¡¯t.

    Eager to distract himself, Miles decided it was time to experiment with the new skill. To that effect, he settled himself in that corner of the cavern, as far away from the black ichor as he could be, while also trying his best to not breath too deep.

    Sensing the presence of the skill within his mind just like before, he followed the instinctual pull and¡­ pressed.

    Miles was tense, waiting for more¨Cbut nothing happened.

    ¡®Huh? The skill is named Detect. But what is it supposed to detect?¡¯

    Following that line of thought, Miles glanced at the cavern wall, and pressed the skill to activate again.

    Nothing.

    He shifted his gaze to the blobs of blood, the strange creatures that he could see through the walls when he maintained Blood Vision.

    No reaction.

    Narrowing his eyes, Miles shifted his gazes towards his hand, at the Lykaon Ring. It was almost pitch-black inside the cave, but his enhanced vision and the shades of red of Sanguine Aspectus allowed him to see well enough.

    Miles pressed upon the skill again, and finally, there was an effect. The very air just a bit above the ring began to shimmer, and from it, formed a line of glowing words.

    [Insignia Ring of the Heir - House of Lykaon - Unique]

    Miles¡¯ eyes widened. ¡®Is Detect supposed to be an identification skill of some sort?¡¯

    The information revealed was limited, but still, this skill would be extremely helpful with the task at hand, and even beyond this trial.

    It seemed Pack''s message had led to some good. Perhaps the agony had been worth it.

    The prowess of Detect was also good enough intention to justify not performing the Discipline Expansion as advised in the message.

    But despite the promising discovery, Miles found himself letting out a wavering breath. He grit his teeth and stood up once more.

    Now that he was done with the System analysis, yes, he was done, it was time to consider inventory. Detect could be experimented with at the same time.

    Again, his hands shivered for a moment, but Miles formed fists out of them.

    Yes, it would be two birds with one stone.

    ***

    A few minutes of focused breathing later, Miles was glancing down at himself, and his suit lined with an ogre¡¯s skin. Well besides the area where he had been pierced through the shoulder. It too had resulted in a response from the skill.

    [Suit - Rumple and Bertrada Bespoke Original - Rare]

    Miles had to give the skill, despite its obvious limitations, credit where credit was due. Of course, his clothing would be classified as rare, what else could it be? The fact that the skill focused on the tailor rather than the effects was interesting, but he didn¡¯t fault the skill.

    It was also true that it was a suit, and not armor. Even with utility features such as self-repairing and self-cleansing, this suit was not one meant for battle. It was casual clothing meant to be classy first, and effective second.

    Had Miles had the slightest clue he would be stuck inside a potentially dangerous Doorway, he would have placed an express order for proper battle-ready armor, but such was the way of life. Unexpected events came when they were least expected.

    At least, he had Zhan Shen¡¯s Caucon.

    Miles analyzed the compact yet heavy weapon, currently deactivated, pulled from the confines of his suit.

    [Tech Pistol - Caucon - Lykaon Armament 9 - Epic]

    He couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at the rarity of the weapon.

    Sure, the Caucon was one of the best hand-held weapons designed and manufactured using proprietary technology that was several decades away from being actually commercially viable.

    Sure, it was one of his mother¡¯s last original forging designs, but¡­ if it were Epic that meant this pistol was at the same level that Princeling was among the evolutionary classes!

    More than slightly impressed, Miles unloaded its magazine, still carrying fourteen out of sixteen explosive rounds. He also had another backup magazine.

    That was thirty confirmed kill shots for anything that did not have a defense beyond the Epsilon tier, assuming he could hit it of course.

    That was all well and good, but there were some limitations to the use of the Caucon though. The gun was extremely loud.

    Where Miles was right now, surrounded by hordes of unknown creatures, whenever it was preferred to remain discrete, this was not a wise weapon to use.

    The Caucon would have to be a final reserve, to go in for the kill, or a tool for a last stand when his back was to the wall.

    Melee weaponry was something Miles was drawing short of, for all he had were his fists. He did have the infernal steel tips on his boots which could be good enough to kill but they had their own limits. In its current form at least...

    [Combat Boots - Infernal - Uncommon]

    Miles eyed the walls of the cavern, even searching the floor in the vicinity. There were some rocks, that could do well enough as a weapon, maybe? He would do a thorough search later.

    Well, besides that, he didn¡¯t have anything much of note.

    [Gloves - Goblin Leather - Common]

    [Hat - Inferior]

    Though Miles had tried to refuse the objectively inferior headwear, Zhan Shen had made him keep the hat on his person after their experimentation with the sun. Perhaps it had been for the best.

    At the end of all that, barring the ineffectiveness of the detection skill on the cavern and the cold iron walls, there was one other thing he had not tested the skill on.

    The black ichor he had vomited out, barely managed to, under--

    It actually returned a result.

    [???A???b???e???#r???a???t???i???#n???]???

    Seemed anything that had anything to do with the (Un)Balanced title were destined to be glitched. It was a nonsensical bunch of symbols that made little sense, and Miles had no idea what to do with it.

    As wise men should with problems beyond their current scope, he decided to ignore it.

    With that, Miles had experimented thoroughly with the new skill Detect.

    He had successfully confirmed that the skill only identified single and directly observable items. It failed when the expanse of the item was too large, like walls or the cavern rock. He had tested on random shards of stone and cold iron, and that had worked well enough.

    Miles presumed the skill would work on living creatures, but that remained to be seen for it hadn¡¯t worked when he had tried it on himself as a whole.

    Regardless, he was done with his testing, and that was about the extent of his inventory as well.

    He carried little when he was on the move, for even in the case that Zhan Shen was not present, the Lykaon Ring could deliver anything he would need through courier or robot. Well, when he did not have to worry about being discreet or was not trapped inside a Doorway.

    On that note, it truly was a pity that the ring while still functional, had no access to the Lykaon Network. It would have been a formidable tool, even beyond the Caucon, as it would have allowed access to a wide variety of enchantment frame algorithms.

    But¡­ the Lykaon Ring was not that simple, for while its make was not entirely technological, it did come with a cache memory of sorts.

    Miles lifted the ring to his eye level, ¡°Cadmus, what enchantments do you have cached for offline access?¡±

    He already knew the most recent two, but prior to them, honestly it had been some time since he had used the ring for enchantments¡­

    ¡°CACHED ENCHANTMENT FRAMES AVAILABLE - 3

    ENCHANTMENT FRAME #1: Absolute Zero Fae Resonance - Fae Energy Wave Signature of Cold Iron.

    ENCHANTMENT FRAME #2: Obliviation (Identity Distortion, Presence Scrub) - Traced from the Amathaka Fairy.

    ENCHANTMENT FRAME #3: Burning Touch - Traced from the Gini Salamander.¡±

    Ah. Well, that seemed about right.

    The most recent enchantment frames had been used in just the last few days. The final was an industrial grade heating enchantment, one that had been used over a week ago, to¡­ warm up some tea.

    Was it Miles¡¯ fault that he was rarely in combat scenarios besides sparring?

    Then again, even if he had something better, the level and capacity of enchantments usable by the Lykaon Ring were greatly limited by size constraints and energy capacity.

    While an enchantment frame like the Ghost Blade would have been useful, it would also mean five minutes of a manifested blade capable of cutting through anything, at the cost of emptying all of the Lykaon Ring¡¯s reserved energy.

    At least Burning Touch should run, even if left continuously activated, for a few months. While it was not fast enough for combat use, there were a few useful applications he could think of.

    Still, it would be wise to ration the Lykaon Ring¡¯s energy, considering he had no idea how long it would be before he would be capable of charging again. On that topic, a quick inquiry confirmed that Cadmus had shifted to energy saving mode the moment Lykaon Network Connection had been lost.

    With that, Miles was fully done going over his inventory and capabilities, covering everything he could use. Originally his plan would have been to bunker down in the cave for a while and practice all the old and new skills, before he ventured out.

    There was also something else he probably should do, some actual meditat--

    But he ignored all of that.

    Miles had begun to feel restless after just a few hours of being inside this cavern. Though the darkness felt like home, even with night vision, staying inside of a pitch-black cave wasn¡¯t entirely easy.

    Even then, he had intended to push through the discomfort. But now that Blood Vision allowed him to see the presence of all blooded creatures, and Detect allowed him to discreetly gather information, the risk was drastically lessened.

    Miles stood for a final time, dusting his pants.

    Yes. Forget staying here, forget mediation.

    It was time for a preliminary scouting into the metallic hallway. It was time to explore this Doorway.

 CHAPTER 35: Creatures of the Doorway

    Humans are just another creature borne of Mother Earth, a sentient animal, but an animal, nonetheless. That was the general consensus.

    Yet, while humanity had to toil and discover the science of the Fae Serum, limited by Faetality, every other animal species was granted their power entirely by nature.

    Fae Beasts were creatures that mutated and evolved in matters of days, forming never before seen species blessed with abilities as unique as those of the fae.

    The contrast in the manner we gained power is quite interesting, is it not? But why is it so?

    It¡¯s almost as if Mother Earth herself wanted to make a point.

    ¨CAn excerpt from the Introductory Chapter to the ¡°Handbook on Fae Beast Zoology.¡±

    ***

    It was a tight fit.

    Leaving behind the safety of the cold iron cavern, Miles had had to squeeze his way through the crack in the wall. But before he stepped into the hallway proper, what caught his notice first was the smell. Similar to what he had encountered before, but now present unbarred and direct.

    For a moment, fueled by some strange instinct, Miles willingly allowed it.

    He inhaled deep, in an attempt to understand.

    The simple task of smelling became something more. To him, the singular mixed scent of the hallway seemed to diverge, appearing as separated threads that originated from different sources. It was similar to how his enhanced sense of smell had been before, but here, he felt he had so much more control, along with the ability to seek for more¡­

    Miles inhaled deeper and deeper, sifting through the threads of scent.

    A cold, sharp scent of metal, mingled with the comforting scent of earth and stone.

    No, that was not what he wanted, so he moved on.

    A pungent musky stench, overwhelming, flowing in from all directions, near and afar.

    Yes, that was it.

    Miles felt his nostrils flare, and something within him pulled upon that particular thread.

    It was a terrible smell, but as usual with his enhanced senses, it failed to overwhelm him.

    Disgusting, but it was also just there.

    Eventually his pulling gave way, the thread unraveled, and that revolting odor, the feeling of the smell, turned into¡­ knowing.

    ¡®Ammonia? Some form of mammalian excreta?¡¯

    Miles should have been disgusted by the realization, but he was only intrigued, tightening his grip upon the thread as he pondered, ¡®But it''s everywhere! Then, is it not a sentient creature, but some manner of beast instead?¡¯

    Neither gnomes nor goblins were uncivilized to the point that they would wallow in their own filth. Miles pulled upon the threads, seeking and searching for answers, and finally¡­

    ¡®Most of the creatures here are in good health and the majority are fresh... young. All of them feel¡­ safe here. This has been their home for as long as they have known it, but they are also agitated right now¡­ Why?

    ''Oh, they¡¯re hungry? That¡¯s why most of them are gathered together as well?

    ¡®...To feed? To sacrifice¨C¡¯

    A flash of something and that focus was lost, his thoughts were his own once more. Miles blinked blankly, feeling unsteady by what he had just experienced.

    ¡®Where in the holy hells did that come from?! Is it even possible to learn that much from mere smell?¡¯

    Curious, Miles attempted another inhale, this time managing to latch on to a different thread, a subtle, faint yet ever-present smell.

    Old, rotting flesh. Crushed, decayed bone. All of it several months old, and¡­ it''s human?

    Human presence within the Doorway was unexpected, but perhaps, judging by the state of the source, they may very well have been unfortunate former explorers of this domain. Though if that were truly the case, their deaths being just a few months old was¡­ unusual as well.

    Regardless, Miles had no reason to travel in that direction, for that also happened to be where the unknown creatures numbered in the thousands, observed so closely that their individual blooded forms seemed to meld together into one gigantic super blob.

    Yes, absolutely no reason to travel in that direction.

    Miles exhaled, letting go of his hold upon the ¡®scent threads¡¯, effectively ending his analysis of smell. Suffice to say, his olfactory sense had somehow improved to a level it was on par with his sense of touch and the almost sixth sense of ¡®whispering wind¡¯. Even now, it spoke to him, revealing things he could not have known otherwise.

    He allowed his vision to take the stage next, enhanced eyes peering through the pitch-black darkness of the hallway.

    It was spacious, his standing height barely reaching halfway to the ceiling. The structure was unnaturally uniform, a perfectly designed cuboid, reminiscent of accuracy only possible with artificially enhanced machinery.

    The major composition was cold steel, but in an unusual mirror to the state of the cavern, only the walls and the ceiling were formed of it. The ground beneath his feet was rough, cavernous rock. It was an odd arrangement, but Miles had no intention of pondering questionable interior design choices while inside of a Doorway.

    What caught his attention were the cracks over these iron walls, spread out randomly as far as he could see.

    A hurried examination revealed that they only had a bedrock of solid stone underneath, none leading into hidden caverns like the crack he had first appeared in. But it was the discovery of a particular collection of such ¡®cracks¡¯ that confirmed these were far from ¡®natural¡¯ damage.

    Four ¡®cracks¡¯ in close proximity, ripped from top to bottom, as if the cold steel had been cleaved through by something, something with massive claws. Considering that they were twice his size, whatever had done this was at least the size of an adult ogre.

    ¡®Assuming the average strength of a human is ten strength points, compared with the standard tensile strength of cold formed steel, the requirement to rip through these walls would be, at the minimum¡­ several thousand strength attribute points!¡¯

    As strong as an adult ogre, as well then.

    Miles could not remember the last time he had worried of danger from a similar tier creature, but¡­ he had to admit, things were different when you did not have an Epsilon tier butler by your side.

    His fists tightened at the realization.

    Miles had had the privilege to ignore fae serums despite near limitless access to the priceless resource, entirely because he had also been granted the privilege to be protected regardless of his personal power.

    In reality, he himself was weak.

    Still Miles refused to believe that his decision to ignore Fae Serums was wrong. Even if he were a Fae human, he could not hope to match even against a true-blue Epsilon with just his Zeta-tier faetality.

    Well, that was unless he practiced Zhan Shen¡¯s nonsensical technique of using Fae Serums while ignoring the limits of faetality. Even for that though, his Mind World meditation was still far from reaching the level required, besides¡­

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡®What if, just what if, my Faetality growth were to be halted due to the use of a serum?¡¯

    Even at this very moment, when he was on the brink of reaching the age where Faetality would never rise further, Miles still held onto faint hope. He could never forgive himself if that was what ended up keeping him from reaching the requisite 1000 faetality.

    To be fair, Vampirism might have already ruined--

    Miles shook his head out of those dark thoughts, realizing he had been standing clueless in the middle of the hallway, and prepared himself to move.

    Despite the relative suddenness of the decision to venture outside the cavern, he had not done so without a plan.

    Miles¡¯ target was a specific creature located just a short distance away, a blob of blood that barely reached the height of his knee.

    It was one of many lone stragglers that were left alone by the rest of the creatures that were grouped together. They moved slowly and within a limited area.

    Perhaps they were outcasts compared to the rest of the group, perhaps they were some different species, but the specifics did not matter either way. The objective was to identify the nature of these creatures, perhaps even test his newest skill, and consider the situation before deciding the next move.

    Feeling that he had prepared as well as he could, Miles set out.

    His movement was quick yet measured, boots making little noise despite the cavernous stone floor. Blood Vision was perpetually activated, ensuring he was always aware of the positioning of these creatures.

    The purpose of this skill was to reveal the presence of blood, and while blooded creatures were highlighted with glowing silhouettes, the rest of the world was presented in an almost faded focus. This meant that moving while the skill was active was a bit jarring, but he adapted to it well enough.

    Eventually Miles reached the end of this hallway, arriving at a T- junction.

    The blob of red that was the targeted creature was not far and although he couldn¡¯t determine a direct path towards it, he could estimate the distance as well as general direction.

    Miles confidently turned to the right, walking into another identical hallway.

    He was quick to note that amidst the clawed scratches upon the walls, there were also the occasional gap or hole, as if carved into the metal. Though far less imposing, there were strange as well.

    They barely reached the height of this knee and to his best guess, something was¡­ digging?

    ¡®Interesting¡­¡¯

    There was no junction at the end of this hallway, just a sharp turn to the left, and Miles followed it, for it led even closer to his query.

    The winds shifted as he moved, a faint flow persistent despite the relative silence and stillness of the area. Almost on instinct, Miles¡¯ senses spread out.

    His eyes were sharp despite the pitch-black darkness, nocturnal vision and Blood Vision allowing an uncanny understanding of the presence of the creatures. His ears perked at the slightest noise, nostrils tingling with the pungent odor of creatures and death, the latter, at least growing fainter now.

    Suffice to say, there was no way Miles was going to be caught off guard.

    His walking continued for a short while longer and as he did, the damage upon the walls changed. The clawed slashes gradually decreased, replaced by more and more of those carved holes.

    Miles couldn¡¯t complain, anything to stray further from the vicinity of the potential ogre.

    The confusing nature of these walls put aside, he soon reached where he needed to be.

    He sniffed a strand of that musky, pungent odor directly nearby. The winds wavered, whispering of the presence in close proximity.

    All that remained between Miles and the target creature was a wall of cold iron and a bend towards the left.

    Viewed through Sanguine Aspectus, the visage of its pulsing blood and beating ¡®heart-crystal¡¯ was¨Cmesmerizing, but fortunately, Miles had gotten somewhat desensitized to that allure over the past few hours of experimenting with the skill.

    His breathing remained silent, and his faintly beating heart calm.

    Miles deactivated the vision skill and with a soft exhale and a single short step, peered over the corner.

    What would it be?

    A large gnome? Maybe a goblin? Worst case, of the Dread Kind?

    That would be far from ideal, but he should be able to handle it still.

    But what Miles actually found took him entirely by surprise.

    Even if it had been an ogre, a child ogre, he would not have been as surprised as he was right now.

    This was a giant, human infant sized¡ª

    Rat.

    A mangy, monstrous rodent¡­ nibbling on the cold iron walls like it was candy.

    ***

    The shock wore out soon enough and Miles stared dumbstruck at the strange creature.

    It was an ordinary rodent in every way, well, besides its gigantic size that put even the rats of the Hamelin district to shame, and the fact that it was comfortably chewing on metal with its teeth.

    ¡®Wait, does the title of this ¡®trial quest¡¯ Welcome to Hamelin have anything to do with the outer city district of the same name? Are these rats the same manner of Fae Beast that were supposed to have consumed Marcus or that whatever ripper-doc? ¡®

    Yes, it was entirely possible that this rat before him was some manner of fae mutated species identical to those from Hamelin.

    Indeed, Miles remembered some vague mention of irregular rat infestations in certain areas of the Outer Capital city.

    Unfortunately, he had not paid personal attention. Though he had not heard any mention of actual fae beasts, it was also true that he had not cared much, not even when Marcus¡¯ corpse had been discovered. At best, it had been passing curiosity, and nothing more.

    Unfortunate.

    Miles¡¯ eyes returned to the rodent that seemed to be¡­ excavating the wall?

    Perhaps he was wrong, and the rat was just feeding upon the cold iron, but there was just something... intentional in how it moved and consumed the metal. A cursory glance revealed that the rest of this hallway was checkered with more of those cracked and chewed holes.

    Intending to shed some light on this mystery, Miles¡¯ gaze fixed upon the rat before him. He reached for the toggle embedded within his mind, the skill of Detect, and the moment he pressed¡­

    [Hordread Rat - Digger - Level 6]

    Miles narrowed his eyes, even as he retreated back to the corner of the wall and re-activated Blood Vision so he may continue to analyze this strange Hordread Rat.

    As he had concluded before, direct eye contact with the object in question was indeed the requirement for the skill Detect, but his focus was on the system message.

    Hordread meant little to him, though if it had anything to do with the dread fae, it did not bode well. Digger seemed to confirm the rat was indeed an excavator of sorts, giving the animal some level of sentient intelligence. What was most interesting though was, Level 6.

    Miles himself was only at a slightly higher level of 10, so he wasn¡¯t particularly worried except¡­

    ¡®Why the hell does a rat have system levels?¡¯

    This rodent was very obviously fae-enhanced or influenced by the Doorway in some way.

    It was a fae beast for sure, but why levels?

    There were a few possibilities here, extending from ¡®horde rats¡¯ having system access, to this being a function of the Detect skill allowing easy gauging and comparison of the power levels of those he observed.

    Miles had not had the opportunity to use Detect on other living creatures, so the latter was entirely possible, but even if that were the case, it still left much unsaid.

    To him, one level implied a difference of 6 attribute points, 3 to each of his physical attributes, and another 3 as free points. This was entirely based on the nature of his former Vawul Class Newborn.

    So, did the rats¡¯ level 6 equate to that exact quantity of attributes? Or was it different? And if it was, was it for the better or for the worse?

    Miles could only hope that a literal rat¡¯s class, Hordread Rat, did not have a better attribute-to-level ratio than his own class did.

    Regardless, Detect had helped shed light on the mystery greatly. However, there was still much he didn¡¯t know about the nature of these rodents.

    That was exactly why Miles decided to do what he decided next.

    He would kill the creature, right here, right now.

    The fight itself would allow a rough gauge of its abilities and killing it should reveal the more detailed kill notification as well.

    Miles was willing to take the risk because this particular rat had been left entirely alone, while the rest of the¡­ horde was congregating elsewhere.

    Decision made, he let out a light breath, tightening his grip over the sharp spike of rock he had commandeered from the cavern. The sharp end was pointed downward, brandished as if a fang, and he poised himself to launch.

    The rat remained unaware, twitching as it chewed on the iron of the wall.

    Miles¡¯ senses worked in hyperdrive, listening, watching, smelling, sensing, and then it came¡­

    A moment in time when the wind came to a still, and the scent was one of¡­ vulnerability.

    Nameless Footwork exploded under his feet, flowing in a series of movements distinctly different from the usual. Slower perhaps, but almost entirely silent and undetected.

    Miles moved and the wind flew after him.

    It was to be a short fight and his lips curled at the prospect of the kill, the elation of the hunt, and then¡­ he was upon the creature.

    The rat reacted, slow and barely turning its head, perhaps at the behest of some animalistic sixth sense, but by then, it was too late.

    With a grotesque crunch of bone and squelching flesh, its fist-sized skull was crushed, pierced through by the spike of stone. Curiously, its jaw remained intact.

    Ding!

    [You have slain {Hordread Rat Digger (Evolved)/ Bound Familiar (Enhanced/Super Strength - Meager/Iron Fangs)} x1]

    The scent of the ensuing blood and brain matter riled up a familiar thirst. Still fueled by adrenaline, his heart pounding, Miles had to exert effort to restrain himself, when... something else appeared.

    A feeling.

    An emotion.

    No, this was not so limiting or simple.

    This was¨Ca way of life.

    A hunt succeeded. A life cycle completed. All in offering to the mother above.

    It was raw emotion, of pride and satisfaction that filled Miles and his beating heart with such fervor, that he even forgot about his desire for blood and even the notification.

    He reveled in the perfectly ordinary elation, at least until a second notification appeared and distracted him out of it.

    [Title: (Un)balanced? interferes. Vawul|W?u?r?k?a?n? Experience withheld.]

    Miles was unsure whether to consider this problematic or a blessing in disguise, but it seemed he would not be gaining experience for the duration that his evolution was halted.

    He could not ponder on the topic any further, for a sudden chill ran up his spine.

    Miles'' nostrils tingled with the scents(?) of anger and rage. Yes, he smelled the emotions.

    His heart banged like a war drum and the winds exploded, roaring and screaming of incoming danger.

    The reason for all this was very clearly visible. Miles¡¯ eyes blazing with the skill of Blood Vision saw it all.

    Like a beehive that had been disturbed, hundreds of blooded silhouettes were rushing forth in an endless cascade.

    It was horde of creatures, Rats, all after him.

 CHAPTER 36: Maze of Vermin

    Waves of pulsing storming red, sparkling with the light from a sea of heart crystals. The hallways in the distance were filled, compacted and filled some more by the silhouettes of these creatures. From the floor to the ceiling, it was pure red, just bodies packed over bodies to the point they formed the cuboidal shape of the hallway.

    Miles may have wondered whether these Hordred rats lacked common sense, to the point that they would gather and crowd over each other, but... the strange intentioned flow of blood in their circulation systems, suggested something else.

    The beating heart crystals blinking in harmony with each other, the storm of crimson bodies surging towards him, it was strangely beautiful. It was a horde of blood sources after all.

    A certain one-track part of his mind salivated at the sight, at the prospect of prey venturing right into his jaws, but these were thousands, tens of thousands of creatures.

    An endless horde of goblin sized, perhaps even larger, containers of the divine nectar that was blood.

    They might be mere vermin and pests, but when they arrived in such numbers, could he handle it?

    The screaming winds blew past him, and his feet exploded with the maximal force of Nameless Movement.

    Miles had no intention of finding out. He was already running away. No thirst could trump the logical reality of one man against a horde of fae beasts.

    Nor could it make him forget what had just happened, ¡®By Sidhe, how could they have known a rat was killed?¡¯

    Miles spared a glance, observing the masses of creatures collapsing towards his location from all directions. There was no hope of returning back to the safety of his cavern, for the entire mass of red was primarily gathered towards where he had come from.

    Besides, while cold iron was an effective deterrent, it could not stop fae or fae beasts when they truly wanted to bypass it, let alone rats that literally ate the warding metal.

    The opposite direction was much sparser and safer in comparison. Though it had a fair share of rats as well, it was a mere trickle compared to the tsunami behind him. But every single rat, even those, had one thing in common.

    They were all moving towards his general direction.

    ¡®Do they know where I am?!¡¯

    The bang of his boot against an errant rock almost caused him to lose his footing, forcing his attention back to reality. Realizing that undue distraction could be fatal, Miles refocused, setting his mind upon the motion of his feet, and occasionally observing the hordes of blooded figures through Blood Vision.

    The wind blurred past him, as he moved faster and faster, bounding across the linear hallways.

    He did not have much of a plan in mind, his only goal being to avoid the most populous areas and minimize exposure to these creatures as much as possible.

    Miles succeeded well enough in that, but as he put more distance between where he had been, it quickly became obvious that the creatures were only gathering at the exact location where he had killed the rat.

    In other words, they were not actually after him, and not aware of his exact location. A heave of relief had barely left him, when he was forced to come to a halt.

    Just up ahead was a single creature, smaller than even an ordinary rat.

    Unless he wanted to backtrack, there were no alternative paths. Even as he wondered what to do, whether he could afford to engage¡­ he heard it.

    A Screech.

    An unnatural wail that reverberated through the air like a wailing siren. If the echoes of the sound reflected to his ears through the iron walls were any suggestion, it was that single rat.

    Miles wavered no longer. He pounced forth, pushing his physique and agility to the limits of what he could handle. In a mere second he had passed through the hall, appearing directly above the clueless, screeching rat.

    He didn¡¯t even spare a second to look, only felt the crush of bones under his boot and the sound of screeching silenced like an abruptly cut song. Pity that he didn''t get to Detect the creature and check its level first.

    DING!

    [You have slain {Hordread Rat Alarmer (Evolved)/ Bound Familiar (Enhanced/ Alarming Screech - Meager)}]

    [Vawul|W?u?r?k?a?n? Experience withheld.]

    His gaze shifted, noting the erratic movement in the red presences around him. The creatures that had barely begun to lose him and spread out in search, were now converging again. Moving towards his direction in an instant, forming an ocean of red that pooled towards him.

    A single alarm, or perhaps the death of a rat was all it took. He was a target again.

    Miles cursed, preparing to move again, at least until he noted exactly where this was.

    A Crossroads.

    With sharp edges of the metallic walls extending out in diverging directions, there were four distinct hallways. That was when he realized the situation was even worse than he had expected.

    ¡®Is this supposed to be a maze of some sort?¡¯

    Despite being floored by the revelation, Miles delayed no longer and ran out. As he set out in his maddened dash, with the wind his only companion, he witnessed more and more of this place.

    ''It really is a maze, a rat maze.¡¯''

    That was the nature of this Doorway, or at least, this region of it. And it was obvious that a maze would need solving.

    At this point, it was not feasible to consider memorizing the different paths and leisurely figuring out a solution. Not when he was being hunted by thousands of fae beast rats.

    Fortunately, there was no need for such barbaric or rote methods.

    ¡°Cadmus! Use the records of my movement and position variation and continue to do so. Detect the presence of the iron walls and whatever else you can to create a map of the maze! Then, solve it for a potential path of exit!¡±

    The wind buffeted Miles¡¯ voice, perhaps even carried away by it, but his command was received. The Lykaon ring beeped in the affirmative, beginning to pulse and vibrate as it gathered the requisite data.

    After that, he decided to not rush like crazy, instead taking extra care in his movements and opting to wait when he should, prioritizing the avoidance of those creatures over speed.

    While he left the matter of figuring out the maze solution path to the AI, he was not without responsibility.

    The task of traversing through the hallways to gather as much data as possible was left to him. The more data he could allow Cadmus to have access to, the greater the chances of finding that specific data point that could become the key to solving this maze.

    Miles knew that his request was not one that would be easily met. To solve a problem when the problem itself was not entirely known was quite difficult.

    But he had faith in the Lykaon Ring, in Cadmus that could determine things that he could not, even sense and gather data beyond logical constraints. That was the nature of fae technology, the non-trademarked, non FaeTech kind available to the Corps at least.

    Despite knowing this, for a moment a traitorous thought rose, placing doubt on whether there was even an exit to find in the first place.

    That this Doorway would be one of endlessly sprawling hallways and giant rats, without an exit, without change¡­

    But Miles trampled that discouraging thought before it could fester any further. With a deep focusing breath to re-center himself, he set upon his task.

    He would be following the most generic of ways to solve a maze. Always turning left.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    A hand placed upon the wall Miles proceeded to dash through the hallways.

    ***

    It only took half an hour of this for the strategy to lead him to a dead end, forcing him to turn back. His ''strategy'' might be a complete solution to most mazes, but no one said it would be optimal.

    Miles considered the masses of red infesting the paths behind him. Despite having moved at maximum speed, the distance between him and the blooded silhouettes had remained almost consistent.

    This was entirely due to the sheer numbers of these creatures. He would be running away from a hundred, to get closer to a different hundred.

    At least the majority were a considerable distance away now, gathered and cramped into the hallway towards the cross-roads where he believed he had killed the second rat. Their motions were also far less focused, spread out in many directions as if in an organized attempt to find his presence.

    With his best attempts to avoid encountering the rodents, they were having a difficult time tracking his location.

    The next hour or so continued with more of the same.

    It was a frantic dash through a strange maze, avoiding the red presences as much as possible, trying to cover as much ground as he could, and yes, occasionally ending up at dead ends and being forced to backtrack.

    Considering the sheer number of creatures, it was honestly surprising that Miles managed to avoid encountering them for so long, but such was the prowess of Blood Vision and his enhanced senses. Too bad, for it seemed that was not meant to last much longer.

    Just up ahead was a gathering of blooded silhouettes, figures of rather unusual shapes. It was primarily two humanoid figures, tall enough to reach his chest.

    They could be clearly identified by their beating heart crystals, but from their shoulders rose strange protrusions¡­

    It took Miles a moment to realize that these protrusions had heart crystals of their own.

    In other words, those were infant sized creatures standing upon the shoulders of the larger two.

    His eyes narrowed. A quick consideration of the paths available to him revealed that unless he wished to trade these few creatures for dozens more by choosing some alternative path, he would not be able to avoid them.

    No choice but to pass through then.

    Miles let out a smoky breath, his grip upon the blood-caked rock spike tightening.

    His other hand reached into his suit and pulled out the Caucon.

    With a simple flick the tech pistol hummed to power. Just in case he failed to end this stealthily.

    An exhale, and his focus settled entirely upon the creatures up ahead.

    Miles would target the larger creatures first, with melee to conserve bullets. The smaller ones should be of no consequence, and he could just crush them with a foot.

    It was a solid plan.

    Excitement rushed through him as he exploded through Nameless Movement towards his prey. The distance between them shortened, when he started to feel something¡­ strange.

    His ears shifted, flicking almost involuntarily. It was as if there was something wrong with the sounds.

    Yes, there was something here.

    Miles could not hear the tell-tale echo of scuttling rat claws upon rock despite the creatures being only a short distance away.

    There was no sound at all, as if a blanket of silence had been placed over the area.

    Well, the wind still spoke, flowing over his skin and signaling the presence of the incoming creatures. His nose caught the scent of bloodthirst, tracing the strand to these creatures out on a hunt. Most importantly, Blood Vision marked them as literal targets of red.

    So, whatever it was that may have been interfering with the sound, it was barely even effective.

    A grin creeped over his face, and Miles¡¯ dash became even faster, the wind itself becoming a gale that chased after him. His boots should have been near silent, not that he could hear it.

    A surprise attack was ideal, but considering how Hordred Rat Alarmer had sensed his presence before¡­

    The smaller silhouettes, those creatures upon the shoulders of the larger two, grew agitated. They shifted about, making no noise that he could hear, but the entire group they came to an abrupt halt.

    The location they stopped at was quite inconvenient for him. As if planned, it was the middle of a junction.

    Miles could see their heads move as they acted in eerie unison, scouting the different paths, searching for what had agitated their smaller compatriots.

    He did not stop though, and soon, he was only a short distance away from the hallway in question. He no longer had the element of surprise, but hopefully he would have enough time to survey the nature of these creatures first.

    So, the moment Miles stepped into the hallway, he called upon the identification skill causing six boxes of text to manifest over the creatures.

    [Hordread Rat - Brute - Lvl. 12] was what was over one of the two larger rats. They were a human-sized muscle-bound variant of rats, reminiscent of the far too common Strength over-enhanced Fae humans. Miles had barely perceived that, when one particular rat, one of the smaller ones, managed to spot him.

    Their eyes met, primeval intelligence shining within the beady eyes of the mangy vermin. Surprisingly, the four smaller rats were not of the ''Alarmer'' variant.

    No, Detect said the smaller rats were¡­ [Hordread Rat - Sonokinetics - Lvl. 19]

    ''Sonokinesis? Manipulation of sound--''

    His thoughts came to an abrupt halt, for all of a sudden that rat''s mouth split open. Yes, split open.

    Its muzzle sub-divided into four quadrants as if sliced right through. It bloomed like a grotesque flower, flesh rippling and blood veins pulsing within, but that bestial rat remained whole and alive.

    The shape of the open maw almost formed a cone, one that was pointed right towards him. Then, the air vibrated.

    The hair on his arms stood on end, and the wind screamed in painful, indignant agony.

    Miles could swear he almost saw it, the movement of the sound, forming into ripples of air... and then it exploded, shot out like homing missiles.

    It was by sheer luck and the prowess of his enhanced sense that he managed to react, just barely making it to the side of the hallway in a half-dodge, half-pounce. He managed to avoid the brunt of the attack, but it still hit the right side of his torso.

    It was akin to a punch from an orc made of sound and air. Something in his shoulder snapped, and the next thing he knew, he was in the air.

    His muscles spasmed, his ears rang, and he could feel something in his right ear had popped.

    [Internal Bleeding detected. 0.4 BP lost. (Negligible. Not Considered.)]

    Thankfully it seemed the suit had taken the brunt of the attack.

    He was disoriented, his senses were marred, but somehow he managed to swivel in the air, and fall on his feet. The force of that single strike sent him skidding some more, finally ending up dozens of meters away, all the way at the end of that hallway.

    [Conditional Undeath activated. All wounds healed. HP: 10/10]

    The injuries were not serious, and regeneration made quick work of it. His shoulder popped back as it had been, and his hearing healed itself.

    Miles could only growl in rage for being bested by a Sonokinetic rat. But things were just about to get a whole lot worse, for two of the smaller rats began to wail in that god-awful screech, sounding the alarm despite not being labeled Alarmers.

    The fourth rat joined the former Sonokinetic, its face splitting apart in grotesque replication of the blooming macabre flower of flesh.

    With two rats upon the shoulders of a single rat brute, each acting as potential miniguns of sound missiles he was left with little room to dodge.

    Trying to run away would have him shot in the back.

    But Miles did not allow himself to stew in nervousness or worry.

    His anger and rage at the situation fueled his mental focus, but it didn''t drive him.

    Miles let out a single breath.

    He was a little over a hundred meters away right now, the small rats barely the size of specks to his enhanced vision.

    The wronged air seemed to wish for revenge, and it was more than willing to guide his hands, adjusting his aim like an omnipotent overseer. Quite a bit of tech weapons came with assisted or auto aim (thought it was not popular due to how easily it could be compromised). At that moment that was exactly what the flowing wind was to him.

    Natural aim assist.

    The air rippled for a second time but too bad for the rats, Miles was too fast.

    BOOM! BOOM!

    The fleshy flower heads of two Sonokinetic vermin exploded in bursts of red, courtesy of the Caucon. The remaining rats reeled in shock and the two smaller rats stopped their headless screeching, shifting their heads toward him¡­

    To his shame, Miles reacted rather reflexively. This time failing to consider the wind and let loose another volley of shots.

    BOOM! BOOM!

    The movements of the rats made his aim waiver, and only one of the shots hit, barely managing to explode the chest off of a single smaller rat. The other missed entirely, wasting the ammunition.

    The air trembled as the head of the Sonokinetic rat that had survived bloomed like a flower, aimed directly at him.

    Cursing internally, Miles shifted his aim.

    BOOM!

    A single bullet, this time targeted at the much larger human sized rat brute upon whom this smaller rat stood.

    The rat man¡¯s head exploded like a balloon and the headless corpse cracked backward.

    The missile of air had already formed, but with the corpse falling, it missed widely, and exploded into the cold iron ceiling instead of its intended target.

    A sound akin to a strike of metal against metal rang out.

    Sparks flew, and the attack ended only after it had drilled nearly halfway into the cold iron.

    Miles was upon the final survivors in less than a second, and despite his mistake just seconds prior, Nameless Movement was perfectly timed. In a single motion made possible only due to his senses and the wind, his right foot lifted into the air, and his rock spike carrying hand pulled back.

    Blood exploded splattering into the air and over him, from both above and below.

    His boot crushed the downed Sonokinetic rat, while the rock pierced the throat of the rat brute.

    The one under his foot was well and truly crushed, but the man-sized rat gurgled at the throat for a few agonizing seconds before collapsing lifeless onto the ground.

    With that, the volley of notifications he had been ignoring so far Dinged into existence.

    [You have slain {Hordread Rat Sonokinetics (Evolved)/ Bound Familiar (Enhanced/Sonokinesis - Lesser/Alarming Screech - Meager)} x4]

    [You have slain {Hordread Rat Brute (Evolved)/ Bound Familiar (Enhanced/Super Strength - Lesser)} x2]

    [Vawul|W?u?r?k?a?n? Experience withheld.]

    The rats were all dead now.

    Miles'' heart thundered, his body pumped with the power and vigor of fresh kills.

    The blood and gore over the floor, in the air, and splattered over his suit, was something he was almost used to at this point. But it still remained an object of desire like no other. The only thing that had held him back was his sense of reason and general disgust of rats.

    At least until the sensation that came next, managed to completely overshadow his thirst. Although it was weaker than the first time, it still caused him to shiver in unnatural satisfaction.

    A hunt succeeded, a cycle complete, and another offering to the Great Mother above.

    Miles could feel a familiar sense of satisfaction filling him with that something again, but it did not last.

    As if that something had failed to find a place to gather in, the feeling dissipated into nothing. Regardless, he could not consider whatever that was for long.

    Miles'' gaze shifted elsewhere, upon the hordes of blood silhouettes visible through the walls.

    His breath caught as he noted the expected explosive reaction, the Hordread Rats agitated like an enraged beehive, rushing towards his location with greater intensity than ever before.

    Miles stayed still no longer, bolting away as fast he could.

 CHAPTER 37: Living Blood

    A tense tiring few hours later, Miles was still moving as fast as Nameless Movement could allow it.

    That second altercation seemed to have riled up the rest of the Hordred rats considerably more, for the patrols of blooded silhouettes scouring the maze had nearly doubled. It was getting to the point that even Blood Vision was having trouble separating one creature from another, their presence populous to the point that Miles had to think for a moment to understand exactly what he was seeing.

    None of them behaved as one would expect from an ordinary rat, or... animal. Their movements were militarily organized and methodical, as if they were privy to knowledge about the maze that he himself did not have.

    The smaller rats were the most dangerous, for they sensed him well in advance and sounded the alarm with a hideous screech, instantly summoning hordes of rats to their location. After one or two close escapes, Miles learned to give any advanced notice of them a wide berth.

    That was how, by utilizing the information from his vision and other senses as much he could, he managed to avoid a third encounter despite making quite reasonable progress through the maze.

    Frowning, Miles came to a sudden halt. it was not to rest, but to avoid a group of patrolling rats. Their converging movement suggested what lay ahead was another crossroads. It was in those few moments of rest, that he felt his heavy, erratic breathing.

    The weight of his suit caked in Hordred rat blood. The heavy oppressive feeling of being in an enclosed space. The musty warm air of the cavern. That almost claustrophobic sensation arising from having to run through endlessly identical hallways of cold iron. Muscles exhausted by hours of running begged for a proper rest, but Miles would not allow it.

    He had barely held out against the Hordread Rats before, even wasting five rounds of the Caucon to take the lives of half a dozen rats. It was a ridiculously terrible trade, especially considering the fact that there were literally thousands of those smaller rats.

    He refused to waste any more of the Caucon''s ammunition, not when he had no idea what else he would have to face in this Doorway. Unfortunately, he also had no other way of taking down a potential Sonokinetic, not from a distance.

    Miles felt his fists tighten at that familiar feeling of helplessness, but the self-loathing did help ignore the pain, the physical pain from fatigued muscles at least.

    He grit his teeth, forcing the exhaustion and conflicting emotions into a corner of his mind. Since he would undoubtedly fail to survive any brainless attempt to take the rats all on his own, avoidance was the priority.

    With a few more seconds to refocus, Miles proceeded to dash into the now clear hallway.

    Another hour passed, endless dashing and carefully avoiding patrols of the Hordred rats, when it happened.

    With a sliver of hope, the Lykaon ring came to life and Cadmus answered with what Miles had requested before, ¡°CURRENT MAZE ANALYSIS COMPLETION: APPROXIMATELY 21%. INSUFFICIENT FOR COMPLETE MAP GENERATION. FURTHER DATA AND ANALYSIS WILL BE REQUIRED.¡±

    Any expectations were dashed mercilessly. Had he had any weaker of a mindset, Miles may very well have given up at that point. But he simply forced his screaming muscles to get him to run even faster.

    Having hopes broken was something he was familiar with, but it seemed the corporate AI had not spoken to say just that.

    ¡°NOTICE OF IMPORTANCE. THE PREDICTIVELY CONSTRUCTED MAZE MAPPING SHOWS SIMILARITY TO A SELECT FEW LABYRINTHINE STRUCTURES AVAILABLE IN CACHED LYKAON NETWORK DATA. A SOLUTION TO THE MAZE MAY BE PLOTTED BASED ON AN AGGREGATE MAZE FORMED OF THOSE LABYRINTHS.¡±

    Miles narrowed his eyes at the revelation. He wanted to inquire about these so-called ''labyrinthine structures'' recorded in the network and their sources, but it was not the time nor the place. If Cadmus said it was so, it would be so.

    What he needed to know was something else, ¡°Cadmus, how is the confidence percentage?¡±

    ¡°BASED ON CURRENTLY MAPPED DATA, APPROXIMATELY 32% PROBABILITY OF ACHIEVING AN EXACT MAZE SOLUTION.¡±

    Miles considered it, even as he passed through another crossroads and chose the path that avoided the patrol of a half a dozen Hordred Brutes. It was true that he was tired and exhausted. A part of him wanted nothing more than to leave the situation up to chance and to just accept this offer.

    But these were not betting odds. Not when the stakes were his life.

    ¡°Noted, but that probability is far too low. Cadmus, notify me if you calculate better odds.¡±

    It actually took far more from him than expected to say it out loud. It was the harder decision, but it was not all bad.

    If this similarity was something beyond mere coincidence, the chances of Cadmus confirming it would be far quicker than mapping enough of the maze in its entirety.

    So, with a hand pulled through blood speckled hair, Miles sprinted through the hallway, continuing to adhere to the principle of always turning left.

    ***

    Surprisingly, things continued to go rather well. Even as he covered more and more of the different paths of the maze, Miles managed to give himself the occasional break, just enough to ensure he never fatigued himself to complete exhaustion.

    According to Cadmus, the completion of the maze mapping was still a way-away, but so far it had been perfectly consistent with a particular few Labyrinths cached in the Network.

    The probability of similarity had risen to nearly 40% and Miles fully intended to use it to solve the maze if the odds rose any further. For the moment though, he was at a junction, having just returned from a dead end.

    The path that caught his eyes next was quite similar to the cold iron hallways elsewhere, except¡­ Blood Vision highlighted the splatters of crimson all over it with visceral clarity. The walls were painted with splatters of glowing red, as if vandalized with blood.

    Miles had initially avoided it for that very reason, but as far as he could see there were no blood silhouettes of creatures in the vicinity. It was just some blood. So, he proceeded to dash through it.

    The familiar scent of blood reached him almost instantly, the telltale stench of iron and faded life.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Miles¡¯ mouth watered his desire riled up far more than even when he had bathed in the blood of slaughtered rats.

    His nostrils expanded, analyzing the scents.

    There was reason for it. This blood was rippling, pulsing with life, and it was fresh...

    Yes, it was extremely recent.

    Hours? Minutes? Seconds¡­? No, even more.

    Instantly Miles was wary, the rest of his senses spreading out to detect any unexpected surprises. That was when he tugged upon the scent thread just enough to realize...

    The blood was not ¡®merely¡¯ recent. It was alive.

    It was only when he was right in the middle of the hallway that he witnessed it himself. Brought to life by some unseen force, the splatters of blood flowed in reverse, gathering into droplets. Those drops met each other, coagulating to form solid pinpricks of glowing light. The blood formed crystal, heart crystal.

    As if they were magnets of blood, even more droplets gathered around them, instantly forming the blooded silhouette of something resembling a whole creature.

    Barely a second passed, and what Miles had thought was a splatter of blood had became a small rat-like creature. It was not just one, the same had happened all over the hallway, bringing over a dozen of these blood-formed rats into existence.

    Stranger yet, their heart crystals blinked as one in perfect synchronization.

    These rats were different from the Hordred. They did not scream in alarm, for unlike the Hordred Rat Alarmers they were eerily silent. Nor did they attack with cones of sound like the Hordred Sonokinetics.

    They were small blessings, for the rats borne of blood fell down upon him, from the walls, the ceiling and the cavern floor. They pounced with supernatural strength that should not have been possible for their small figures, easily reaching him despite his mid-running posture.

    It was a rain, no, a bombardment of eerily silent yet crazed rodents.

    Miles had not expected it, but he was not entirely taken off guard either.

    There were far too many bursts of wind stabbing into his skin, too much to dodge them all.

    Miles focused, immediately noting two spears of wind piercing down from the ceiling, boring down into his exposed neck. Aided by gravity, they were set to reach him first.

    He dodged both the rats with a single sidestep.

    A swipe with the rock spike skewered one, and struck the other in that same move, slamming it into the ground, so hard that it did not rise again.

    The remaining gusts of wind struck him from all around, and Miles was forced to defend with an arm. It was an onslaught of a horde of beating, pulsing warm bodies slamming into his suit. Unfortunately, there were too many rats to defend with a single limb.

    Miles winced, as the force of the bites and scratches struck him through the suit.

    Grunting with muted anger, he smashed the arm into a nearby wall, a painful slam that rippled through his own bones.

    Three rats on his suit sleeve were crushed between his arm and the metal wall, knocked down onto the ground, quickly finished off as they exploded about his boots like bursting fruit.

    But the rest of the rats held strong, and they had no intention of remaining still. Disgusted shivers crawled over his skin as the vermin began to scurry all over his body.

    It was a grotesque, violating experience, but Miles had long forgotten the disgust of being covered in mangy rodents.

    All he felt was rage.

    Instinct took him, the presence of blood and wind his guide.

    He dropped the rock spike and began to grab at the rats with his hands, two at a time, mercilessly smashing them into the walls.

    Some of his fingers bent the wrong way, but most of the blood that splattered over the walls, him, and into the air, was not his own.

    The terrible fragrance of the strange living blood that had formed these rats in the first place wafted over him, pulsing, beating with life and vitality.

    It only excited him more.

    Miles managed to take down another six rats in this manner, before he was forced to let out an inadvertent howl of pain.

    Something had stabbed into his throat.

    He reached for his neck and mercilessly ripped off the rat that had skewered his jugular. The act ripped out a chunk of his own flesh as well, but he barely felt any of the pain.

    [External Bleeding detected. -0.7 BP lost.]

    Perhaps it was a short-sighted decision, for blood splattered down his chest, gushing out of his neck like a crimson waterfall. Instantly, Miles felt delirious, unsteady on his feet, forced to hold one hand over his blood gushing neck, hoping to staunch the blood loss.

    [External Bleeding detected. -0.6 BP lost.]

    Even so, fueled by whispers of impotent rage, he managed to smash in the head of the rat that had dared to bite off his neck.

    But there were so many left.

    The rats acted as one, scurrying towards his hands, neck, and under his suit.

    Miles could tell he would not be able to stop them all. Not with just two hands.

    For a moment, time seemed to slow, and the clarity of his senses seemed to rise up a whole level.

    He could not believe he had not realized it before.

    The blood, whether splattered on the floor, his boots or his suit, was not ordinary. It was truly alive.

    Of course it was, it had formed these filthy rats after all.

    But the thing is, it was the same with his own. His own blood, gushing down his neck despite his best attempts to stop it was even more extraordinary.

    Even though it left him, it was still an intrinsic part of himself. He was its vessel, its home.

    [External Bleeding detected. -0.5 BP lost.]

    Perhaps that was why Miles managed to hear it, a call from the blood itself, and perhaps, that was why it obeyed him, like subjects before a king.

    [Discipline: Haemomancy molds the blood.]

    Like clay in the hands of an artisan, there were a myriad shapes his blood could take. It was up to him to decide what it would become.

    DEFENDERE.

    A sound akin to forming scabbing crystals.

    Miles pulled back the hand staunching the wound over his neck almost instinctively.

    He could not tell for sure, but the skin on his neck felt like it had been frozen solid. The bleeding from his ripped off throat had stopped, and for some reason, the rats that reached his neck just fell down, bleeding, as if stabbed multiple times.

    The blood over the hand, his own blood, remained within his control¡­

    There are certain actions that feel like dreams, done out of pure instinct, and could never have been done willfully. That is exactly what Miles felt as he observed the blood over his hand and what happened next.

    PUGIO.

    A familiar call, and Miles watched, almost half-present, almost absent minded, as the blood that had begun to dry, became dynamic.

    [Discipline: Haemomancy molds the blood.]

    The blood undulated, expanding and compressing, shifting into an equally familiar elongated form.

    The same tinkling resonance of solidifying crystal and the blood form in his hand hardened, transforming into that familiar dagger. An assassin¡¯s blade.

    A dot of light flashed within the crystal blade, vanishing as soon as it had appeared, but the hilt remained solid within his grip.

    Unlike the rock spike, this weapon was much smaller, but the difference was that it was a part of him.

    Barely a few seconds had passed, but the rats had moved.

    One had even managed to reach his hand.

    The creature prepared to sink his teeth into his wrist, when there was¡­ a flash of blood crystal.

    The rat was slashed nearly in half, its severed body falling off him.

    Miles was not in the best of conditions, and his aim was barely sufficient. The blade had also slashed through a chunk of his own arm. At least it should have, but nothing happened. It had passed through his flesh, like a ghost.

    He was confident now. This weapon could not hurt him.

    That which was borne of his own blood, would never harm it.

    A bloody grin creeped over his face, and Miles began to slash the dagger over him, his other hand reaching for the occasional surviving straggler.

    There were still many of the creatures left. Though the pain of their bites was muted, Miles saw red.

    Like a focused, emotionless machine, he began to grab, smash, slash and rip apart the rats.

    The crazed rodents managed to get in a few good scratches, but it was nothing as serious as ripping off the side of his neck.

    It was only after an unknown amount of time later that he finally came out of it.

    Miles'' neck felt strained, but he was no longer bleeding. The assassin¡¯s dagger was still in hand giving off a strangely comforting presence.

    His heart thundered in a familiar, unfamiliar sensation. Adrenaline surged through him, and he held onto his knees, heaving heavy breaths of sheer exhaustion.

    It seemed his instincts had taken the helm, for none of the rats remained.

    All that was left were splattered corpses, and the scent of that living blood.

 CHAPTER 38: Flesh of a King

    Apparently, all his wounds had regenerated.

    Miles realized it the moment he returned to reality, reading the latest notifications and feeling a distinct lack of pain.

    [Conditional Undeath Activated. All wounds healed. ~2 Blood Points lost.]

    [Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 15/100)]

    He had lost a fifth of his body''s blood, but thanks to the blood bank it had recovered fairly quickly. Still Miles allowed himself a few seconds of rest.

    The adrenaline was fading now, and the single-minded focus that had kept him alive was dissipating.

    Moving his head revealed an uncomfortable rigidity around it, as if a cast of some sort surrounded his neck. He reached for it and pulled back immediately as something sharp pierced into his skin.

    It felt like a neck guard covered in miniature blades, protruding out in a defensive mechanism protruded to stab those that dared reach it.

    That was also when he finally noticed the feel of the familiar dagger in his hand.

    Miles slowly lifted the blade to eye level, unsure how exactly he had managed to form it, the very same way the Beast had done before.

    The scent of that living blood hit his nostrils, dripping down from the dagger, but the blade itself... smelled as it was his own blood.

    Reeling in his desire to lick the blade, Miles began to examine the weapon with care, considering the immaculate craftsmanship and turning the sides of the blade.

    Barring the fact that it was formed of his own crystallized blood, it felt like an actual metallic weapon. The hilt felt like leather covered steel, the blade was some sharpened metallic alloy, visibly blood crystal, but practically not¡­

    His sharp eyes noted something, a series of barely distinct engravings upon the blade¡­

    Dilecto Meo.

    Again, more of that same language he happened to be familiar with. Latin.

    To my beloved.

    Miles had no idea what it was supposed to mean, but something within him, something, did.

    As if responding to the realization that this was not his blade, the connection or level of focus he had managed to subconsciously maintain so far just¡­ snapped.

    After that, the dominos simply followed. Like shattering glass, the blade cracked and splintered, disintegrating into a cloud of red dust. The same happened to the crystal pins over his neck, dissipating as if it had not existed in the first place.

    Miles stared blankly at his empty hand, where he had held a weapon just a second ago.

    Unsure of what to make of all that, he was confused, at least until his nostrils noticed the familiar scent of the living blood, splattered on the floor, and the walls.

    Huh. For the blood of dead creatures there was a distinct lack of death in its smell.

    Miles was instantly on guard.

    All of that blood still felt very much alive.

    Rippling, pulsing...

    Feeling his mouth water at the scent, Miles shifted his eyes towards the floor and the wall where he had smashed the rats into. His eyes widened as he spotted the blood, what little flesh and organs remained intact, all wriggling with unnatural life.

    Instantly, solid root-like tendrils stretched out from each splatter of blood and gore, meeting at a common point and wrapping around each other, forming a grotesque ball of flesh thread.

    Miles had failed to notice it, his thoughts clouded, but he was of good enough mind to realize this was no longer the time to hold back.

    BOOM!

    The ball of barely formed flesh yarn exploded splattering all over the floor, sizzling with the heat of a Caucon round, but those portions that remained, came to life again, wriggling and reforming¡­

    BOOM! BOOM!

    More flesh exploded and blood splattered, but the little flesh that remained was somehow still very much alive, and quickly coming back to life¡­

    ''What in the holy hells.''

    Whatever this thing was, it was as resilient as a Vampire, if not more.

    Miles exhaled a heavy breath and focused, allowing his riled-up thoughts to settle for a moment.

    This creature was wholly different from the rest of the Hordred rats.

    Miles grimaced in realization.

    Now that he thought about it, he had not received a single experience notification for killing any of these smaller rats.

    Perhaps he had never managed to kill any, perhaps they were still alive and meant to regenerate in a short moment. He may have wasted these Caucon bullets on nothing.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Realizing how little he knew of this manner of creature Miles blazed his eyes with the light of Detect. It was the skill that finally shed light upon the true nature of this strange creature, through a manifestation of floating text.

    [Flesh of the Hordred King - Riesen Ratte - Lvl. 65]

    Miles gawked for a second, cursed, and proceeded to do the only thing he could.

    He booked it.

    It was not due to the ominous notice from the identification skill and the level over six times his own. Well, it was not entirely just that.

    Miles could not afford to stay here for much longer. The flesh of the whatever king may not have sounded an alarm, but the Caucon was loud and the Hordred rats were somehow rushing towards him again.

    The wind exploded past him, and Miles rushed out at full speed.

    It seemed he would once again be playing the endless game of cat and mouse, where the cats were rats, and he, the unfortunate mouse. This time though, Miles would remember to be wary of suspicious splatters of living blood.

    ***

    The maze had become significantly harder to navigate.

    His survival even after his encounter with the Flesh of the Hordred King had thrown the rest of the rats into the craziest of frenzies yet.

    Miles was not feeling great either.

    He could still feel the phantom pain, of having his neck ripped apart by a blood-formed rodent, of bathing in his own blood¡­ which still remained stuck to his clothes, his shirt uncomfortably dried and crusted.

    Had he been any less familiar with blood and death, he would have been puking in disgust, but thankfully he was used to it.

    At least the more recent experience with Haemomancy had been enlightening, but Miles felt he could not replicate it, not willfully, at least for now. There was definitely some potential there, but none that could change the fact that he was exhausted beyond belief.

    The endless running, the close calls, the fatigue, all of it was beginning to pile up.

    His will remained strong, but he knew his body was reaching its limit. Being undead did not seem to translate to infinite stamina. Pity, that.

    Thankfully that was when for a second time, the Lykaon ring blinked to life.

    ¡°SYBAHWARE CORP. EXPERIMENTAL PROJECT: LABYRINTH OF HAMELIN, HAS SHOWN A NEAR IDENTICAL ARRANGEMENT TO THE CURRENT MAZE. APPROXIMATELY 71% CHANCE OF ITS PATH SOLUTION BEING APPLICABLE. A SOLUTION TO THE MAZE MAY BE PLOTTED BASED ON AN AGGREGATE MAZE FORMED OF THOSE LABYRINTHS.¡±

    Though Miles was curious about this project named after the outer city district, he fell into thought. At this point, it was obvious that the chances of him surviving unscathed, long enough for the maze to be properly mapped was nearly abysmal. Actually, the chances of that were dropping rapidly the more time passed.

    He was teetering on the verge of exhaustion, running on little more than fumes and willpower.

    ¡°I suppose those are decent enough odds. Cadmus, plot the course.¡±

    ***

    A holographic representation of the maze map floated over the Lykaon ring, blinking and updating his position as he moved. According to it, this maze was perfectly circular, and Miles was currently where he had decided to call the middle ring.

    The center, or the innermost ring was a wide-open space, empty and devoid of hallways. The middle ring was traditionally maze-like and filled with hundreds of potential paths and dead ends, some of which he had experienced first-hand. The outer ring was the smallest in area and simple in paths, but most importantly and to Miles¡¯ considerable relief, had several exits.

    The true maze was this middle ring, with its conflicting twists and turns. In other words, if he could leave it and enter the outer ring, the maze would more or less be solved.

    Miles had faithfully followed this map in the last few hours, and so far, it had nearly perfectly predicted every crossroad and junction he had encountered.

    The tentative assumption that the project Hamelin labyrinth and this Hordred rat maze being similar was quickly becoming true. While he was pleased, it did leave a question unanswered.

    ''Why in the Sidhe is a Corpo map represented as a maze in a Doorway¡¯?

    His probing inquiries to Cadmus on the matter had revealed an experimental project, titled Hamelin, one that was carried out in the early years of the second fae-human war. The primary objective had been artificial Fae human creation and experimentation with certain unique species of Fae. Beyond that, unfortunately, specific data was unavailable.

    Though he was curious, Miles shook his head clear of what was effectively random thoughts and focused. He had bigger problems to worry about. Even with a possibly accurate and complete map, escaping this maze was no easy task.

    There was only one specific path that allowed leaving the middle ring and following it was far, far more difficult than randomly moving through the maze.

    More often than not, the requisite path would have several patrols of rat creatures, Brutes, smaller rodents that could be alarmers or Sonokinetics, and many other variants he could not clearly make out (and hoped he would never have to).

    Although Miles did not notice any other hallways with ¡®living blood¡¯, he was still forced to retreat into wrong paths and wrong directions just to avoid the many patrolling rats, only to backtrack when or if it became clear.

    Seriously, the only reason Miles had not been swamped by the Hordred rats several times over now was that these creatures had no idea where he was exactly, owing to the fact that he had prioritized avoiding the rats above all else.

    Well, at least this slower pace had allowed him time to rest and recover.

    That was more or less how he spent another few hours, and despite the delay, Miles managed to make it through a significant portion of the middle ring.

    This was because avoiding the rats had become easier the farther he got away from the inner ring. And that was how he eventually managed to reach where he was.

    The singular path from the middle ring to the outer ring.

    Exactly as promised in the map, it was right there, just a few hallways ahead.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of relief. The maze was solved, just like that, all from the unlikely coincidence of some Corpo project''s labyrinth plan.

    However, this exit happened to be considerably different from the rest of the paths and hallways. From the map, Miles could see the area up ahead would expand, forming an ovular area with much more room and space.

    That was fine, the real problem was what he could see with Blood Vision.

    Straddled around this space, standing over varying structures at random heights and random levels, were hundreds of blooded figures. Small rats he presumed, but ominously, their heart crystals were frozen still.

    Miles may have thought them dead were it not for the fact that their hearts still carried a persistent yet faded, dull light.

    None of them made a move though. They were simply lying in wait, bidding for something or someone to arrive.

    Miles pursed his lips at the discovery.

    The silver lining was that only the hallway was infested with them. Quite a bit of the maze beyond it was still within the range of Blood Vision, but it was completely empty.

    There wasn''t a single blooded figure, not a drop of blood to be seen, as if the rats were limited to the middle ring of the maze. A pure, unmarred sight, one he had feared would not be possible.

    Freedom was in sight, though reaching it would be no easy task.

    If Miles tried to rush through this hallway, he would be swamped over by the horde of rats in a matter of minutes. He may have survived a dozen, but there was no way he could do the same with these numbers.

    ''I''ll have to prepare in advance.''

    Yes, if he had any intention of surviving this, he would need some serious firepower. But considering his limited resources at the moment, he only had one choice... To craft it himself.

    It had been years since Miles gave up forging. He had not had the slightest intention of taking it up again, but¡­ he had little choice.

    With a heavy sigh, Miles turned around and prepared to get to work.

 CHAPTER 39: Forging

    Many consider FaeTech''s Serums to be the undisputed ruler of the arm''s industry. Perhaps true, but this was never in volume but merely in cost and demand.

    Many forget that Cybernetics and more classical weaponry come in a rather close second, whether all-crafted or purely nat-tech.

    The world considers Fae Humans to be the enforcers of its rules, but it is we, titled Inventors and Craftsmen, who grant them the tools that allow it all.

    The world forgets, and we let them, for we are more than happy to enforce our rules from behind the curtain.

    After all, who else can mold Fae materials into tools that would bolster even an Iota mortal? Who else could forge to meet individual requirements of Gamma and above?

    Who, but we the All-Crafters?

    ¨CWorld Mandate of All-Crafters, established by Founding Corporate Members, Vulcan Industries and Einhar Enterprises.

    ***

    Miles was unsure of the chances, but he had just retreated from the path ahead, to discover a secluded crack in a nearby cold iron wall he had overlooked before.

    Curiously peering through, what he had found was another cavern inside of it. A perfect resting place for him to bunker down and prepare, just before encountering the horde of rats that waited ahead.

    The discovery was coincidental to the point he feared it was a trap, but this cavern had multiple exits. Besides the entrance, another two distinct cracks within led to two different hallways. So, he had quickly wandered through and explored, confirming with Cadmus¡¯ assistance that they led to completely different areas of the maze.

    Even if an ambush were to happen, he would not be easily cornered here.

    It still felt orchestrated, but perhaps not to his detriment¡­.

    Either way, that was how Miles ended up leaning against the almost familiar cavernous rock, frowning at the shards of broken cold iron he had gathered.

    To be honest, he hadn''t really thought about it.

    He hadn¡¯t intentionally given up forging, or all-crafting. He just never found a reason to practice, and he just never forged again. It just happened naturally¡­

    It had been so long since he had tried, but now, looking down at the material, inspiration came like flowing water. A cascade of ideas on how he could use the limited materials he had access to.

    Miles chose the best of them.

    First, he rearranged five roughly flat sheets of cold iron he had managed to break off of a wall. With one placed at the base, the others around and at the top, it formed a rough cuboid container.

    Since there was no industrial machinery to fuse them together, he would have to literally melt the cold iron by hand. The third enchantment frame would not be wasted at all.

    ¡°Cadmus, activate Heating Touch, approximately 2000 degrees Celsius.¡±

    The Lykaon ring flickered with a blazing orange light, the eyes of the wolf-head taking on a sinister visage. The light moved, little by little, shifting over to the tip of his ring finger. It faded, to an almost imperceptible fiery hue, and were it not for the distorting air, none would note the deadly heat.

    Miles could feel his lack of practice as he melted too much off of a few cold iron sheets, ruining them and thus being forced to search for replacements. Fortunately, cold iron was quite common here and he did not have to spend much time ripping off what he needed from the walls.

    Just an hour or so later, he wiped his brow with the non-enchanted hand, staring down at the rough and tumble cold iron container he had managed to ¡®weld¡¯ together.

    It was hideous, probably one of his worst forged tools, but¡­ he was sure his mother would have given it a thumb-up, nonetheless.

    Because it would still get the job done.

    Miles had forgotten how cathartic forging could be. Perhaps¡­ he should not have given up the practice. Well, he wouldn¡¯t have, had it not been for¨C

    He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand.

    His gaze shifted to the second material he had gathered, one he had placed at a considerable distance away due to his troubling attraction to it.

    A goblin-sized rat carcass, a [Hordred Rat Digger] he had hunted discreetly over the last hour.

    It had taken a short while to find another one, but only the Digger variant would suit his purposes exactly.

    Miles walked over to it, leaving the melted container of iron to cool.

    The scent strands of pooling blood and degrading death tickled his nostrils, but with a slow, focusing exhale he tempered his desire to sink his teeth into the rodent carcass. It was surprisingly easy, compared to the scent of that living blood.

    With the rock spike in hand, Miles got to work, first starting with skinning and de-fleshing the corpse. His throat burned, his mouth salivated, but his concentration remained strong.

    It was a messy, bloody ordeal, but he was not a stranger to prepping hunted game. Sidhe knows he had had enough family holidays to their hunting cabin in the Everglades.

    Miles continued to do well, at least until the rock spike actually shattered in two, due to too much force while stuck between too particularly tough bones. It was a sad affair, for the spike had served well as a makeshift weapon.

    Thankfully, the remaining splinters were sharp and long enough to continue.

    In the end, a grotesque mess of flesh and skin were discarded at a corner of the cave, and Miles considered the remnant skeleton.

    Although it had not been his primary intent, this task had also turned into a sort of postmortem on the Hordred rat.

    The skin and flesh were rodent-like, but the underlying bone structure of this particular rat was extremely unusual.

    It was less of a four-footed rat and more of a goblin, or more accurately, a rat that was halfway evolving into something humanoid.

    Perhaps the [Hordred Rat Brutes] were formed from the [Hordred Rat Diggers]? Some sort of evolutionary relationship?

    It was entirely plausible.

    The skeleton was also unusually dense. Even the most fragile parts remained unbroken despite his half-hearted attempts to shatter it.

    This was truly no mere rat, but those discoveries would only happen to serve Miles¡¯ purpose better.

    He did need to separate the bones though, and while shattering it seemed difficult, he could always melt it, and with a second casting of the Heating Touch Enchantment, now raised to around 2500 Celsius, Miles got to work.

    It was a challenge even then, until the ligaments and joints showed the first signs of weakening. Eventually, Miles managed to partition down the tough bone into their ¡®constituent¡¯ components.

    Any of the left-over bones would work well as makeshift weapons, but that was not his primary intent.

    His focus was on the skull and the pelvis bones, which he cleaned out as well he could until they formed half-decent containers, containers that could persist even under metal melting heat.

    Into one, he added a few shards of cold iron, and into the other¡­

    Miles heaved a sigh and took off his boot.

    With careful maneuvering so as to not directly touch it, he broke off the tip of the sole and carefully placed the Infernal Steel tip within the second bone container.

    Miles held the containers in both hands, moving towards the now decently cooled and solidified cold iron container.

    ¡°Cadmus, double cast the Heating Touch enchantment, 2000 degrees Celsius.¡±

    The ring activated again, and with two fingertips that burned with the searing heat of the Gini Salamander, Miles got to forging.

    It was quite simple, for all he had to do was hold his fingers to the bone containers. The bone would remain unaffected, but the metals within began to melt.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    It would be a fairly time-consuming process.

    ***

    Smoldering embers drifted through the air, swirling through an expanse of blood, sweat and creation.

    Molten elements dripped down like liquid starlight, poured from crucibles adorned with gleaming engravings. Holographic and overhead displays flickered with the schematics of innovative weaponry and indomitable armor. The air crackled with remnant aether, an energy that could not be described as anything other than magic airborne.

    Strikes of metal against metal resounded through the space, as artisans equipped with cybernetics to the point they could be considered cyborgs plied their trade, crafting, no, innovating. Their echoes seemed to resonate with the hum of fae incantations whispered and echoed by a hundred unseen lips.

    These were the Lykaon Forges, the core of their enterprise, and her domain.

    Far above those resident forgers, craftsmen, and engineers, upon a levitating island of metal that oversaw all the work down below, there lay a far more advanced, yet compact forge.

    The focus here was a centralized structure, a massive box of solid crystal, faded and unclear.

    Standing before it was Agnes, his mother, dressed in burn darkened overalls.

    This was not his first visit to the Forge, far from it, and yet¡­

    ¡°Apprentice Miles! Infernal Iron and Cold Iron, what is the primary difference between those two metals?¡±

    Yes, this was his first day as an ¡®apprentice¡¯ and his mother seemed unnecessarily ecstatic.

    He had not expected to be quizzed on his first day, and considered the question carefully, before answering, ¡°Resonant frequencies? Cold Iron is an absolute zero on the Fae Energy Spectrum, but even a diluted Infernal Alloy would have a frequency in the millions. Is that it, mother?¡±

    Agnes narrowed her eyes, ¡°What mother? You will refer to me as All-Crafter Agnes! Yes, my dear apprentice?¡±

    Miles almost rolled his eyes but noting how serious she seemed he allowed the silliness. ¡°Apologies All-Crafter, that is indeed what I meant.¡±

    Agnes beamed immediately, ¡°Good, good, and great answer! Your fathe¨CI mean Director Etan has taught you well.

    ¡°Now! I know this is supposed to be an introductory lesson, but all good things should start off with a bang! Which is why I will demonstrate a long theorized, but only recently proven discovery.¡±

    His mother flicked her hand towards the back, and a signet ring upon her hand just barely discernible, glowed in response.

    Instantly the faded box of crystal glass cleared, like an iced window placed into summer''s heat, revealing two gigantic robotic end effectors, each holding two cubes. One was an ordinary metal, but the other was a darkened abyss of metal, rippling with shadows of death and un-life, to the point even its end effector seemed to have rusted at its touch.

    Two cubes of pure Cold Iron and pure Infernal Iron.

    Agnes grinned, as she knocked on the crystal glass, ¡°Infernal Iron! Dubbed as such due to its ¡®infernal¡¯ properties, spreading death and devastation wherever a vein or mine is discovered. Yet it remains one of the most useful of the Fae influenced ores, for the infernal inside can be tamed and harnessed with the appropriate crafter¡¯s sigils.

    ¡°Elementally speaking, we know that Infernal Iron is ordinary Iron. Yet somehow it intrinsically resonates at the unique energy frequency of a dread Fae.

    ¡°Cold Iron is elementally identical to it as well, for it is actually simply ordinary Iron. Even then the aversion of all things Fae to this ordinary metal, though not definitive or cohesive, remains inexplicably true.¡±

    Her eyes glowed with a passion he rarely saw in anybody, ¡°Most All-crafters consider the reasoning to be conceptual, based on belief and collective conception, similar to the ¡®magic¡¯ of the Fae. I believe there is something more to it, but¡­ I digress.

    ¡°Apprentice Miles, what do you think will happen¡­ if these two opposites came into contact? Diluting an Infernal Metal is usually done with a Fae-Inert, natural elements such as Carbon, but what have you observed to happen when Infernal Iron is combined with Cold Iron?¡±

    Miles¡¯ answer was prompt, ¡°The Infernal escapes?¡±

    Agnes narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°...right, All-Crafter?¡±

    His mother beamed, ¡°Good, yes, the Infernal will be freed from its ¡®containing¡¯ metal! It will be a while before a weaker ¡®diluted¡¯ infernal will form within the new alloy again, but¡­¡±

    Miles cocked his head, and Agnes¡¯ grin grew wider, for with an almost theatrical flurry, she waved at the glass box.

    Immediately, the robotic end effectors turned a searing red, broiling with heat to the point the visual of the arms seemed to waver due to the high temperature.

    In just a few seconds, the two metals melted into two pools of shining iron and writhing darkness. They trickled down from the end effectors, flowing down the sloped base from opposite directions.

    Time slowed to a crawl as they approached each other, and the moment the two molten metals touched, a blood-curdling shriek rang out.

    The infernal iron seemed to fade in its darkness, taking on a sheen similar to the cold iron as they mixed together. But, almost imperceptibly, the air within the crystal glass box shifted to a slighter darker hue.

    It could have been a trick of the light... were it not for the echoing, overlapping whispers that spoke of death and carnage. It was followed by ominous slams and thuds into the crystal walls of the cube, alongside the spontaneous appearance of scratches upon the glass.

    ¡°With that, the Infernal has been set free! Well, free of its original containing metal, the cold iron lined crystal glass is its new prison. Still, this is the standard. But don''t you think this is a waste? To let the aether-filled Infernal just dissipate over time?¡±

    With a click of her fingers, a third robotic arm pulled down from the top of the box. Its end effector carried a box of Cold iron. One of its faces seemed to show a seal like metallic structure, forged with strange engravings.

    The arm moved downwards, reaching towards the mixture of molten metals. Something slammed into it, causing scratches to appear over the metal, but it still held strong.

    ¡°The Infernal may have left the metal, but it is still ''linked'' to its original vessel. So, what happens, if a uniquely designed sigil formation of aether-sealing was placed here?¡±

    Exactly then, the end effector touched the metal.

    As if flashed with light, the darkness of the air inside the crystal box vanished.

    Curious, Miles examined for the presence of the Infernal, only to find its whispers still present, but considerably muted. It was the sound of slamming and scratching that revealed where it was, inside that container of Cold Iron.

    Agnes grinned, pointing at the box, ¡°Just like that, we have one extracted Infernal, sealed within a portable container. Free for your personal use whether it be an enchanting or forging task! You could also be quite uninspired and throw it at someone you really want dead, crafter¡¯s choice!

    ¡°But before we do any of that, another question, my dear apprentice. This was such a simple process, so why has it not been attempted or succeeded before?¡±

    Miles peered into the crystal box, examining his mother¡¯s creation. None of the theories or crafting done here were particularly new, no, but the crux of this process was¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s the Sigil Formation, right? Did you design it moth¨CI mean, All-Crafter?¡±

    His mother beamed for a second time, tapping upon her nose, ¡°Of course, who else could? And that is why, today will be your introductory lesson to what we call Aether Sigils, the supposed written language of the Fae!¡±

    ***

    Many hours later, Miles stared down at the shaking cold iron container, trembling as if it were alive.

    It had been an extremely rough job, his relative unfamiliarity with forging in recent times, and the lack of proper equipment being the primary reasons. Having to work around an Infernal, a being that was degradation incarnate, did not make it any easier either.

    In fact, Miles had had to improvise, by engraving the sigil formation into the base of the cold iron container first, and then pouring the molten metals directly inside. The container might have melted this way, had he not used the slop of discarded rodent organs as a rudimentary ''coolant''. It was a macabre choice, but it had done what was needed and that was all that mattered.

    There had still been a risk of being injured, but for the strangest of reasons the infernal had been a lot more docile than expected. Either he remembered the violence of Infernal wrong, or this one had just let itself be trapped.

    It was his fortune, as rough as it may have been, he had managed to succeed with barely a scratch.

    The Infernal''s ¡®good behavior¡¯ did not last long though, for the moment it was trapped, it went insane. The container shuddered, as the being within banged and ripped into the cold iron, but unable to escape it, for now...

    Even with the formation of aether sealing, the influence of an Infernal could not be nullified entirely. The hand-welded container would not last longer than a day, but that was fine.

    Miles did not need it to hold for long. Just long enough.

    With the most troubling forging task completed, he placed the Infernal sealed container aside.

    Miles considered his next step, when something changed.

    For a moment he feared the Infernal had managed to escape, but no...

    This something had passed right through him, permeating throughout the maze, and before he could wonder what this was about... he heard it.

    An instrument of some sort, a flute or something similar, playing an eerily beautiful tune.

    Miles had had the opportunity to listen to some of the best fae musicians of Capital City and he could say with confidence this was on par, if not better. The music came from all directions, resounding through the iron walls, but his ears perked up, sensing the source to be the direction of the middle ring exit. He couldn''t be sure, but it could be the outer ring, or from the outside of the maze entirely¡­

    He tried to locate the source with his eyes, but if someone was playing an instrument, Miles could not see. Perhaps they were beyond the rage of Blood Vision?

    The music wafted through the air, speaking to all that listened, retelling a hundred stories and ideas with every chord. The tale of a hero that defeated a monster, the sealing of evil forever more, how powerless innocents would be saved and protected from those that wished to cause harm. A plethora of fantastical tales, brought to life by each haunting note.

    Almost on instinct Miles flashed Blood Vision towards the hallway the music seemed to be closest to. The very same hallway he had retreated from, his sole path of escape.

    His pupils widened as he noted the hundreds of Hordred rats that had formerly been still, had entered a crazed frenzy.

    Not all, only a few dozen, but it was enough to reveal the strangest of phenomena.

    Consulting the maze map, it was obvious this was the other side of the hall and the entrance to the outer ring. If he wished to reach it, he would have to pass through the hundreds of rodents first.

    As if drawn towards the exit by the flute music, the rats gathered there. Their blooded figures rushed in blindly, pouncing even, only to hit something and be pushed back as if they struck a wall.

    Yet, they kept trying the same thing over and over, as if hoping the result would change the next time. Maybe it was knowing this futility, that the majority of the rats did not participate in the task.

    Miles had seen this exit from a distance previously. It was completely open, so unless what he had seen was an illusion, these rats were being repelled from the outer ring¡­

    ¡®...The Hordred rats are trapped within the middle ring?¡¯

    No wonder they were starving.

    The haunting melody continued for a little longer, coming to a perfect end at the victory of its supposed hero. And as if the end of the music was their cue to end their meaningless attempt at an escape, those few rats retreated back to where they had come from.

    Within mere minutes, the hall was as it had been, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

    Miles blinked blankly, unsure of what to make of what had just happened.

    The first was the possibility that he too was trapped here, with the rodents. But if that were true, he would have no choice but to accept his fate of being imprisoned within this maze.

    So, he just refused to believe it.

    This was a trial, and he just knew whatever stopped the rats would not affect him.

    Since Miles was fully confident in that, this could be considered good news.

    All he had to do was cross the hallway and reach the exit. All he had to do was escape.

    Miles started at the hundreds of blooded Hordred scattered throughout, waiting, for someone to try exactly that.

    Well, easier said than done.

 CHAPTER 40: Infernal

    The strange music and the trapped Hordred were quite the interesting mystery, but Miles could do little about it. He knew the facts well enough for his purposes, and thus invested his time into some other minor crafting.

    While the blood-formed knife, the Pugio, felt like a great weapon whenever it was... summoned, he could not rely on its unreliable appearance.

    Thus, he had fashioned a few shivs out of the remaining rat bones.

    Though they were only half the length of the rock spike, they were far tougher, and by carefully sharpening the bone with Heating Touch, much sharper as well. Perfectly fashioned for a slaughter.

    Detect seemed to agree, giving it quite the generous grade. [Bone Shiv - Hordred Rat - Uncommon].

    Satisfied, Miles put aside the rudimentary weapons and decided to fashion some makeshift ''armor''. Considering the horde of rats that guarded the exit, the chances of having a hundred rodents crawling all over him were quite high. This was why Miles decided to use the cold iron to mold a few strips into some quick binding straps.

    The system was quite a bit critical here, [Iron Bands - Inferior], simply categorizing them as ''bands''.

    Miles could not disagree. Molded from metal, they were rather uncomfortable when worn and quite flimsy as well. But they wrapped quite well around the ends of his shirt sleeves and pant legs, ensuring nothing would crawl inside his clothes without breaking through the cold iron first. Inferior as it were, it would get the job done.

    He had had little time for the former, as most of his time was invested in forging a neck piece. It needed to fit over his collar, ensuring the throat and neck were no longer directly exposed.

    A helm of some sort would have done the job much better, but unfortunately, he lacked the equipment to make something actually functional here.

    It would leave his face exposed, but that was fine, under the presumption that any injuries there would be non-fatal and regenerate soon enough. With Conditional Undeath he only had to worry about decapitation and fire after all.

    [Shoddy Neck Armor - Cold iron - Common]

    The task of molting metal by hand into something that resembled armor was a trial, and the end-result was quite hideous. But despite the ''shoddiness'', for an equipment-less forging, it was pretty decent.

    With that, Miles was done with forging, and the appraisal of his own creations.

    His gaze shifted towards the exit ahead, the path that would lead to freedom. It was finally time to leave this accursed maze.

    ***

    Miles could trace every strand of scent that reached his nostrils, directly to their sources as if he had seen it all with his own eyes,

    The stench of decaying filth, the tanginess of rusting metal, the overpowering chemicals and leaking effluents, and more¡­ of that living blood.

    Calming his egregious desire for the scent of the latter, Miles slowed as he sneaked closer, just enough to properly observe what lay within the hall ahead.

    He had to admit, it was not at all what he had expected. It was quite a change compared to the monotonic cold iron maze.

    Jutting upward were mountains of loose material, of discarded circuitry, machinery and corroded metal, tied together by tangled wires crackling with latent currents as if the veins of sleeping giant.

    The sights before him were reminiscent of the outer city, a graveyard of discarded tech, though a distinct difference were the lack of corpses of any kind.

    The tech here was ancient, at least several centuries old, for even Miles had difficulty discerning what some of them were.

    Still there were also many that he could recognize, some, as confirmed by Cadmus, could even be net woven into¡­

    A short while later, Miles moved closer, stopping just a single step before entering. He inhaled that tantalizing scent of the living blood, but¡­

    Blood Vision activated, covering his eyes in a sheen of red and revealing the horde of glowing red figures that awaited him. They were hidden, scattered all over the area, but there were none of the splatters of blood that he had come to expect from living blood.

    Stranger still were the heart crystals of these rodents. Even before, when a few had been frenzied under the haunting melody of the flute, it had been so.

    They were a persistent, yet dull light.

    The lack of blinking, no, beating hearts, was ominous to say the least. Feeling the sense of foreboding wafting into the air, Miles prepared himself.

    None of the rats reacted to his presence, not making the slightest movement or the faintest of sound.

    There could not be any better evidence to suggest this was a planned ambush. Considering how close he was, the typical Hordred Rat Alarmer would have been screeching its head off by now.

    ¡®But whether they shall succeed or not, remains to be seen.¡¯

    Miles let out a shaky breath.

    Since they dared not make the first move, he would graciously make it himself.

    There were many, a few hundred rats at the least, and Miles had made sure to don his gloves along with the cold iron neck armor and iron suit straps he had forged just prior.

    Still, he remained patient.

    He considered the arrangement of the hall, the paths he could see and the paths he could not. Enough that he had the makings of a reasonable plan.

    Only after he had gone over it several times, confirming it was feasible and burned into his memory, was he truly ready. And now that he was, Miles extended his right leg backward, stretching and tightening his muscles. A cobra preparing to strike.

    A lesser used movement in the Nameless Art, one used expressly for launching forwards with immense speed. It was slow prepare, but in situations like this, quite ideal.

    Miles had even utilized a portion of his free points.

    Since he had been unsure of what effect attribute enhancement could have upon the (Un)Balanced title, he had started with a single point and incremented from there until he had invested exactly five points.

    [Agility: 33] (+5) ¡ü

    Nothing adverse had happened, but he had decided to play it safe and stop there. To make up for the partial investment in attributes, Miles reached for the first skill he had ever received and activated it... tentatively.

    Miles could only grit his teeth at the ensuing pain, as Blood Burn seared through his veins, molting his blood as if casting it into an inferno.

    He let out pained breaths, his hands tightneing over the shuddering box of cold iron in one, and the Caucon cocked in the other.

    Miles managed to endure the searing heat of boiling blood for a few minutes, until he was forced to let go of it.

    Soon enough, the pain faded and what was left was a barely perceptible rush of latent energy. And a feeling of elation, genuine happiness, at the violence that awaited him¡­

    A sharp grin crawled over his face, but Miles managed to pacify the excitement.

    An inhale of cold air, focusing and grounding.

    He allowed his agility, burnt blood and movement technique, all of it to gather as one. The combined power seemed to crackle through him as if liquid lightning.

    Miles let out the breath.

    An exhale of warm air, calming and relieving.

    Then¡­ he was no longer there.

    Miles was airborne, bursting through the air like an arrow let loose. His sight blurred at the speed, his other enhanced senses being the only thing that allowed him to maintain his bearing.

    Yet the wind kept up with him, whispering secrets and ever-present in its support.

    He landed once and bounded forth once more, blasting through a small heap of trash, scattering it in a rain of trash and circuits.

    Miles was quick but so were the rats. As if ripples through a disturbed lake, they came to life.

    Their faded heart crystals blazed with light, beginning to blink, somehow beating as one.

    He had made good progress, almost a quarter of his way through the space, but there were so, so many rats. Though he had a head start, Miles was bound to be overwhelmed sooner or later.

    Well, that would have been true, had he not been prepared¡­

    The hand that gripped the boxed infernal pulled back, and at just the perfect moment, exactly as he had planned before, it was hurled into the air.

    Almost in slow motion, Miles watched the arcing path, as the box soared through the air to exactly where it needed to be.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    His target was far enough away from where he was, but exactly where most of the rats were concentrated. There was no way the vermin could react on time¨C

    The wind was wrong.

    It was¡­ flowing backward?

    Miles'' throat burned at that familiar smell of living blood.

    He barely reacted on reflex, ducking behind a massive pile of trash hoping to protect his back.

    The wind roared.

    He did not even get to see what that was about, for a massive something, struck him, through the trash and right into his back.

    The suit protected him, even the neck ¡®armor¡¯ did something, but the blunt force hit him through it all.

    Miles felt his bones cracking as his body bent at an odd angle, and he was sent rag dolling through the air.

    His head spun and his vision swam, until he finally crashed into another one of the many mountains of garbage. It made for a wonderfully soft landing, padded with sharpened blades and pointed metallic components.

    [-4.3 HP. 6/10 HP remaining.]

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -1.7 BP lost.]

    Miles felt heat and cold all at one, and a wetness spreading over his torso. His left arm felt lighter, and did not respond properly, but thankfully, the Caucon was still stuck in his right hand. Somehow, he had maintained his grip upon the weapon.

    As if to say his head was not perfectly well, Blood Vision was on the fritz, flickering red and black like a dying bulb, only serving to leave him confused.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.8 BP lost.]

    Miles had the sense of mind to force the skill to deactivate, even though he could feel his strength seeping out of him and the eternal thirst rearing its head in response.

    His ringing ears cleared quickly though, making room for the squeaks and chitters spreading through the hallway. Rising as one, the rodents were an awakened army.

    The wind roared a second time, and Miles could feel that same something rushing down into him, aiming to finish him off once and for all. It was almost entirely pitch dark in the maze, but Miles still had his night vision to rely on.

    His assailant was grotesque thing, a giant arm of metal and flesh, formed out of garbage and pulsing flesh, inter-threaded with swells of rippling, bulging veins. A hideous, unnatural thing had appeared in place of the rats that should have been within the trash. It was as if they had melted into the trash¡­

    Huh. No wonder his attempt to hide behind a mountain of garbage had ended up like this. The trash itself was his opponent.

    Miles struggled to get up, to get himself to move, but his wet, bloodied hands only settled upon sharpened debris, the exact opposite of stable support to prop himself up.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.6 BP lost.]

    The wind was pleading, begging him to move, but he could not. His legs felt wrong, his own body slow to obey his thoughts.

    But his will, his intent was not. Even while delirious, his mind screamed.

    Liquid crystallized, shards tinkled, all solidifying into something behind him. It pushed him away, and the next thing he knew, he was moving through the air.

    Miles fell headfirst into another pile of trash, pushed to the side into just as much of a ''soft'' landing as before, but¡­

    BOOM!

    The shockwave of the strike was all that hit him, blowing through the air and sending him rolling a bit further.

    Something cracked and shattered, biting into his back. It sounded like glass, but Miles was unsure if it was something in the garbage or whatever it was that had saved him from being a stain on the floor.

    The attack had missed, but Miles felt the wind begin to rile up again. He was face first on the ground, but he could sense the subtle shifts in illumination. He could tell when he was covered by the massive shadow of a monstrously malformed arm.

    Reeling from the first strike, Miles struggled to gather his bearings, but he could not escape. Not when whatever had saved his life before seemed to be intent on not repeating it.

    Suddenly, his hair stood on end, and a blood chilling cold settled within the area...

    Eerie whispers, hundreds and thousands of it reverberated through the silent air, and in an instant, the shadow over him scattered. It literally fell apart.

    A rain of debris pelted him, striking and drawing blood, but it was nothing serious.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.12 BP lost.

    Blood Points (BP): 7/10 left.]

    Thunderous booms rang out from a distance, shockwaves trembling through his own body, but it was no longer targeted at him.

    Finally, the Infernal was doing something, but this did not mean he was safe. It did get him enough time though, for before an errant arm managed to crush his prone paralyzed form¡­

    [Conditional Undeath Activated.]

    Instantly, Miles felt his skin crawl, slowly covering his wounds with scabs. The regeneration was not instantaneous perhaps owing to how injured he was.

    It was a tad itchy and quite uncomfortable, but it allowed him to recover, enough to think clearly.

    Miles had lost a massive amount of blood, now splattered all over his clothes from wherever he had been wounded, and his throat burned...

    An errant glance at the source of the booming crashes revealed a sight that sent a chill down his back.

    The garbage had formed into dozens of gigantic arms, almost blindly pelting the same spot over and over, crushing steel and rubble as if heaven sent punishment.

    He was unsure of the point of it, but he knew that if it had been him there, only a Miles-shaped stain would have been left on the floor.

    That was not the case here.

    Impossibly, every punch just caused parts of the arms to¡­ rot and fall apart. As if decomposed and cremated within a matter of seconds, only dust scattered, leaving nothing behind.

    Threads of flesh would ripple through the mountains of garbage and bring more monstrous arms to life, but numbers mattered little. They were imply throwing themselves into a metaphorical fire.

    Miles blinked.

    Something imperceptible shifted, and he could see the ''fire'' now.

    It was as if he had changed lenses, because all of a sudden it was no longer invisible, and he could see it all.

    The shadow of a demonic figure, eyes darkened to an abyssal black. The creature was half smoke, half incongruous monster, with near uncountable tentacle-like limbs formed from its back, as if to match the garbage flesh arms that were its opponent.

    The sight instantly reminded Miles of the Beast, but there was a distinct difference between the two. This was no animal. This was something different.

    It was Infernal. Even the monstrous arms that had almost shattered his spine would be helpless.

    These creatures were energy, mere contact causing even the imposing living garbage arms to disintegrate. They were entropy incarnate, and could not be harmed, only contained or transformed.

    However, the Infernal here seemed rather stagnant, as if it were bored¡­

    Miles was forced out of his hapless staring, by a sharp jab upon his back.

    Instinctively he grabbed it and crushed, exploding the brazen rat like an overripe fruit. He barely heard the Ding, for the sharp bone stabbed his palm, but he had no time to nurse his wounds.

    More squeaks and chitters gathered around him, forcing him to act.

    He could feel his body shifting, innards moved about as Conditional Undeath mended broken bones and popped them back where they should have been. He was nowhere near recovered, but...

    It would have to be enough.

    Miles grit his teeth through the pain, somehow swaying onto his feet. He allowed Blood Vision to cover his eyes, quite relieved to see that it was no longer flickering like before.

    The skill helped, highlighting the flesh threaded through the giant arms, and surprisingly, even the obviously non-blooded Infernal remained visible.

    He could not ignore the gigantic arms just because the Infernal was keeping them distracted. The same with the Infernal.

    Still, the more immediate problem were the waves of red figures rushing towards him, swarms of Hordred Rats.

    The majority of their numbers were gathered around the infernal, dozens disappearing into the garbage whenever a new arm was formed.

    Still, a considerable number was making their way towards him as well.

    Well, Miles had his plans. He would have spoken the command out loud if he could, but he did not trust his vocal cords right now. Thus, as he had agreed with Cadmus before, all he did was reach for the Lykaon Ring and give it a light tap.

    BOOM!

    A series of explosions, so perfectly coordinated, rocked through the hall sending mountains of trash exploding in clouds of fire, the ensuing force raining metal and debris all over the place.

    The AI had successfully let loose the self-destruction daemons they had previously net weaved into every single network interfaceable components here. It had paid out.

    The Infernal seemed to go crazy, excited by the chaos around it.

    Ding! Ding! Ding!

    The cacophony of notifications and the sudden reduction of the rat population suggested it had been a much more effective explosion than what Miles had expected from ancient machinery.

    He could not celebrate. The air smelt burnt, and the searing heat of the explosions, though distant, sent a wave of primal fear through him.

    Felling revitalized by it, Miles began to hobble forwards, moving through the shortest path he could see.

    Ding! Ding! Ding!

    Despite the fact that he had culled so many rats, he could see no end in sight. It was as if nothing happened, for groups of surviving rodents lunged at him soon enough.

    Miles kept them off, with the defense of his makeshift cold iron armor, and his careful use of the Caucon, and his newly forged shivs.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.2 BP lost.]

    He was injured by a few surprise rats that managed to get him despite everything, but Conditional Undeath was already underway, and those wounds were quickly healed.

    Miles continued to limp his way through, not forgetting to set wary eyes upon particularly suspicious piles of trash.

    This situation had to be approached carefully. He was regenerating quick, he could almost properly walk now, but he was nowhere near recovered enough to dodge a giant metal arm.

    He only had one option.

    From then on, Miles ensured that he was always in close proximity to one of the larger piles of trash, specifically those that contained blobs of pulsing writhing red within them, rat shaped or otherwise. Almost coincidentally, he would always place himself between the closest mountain of trash and the exit...

    Yes, Miles could see the exit now, leading into the next hallway. The area had a few mountains of garbage as well, but there was not a single blooded figure in sight.

    Safety was so, so close. All he had to do was reach it.

    There was only a quarter of the distance left, when... it happened.

    The ominous whispers in the air increased in amplitude and a chilling cold swept over him.

    Miles¡¯ breaths came out as puffs of cold smoke. As if a specter manifesting out of his own breath, the Infernal was suddenly before him.

    The hellish creature was grinning like a devil, reaching mangled hands of rotting, towards him.

    Miles reacted on instinct, swiveling upon the balls of his feet.

    [Discipline: Haemomancy molds the blood.]

    The blood upon his body and clothes answered a familiar call, crystallizing into a familiar grip.

    PUGIO.

    The assassin''s blade ripped through the head of the infernal instantly decapitating it.

    The head disappeared into the fading smoke, but the Infernal did not seem to be harmed, as it should have been, but it was also confused, as one would be when they lost their head.

    There was no time to dally for Miles heard it first, the telltale tinkle of forming garbage.

    A third party was aiming to take advantage of the situation, but unlike the sudden appearance of the Infernal, Miles had been expecting this. He also knew it was going to hurt...

    [Discipline: Haemomancy molds the blood.]

    Miles was not sure how he did it, but he heard the familiar crackle of forming crystal and sudden, strange weight upon his back.

    The wind roared, bursting into him from the side.

    Miles knew that he could not move fast enough to dodge it, not as injured as he was. Yet, he exploded forth, rushing towards the exit with maximum speed.

    Yes, he managed that despite his injuries, at least until¡­ the barely recovered bone in his right foot twisted in an unnatural direction.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.6 BP lost.]

    He didn¡¯t feel the pain. It was all muted and faded, barely causing him to stumble.

    The wind roared, bursting into his back now.

    ''Yes.''

    And this time, Miles let it hit.

    Blood crystal shattered and barely healed bones snapped again, as Miles was sent rag dolling through the air for a second time.

    [-2 HP. 4/10 HP remaining.]

    Somehow, he held onto the Caucon, at the cost of losing his grip over the blood crystal knife.

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.8 BP lost.

    Blood Points (BP): 5/10 BP remaining.]

    He was airborne, hurling through the air like a stringless puppet. His vision swam, and the pulses of agonizing pain threatened to knock him out, but something kept him awake.

    A part of him feared what would happen. His heart was beating the loudest it had since its re-awakening.

    But...

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but crack a bloodied grin.

    He didn¡¯t even care that what he crashed down into next was a hard cavernous floor.

    How could he not be pleased?

    He had feared that he would hit an invisible wall, revealing that like the rats he too was trapped here.

    But no. That strike had sent him flying right through the exit and into the hallway beyond.

    Somehow or the other, Miles escaped the maze.

    Relief overwhelmed him, muting even the torture of his battered physique. He was finally free.

 CHAPTER 41: Shattered Chains

    Miles lay still, sprawled over the cavern floor.

    As free as he was supposed to be now, he could not move.

    Everything hurt.

    Miles could feel one arm, twisted in the wrong direction like a storm-turned tree. He could feel his rib cage, turned back into itself and stabbing his organs.

    As for his legs, he could not feel them at all.

    Delirious, Miles stared at the one that had single-handedly assisted his escape and put him in his current state.

    The behemoth fist of malformed metal and flesh loomed over the precipice of the exit from the maze, frozen in the air. It was the same for the dozens of rats pouncing after him.

    Something kept them out, obstructing their passage here. Something that had not worked on him.

    His gamble had paid off. Miles could finally relish his freedom.

    The only misfortune was that he had been unable to properly defend against the final attack, even though he had anticipated it well in advance.

    Still, it should have been a whole lot worse, and he was still in one piece, somehow.

    Miles was unsure, but he felt that his survival had had something to do with the unknown weight that had appeared over his back.

    But the worst part was not the pain. No, it was the side-effect of having to regenerate.

    Everything was overshadowed by the flashes intense heat burning through him, roaring about the obvious absence of something. As the intense scent of living blood wafted over from the maze, a familiar dryness pervaded his throat, wishing to be quenched and nothing less.

    Miles was desperate for it, and perhaps, were it not for his inability to stand, he may have already rushed back in just for the taste.

    Fortunately, or unfortunately, Conditional Undeath was still underway, healing his broken body, bit by bit.

    He focused his mind, persisting through the inhuman, illogical instincts that rattled through his brain.

    Miles grimaced as his body inadvertently snapped around like a glitch-ridden cyborg, forcing himself through the muted pain of a skeleton rearranging into its proper place. He could only bless the fortune that had caused the cold iron forged ¡®armor¡¯ to fall off during his escape or he might have stabbed himself in an accident.

    Soon enough though, Miles adapted to the pain. It persisted like faint echoes, but his mind was far enough away to allow him to expand his senses into the hallway he had left behind.

    He was sure now. There was no longer any danger of being attacked, for he was well beyond the reach of the Hordred.

    Yet, quite a few rats still attempted it, vainly striking against the invisible obstruction that halted their progress.

    Once again, a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and Miles could snap about in less stressful agony.

    During the worst of it, Miles forcibly distracted himself by forcing on the regenerative process. The manner in which the blood energy flowed in his body, sometimes even moving in reverse as it rushed to heal and repair.

    And so, this continued for a torturous half an hour, by when his bones were more or less where they should have been in the first place.

    [Conditional Undeath activated. All internal injuries healed. +3 HP regenerated.

    (7/10) HP remaining]

    As stated by the notification, Miles felt the intent of Conditional Undeath move away from what had once been the more serious injuries and shift over to the external injuries. It continued to knit through ripped flesh, scabbing over bloody wounds, but he felt he had recovered enough now.

    He struggled to rise, breathing in the stench of a mound of garbage he had fallen into. Sensing drastic changes to the wind, he finally got on his feet, spitting out some of his own blood.

    A cacophony of unnatural noises echoed in his ears, and the whispers from the wind revealed all.

    Miles cast a wary glance at the source, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

    There were no individual rats any longer. Nor were there gigantic fists of flesh and steel.

    Instead, it was a grotesque, gigantic mass of undulatingly pink tentacle-like appendages.

    Once, there had been mighty fists of a giant, now, they were the tendrilled tails of an abomination. They formed pulsing veins of flesh weaving through garbage and steel, as if some natural creature.

    That was when he realized.

    Tails.

    They were a horrible twist of rat tails, extended to the point they formed a nest of gangly worms, coiled around each other. Pulsating to the rhythm of some unseen heartbeat, they wriggled in a macabre dance of flesh and metal, centered on one thing and one thing only.

    They were wrapped around a shadowy visage, one whose head had already reformed despite Miles having cut it off a mere while ago.

    The Infernal was motionless, as if resigned to its fate. But Miles knew it could break free if it so desired¡­

    Their eyes met.

    Dark, abyssal pools of infinite depth. Not even a flicker of light.

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure how he had failed to see it before.

    There was a twisted sense of connection between them, or at least between the Infernal and a select part of him. Miles could swear the Infernal of pure aether tipped the shadows that formed its head towards him, in a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

    And then, its maw widened into a beast-like grin.

    Ah, now he knew why the Infernal was behaving as it was.

    It wanted this, and he could only watch.

    Soon enough, the tentacular limbs began to twist, echoing the noise of squelching flesh and clanging metal, fully covering the Infernal in a nightmarish knot of rat tails and circuitry.

    Then, they pulled.

    The horrifying amalgamation tightened, compressing the knotted ball of sinewed flesh smaller and smaller. Until at one point it reached a level of incomprehensible density, forming a grotesquely pulsing ball of tail yarn¡­

    Miles blinked.

    The very world shifted, and he experienced a familiar yet profound change.

    The beating of his heart sped, and an enhanced sense of vitality rippled through him.

    Even his thirst seemed to be sated to some extent.

    Though familiar with this phenomenon, what Miles witnessed this time was quite unusual.

    From the ball of flesh that now wrapped around the Infernal, surges of decaying grey pulsed outwards, passing through the tentacles of flesh. The strange energy flickered and faded, away from the knot of tails and towards elsewhere...

    ¡®It¡¯s almost as if the Infernal is--being consumed?''

    It didn''t take long for the grey energy to sputter to an end, and as if the tentacular threads had reached their tensile limit, they broke apart with a sickening snap.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Splatters of flesh, and shards of steel, scattered into the air, but the majority of those eerie slithers of flesh, now covered in darkened gray shades, slithered into the mountains of garbage.

    With that, all was still.

    Everything should have been as it had before... but that was not to be the case.

    The beating of his heart thundered now, echoing in his ears like a war drum. His physique filled with such vitality that even the regeneration seemed to speed up.

    His ears failed to hear it, for there was no sound, but Miles could swear that the haunting flute was being played again.

    However, something drastic had been changed.

    The once hopeful melody seemed discordant and ruined, out of tune, mutated into the opposite of what it had been...

    Miles blinked, and the world shifted for a second time.

    As if manifested by the song itself, rippling through the air now were glistening silver chains. Translucent as if formed of softened moonlight, they crisscrossed over each other in an endless web that spread throughout the entirety of this cavern.

    One end of these chains gathered towards a common direction, disappearing into a wall and leading to who knows where, but¡­ the opposite ends all led into the mountains of garbage.

    Miles stared at the sight.

    To a certain part of him, these chains felt¡­ just.

    Righteous, and well-intentioned. A promise to protect those that could not protect themselves.

    But that all changed when the greying energy, re-appeared from the garbage it had previously retreated into. And like fire spreading through kindling, its abyssal decay spread, engulfing every single chain.

    Miles watched in dismay as the ¡®metal¡¯ that formed these chains aged through millennia in a single moment, rusting, decaying, and degrading into dust, in a matter of moments.

    Just like that, the chains were no more.

    ¡®What¡­?¡¯

    Miles blinked again.

    Everything inside the hallway had returned to normal. His heartbeat at its slowed pace, and his thirst had returned.

    Miles could no longer see anything that he had just witnessed. Not the shadows nor the chains, but he could sense a drastic change¡­

    The very world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the horrifying revelation to unfold.

    Only in that painful moment of pause, did Miles realize that quite some time had passed now, and the last of his injuries had healed entirely.

    [Conditional Undeath Completed. All injuries healed. ~5 Blood Points lost.]

    [HP: 10/10. Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 10/100)]

    While the losses to his blood bank were significant, at least his thirst was sated, but before he could ponder any further¡­

    A strangled squeak.

    As if the final chortle of an indignant death, a single small rat crawled itself out of the depths of one particular mountain of garbage.

    It seemed to be entirely ordinary rodent, except for its dark fur, shuddering as if a shadow from a flickering candle.

    Miles almost scoffed at the underwhelming revelation, but¡­ something stopped him.

    All this rat had done was come out, but the very air had become turbulent as a result.

    Warier now, Miles considered it again, more carefully this time.

    He drew a sharp breath.

    Its beady eyes were a familiar pool of abyssal black, and above all¡­ it smelled of danger.

    Similar rats began to appear all around the hallway, crawling out of the garbage.

    The more he watched, the more he saw how unnatural these rodents were.

    Though he saw the nearly pitch-black maze with his enhanced vision, these creatures were slippery even for his sight.

    They were darkness brought to life, vanishing and reappearing like a shadow.

    Their motions were random, stumbling and strange. Like a cross between being drunk and a newborn babe learning to move.

    They were aware of his presence however, staring at him at every other moment.

    He could smell it off of them. Their rage and¡­ hunger.

    Miles had an inkling that none of this was a positive turn of events. Not for him.

    Now that he thought about it, although he had killed quite a few of these rats in his escape, he had not received any kill notifications. While he had not seen them regenerate, it was entirely possible the monstrous flesh that formed limbs out of metal were in some way related to the Flesh of the Hordred King.

    Now seemed about as good a time as any to examine the creatures before him. Detect activated, manifesting a line of text over the eerie creatures, and a chill swept over his back.

    [Infernal Knight of the Hordred King - Vinasha Riessen Ratte - Lvl. 99]

    Miles could remain calm, safe in the knowledge that no rat could reach him over the threshold of the exit¡­

    But it did not last long.

    An errantly moving black rat changed it all, when it accidentally stumbled over the edge of the maze, crossing the exit and into his side. Just like that, the rat passed over whatever mystical obstruction had existed before.

    Hundreds of Infernal rat heads twisted around in unison, abyssal eyes glowing surprise and¡­ glee.

    Miles could guess what had happened.

    Somehow, his use of the Infernal as a distraction had led to a change in the status quo. Just as he had escaped, these rats had been freed of their original entrapment.

    ¡®Well¡­ shit.¡¯

    Barely recovered as he was, Miles did not waste a second longer.

    Cursing his dastardly luck, again, he made a run for it.

    ***

    The wind blew past him, whispering whatever secret it could find into his ears.

    The outer ring was identical to the middle ring, with walls formed of cold Iron, though there was a distinct lack of excavated holes. The hallways here also continued to be filled with mounds of garbage.

    Unfortunately, Miles did not have the freedom to sight see, for over a hundred of those Infernal Knights were chasing after him.

    Though he was not sure why all of the creatures had not come after him, for there had been a lot more, this number alone was a challenge to handle.

    They were shadow-borne creatures, stronger and faster than any rat he had encountered before. With the size of the smallest Hordred, they struck with the strength of the Digger variant. Not to mention that they appeared at random and vanished into dark corners, striking at his blind points whenever they were least expected.

    The worst part was that these Infernal Knights did not know what it meant to die.

    Whenever Miles managed to use a bone shiv to slice a rat in two, they would simply splatter down into a black liquid¡­

    And with the overpowering smell of living blood plus a hint of eternal decay. the material would come to life and reform into the creature it had been just prior.

    Their regeneration was far greater than his own. Truly knights that took after their king.

    Miles felt his bones rattle, muscles aching, as each foot slammed into the cavern rock floor. There was also the intangible weight of having had multiple broken bones just an hour or so ago.

    He was fine, the rest prior to his escape attempt had helped him recover some energy, but he was still running on fumes.

    Despite all that, Miles managed to maintain his lead by using the full force of Nameless Movement.

    This was because in a complete reversal of the situation before, these rodents had no knowledge of the arrangement of the paths in the outer ring of the maze. On the contrary, he had access to his map, granting him the upper hand in that aspect.

    Miles could have attempted to confuse the rats, to hide behind a random path and send the creatures down another, but he did not take the risk.

    There was no longer anything to stop him, he could escape the maze now, so why waste time?

    And so, Miles continued to blast through the hallways, moving at reckless speeds, until he encountered a certain crossroads.

    Excitement fueled him as he recognized it. Following the guidance of Cadmus¡¯ map, he made a turn, entering a hallway that was only a few turns before the promised exit.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but pause the moment he stepped inside.

    He had imagined many things he may encounter within this Doorway and this maze, but it had not been anywhere near this.

    The hallway expanded out to the sides, into a larger space that more than the usual gathered collection of trash and scrap metal.

    There was a particularly tall hill of metallic material, brightly lit under some form of sky light.

    A familiar light and a heat that caused a chilling sense of danger to rise within him.

    Natural sunlight. Somehow. Within a Doorway.

    The rays of this sun scattered, reflected off the metallic material, creating a majestic yet deadly sight of diverging light.

    Miles could move avoiding all that, that was fine.

    The problem was¡­ the figure that stood upon this hill, underneath the sunlight.

    A child, a little girl. With her hair an unusual color, a faded wet blue, she stood precariously balanced over the loose garbage, staring at him.

    His nostrils expanded and instantly, Miles could sense the absence.

    The girl had no smell, no thread to tug upon. It was as if she did not exist at all.

    However, from a place that was distant yet close, there was something.

    A faint smell of death and animal blood. It was different from those of the Hordred rats. It came¡­

    From a creature of the skies. A three-eyed one, wiser than all the rest, but for some heaven-sent reason had foolishly tried to raise a family in this wasteland. Now, all that was left was this.

    The strand of scent led his eyes to a crude gathering of metal, a monument of some sort, in the shape of stars or something. It was placed over a smaller heap of metal, a burial mound¡­

    The strange girl was also cradling something within her hands, something of similar scent, and while Miles wasn¡¯t sure what it was, it seemed to be something alive¡­

    She hid it behind her, as if afraid that he would do something to it.

    Miles couldn''t care less about it.

    But he did care about what happened next.

    He was mid-motion, dashing through the hallway, but there was one moment that seemed to last for an eternity.

    He blinked.

    Huh?

    The girl''s hair was orange now? An impossible yet natural color, like a setting sun.

    Miles could have sworn it had been a different¨C

    He was curious, yes, but he was being chased by a quickly gaining swarm of shadow rats. He did not have much choice on what to do here.

    So, with only a single glance and softly spoken, ¡°You should run away,¡± at the little girl, he was off.

    If she was some form of fae, there was no need to antagonize her by attacking. It also felt needlessly cruel, especially when his escape was all but confirmed.

    After, he didn¡¯t spare her another glance as he left her behind, moving into the next hallway in a blur of wind.

    Miles continued to rush through the following few hallways and crossroads, following the map to the dot, until he entered what was supposed to be the final hallway.

    He had thought it would have been different, but no. It was identical to all other hallways that had come before, with the only difference being a slight brightening of the ambient light.

    For a moment, a part of him feared there would be no escape, but...

    Then he smelled it.

    Something he had sorely needed.

    He had never smelled this as a scent before, but the moment he felt it, he just knew what it was.

    Freedom.

    With after-tones of blossoming life, and wet earth.

    It was like lightning through his veins, causing Miles to speed up, going all out for the final sprint.

    The winds blew as gales, celebrating alongside him, signaling the end of what he had feared was an endless run.

    Miles'' lips curled into a tired grin, and he finally stepped outside.

 CHAPTER 42: Beyond the Maze

    Miles let his senses expand, sifting through the novel environment he found himself in, settling into its unique nuances.

    He inhaled deep, carefully examining each thread of scent.

    It was mostly of wet earth, wood, and crumbling stone. Ancient, but the scent of life and vitality one would only expect from thriving forests.

    No longer did the air feel trapped, musty and old. It smelled fresh, pure, as if sieved through the leaves of a hundred trees before it reached him. Miles wanted to do nothing more than collapse right there, to savor his escape, and let himself relax.

    But he could not, for this was no ordinary forest.

    The scents here lacked something, and besides the rustle of leaves and branches, his ears picked up little else.

    What should have been a thriving ecosystem was unnaturally silent.

    Yes, he was sure of it now. There were no animals here. None that he could sense at least.

    Concerning, but for the moment, Miles turned around, observing the maze he had just escaped from.

    His eyes widened at the sight that awaited him.

    It was a near endless stretch of cold iron, a wall that was infinitely tall as it was wide. Its surface ran with laser cut lines, glowing with the light of some underlying Aether transference.

    He traced a finger along these etchings, feeling the thrumming energy flowing within. They started from the earth, perhaps from deeper underground. As to where they led exactly, he could not see for the lush forest canopy above covered everything.

    The walls went higher than the forest and the Aether along with it, presumably. All he could tell for sure was that something was powering something.

    Miles returned his attention back towards the endless wall. Tunnelling into the cold iron, piercing through what appeared to be black rock underneath, was the opening that led back towards the maze.

    If the nature of the Hordred Maze had been insufficient evidence, this wall surrounding it betrayed its artificial origins. Someone had created all this.

    As it turned out, that was a mystery confirmed with relaxed ease, for their identity was plastered right here, upon the metal plating embedded into the cold iron above the maze entrance.

    PROJECT SW50 - RIESEN RATTE

    Well, no wonder Cadmus¡¯ maze map had been so accurate.

    SW, an acronym for Sybahware no doubt, the most likely architects of the maze and the monstrous rodent denizens within.

    ''Huh.''

    If this maze was truly the work of Sybahware, it also had to be reminded that the corportation had long been dissolved and merged into none other than... Lykaon Industries. In other words, these were his experiments.

    Miles felt his gaze lower, staring at his reddened palms. Little of it was his own blood.

    He had tried to wipe them clean before, but no hard scrub could properly wipe away the stench of rat blood.

    It was a strangely tough pill to swallow, to realize that the monsters inside were his. Well, the board and his uncle would disagree, but technically it was true.

    His hands formed into fists.

    The Riessen Ratte were a promising beast. If they truly were manufactured, if the Intellectual Property of the process was truly his¡­ like a true businessman, what could he do but make the best of it?

    Deciding to cross that bridge when he came to it, Miles returned his attention to the cave before him, expanding his senses inside.

    His sight pierced through the darkness, but with the sharp turns and corridors, they did not see far. But his hearing was laser focused, waiting for the slightest change.

    He was waiting for a nightmarish chitter or squeak, the clack of tender claws upon stone, or even the faint, nerve-wracking sound of Infernal Knights flitting away into the shadows.

    Miles heard none of it.

    Either the maze area of the Doorway was unnaturally separated from the forest area he was in currently, making sound impermeable, or... for some reason, the rats had retreated the moment he had escaped.

    Strange behavior from what had thought were recently liberated beasts.

    Yet, all he heard was perfect silence.

    ''Can the rats not enter the forest? Even though their ''chains'' were broken?''

    This was a rare turn of good news, perhaps the best, ever since he had entered this accursed doorway, and just in case, he waited for a while, peeling his ears out, but... nothing.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The problem was, Miles had also hoped to hear something.

    That strange fae girl must have followed after him. He should have heard her. If nothing else, left a strand of scent or, something.

    Miles shuddered at the memory of endless rodents clawing over his body. It... was not a good way to go, even if the person in question were Fae.

    He let out a shaky breath, ''It''s not my fault.''

    Yes, it had never been his responsibility to save some strange girl.

    How could he have taken the risk, when he was not even sure about her being real or a hallucination?

    And even if she were real... ''I''m not some blinded hero that destroys myself for the greater good. Never again.''

    Miles focused on his breath for a while, until he managed to push the entire matter into that familiar dark corner of his mind. With that, he swiftly turned back towards the forest, a bit too quick to move away.

    Despite everything, as he walked further from the maze and into the forest proper, he could not help but feel relieved.

    Forestry was a far cry from the walled maze; open, spacious, and freeing.

    The verdant undergrowth muffled his steps, as he walked through groves of trees that were as wide as a giant''s forearm. A canopy of emerald leaves covered the skies above, so thick that he could not make out anything. This also meant that not one strand of sunlight managed to reach the floor to touch his vampiric skin.

    But he could not continue this much longer.

    Almost on autopilot, Miles came to a stop, just before a solid oak tree that was larger and older than the rest of them.

    He retreated, taking a few steps back, and lunged forth, leaping towards it. His hand grabbed onto solid branches, pulling him higher and higher as Nameless Movement guided his steps, sending him ever upward.

    It was only when Miles managed to reach a height that was a little over a hundred meters, that he came to a halt. Next to a particularly stable branch, one that was as spacious as a proper balcony ledge, but still quite a distance away from the forest canopy above him.

    ''This should be good enough.''

    Miles couldn''t hold himself back any longer, and just collapsed down onto the branch.

    He was tired. So, fucking tired.

    Sure, his body had regenerated to perfection leaving not a bone or muscle out of place. He had escaped the maze, and everything was perfectly fine and dandy.

    Yet, his mind was numb with exhaustion. The entirety of him ached and pleaded for proper rest. For something besides Conditional Undeath.

    It seemed the hours of endless running, of forcing back hordes of rats, of bone breaking injuries, had gathered into a hefty toll. Hopefully, he was just in time to pay it.

    Miles nestled into the space between the oaken trunk and its massive branch, relaxing into its wooden embrace.

    For just a moment, he surveyed the sights below.

    Miles had a clear sight of the maze entrance, placed at enough of a distance to react if anything were to escape as he had. But he soon forgot about that.

    The view of the forest from the trees were relaxing, the gentle rustle of leaves, and calm, relaxing winds. The location, the sights and the smells, it all reminded him of a time when things were simpler. When they had been carefree enough to go outside the city, hunting in the Everglades. Just him, his father, and old Zhan.

    ''This place... I kind of like it.''

    Before he knew it, his mind had relaxed into the nostalgia of time long past. The warmth of the sun above unexpectedly comforted him, nestling his body to a slumber of its own.

    He didn''t even have to try for his eyes closed of their own volition.

    Miles fell into a strange, though relaxing sleep.

    ***

    The world was immaterial.

    Zhan Shen had stepped through it, or rather, he attempted to.

    It is impossible for the reflection inside of a mirror to reach out to reality. It is that same truth that applies when those of one world attempts to reach through the Veil between and into another.

    Well, unless the mirror between them was forced to¡­ break.

    The laws of logic might struggle, but like the shattered shards of glass that would each be a mirror of their own, reality and reflection would become one and the same.

    Even now, the shards of the fractured veil between collapsed onto him, exerting the entirety of its existential weight, an inter-reality force that would have crushed even a giant.

    Zhan was an old man now, long beyond his prime. There was no question about it.

    How long had it been since his own master had taught him his arts, the ways of the Liuzheng?

    His only advantage was that, unlike most spiritual arts, the river of the Liuzheng was timeless. It was not a power that waned over age, but one that was tied to the very spirit.

    So, the elderly butler simply cycled his breathing, and the prana of his inner world manifested outward, barely discernible, in an intertwining of darkness and light, in the colors of an old¡­ friend.

    The force of the Veil diverged upon contact, like a stream flowing through a stone.

    It''s force upon him no longer had any effect. Unperturbed, Zhan Shen was flowed across it.

    He stepped through, this time unhindered, forcing reality to shift around him.

    The world was material.

    Zhan Shen immediately felt the fractured veil hurrying to recover behind him, but he paid it no mind, observing the goings on before him.

    It seemed this Doorway''s passing of time was definitely faster than that of this world.

    The faesycian, Haruka if he remembered correctly, was staring at his sudden appearance in shock, frozen in the middle of her attempt to transfer the injured gangster into a trolley of some sort. James on the other hand, tending to the unconscious girl had failed to even notice him.

    Zhan Shen had expected to find them escaped. This made things so much easier.

    The middle-aged woman¡¯s response was quick, ¡°O-Oh, hello dear customer. That fae attacked so suddenly! Are you alright? And where¡¯s your young master?¡±

    ¡°Who are you talking¨C¡± James¡¯ gaze followed hers. The young man all but screamed in surprise, as he struggled to reach the little rifle he had previously used so ''skillfully''. ¡°I-I¡¯m¡­ armed! I¡¯ll shoot!¡±

    Zhan Shen ignored him.

    Master Miles had left quite a few commands.

    The most immediate of them was to keep the Faesycian and co. under lockdown, safe and unharmed if possible.

    It seemed the young master had seen some potential here. Zhan Shen was doubtful, but¡­ orders were orders.

    There was a silver lining though.

    If any of them behaved like wild dogs, he¡¯d have no choice but to bring them to heel.

    Call him close-minded, but the elderly butler held a bit of a grudge. Even if indirect, they were second-handedly responsible for the young master¡¯s current predicament.

    The old butler cracked his knuckles, staring right at the terrified young man with the gun, ¡°Please. Please, do.¡±

    Unfortunately for Zhan Shen, Haruka had a decent head on her shoulders, and quickly made James stand down.

    With a defeated sigh, the middle-aged faesycian spoke, ¡°Since you didn¡¯t kill us on sight, you must want something. Tell me, what must we do to survive, Master Epsilon?¡±

    Zhan Shen grinned, "Remember the fae oath between us? How you guaranteed privacy and good will for the duration of our stay? Well, I''m calling it in."

    He gestured to the desecrated corpse, no, he gestured at the husk that had once been Knight Xavier, "Please, guarantee our privacy."

    James paled and Haruka could only gape in disbelief. In the end she could only curse, "Fuck, I should have known. Corpo deals are always too good to be true."

    Zhan Shen''s grin grew wider, "If nothing else, you''re a quick study. Now chop chop. You''ve got a body to get rid of."

 CHAPTER 43: The Seat in the Grove

    It was not an ordinary sleep, but a literal switching off of his mind.

    The last thing Miles remembered was closing his eyes and falling asleep.

    After that there was nothing. Just an absence.

    The next thing he knew, the switch flipped back, and Miles was awake.

    It was one of the strangest sleeps he had ever had, and perhaps, the notification that flickered into his vision explained it.

    Ding!

    [The Vawulan(?) has fulfilled the requirements, unlocking Basic (Vawulan) Skill: {Torporem Medendi- Common}]

    ''Latin again. Translated into the closest approximation as...Torpor of Healing?''

    Or rather, a healing rest.

    It was quite interesting that not resting had delayed the gain of a basic skill but compared to his usual reaction to obtaining a new skill, Miles couldn''t help but feel a sliver of dread this time.

    Like he had stepped closer to the brink of a precipice he could not come back from.

    He had no evidence or reason as to why he felt so, but it felt correct.

    The notifications continued.

    Ding!

    [The Newborn(?) has slumbered for 17 hours and 15 minutes, achieving complete rejuvenation and recovery.

    -4.54 BP ¡Ö -5 BP consumed.]

    [Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 5/100)]

    Miles nearly jumped to his feet, slowing to crouch only when he remembered he was precariously propped on a tree branch, quite a distance from solid ground.

    ''I slept for an entire day?!'' And a quick double check with Cadmus confirmed it.

    Miles wanted to slap himself for letting down his guard so callously. Not to mention the insane blood point cost for this ''torpor''.

    Had he not had any additional blood, he would have woken to see half his blood lost, leaving him undoubtedly blood thirsty.

    Miles also had to admit, as costly as the skill was, he felt so much better now.

    To him the time had passed in a single instant, but the difference was night and day.

    It seemed that Vampires could circumvent death, but the same could not be said for exhaustion. This would be a good lesson for the future, especially the costs of Torporem Medendi.

    At least it was nice to wake without feeling hunger, perhaps that was in part covered by the insane blood point cost, so there was that.

    Quite some time had passed, and many things could''ve changed, but Miles'' senses could not find a single sign of rats or fae, nothing aside from the all-encompassing greenery.

    Overseeing the forest below him, he couldn''t help but reminded of the Everglades that surrounded Capital City.

    Miles placed a hand upon the tree that had granted him his safe rest, feeling the bark and the trunk.

    With a flash of Detect, he confirmed his suspicions. [Hallow''s Oak - Common].

    A solid tree and judging from its texture, one that was at least a hundred years old.

    He knocked upon the trunk, even peeled out a bit of the bark, finding the wood underneath to be in near perfect condition. Curious, Miles considered the surrounding forestry in depth, using Detect and noting the many plant species, all of which were quite common in the forests beyond Capital city.

    Few places beside the Everglades of Capital City had such high-quality timber, grown naturally.

    However, if this were the same forest, Miles would have been struck with a few illusions, and subjected to a few mind control probes attempting to bind him into eternal servitude.

    Yet, there were no fae here, confirmed by the apparent fact that he had been able to sleep without a single disturbance. Miles had not and could not sense anything amiss.

    ¡®Well, I will not complain about a fae-free Everglade.''

    Now that he felt rested and recovered, Miles considered his next move.

    First things first, he had no intention of returning to the maze. Not blindly, and not until he had a better understanding of what exactly he was supposed to do here.

    If the cavern maze was one region of the Doorway, this forest was another.

    So far it had been a welcome change of pace, but--Miles refused to let down his guard again. There had to be a catch here.

    ''Maybe something to do with the strange fae girl?''

    Miles pursed his lips. Considering how exhausted he had been back then, she could very well have been a figment of a delirious mind. And even if she were real and actually... dead, there could still be more fae.

    So, he didn''t dare scratch out that possibility just yet. All Miles could say for sure was that he was once again in a situation that gave very little information to work with.

    However, unlike the Hordred maze, here in the forest there were more options.

    For a second time, he retreated, balancing himself over the oak tree branch as he took a few steps back, and... launched upwards.

    Miles rushed through the branches, climbing his way to the very top. It was only after he made it past another hundred meters, nearing the edge of the canopy, that he felt it.

    A searing heat, pulsing through his skin.

    The familiar, dangerous flare of a yellowed light, barely restrained by the single layer of thin leaves above him.

    Sunlight.

    The part of him that screamed in fear knew that for sure. Another part of him refused it, uncaring.

    For some reason, it felt far less dangerous than when Miles had experimented at the Faesycian¡¯s clinic¡­

    It felt different.

    Miles glanced around, examining the trees around him and the forest floor down below. There was truly nothing here. It was just him and a near silent forest.

    Confident that he was safe, Miles forcefully leashed in his instinctive fear of the light with a focused breath. Before he could have any second thoughts, he poked out a single finger.

    Ding!

    [Cursed {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred} Celestian Sol demands payment from all Vawul that enter his domain.

    As a Newborn(?) the remnants of your humanity lessens the cost.

    Skill: S?e?l?f?-?C?o?n?t?r?o?l?(???)? Haemomancy Lvl.1 lessens(?) the cost.

    Title: (Un)Balanced??? further lessens the cost. ]

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The notifications messages were the same as they had been before, but suddenly the screen began to flicker, and finally fritzed out into thin air.

    Miles swallowed, expecting another catastrophic glitch, but with a brief flash a different screen appeared.

    Ding!

    [Title: V?e?s?s?e?l? ?o?f? ?T?h?e ?L?u?p?i?n?e? ?S?o?u?l? (?S?e?a?l?e?d?) negates all payment.

    Cursed {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred?} Celestian Sol shows his respect to one that is h?i??s?? ??s?i?s??t??e??r?¡¯??s? kin(?).

    0 Blood Points lost.

    Total Blood Points remaining: 10/10 (+5/100) ]

    Ding!

    [Notice: Cursed {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred(?)} will be deactivated in the user¡¯s current form.]

    ¡®What in the holy hells?¡¯

    Miles had to blink a few times, clear his eyes and read that again.

    ''So, my current state of Schrodinger¡¯s Vawul/Wurkan means that the sun is harmless?''

    He stared for a minute longer, but in the end, he couldn¡¯t help but grin.

    ¡®See that old Zhan? The problem of sunlight is already nothing much!¡¯

    Miles was under no illusion that this was a temporary situation, one he was even actively trying to fix. But if he could achieve this by accident, he was sure he could do so willfully.

    Feeling all the more confident in further experiments now, he moved aside the branches and leaves, just enough to properly make out the sky above.

    Sunlight fell directly onto his face, but as promised, there was no burn, or system notifications about actual blood payments.

    Miles had just barely begun to enjoy the warmth on his face... when he realized that what he saw was no ordinary sky.

    The sky was a dark metallic expanse, an artificially constructed domed ceiling, with the sun at its center.

    This was no proper ''sun'', for it was a giant shard of crystal embedded into the metal itself, somehow burning with the light of a true solar celestial body.

    ''Is that what the Aether transference lines in the walls are used for?''

    Miles squinted, observing the bright crystal overhead. If he was correct, that was a gigantic chunk of Solaz.

    A blessed crystal generally used to siphon the light of the sun and redirect it, most commonly for specific forging techniques. He had never seen it be used as an artificial sun.

    At least this experience confirmed that the ordinary Vawul would react to Solaz sunlight exactly as they would common sunlight.

    Not him though, and since he remained unharmed, he dared to climb higher.

    Enough that he could peer out from the very peak of the canopy and properly survey the area.

    A comfortable breeze blew through the artificial skies, weaving through Miles'' hair. His eyes widened.

    Only now could he see what this area of the Doorway truly was.

    A massive expanse of forestry stretching over hundreds and hundreds of acres of land, only limited and curtailed by four walls of cold iron and the dome above them.

    Though the walls had seemed infinite from down below, that was not the actual case.

    Sure, they were gigantic in size, but they had a finite limit, and with the metallic ceiling above, they combined to form a container of sorts.

    That was what this was.

    An artificially constructed forest in a box, with enough space to fit a full-grown, legendary giant.

    While it was not unusual for Doorways to be appropriated for various corporate purposes, Miles had not expected the supposed fief of a Lykaon guardian spirit to have been modified by human interests to this extent.

    ''Huh. Perhaps that was the ''corruption''? The human influence in what should have been an Aether formed Doorway? The walls the constrains the forest, and the Hordred Maze built for experimentation?''

    Miles did not particularly like what that implied. ¡®Purifying¡¯ these massive cold iron walls or the maze and its monstrous inhabitants, suggested a whole lot of destruction.

    Not only would that be a challenge, but also questionable.

    It did not answer what ''source fulcrums'' were supposed to be either.

    Miles sighed, ''It''s probably better to explore a bit more before I start to consider bringing the place down.''

    Deciding to take his own advice, he observed the domain before him, more carefully this time.

    The endless forestry was not unbroken. It was occasionally disturbed by structures of haphazard rock, occasionally mountainous, but more often some manner of organized construction.

    Whatever these structures had once been, and whatever civilizations they had hosted, they were little more than ruins now, fallen to the viny grasp of the forest.

    That was when Miles spotted something of note.

    A thin column of smoke trailed upwards, from amidst one of the thicker groves at a considerable distance away.

    He could not make out the exact source, but it was a good enough lead for now.

    ***

    Man, and wind blew through the trees in unison, the world around them blurring into a vision of messy green.

    Miles was nameless moving through the forest, pouncing through branches, from one tree to another.

    He had long since returned to using Blood Vision, painting the forest in familiar eerie red. But as expected there was nothing of blood here, not a single glowing silhouette in sight.

    Well, he hoped there would be some over by the column of smoke, but that was a considerable distance away and beyond the range of his skill for now.

    That was only one of the many reasons it was his intended destination.

    A hasty decision perhaps, but having learned a lesson, he would be patient this time.

    After the prior fiasco in the maze, any action would be double, and triple thought over. As for the moment, Miles was free to relish the open air and the breezy winds.

    His heart beat faintly, flooding his cold veins with the slightest sliver of warmth.

    That impromptu slumber really felt godsent, for it had completely refreshed him, the horrors of the maze set aside like a distant fading dream. While he didn''t feel specifically better in terms of the (un)balanced issue, he even felt more grounded about that.

    Miles had no doubt it had something to do with the nature of this forest.

    As one would expect from a doorway, nothing could be ordinary. There were no animals here, but there was something. Something that persisted at the edges of his perception, just barely beyond what he could see.

    He knew the Fairy clans, he knew the elusive pixies, and this was none of them. It was not Fae, it could not be, (at least the kinds he knew of) for he would have smelled or felt their presence by now.

    Strangely enough, Miles knew whatever they were, they could not touch him. At most they were unwelcome spectators, and perhaps intended no harm at all.

    Confident in that instinctual feeling, he sped up, dashing past a stone ruin.

    It was some sort of statue, barely a human figure visible due to the age and decay. That was the seventh he had seen so far, and yes, such structures seemed quite common here. As he had seen from higher up the forest canopy, there were many such constructions. Even actual ruins of some manner of construction.

    Miles had stopped to explore the first few but given up soon after he realized they were made of [Stone - Inferior] and held nothing of interest.

    So, he maintained a relaxed pace through these trees and ruins, moving ever closer towards the area the smoke trail had appeared from.

    An hour or so later, Miles had managed to make more progress than he had expected, thought he remained quite a distance away still.

    That was when his eyes caught something that grabbed the whole of his attention

    It was just a tree.

    A Cypress, from the look of it, but what a tree it was.

    One that was majestic as it was ancient, yet not completely out of place amidst the grove of similar trees that surrounded it and forming a near perfect circle.

    Grown wild and untended, their branches extended haphazardly, and overgrown roots stretched messily into the soil, somehow retaining a sense grandness.

    If that had been all, Miles would not have stopped.

    No, what caught his eye was the stone structure at the base.

    Despite being covered in soft moss and tangled vines, it was less of a ruin compared to the structures he had encountered so far. Like a wreath wrapped about the head of the emperor, it was a dais curving around the base of the Cypress tree, forming a seat of stone.

    It was not a throne, for there was not enough space to command anyone. Considering the grove of Cypress trees that surrounded it, it was not for social gatherings and open communication either. It was¡­ personal.

    Unknowingly, Miles walked towards it, moving the vines aside to see the engravings more clearly.

    They had faded over time, but what he could make of it was a group of four legged beasts, chasing a¡­ crescent shape in the sky.

    Miles traced his fingers over it.

    The beasts felt dangerous, so what they chased after was¡­ prey?

    ''A hunt, then?''

    But no. If it were a hunt, it was a desperate one.

    It was more of a pleading, a fruitless chase to take back something lost, rather than a hunt of predator after prey.

    Miles allowed his gaze to waver, considering the seat and the grove of trees around it.

    He inhaled deep, feeling the fresh air of the forests entering his lungs.

    There was a certain act he had been avoiding, ever since he had awakened within this doorway.

    Had he attempted it earlier, if nothing else, it would have shed further light on the nature of his greatest problem. The (un)balance. But somehow, he had known that attempting it would lead to¡­ pain.

    Miles did not know how much longer he would have avoided it, if it wasn''t for this exact moment, where he felt the need to settle things.

    Before it can get any worse.

    Some part of him knew he was being impulsive, but the moment he expanded his senses, and confirmed he was alone and safe for the immediate vicinity, he stopped fighting the instinct.

    Before he knew it, Miles sat down in the familiar lotus position, amidst the vines and the soft moss. And the moment he did...

    Ding!

    [You have discovered a (Tier I) Fulcrum: Seat of a W?u?r?k?a?n ?N?a?y?a?k?a?(?)

    Harnessing the Intersection of two Doorway Loci, it grants the seated a temporary blessing.

    +100 to Influence for as long as you remain seated.]

    ''Fulcrum!''

    Finally, Miles had discovered something about the elusive trial objective. This did not seem to be a ''source'' fulcrum, but it was still a clue of some form.

    He was also quite shocked.

    To think that a Fulcrum could grant him a temporary attribute boost by simply sitting upon a stone seat. And since it was something as ephemeral as Influence, he might never have known without the system.

    Still, Miles pondered on the notification for a while, even standing up and sitting repeatedly in order to experiment with the temporary blessing, observing the stat boost disappear and reappear.

    The mentions of Doorway Loci and Intersection explained little, though it was obviously related to understanding whatever a Source Fulcrum is supposed to be.

    In the end, Miles settled himself into the stone seat of the Fulcrum, placing right hand upon the left, palms upward.

    He had decided to put his search for Fulcrum knowledge aside. After all, he had sat here for a whole other reason, and it would not do good to look a gift horse in the mouth.

    With a deep breath, bolstered by an additional 100 influence, Miles achieved perfection.

 CHAPTER 44: Tortured Spirit

    Fueled by the power of the Fulcrum, Miles found himself in the familiar Mind World with its dichromatic seas.

    That was simply what he had expected.

    It was not that long ago when he had last attempted this, managing to walk upon these same seas (a few steps were still valid), but now, all that felt like ancient history. The fragments of a life long passed.

    Contrary to his newfound ¡®life¡¯ and re-beating heart, this world was dying.

    What had once been a strange yet beautiful ocean, had been repulsed by grotesque bubbling ichor.

    A dark poison that dominated the ocean, taking over nine tenths of the space and leaving little else.

    The sky above him reflected it, shattered and littered with cracks as if a broken mirror.

    The source of it all was under him.

    There was no longer a line between, a mystical boundary that separated two seas. No, all that was here was a rotting scar.

    A viscous, festering wound, that spluttered out demonic tar, corrupting what remained of this world.

    The sheer sight of all this corruption sent a pang of agony rippling through him, throwing his mind into complete disarray.

    And yet, neither the seas nor the skies reflected his broken concentration. There were no storms or churning waves. Their connection was broken.

    Gritting his teeth, Miles pushed through the pain, retaining his focus onto what little of the scarlet and white seas remained.

    Having fought over scraps and won, the bloodied, crimson waters took the noticeable lead.

    Miles'' gaze fixed upon the occasional pool of luminous, silverine waters. resilient pools of white. So drastic was the difference in sheer volume, they were on the verge of being diluted away.

    But somehow it was still there, warring against its oppressors.

    As if answering this mystery, the reason itself appeared.

    Manifested from thin air, a shadow that was formless yet formed.

    Unclear and lacking details, beyond the point that it was some manner of colorless, quadrupedal silhouette.

    Miles could not decide what it was, but what he did know was that the mere sight of its form eased his pain.

    The strange shade moved over the broken seas, slow and patient. It seemed to be limping, at least until the moment it noticed him.

    Somehow, he was not surprised by its reaction.

    Miles could swear he saw hackles rise on its ghostly mane, and the shadow roared in boundless rage.

    Next think he knew, its deathly maw had snapped over him, sinking into him.

    Miles all but screamed in agony, grabbing at his chest, feeling something had pierced through his heart.

    Indescribable torture, but mercifully temporary and instantaneous.

    Miles gasped in the little air he could, feeling beads of sweat running down his face.

    It still took him a minute to realize that his meditative focus had broken. He had returned to reality, back upon the stone dais, underneath the Cypress tree.

    All that, from barely a minute of meditation.

    Miles stared out into the forest with glazed eyes.

    He had known something was wrong with himself.

    He had felt it, he had sensed it, and here it was.

    His internal world was ruined, and he had willfully ignored it.

    Zhan Shen often said that the mind world reflected its practitioner and their ¡®spirit¡¯ at a fundamental level.

    Well, his soul, spirit or whatever, was in complete tatters.

    Miles gritted his teeth and slammed a fist into the stone dais.

    He felt the skin rip apart, but he didn¡¯t care.

    A second and third fist cracked down, blood splattered the stone, but he let it.

    The throbbing pain of a bleeding fist was comforting, familiar, and contrasted the slow agony over his heart.

    But he deserved it all, for he had failed to see the signs.

    Miles had glossed over the impossibility of what it meant to be both Wurkan and Vawul. He had fallen for the tricks and influence of some mindless Beast within him, ruined the balance, and destroyed his own mind world.

    No wonder that animal thing inside had ripped him in two. He would have done the same.

    Miles let out an exasperated breath.

    He let his head fall back, laying still against the trunk of Cypress tree.

    This whole doorway trial had been a terrible experience.

    He could not have been any farther from his usual calm, controlled self.

    Perhaps it was the blood thirst of the Vawul and whatever else had come from the brief influence of Wurkan, but his current predicament all stemmed from his mutilated self.

    The (un)balance.

    From the term alone, it was a fundamental problem. A problem that could only be resolved in one of two ways.

    By increasing the weight of the lesser or decreasing the side that was greater.

    Weaken the Vawul or strengthen the Wurkan.

    Somehow, Pack¡¯s message had explained it all.

    Leveling or gaining the skills of any one side would strengthen it.

    This had to be why he had been advised to not select the Vawulan skills before.

    However, Detect was somehow different.

    It was a skill that originated from a technique crafted to find and hunt down Vampires. No wonder he had felt relief the moment he learned it.

    Miles wiped off the sweat from his forehead. ¡®It all makes such perfect sense, how could I not have realized it sooner?¡¯

    He paused, a slow frown appearing over his face.

    No, that was not entirely true.

    It did make sense, but it wasn¡¯t an obvious conclusion either.

    He had noticed this pattern before, but he had never been as confident as he was right now.

    Even now, he lacked concrete evidence, but he just knew.

    That was when Miles considered the Cypress tree his head leaned against, and the circular grove of the same trees that surrounded him.

    ¡®Something about this place has improved my¡­ comprehension? My¡­ understanding of¡­ spirituality?¡¯

    It felt wrong to say something that could not be so easily put to words, but he couldn¡¯t think of better words.

    Well, there was also the more obvious explanation.

    Miles eyed the stone dais he sat upon, hands moving along the stone carvings, feeling the desperation to hunt etched within it.

    The Tier I Fulcrum: Seat of a Wurkan Nayaka.

    Whatever that meant, what he did know was that it granted him an effect of +100 to Influence. So perhaps, this was all an effect of the apparently misunderstood Influence attribute.

    Whatever the case...

    Miles straightened his back, returning his hands to its meditative posture.

    Who knows?

    One, or more of the two solutions might just be hiding in plain sight.

    ***

    Now aware of the devastated state of his mind world, Miles managed to retain his concentration this time.

    That was the only positive improvement.

    With the flash of some familiar shadow, something teared into his flesh.

    A current of intense pain rippled through his body, destroying his focus, and throwing him out to reality.

    Gritting his teeth, Miles persevered and tried again.

    Barely a minute later, he was clutching his heart and gasping against the cypress tree.

    He tried again, and again, but as soon as he managed to focus, the strange shadow would appear and rip out a part of him.

    At one point, his anger peaked enough to force him to retaliate.

    But despite many attempts, all he could do was gasp in agony as the creature managed to out-maneuver him and appear from some blind angle.

    All Miles could do was growl in agony as he was pushed back to reality, every, single, time.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Seething with rage, and out of sheer stubbornness, he kept at it. Trying ti hit back at the shade every time it dared to attack.

    Eventually, just once, when a bubble of ichorous tar splattered over a pool of luminous white, the creature stumbled, and and Miles managed to punch it right in its snout, sending the animal whining and yelping as if it had been wronged.

    Unfortunately, his focus wasn¡¯t perfect. All it took was too wide of a swing, causing a single drop of the dark ichor to splatter onto the back of his hand, and¡­

    Miles awoke, biting back the scream that was crawling its way through his throat.

    He had to muffle himself to hold back from making noise, for when he opened his eyes, it was still there.

    That same drop of black ichor had appeared upon his real hand, sizzling and cooking through his flesh like searing acid.

    Somehow, it felt worse than being cooked underneath the sun.

    Miles reacted in a frenzy, flicking his hand here and there until he managed to wipe it clean over a nearby shrub.

    His hand showed the signs of a third-degree burn, something still vaguely burning over his skin, but¡­ his attention was elsewhere.

    As if aging in fast-forward, the unfortunate plant literally decayed before his eyes. And after it did, it even spread through the nearby soil, killing the grass within a rough radial distance of two or three inches.

    Thankfully the effect of the liquid dissipated soon enough, as if its energy had run out. But all that remained of the shrub and the grass around it were shriveled, dead things.

    Miles blinked in disbelief.

    ¡®Did... did Mind World meditation just manage to affect reality?¡¯

    Yes, it had, and it was definitely something added to the list of things he would pester old Zhan about.

    The effects upon his person were healed soon enough, the mummified plant left a lasting lesson.

    From then on, Miles didn¡¯t dare to fight back. If that were the result of having a mere drop fall on him, had he actually fallen into the ichor¡­

    He shuddered.

    Miles had half a mind to just give up on this introspective meditation and just focus on finding a different solution but¡­

    The stone dais was cool to the touch, and the cypress tree held his back, comforting him.

    So, he kept at it.

    Though the pain of fangs tearing into his chest were not as bad as being burnt by the ichor, it came close, and Miles had no intention of suffering through it without retaliating.

    So, he started to do something different.

    Whenever he brought himself into the mind world and focused, he would let go the moment the merciless shade appeared.

    It was a bit tricky to get the timing right, but after a few close bites, he managed it.

    It was very strange to focus and un-focus, again and again, but he had no other choice, and the shadow creature didn¡¯t seem to mind.

    Every single time, it reacted the same. A howl, a thunderous rumbling that echoed its anger, followed by a sudden rush, only for him to vanish just before it could reach him.

    Having repeated this dance enough, eventually, Miles stopped focusing on the mind world and began to observe this shadow in greater detail.

    The more he focused, the more its ¡®shadow¡¯ nature reduced, leaving what seemed to be some sort of furred animal.

    Miles considered it with curiosity, eventually managing to see in greater detail.

    Contrary to its rage and merciless attacks, what he found was a weak, fading thing. A ghost of an animal, covered in tattered patches of fur, its flesh mangled and wounds festering with pus.

    Miles homed in on these wounds, and he could not help but grimace in secondhand pain, for every single one held some amount of that ichorous tar, bubbling upon flesh and skin like fermented acid.

    If the pain he had felt from a single drop of the liquid carried over, he couldn¡¯t believe how this creature had the clarity of mind to even stand.

    Miles actually felt a bit sorry for it now, but he continued his meditation.

    Eventually, his focus upon the wolf had manifested so clearly that he could actually¡­ smell it.

    A musty, musky scent, mangled with the stench of something burnt and dying.

    Miles blinked.

    In a strange moment of clarity, their eyes met.

    For just a moment, they saw each other as they were.

    The eyes of a creature enraged and maddened by corruption, to the point it cared not for life. A creature exhausted and tortured by a thankless task to the point it sought death just to rest.

    A formless ghost in the shape of a wolf, the Wurkan equivalent of the Beast Within.

    This¡­ This was his Lupine Soul or, what remained of it.

    ***

    The Wurkan spirit stared into the depths of his eyes, the same as he did, and through those golden orbs, Miles could see it for what it was.

    But what it saw in him, he could not tell.

    A moment passed as man and wolf remained locked in silence.

    The wolf made no move to strike, only the edges of its shadow-like form betraying the slightest of movement, and thus, passed many moments more.

    Miles was rather fond of wolves. The fact that they were closely associated with the effigy of House Lykaon played no small part in it.

    Maybe that was why he did what he did.

    Slowly, he reached out, right hand extending towards the patient beast.

    A growl echoed through the world, rippling through the tri-colored seas, but it petered out very soon, and¡­ that was it.

    The wolf did nothing more, satisfied to stare with unblinking eyes. Emboldened, Miles reached further.

    His fingers were a hair¡¯s breadth away when¡­

    He heard the thundering snarl. Only after lightning fangs had ripped through his brazen hand.

    For a second time, Miles was thrown out of the mind world, gasping in pain. It still pierced through his heart though it was a limb that was affected.

    Miles heaved heavy breaths, withstanding the agony, only to realize it vanished almost soon after?

    ¡®Somehow¡­ it feels better?¡¯

    It was as if that bite had fixed something that had been troubling him for a while now.

    Seated upon the stone dais, Miles could almost feel the reason. It was because he was now¡­ more balanced.

    He forced himself to return to the mind world, curious for answers if nothing else.

    Dodging the wolf had not achieved much, so once again, he pushed through the fear of pain and attempted the same as he had before.

    Extending his hand outward in a bold attempt to pat the wolf¡¯s head. He had thought of it as a potentially friendly exchange but¡­

    Another snarl echoed through the realm, and this time, Miles understood.

    Disrespectful, mannerless, against the ways of the mother, treated as if a pet.

    With that, this attempt too went about as well as one would expect.

    Miles¡¯ hand was ripped apart again, and he was thrown back to reality.

    He tried again, this time keeping what he had learned in mind. Since the former had not worked, he extended his hand, as if offering a handshake.

    A few minutes later Miles was grimacing in barely restrained pain, again. That didn¡¯t work.

    But he tried again, and¡­ again.

    Quite a few failed attempts later, Miles was heaving in exhaustion, his clothes slick with sweat as he leaned against the oak and the stone dais, feeling the breeze of the forest sweeping through his hair.

    He didn¡¯t want to give up like this. Not when he had been ripped apart by the lupine spirit so many times.

    There was something he was missing here. Something more to be gained.

    But he also could not waste his time here.

    So, in the end, he compromised and decided to try one last time. If this did not work, he would move on.

    Miles let the mind world manifest around him, the seas and the skies as broken as they were.

    The wolf paced closer, coming to a stop to observe his actions, exactly as it had done the last few hours.

    This would be his last attempt, so this time Miles did not hurry.

    An animal that was unnaturally picky about respect and manners was a novelty, but¨C

    He considered the lupine spirit, its gangly, and weakened figure.

    He could swear it was waiting for something, for him to do, or give¨C

    His eyes widened.

    Miles knew of many ways to tame animals, but the easiest way has always been feeding. Even the proudest of beasts would be tamed by the one that provides it nourishment.

    It was obvious this wolf was desperate. There could be no better ''carrot'' to offer.

    Miles was not learned in the cuisine of Wolven shades, but he did know one thing it loved to feed on and had been feeding on this entire time.

    Himself.

    Miles extended his hand again, not palm first, but bent. Wrist and elbow parallel to his chest, offered freely.

    The difference in the wolf¡¯s demeanor was palpable.

    It did not growl this time, and most importantly, it did not lunge and rip apart his hand.

    Instead, it ventured closer, slowly, and began to sniff his arm.

    Miles was excited but he couldn¡¯t help but wonder, ¡®Can you even smell in the mind world?¡¯

    Suddenly something wet and rough brushed over his forearm. He barely had time to realize he had just been licked by the wolf when¡­

    Its maw opened, slowly.

    Every other time, it had struck hard and fast, but now, it revealed yellowed fangs, rotten and degraded, the culprit clearly visible to be splotches of black ichor.

    The wolf sunk its teeth into his arm, Miles flinched, but¡­ he barely felt any pain. If nothing else, the dark tar on its teeth should have burned him, but there was nothing.

    He could see the blood trickling down though, he could feel his heart beating harder than it ever had, but that was it. He was somehow nourishing this animal.

    This continued for barely a few minutes, when the wolf graciously and calmly let go.

    For a second time their eyes met and this time, Miles saw way more than he had ever before.

    Those eyes were a faded, polluted gold, revealing the hints of something once grand and royal, strangely familiar.

    Miles almost felt a newly formed connection, as if he and the wolf were somehow equals, at least in the context of this situation.

    Even so, he froze when a sudden thunderous growl echoed through the realm, rippling through the shattered skies and the corrupted waters.

    The wolf was growling in rage, louder than it had ever before, but this was not at him. Its gaze was directed at one of the larger pools of blood red water.

    Miles¡¯ gaze flickered towards the source for just a moment, but when he turned back¡­

    The wolf had lowered its head, almost in a bow.

    One would expect Miles would have learned a lesson by now, but he acted on instinct again.

    For a second time, he reached out with his hand.

    The wolf betrayed no motion, and Miles gulped as he reached further.

    The world seemed to slow his eyes peeled for a sudden attack, but before Miles knew it, his hand was patting the deadly beast.

    Whatever his thoughts on the matter may have been, he could feel what the animal thought of this.

    Friendship for friendship. A fair barter, and a Pact thus formed.

    That sense of connection between them expanded, enveloping nearly the entire mind world.

    The seas began to shake, ripples spread throughout the world and suddenly, the luminous white seas erupted in geysers.

    Miles lost all focus on his breathing.

    The last he saw were those same seas beginning to expand, albeit slightly. There was no turning of tides just yet, but at least they were energized enough to war against the ichorous corruption.

    Thrown back to reality, Miles fell back into the stone dais as if he truly had been, his skull knocking painfully against the oak.

    It was strange. He still felt as if he were connected to the Lupine Soul and that connection was had just gone beyond the both of them.

    Miles opened his eyes and¨C blinked. Everything was forgotten by the breath-taking sight that awaited him.

    The very air, or rather the reality of the doorway itself had changed.

    He could see the currents and eddies flowing, there movements whispered by Aeola herself. There were also illogical contusions, confluxes of unnatural nature, among them.

    Miles had experienced something similar to this, back in the Faesycian¡¯s clinic. But he had not seen what came next.

    Seeping out of those gaps were what seemed to be endless hordes of flickering orbs, glowing and pulsing with colored lights.

    Aatma. Of creatures, objects, ideas, aspects and thoughts, all from beyond the true Veil.

    Miles couldn¡¯t help but be entranced.

    Even as he watched, these strange manifestations appeared and disappeared, like thoughts from a discordant mind. Every glance, every moment of focus, every perception revealed something new.

    His gaze was pulled to the side by the sheer luminosity of one such manifestation.

    It nearly blinded him, for it seemed to be the brightest of all that he could see, and Miles was forced to squint to see through the glaring light. It was a viridian emerald glow, and he could swear the glowing cadence tipped its¡­ ¡®Light? Energy? Form?¡¯ in recognition and greeting.

    Then, he felt it.

    The trees, the grove itself, reaching out to him with an outstretched hand, offering another connection, another¡­ pact.

    Peace of mind, clarity of thought, and foresight.

    Miles didn¡¯t think much further and reached out as well, but this time he failed. The¡­ trees were kind enough to tell him why.

    Nothing to barter, no balance, no pact.

    That sense of holding half of a connection vanished, as if an offer had been rescinded.

    Miles barely felt the sting of the refusal, for the other lights around him were still focused upon him.

    There was a bolt of lightning, a whirl of water, a fog of darkness, skeletons, explosions, creatures (fae and human alike), animals (including fae beasts), and so much more.

    They were all considering him, measuring his worth.

    Suddenly, through all the glaring lights and glows, a second burst of color caught his eye. A vivid tangerine orange.

    Miles''s head snapped towards the thick brush, noting the sharp eyes that were peering through the shrubbery.

    The leaves rustled as the flash of bright orange began to move away, but Miles had already pounced off of the stone dais.

    He felt the expanded connection to the Lupine Soul return to normal, and the colorful forms of floating light winked away, as if a switch had been flipped off.

    But Miles didn¡¯t care, for his sights were set on a target.

    In a matter of seconds, he managed to reach the brush where he had seen the orange light, but the figure was on the run. It was some manner of small creature. About the size of an extremely small person, about goblin sized.

    It was fast, but Miles exploded forth with nameless movement, overshadowing its speed easily.

    He was not familiar with a goblin clan that had orange hair, a tendency to use leather clothes, and¡­ fair skin?

    Miles almost froze in disbelief.

    It was a child, that little girl. That same fae girl he had thought had dead to the Hordred rats but had somehow managed to escape the maze.

    ¡®Did she sneak out while I was asleep?¡¯

    ¡°Wait!¡± Miles shouted after her, but all it took was a single step, her figure retreated behind a tree for a mere second, and¡­

    He completely lost her.

    There were no traces of aether, teleportation, discordant air currents, or even a strand of scent for him to trace. Nor could he see any more orange flashes.

    Miles had never sensed her presence, not even in the maze, and he could not sense her now either.

    It was as if she appeared from nothing and vanished into nothing.

 CHAPTER 45: Discipline Expansion - Part 1

    Our Father walked the one true path. But us children, mere shadows of His form were undeserving, incapable of following in His great footsteps.

    Thus, the first children created the twelve paths. Though they were mere fractions of His, it allowed us, the undeserving, to finally be worthy of His name.

    Henceforth, the paths became Disciplines, and the first children were titled Progenitors.

    -- Vorak Kovur, Priest of Eternal Chaos, in a sermon attended by Nathanael the Slave, 90 AD.

    ***

    Miles returned to the stone seat beneath the Cypress tree, after a quick but thorough search around where the little girl was last seen.

    He had found nothing.

    Though he was confused, he could not waste much time on this.

    Out of the many things Miles had witnessed in this Doorway, a fae child with shifting hair was the least of his worries. Even if she had been spying on him for Sidhe knew how long.

    What was more important was what had allowed him to sense her presence in the first place¡­

    That strange trance-like vision of a shifting world was reminiscent of what he had seen in the Faesycian clinic when the title Last Son of House Lykaon title had granted a temporary +500 bonus to Influence.

    Considering the effect of +100 granted by the seat of the Wurkan, it was entirely possible this was an intrinsic result of heightened Influence.

    It did leave the question of why he had not seen¡­ the colorful lights and the strange manifestations, back in the clinic.

    ¡®Perhaps because I am within a Doorway right now? That, or any number of other factors that differed, including the current (un)balanced state I am in.¡¯

    It was worthy of further testing all the same, and Miles settled into the carved, stone seat for a second time. He could not feel any tangible effect exert itself, increasing his Influence but he supposed it was never meant to be felt. Miles allowed the world to fade around him, forming into the sundered mind world.

    The first thing he noticed was that the Lupine Soul was no longer there.

    It had not disappeared though.

    Miles felt a tug, not on anything on his person or anything physical, but upon the connection he and the Lupine Soul shared.

    He could feel it so much more clearly than ever before.

    This connection seemed to expand, beyond him, beyond them and even beyond the mind world, finally¡­ bleeding into the real.

    Miles blinked.

    Once again, he had returned to reality, hypnotized by the sight that awaited him.

    A flowing, rippling world, illuminated by forms of light of endless color.

    Focusing his full attention upon them, Miles realized he could understand them better now.

    These manifestations were supposed to be his equals. Potential partners, if he only dared to offer his side of a deal.

    However, while seeing them was one thing, that second step did not come so easily.

    Miles could tell he was supposed to do something, something that should have been as natural as breathing, but¡­

    He had no idea what it was.

    Well, a basic assumption would be that it had to be something similar to what he had done with the Lupine Soul, but none here seemed to be interested in his flesh or blood.

    Though any further progress was not possible, Miles couldn''t complain.

    The mere act of seeing the sight of these vibrant forms soothed his very soul. So, he decided to let that particular mystery rest and focus on what he could actually solve.

    Miles began to stand, slowly, stepping off of the stone dais.

    The stone seat had definitely had a tangible effect upon his meditation. It was as if the foundation of a solid fortress was pulled out from underneath. The moment he stood completely, the expanded connection wavered. The floating orbs around him flickered, as if unstable or unsupported.

    Miles tried to retain the feeling, to maintain the expanded connection without the foundation, but unsure of how exactly he was supposed to do so¡­

    He blinked.

    By the time he reopened his eyes, all that he had seen had vanished.

    What remained was a simple, ordinary grove of trees.

    Miles tested this a few more times just in case.

    On occasion, he would manage to hold for a few seconds, even take a few steps, but more common was for the connection to contract to normal the moment he properly stood.

    Miles rested upon the cool stone, staring at the stone dais, and its intricate engravings, partially covered by moss and the shadows of the Cypress trees.

    It was obvious now that what allowed him this new strange type of vision was this seat. Either from the Influence attribute boost, or something else unique to it.

    ''If it happens to be the former, the title Last Son of House Lykaon will play quite a role.''

    Regardless, the stone seat was still useful. If possible, Miles would attempt to take it back home. Judging by its scale and how deeply rooted the Cypress tree, this would be no easy task, but he still had Cadmus make a note of the location.

    With that, Miles was about done here.

    However, before he proceeded with his next steps, he decided to check the system status.

    He had only paid cursory glances ever since he had learned his levelling was being held back due to (un)balance, and it felt like time for a better overview.

    The strange visions associated with meditation and the stone seat had not elicited any notifications from the system, so Miles was fully confident that he would find that nothing had changed.

    He was half right.

    [User: Miles Lykaon (!Pending Discipline Expansion!)]

    [Current Form: Vawul|W?u?r?k?a?n?]

    [Vawulan Class: F?l?e?d?g?l?i?n?g?-P?r?i?n?c?e?l?i?n?g?(??) Lvl(?)] ?#!Error: Evolution Halted!#?

    [Wurkan(?) ?Class:? ?Newborn(??) ?L?v?l? ?(?)] Unabl?e to Level up. Form Unlock Quest ?In?c?om?p?l?ete??

    [Disciplines: |Haemomancy Lvl. 1| - Untrained] {+} ] Discipline Expansion Available. ?!New D?i?s?c?iplin?e?? ???Se?lec?tion? ?Halted!?

    [Vawul Generation: Too sparse to detect. Please evolve further.]

    [HP(Health Points): 10/10] | [Conditional Undeath] | [BP (Blood Points): 15/110]

    [SP(Spirit Points)?:? 10/10] | [?L?u?n?a? ?R?e?g?e?n?e?r?a?t?i?o?n?] | [?M?E? ?(?Mo?on?l?i?g?h?t? ?E?s?se?nc?e?)?:? ?0/?1?0?]?

    {Blood Points (BP) in detail: (Personal) 10/10 + (Ripae Sanguine) BP: 5/100}

    [Current Quest: Lykaon Inheritance Trial #1 - Welcome to Hamelin]

    [Strength: 27]

    [Endurance: 29]

    [Agility: 33] (+5)¡ü

    [Intelligence: 64]

    [Wisdom: 40]

    [Influence: 5 (+500)]

    [Free Points: 5 (5 General)] (-5)¡ý

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    [Skills: General - {Torporem Medendi (Healing Torpor) - Common}, {Magicae Aspectus (Appearance of Magic) - Uncommon}, {Mind World - Rare}, {Nameless Movement Art - Unique}]

    Haemomancy - {Ripae Sanguine (Blood Bank) - Inferior}, {Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn) - Inferior}, {Sanguine Aspectus (Blood Vision) - Common}, {Hereditas Sanguinis (Blood Inheritance) - Unique}]

    [Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence) (50% Penalty in Accordance with FL-VV-5019)

    Newborn Vawul (+5 to all stats but Wisdom, Vawulan Senses.)

    ??Newborn?? ?(?M?i?n?o?r? W?u?r?k?a?n? S?e?n?s?e?s)

    Cursed {First: Minor Thirst}, {Second: The Beast Within}, {Third: Sol¡¯s Hatred}

    C?u?r?s?e?d??? {?F?i?r?s?t?:? ?M?i?n?o?r? ?H?u?n?g?e?r?}?

    Conditionally Undead (Granted by the Ankh, the Key of Life. As long as the user is not burnt to ashes or decapitated, any injury will heal given time. It is still possible to become comatose due to total blood loss.)

    (Un)Balanced??

    Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed) | V?e?s?s?e?l? ?o?f? ?T?h?e ?L?u?p?i?n?e? ?S?o?u?l? (?S?e?a?l?e?d?)

    Last True Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

    Message {+}

    His status had not changed beyond what was expected. But,there was a new notification.

    Another message field at the very end.

    Curious, Miles set his intent upon it, instantly causing the status to be replaced by a transparent screen of white text.

    Ding!

    [You have received a message, titled: Evening the Odds 2]

    Do you wish to read? (Yes/No)]

    Miles paused.

    He no longer had the best of impression of Pack, not after what he had had to experience within the maze, but¨Che also had to admit, the Detect skill had saved his life quite a few times.

    Miles pulled a hand through his hair.

    At least the two wolves deserved the benefit of the doubt. So, Miles chose the affirmative, causing the notification to expand into the message proper.

    [For the eyes of the Last True Son of Lykaon only,

    Congratulations are in order.

    You have touched upon the World beyond the Veil, seeing what few on your side has ever seen, and your wolf has grown enough to handle a single expansion to a single Discipline.

    We strongly suggest you do.

    Beware, for the corruption of the Third Source Fulcrum was never supposed to be let loose.

    Yours in Spirit,

    Pack.]

    Well, that was something.

    As was tradition, the message vanished as soon as he read it, never to be seen again.

    Miles glanced around the forest, pondering.

    It seemed his stay here was just extended.

    ***

    Though sparse, the contents of the message were useful, confirming a few ideas he had suspected.

    The strange visions he could see, the colors and shifting forms had something to do with the World beyond the Veil.

    There were still quite a few missing pieces, but this was confirmation enough he was on the right path to understanding.

    The instructions were quite direct as well, stating that he had balanced the Wurkan enough that he could ¡®expand a Discipline¡¯. Presumably a Vawulan Discipline since that was all he had access to at the moment.

    Miles was well aware that regaining Balance was the priority. Every little bit counted. But it seemed there were more pressing matters forcing him to forego that.

    Then there was also the mention of ¡®the corruption of the Third Source Fulcrum¡¯, the first instance he had seen a concrete mention of the Doorway Trial Objective.

    Miles had wondered what a ¡®Fulcrum¡¯ was, ever since he learned the seat of the Wurkan was one. But apparently¡­

    ''I encountered one of these ''source fulcrums'' beforehand?

    Unfortunately, Miles had no clue who or what the third fulcrum even was.

    ''The message states that it had a corruption, and it was let loose? When it should not have?''

    Miles frowned, considering what exactly had escaped, when it had been trapped.

    He grimaced, instantly realizing the only possibility.

    ¡®There is no way this refers to the Hordred Rats right?¡¯

    They were an infestation, thus a corruption of a sort, but¡­ he had not seen any evidence to the fact that they had escaped the maze and been ''let loose''. Sure, those Infernal Knights or whatever had broken their ''chains'' and chased after him, even moving past the former obstruction, but they had not made it into the forest.

    There had not been a single rat within his vicinity when he had activated Blood Vision before and after his healing torpor.

    Confident in his assumption, Miles set the bothersome possibility aside, deciding to consider the more practical instructions of the message.

    Since Pack¡¯s advice had been quite beneficial before, he could not turn this down without precedence.

    Miles shifted his gaze to the system status, or rather, a particular line of it.

    New Discipline Selection halted.

    This was good, because he did not feel he could handle the ensuing imbalance should he go through with selecting an entirely new discipline. It was doubly confirmed since Pack had mentioned nothing of the sort.

    But what was written directly before it, was a different matter altogether.

    Discipline Expansion Available.

    It would not be any beneficial to a better balance, but supposedly he would need this and at the very least he felt he could survive it.

    So, with a deep breath Miles set his willful intent upon the text, and the status expanded.

    Ding!

    |Discipline Expansion (Newborn)|

    [Rejoice Vawulan. A Newborn you may be, henceforth, you shall be a true practitioner of the way of Chaos.

    Rejoice Vawulan. You have achieved a feat beyond your station and Chaos shall bless you with power so that the potential within you may blossom as it desires.

    Accept? (Y/N)]

    Miles considered the message.

    The pretentious tone aside, it didn''t take long for him to make the decision, and the moment he did, a new notification popped out.

    Ding!

    [Congratulations, Discipline - Haeomancy expands beyond the limitations set upon the newly born, achieving true completion.

    The Path of Blood unfurls before you.]

    Miles shuddered, as a strange current crackled through his body. He felt his limbs spasm involuntarily, and a surge of burning heat forming within him.

    The intensity rose, slowly but surely, seeping into his muscles, then his flesh. The strange currents gathered, entering his veins, moving through them, all towards one point. And finally, the crackling pain settled into a lull around his heart.

    Ding!

    [You have unlocked the title, Prodigious Newborn I.

    Rare are the Newborn blessed by a Discipline. They are seedlings of potential, and of unused, uncontrolled power.

    Rarer are the Newborn with a completed Discipline, wielding the prowess proper.

    You are no longer a mere seed, but a grown, thorny vine.

    Grants a 5% Bonus to all attributes.]

    Instantly, Miles felt a flash energy rush through him, and though it was quite slight, a familiar feeling of attribute enhancement.

    He was grateful for the reward, but he did not agree with the message.

    He was no ''prodigy'', unless drinking old Zhan''s blood counted as something genius and unthinkable for the ordinary Vawul.

    Still, he had been given it and Miles would not allow a refund.

    Ding!

    |-|-| Haemomancy (Discipline Tier 0) -> Haemomancy (Discipline Tier 1) Expansion |-|-|

    Blood is the essence of life, and the core of all that is living.

    Haemomancy means to bend its natural flow through will, lording over life though you remain a being of death.

    What was once the path of the Iron Blood Progenitor, is now a fraction of yours.

    Tier 1 Haemomancer Boon - Grants +1% to all non-physical attributes, and 1 skill selection.

    Newborn Discipline Completion Bonus - (+1) Bonus Skill Selection]

    Miles grunted in pain, reaching for his heart, as the currents of energy about his heart intensified.

    Before the pain could become unbearable, it stopped abruptly, as if it were unsure of what to do, and of course a new notification appeared.

    Ding!

    || Haemomancy (Tier 1) Skill Roster ||

    The options before you manifest from your actions and experience prior. Each choice is a step forwards in the path of Blood. Choose wisely.

    Available Selections: 2

    [Putridum Sanguinis (Rotten Blood) [Inferior] - All blood that you shed rots, gaining a horrendous taste and smell that will sicken any creature that may wish to feed upon you.

    Passive. Permanent. Takes effect when your blood is spilled.] {+}

    [Ardenti Sanguine (Burning Blood) [Inferior] - All blood that you shed is heated to boiling temperatures, burning whatever it touches. Let those that dare spill your essence feel a fraction of your pain.

    Passive. Permanent. Takes effect whenever your blood is spilled.] {+}

    [Caecus Sanguinis (Blood Haze) [Common] - Cover the eyes of any living target with blood, forcing them to see the world as you see it, effectively blinding any non-Vawul.

    Ranged. 1 BP per target. Time limited effect and may be dispelled by force.] {+}

    [Sanguis Amplificationem (Blood Enhancement) [Uncommon] - Burn your blood at will, igniting a portion of your blood and utilize the combusted energy to enhance your attributes.

    2 BP per cast. +1% to all attributes. Lasts for 5 minutes but can be recast without delay. Stacks to a maximum of up to five times. {+}

    [Ferrosanguis Arma (Ironblood Armament) [Uncommon] - Your will may shape the essence you bleed into whatever you imagine, even weapons or armor, forged of your Ironblood.

    Uses as much blood and concentration needed to forge the imagined object.] {+}

    [Ferrosanguis Clavum (Ironblood Spike) - [Rare] - Extend your Haemomancy to a distance greater than your immediate vicinity. No longer shall you be limited by the distance you can reach, for you may shoot spikes of your Ironblood.

    Status Effect (Blood Leech): For as long as an intact Ironblood spike remains in contact with blood, a percentage of the blood will be transferred to your Blood Points.

    2 BP per Blood Spike.] {+}

    Every skill was in Latin, and Miles directly translated them without wasting too much time, causing the interface to display the correctly translated phrases. Only afterwards, did he consider the skill themselves and the explanations of what was offered.

    To be honest, he had not expected such thorough descriptions having gotten used to entirely unexplained, or barely explained skills.

    Miles appreciated it, but it did lead to quite a problem.

    What the hell should he choose?

 CHAPTER 46: Discipline Expansion Part -2

    Two inferior skills, [Putridum Sanguinis (Rotten Blood)] and [Ardenti Sanguine (Burning Blood)].

    If nothing else, they intrigued him, but Miles could only ever seriously consider the latter. Even if Rotten Blood promised greater power, he had some perfectly reasonable issues with making his blood smell of literal rot.

    Both skills came with passive permanence and while on a cursory glance that might seem like a benefit, it was more of a double-edged blade.

    Comparatively, [Caecus Sanguinis] or Blood Haze was a lot more practical. The ability to disrupt vision with a haze of blood, though indirect, could have multifaceted uses.

    Only problem was, it was extremely mundane. It was nothing more than the effect of a flash grenade, a blinding enchantment or an optic disabling net weave, somehow limited to blooded and non-Vawul for reasons beyond him.

    So it was with relative ease that Miles dismissed the first three skills as potential choices.

    Next was the only common skill [Sanguis Amplificationem]. Although it required a blood point cost of 2 BP, a fifth of his basic blood, a five-stack of this amplification would mean an overall attribute increase of 5%!

    Each single stack of the skill would be identical to the effect of the Tier 1 Haemomancy Boon. And though it would be temporary, the potential here was not something that could be easily ignored.

    The only thing that gave Miles pause, was the mention of ¡®burn your blood¡¯ in the skill description.

    He could not help but note the familiarity.

    Considering the nature of the skill and its effects, it was highly possible this was merely an enhanced version of [Sanguis Ardeat]. He was unsure whether Blood Burn was truly related to this skill, for what little he knew of it had come from his experiments and thoughts. There had not been such a thorough description.

    ¡®Huh, I never attempted to ''stack'' Blood Burn, but... I should try it as well?¡¯

    Though Miles winced at the mere memory of the skill, this was necessary, and he had nothing but time right now. With a deep breath he settled himself into the cool of the stone seat and activated Blood Burn.

    The skill behaved as usual, lighting a fire, and dumping lumps of burning coal inside of him.

    Miles gritted his teeth and waited out the heat. As soon as it settled, he felt... well, little else. Perhaps there was some improvement in his energy, maybe his attributes as well, but it was so slight, it might as well be imagined.

    Had it not been for the absolute data he had gained back at the Faesycian, he never would have known.

    Miles puffed out a breath of smoky air and activated a second round of self-torture. Again, Blood Burn pierced through his veins, just as agonizing as the first time.

    A few seconds later, he was feeling, more energized. Maybe. Or it was all in his head.

    Miles felt the heat of his breath on the tip of his nose.

    He chuckled, both amused and exasperated by the situation. He had no choice but to keep trying, now that he had begun.

    Trying to focus on the cool of the stone Miles sat upon, he tried again, and again.

    Half an hour of thorough experimentation later, Miles was exhaling the closest thing to steam, beads of sweat rolling down his face and his skin taken a warm tone of red.

    Considering his fidgety self, Miles laughed. With his legs bouncing on their own and fingers tapping of their volition, like an over-active toddler, he could finally settle the issue regarding the efficacy of the skill.

    Well, Miles was still not entirely confident that [Sanguis Ardeat (Blood Burn)] effected his attributes (there were no changes to his status), but he could confirm that it did energize him, and its effects stacked.

    It would seem that it truly was a lesser form of [Sanguis Amplificationem], and that smothered his interest quite a bit in the skill.

    A moment of recovery later, Miles wiped his forehead and continued his skill perusal, rising up a tier to the uncommons.

    What came first was [Ferrosanguis Arma].

    Ironblood Armament.

    It didn¡¯t take long to realize this was the skill version of whatever he had been doing so far by sheer instinct, including forming the strange Pugio knife and the armor-like blood coatings.

    It would not only allow him control over that unreliable aspect, allowing him to form weapons and armor in whatever shape or form he desired. There were even additional possibilities, considering his own skills in forging...

    Miles moved on, to the similarly titled final skill of [Ferrosanguis Clavum] or Ironblood Spike.

    He was quite unsure why this was a rare skill, one whole tier above Armament. Guns existed, even right now he possessed the Caucon, and though he was limited by ammunition, he doubted a spike of blood crystal could overshadow its destructive power by any reasonable margin.

    Still, Blood Leech was bound to be useful.

    The effect was probably not ¡®broken¡¯ to the extent he could spam the spikes, but it did offer the ability to gain back some of the blood points he used. Which meant, theoretically, he could use [Ironblood Spike] for considerably more than what he could afford with his BP at any given time. But that was it.

    Compared to Armament, this skill was so much more limited and constrained. It even came with a fixed blood point cost of 2 BP. So why was it a rare skill?

    Miles pulled a hand through his hair, considering this for some time. In the end, if there was any one thing that made the two skills different, it was...

    ''Range?''

    If Ironblood Armament mirrored the manner in which he had formed the pugio knife, it was reasonable to assume that whatever he constructed with the skill would be formed of the same crystallized blood.

    Though Miles remembered it feeling quite solid to the touch, it was still crystal, a rigid, limited and brittle material.

    Unless he threw such knives (which, considering how easily the pugio had lost its form when he had lost his grip on it, he wasn''t entirely sure was even possible), the skill had little potential for long distance attacks.

    It felt logical, but it was entirely possible that the status effect of Blood Leech had some influence on the rare tier as well.

    It was obvious that blood was essential to fuel his newfound prowess and continued ''immortal'' existence. It was obvious that blood was delicious to his undead palate. None of that could change the fact that Miles had been dreading the day he wou--might lose control and consume blood directly, from a human or fae, like a feral beast.

    It was¡­ inhuman and deplorable. Quite unsanitary as well.

    Miles was well aware he did not have sufficient BP considering what remained to be done. He would have to replenish his resources at some point, and it had been one of his greatest worries. But with [Ferrosanguis Clavum] he could very possibly satiate the thirst with an indirect method. It was near perfect.

    He let out a slow, calming exhale. He had gone through the whole selections of skills available to him.

    Without competition, it was obvious that the Ferrosanguis skills were the best choices here. The only other contender was [Blood Amplification] but really, it was not even in the same weight class.

    Both skills were under the common theme of Ironblood, a reference to the so-called progenitor and the value of skills named after the founder of the whole discipline was bound to not disappoint. The two skills also had great synergy. Both close, and long-range combat could be covered, blood leech allowing him to stay in the fight for quite some time longer.

    It was quite ideal he had the option to choose both and was not being forced to decide between them.

    With that, the skills to be his were decided and Miles prepared to make his selection. However, before he proceeded, he felt himself pause.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Something held him back.

    It was akin to the guilt or self-doubt that came prior to making a profoundly wrong decision.

    ''Ah.''

    In his excitement of learning new skills, he had forgotten. This skill selection would ruin any progress he had made towards being balanced. After all, he had initially held off from this ''discipline expansion'' for a reason. It was just that, since Pack said he would need to even the odds, then, he probably needed to do so to survive.

    So, in the end, the decision was clear, and with a guilty shrugging off of what remained of his conscience, he made the choice.

    Ding!

    [You have unlocked, Skill: |Haemomancy| ¨C {Ferrosanguis Arma - Uncommon}]

    [You have unlocked, Skill: |Haemomancy| ¨C {Ferrosanguis Clavum - Rare}]

    The knowledge of the skills appeared within his mind exactly as the many times before, like muscle memory he had forgotten long ago, just now resurfacing.

    Miles slowly rose from the stone seat, stretching his body, acclimating. It almost felt as if what had changed was greater than just some new skills.

    Perhaps it was the creeping uncomfortableness.

    Miles flexed his muscles, feeling the familiar control, exactly as it had been before. But something that had just started to feel better had reverted to its former state. It was disgusting, and¡­ wrong.

    He flicked his eyes towards the stone seat and... instinctively recoiled.

    The disgust dissipated as soon as it had come. He was unsure what that was but perhaps, it was a hidden sense warning him of what awaited.

    That was why Miles had to force himself to sit upon the seat of the Wurkan and attempt meditation once more.

    He had to see for himself.

    ***

    The mind world came readily in his singled-minded state.

    Visually nothing had changed. The scarlet seas had expanded, the luminous white waters were on the verge of being wiped out, and the grotesque ichorous corruption was as dominant as it had been. The world was still as broken as ever but Miles could feel the difference.

    Any progress he had made had been thrown, literally, into the seas.

    A rumbling growl echoed through the world and the lupine spirit that had been absent his last few visits re-appeared before him. Any recovery it had shown had reverted and the creature had to limp over to him, wading through the white oceans. It was painful to see its hobbled movement, knowing Miles himself had had a part to play in it.

    Somehow, he could even feel what it felt.

    Betrayal, sorrow, and... heartbreak.

    Perhaps his reasoning had been logical, perhaps he would die without the new skills, but at the end of the day Miles had still betrayed this creature when it had just begun to trust him.

    The worst part was, he could still feel their connection and the pact they had forged.

    Miles could call upon their connection, force it to expand, and allow himself to see those strange colors once more. Whatever ability he had gained was still his, even without the wolf¡¯s consent.

    The trust the lupine spirit had given him, it could not retake. Such things, once freely given, could not be taken back so easily.

    But Miles could also empathize and that was why, when the wolf howled in broken rage and leapt towards him, he allowed it to release its anger. He grit his teeth so tight he tasted blood, determined to last until the creature was pacified.

    However, the claws only got sharper and the fangs deadlier, and eventually the pain forced him out of the mind world and back into reality.

    The last he saw was the shadow of a broken wolf, rewarded with betrayal for unerring loyalty. Miles grasped at his agonizing heart, falling back into the stone dais.

    But nothing hurt as much as what he had inadvertently done.

    He could swear the very world seemed to spurn him now.

    The very grove, what had once been welcoming and warm, had become judging, staring with cold eyes.

    He might have gained some new skills, but the cost was that he had barely taken one step forwards to take these two steps back.

    ¡®Was it worth it?¡¯

    Miles wasn¡¯t sure.

    For a while, he stayed like that, considering what he had done and its repercussions. Letting it all sink in.

    At least until a sporadic glance fell upon the Lykaon ring upon his finger. Like a bucket of water thrown over him, Miles was slapped out of it.

    "So what?!"

    He had been willing to give up so much more, just to get back what he had lost. Betraying some strange dog inside his mind world was nothing. Being hated by a bunch of trees was nothing.

    The problem was the bad company and with that, Miles stood from his seat and walked off.

    The moment he ventured out of the grove, it truly did feel as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

    Miles let out a conflicted breath. If he ever came back, it would be for the stone seat and nothing else. He did not spare a glance back.

    Still, he was not ready to set off just yet.

    He needed a distraction, and he had just the thing.

    Experimentation, of the science of skills.

    ***

    Miles stood among trees that did not judge his poor decisions, or perhaps were incapable of doing so, and called upon the first skill.

    The same as he would, he pressed upon the mental button of Blood Armament. He tried to imagine blood changing its shape, forming into what he imagined, but¡­ nothing.

    Miles frowned.

    He could almost feel the skill exert its effort, activating as it should but¡­ it was lacking something.

    ¡®Blood?¡¯

    He doubted it. Though was running low on blood, unless the skill required more than his own body could hold, he should have had more than enough for some minor experimentation.

    Perplexed, Miles considered how he had used [Ferrosanguis Arma] before this. Trying to remember how the beast and even he himself had instinctively called upon this ability.

    ¡®Wait, was I always injured?¡¯

    Miles almost cursed at the realization, but it was true. The skill description mentioned ''shaping the essence you bleed¡¯ and no mentions of blood point costs. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pulled out one of the Hordred rat bone shivs from his coat pocket and slashed it across his palm.

    With only the slightest of winces, he widened the cut with his fingers, trying to pool enough blood before conditional undeath could set in.

    [External Bleeding detected. -0.2 BP lost. (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    Once Miles felt he had enough, he allowed the wound to heal and tried to call upon Blood Armament into the shape of¡­

    He thought he heard something, like tinkling glass, but he could not find the source. Only then did he feel the familiar weight in his hand. He spared a glance.

    Instantly something responded, a resonant call from deep within him, echoing through all that was him.

    PUGIO.

    The process of using the skill had been quite intriguing. All Miles had had to do was supply the blood and imagine the shape, everything else happened on its own.

    He could feel a strange connection between him and the knife, much clearer than ever before.

    Miles twirled and flipped the blood crystal blade about, its scarlet edge flashing, as he examined the familiar contours.

    Though the material was solid crystal, and very possible brittle, it was somehow comparable to some of the highest tier forging metals. With this skill alone, as long as Miles had sufficient blood and a few seconds to prepare, he could arm himself quite well.

    Yes, even in the thick of battle, even if he was disarmed, assuming he was covered in his own blood for some reason. If not, to use this skill he would have to make himself bleed first.

    Miles sighed. ''What is it with Vawul abilities and self-harm?¡¯

    There were no answers.

    ***

    Despite his complaints, Miles desired to experiment with Blood Armament some more.

    Though limited to blood, it reminded him of forging, and he could not help but be excited about the potential enchantments he could combined into them.

    He started with small constructions and simple shapes. This was managed very easily, but when he expanded, trying to form some simple armor over his fingers, he hit a hard block. Despite how simple he made the structure it took him nearly an hour to finish.

    It was obvious what happened when he tried to make even more complex constructions. Nothing, not even his attempt to make a replica of the simple yin-yang talisman (after a disastrous construction of the complicated Lykaon ring) succeeded. It was easier when he tried to forge different blades, but not by much. Somehow it was only the pugio blade that came the easiest.

    Miles watched, as the most recent of his failed blood constructions scattered into shards of blood crystal dust the moment it left his contact and considered the final notification on his blood point costs.

    [External Bleeding detected. -1.3 ¡Ö 1 BP lost.]

    He was eager to experiment more for he had a whole list of possible ideas, he was even sure he could get over the strange limits with time and practice, but he would have to leave them for now.

    Miles was running low on blood, and he could not afford to waste it right now. He could only afford the bare minimum, just to make sure he would not make the rookie mistake of failing to understand one''s own arsenal.

    With that, he moved on to the second and more costly skill, and unlike the former [Ferrosanguis Clavam] responded instantly.

    Miles found himself moving in a trance, raising a hand and stretching his arm forwards. He felt the need for a target, and just barely managed to point at a tree trunk nearby.

    Seemingly forced into existence, red globules of liquid manifested before his palm. They solidified and crystallize, finally stretching out to form a jagged spike of crimson blood crystal.

    An Ironblood Spike.

    After that, all Miles did was flick his hand and in a burst of back wind that rustled his hair backwards, it launched.

    Boom!

    The iron crystal penetrated deep into the tree trunk, finally reaching its limit and shattering in an explosion of red shards.

    [Ironblood Spike used. -2 BP. Personal Blood Points: 8/10.]

    For just a moment, Miles felt the distinct absence of a portion of himself, until it was replenished instantly reducing from Ripae Sanguine.

    [Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 2/100)]

    Though his blood bank was getting dangerously low, Miles considered what had just happened. Once the pre-requisites were satisfied, both skills had activated near automatically, only requiring his intent to activate.

    The essential divergence between the skills was the manner in which they obtained the ¡®fuel¡¯ for the skills.

    Ironblood Armament required bleeding, for his blood to touch the air, before it could be willed into the shape he desired.

    Ironblood Spike was different. The blood was reduced from his blood points, without any need for bleeding and thus, was quite a bit more versatile.

    Perhaps that was the essential difference between uncommon and rare skills?

    Possible, but the way in which the Ironblood Spike received momentum was also a bit of a mystery. Somehow his blood was being converted into kinetic energy.

    All of this warranted further experimentation, but Miles couldn¡¯t do much without more blood.

    So, for the moment, Miles walked forwards, examining the tree trunk for its damage.

    The ancient oak he had chosen as his target was massive, with an approximate diameter nearing one meter.

    Miles whistled. The Ironblood spike had penetrated deep into this ancient oak, almost halfway through.

    Though it was not a clean piercing shot, the blood spike was about half as effective as an enhanced Caucon shot. Quite a lot better than what he had been expecting.

    The only downside he could see was that the skill required a few seconds to form, but he should be able to manage.

    Miles had endless ideas on how to enhance its effect, if he ever managed to influence its manner of formation and structure, but¡­ that would be for later.

    He was finally ready, and it was finally time to move on.

 CHAPTER 47: Valley of Bones - Part 1

    "We studied the doorway''s fae signature Miss, we are 96% sure the doorway has no danger Miss."

    Miss, my shiny ass, miss--<unstable audio, potentially soft laughter>fucking animal crushed my ass-chrome.

    <Speaker appears upset, perhaps angry.>

    Listen here, you Corpo-tards. All your scientists are wrong. Your data, your predictive AI, all shit in the drain. The only thing they managed to get right were the mineral veins.

    This cavern of a Doorway was never empty. It''s the lair to a crazy fae monster, some giant''s pet or something, too fast for a single clear visual. All I did was cut off some of its fur. The rest of us were ripped apart in minutes.

    Minutes. We had a dozen Epsilons!

    <Speaker exhibits symptoms of exhaustion.>

    For Sidhe''s sake, don''t send the next group of idiots without a few Deltas, maybe even a Gamma.

    <Speaker volume is falling, and thus upscaled.>

    Heh, even at the darkest end, there is always a bright side, eh? <More laughter>You Sybah-fuckers were so confident; you promised us insane post-mortal insurance just to justify reduced salaries.

    Well, who''s laughing now?

    <A long pause>

    I swear upon the Sidhe, if my brother and his family are not living like royalty when I look up or down from hell or heaven, I will haunt your Corpo asses.

    <Speaker audio becomes extremely unclear, and thus predictively generated. Accuracy is not guaranteed.>

    I--I''ll miss you most of all T-Bone.

    Well, I guess that''s it.

    Carrie ''Silver'' Edge, out.

    --Final Transmission, First Exploratory Party (All Deceased), Sybahware Doorway #24, [Hamelin, Outer Arcadia City, 195 years ago]

    ***

    The air hummed with a peculiar charge.

    Miles was vigilant for anything unexpected, but despite his best efforts he had overlooked the subtle decline in the terrain. It was only when the lush foliage gave way to rock and stone, he noticed that the ground sloped downward, slowly but surely lowering the elevation.

    The trees were mostly unchanged, indifferent to the harshness of the earth beneath them. Their trunks were shaded darker, but continued to loom over the undergrowth, casting long, oppressive shadows. At least this forest held no grudge against him.

    Miles was on guard, moving with slow, careful steps, when he noticed a cluster of trees ahead, somehow only half the height of the forest and forming a small forest of its own.

    This was a massive depression into the earth, a yawning chasm leading down into a valley of some sort. The same towering trees that populated the rest of the forest, seemed stunted and dwarfed here, their true height concealed by the sheer drop of the land.

    Miles estimated the valley spanned only over a few square kilometers.

    No wonder he had failed to notice this when he had surveyed the forest from the treetops.

    That was when he smelled it.

    The acrid stench of old blood, old enough to have become the exact opposite of appetizing. It evoked a sense of dark dread within him but to Miles it was also a reason for relief.

    ¡®There are blooded creatures in this forest then.¡¯

    There was hope, hope that he would not have to resort to hunting rats in the Hordred maze just to survive.

    With that, Miles drew in a deeper breath, pulling upon the threads of scent and sifting through the layers of despair and decay.

    There was something else here, he was sure of it.

    It took some time, but finally beneath it all, he found it.

    It was similar enough, hiding among the other scents, but it was also different.

    The decrepit scent of an ancient death, Interweaved with indignant rage and haunting regret.

    The emotions carried here were more palpable than anything he had ever smelled before. It was as if the very air mourned this supposed loss.

    Miles let out a nervous breath as he ventured closer, crossing the last of the distance and reaching the very precipice of the chasm. As he gazed into the descent before him, his eyes were immediately drawn to what could only be the source of everything he had sensed¡­

    Laying scattered among the trees and forestry were ivory white bones, towering a few dozen meters high. The most prominent of these were a set of gigantic spine and ribcage bones, enshrouded in a thick cloak of moss and vines. A quartet of similarly elongated bones, limbs perhaps, were positioned far, but positioned precisely at four corners of the valley.

    It took a moment of observation to notice the pattern. ¡®...It all forms one skeleton?¡¯

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    Miles¡¯ eyes traced over the outline of the skeleton of this¡­ creature.

    These weren¡¯t just bones, but a monument of some ancient leviathan.

    The only fae species he knew of that could reach such a scale was¡­ ¡®Giants?¡¯

    Yet the more he observed, the less it seemed possible. The skeletal formation here was not reminiscent of anything resembling an enlarged man. It was more in line with some manner of quadrupedal.

    The first terrifying thought that occurred to him was that this monstrosity was¡­ a rat, but thankfully, the skeletal structure was nothing like a rodent. It was not even remotely similar to the Hordred Rat Digger skeleton he had studied personally.

    No, this massive skeleton belonged to a creature that was more¡­ canine-like. Perhaps even lupine.

    Miles snorted at the idea.

    His mind must have been influenced by his recent encounter with mind world wolves. There was no way there could be a species that rivaled the largest fae known to mankind¡­

    But as he pondered further, possibility whispered otherwise. ¡®Perhaps not a wolf, but what if it were a Wurkan? A Werewolf?¡¯

    Miles let out a breath.

    Yes, it was possible. He knew nothing about them after all. But thankfully, whether there had been monstrous wolves prowling this Doorway mattered little, when it was now reduced to a silent fossil.

    Satisfied with the logic, Miles steeled his nerves enough to descend into the valley below.

    There was no easy path downward, so¡­ he simply leapt off the edge, surrendering himself to gravity.

    At least until he fought back with nameless movement, surfing over the jagged edges of earth, nearly slipping and breaking a bone (twice), and landed upon the grassy earth with a bone-jarring thud.

    The moment he set foot in the valley Miles felt the cold grip of the strange, vibrant winds. The valley seemed no different from the rest of the forest, other than the enclosed earthen walls of the valley that surrounded it of course.

    Yet there was also the persistent, overpowering scent of death, and a strange sizzle in the air as if a discordant buzzing.

    Intrigued, Miles grabbed on to the most recent scent thread and pulled...

    Blood. Rotted and expired, crusted with age.

    With only a moments consideration, he followed after it.

    Miles had thought it would be a simple task to track the blood, but somehow the trail ended up leading him on a maddening chase through the forest and skeletal remains, weaving around in an intricately confusing, looping path.

    It was only after he had completed five whole circuits around the edges of this valley, slowly nearing the center of the forest, that he realized the trail of blood permeated every corner of this forest, forming a disturbingly organized pattern of endless circles.

    Enough was enough.

    Since he now knew where the goal was, he set course straight to the heart of the valleyed forest.

    The incessant buzzing grew louder, revealing that it had nothing to do with energy in the air. Instead, this was the first sign of animal life here, a grotesque symphony played by an orchestra of rot-flies, a species of fly known to feed only on decay and death.

    Any curiosity Miles had about the insect presence was muffled by the overpowering smell of blood.

    A tang of old metal, sharp and bitter.

    He ventured closer, the stench grew stronger, and the air became cold to the point that the hair on his skin stood on end.

    The monstrous spinal and rib cage bones stood here, absorbed into the forest by invading vines and moss. From the distance, he had failed to realize that the source of the stench came from here, from within the small cave underneath the giant spine and ribs.

    With a deep breath, Miles walked inside, entering the shadowy depths of the skeletal remains.

    His enhanced eyes adjusted to the dark shadows in an instant.

    Covered in patches of pus, viscous and foul, dripping with grotesque, toxic fluids were¡­ corpses, malformed bodies persisting in various stages of decomposition. They were precariously balanced, impaled over wooden spikes that entered from one end and mercilessly speared outward from the mouth.

    He could smell it. They were not ancient or old, they were recent. A month or two at the most.

    Miles stumbled, backwards.

    His eyes flitted over the mounds of shattered bones and discarded pikes around and nearby. The number of dead here were far more than what remained impaled over spikes.

    This valley was not some simple geographical anomaly. No, it was a tomb, for the ancient dead and the present.

    ***

    The air was thick with the stench of festering death, nauseating. The atmosphere reeked of suffering, torture, and a sense of hopeless misery that clawed at his heart.

    Although Miles was outwardly unaffected, he could feel the cold grip of dread tightening around his neck. It wasn¡¯t the corpses that unnerved him¡ªit was the horrific manner in which their lives had been reaped.

    Shaking his head clear, Miles decided it was time to take a few steps back, outside the dark rib cage and its eerie dead. But as he began to retreat, he... blinked.

    Perhaps it was an effect of the horrors he had witnessed, or perhaps he had simply wanted to clear his vision.

    Either way the world changed, and what he felt looming over him was an immense presence. A giant that shamed giants, overwhelming to the point that it made him feel insignificant, like an ant before a towering colossus.

    Miles swallowed, but he still dared to raise his head.

    The creature was as monstrously immense as one would expect, with a base of ghostly white, all of which was corrupted with festering wounds of sickly black. It was quadrupedal, like the skeleton it had formed over, but the remaining specifics of its form were obscured by unstable, shifting energies.

    Perhaps awed by the sight of this monstrous being, for a second time, Miles blinked.

    For a fleeting moment, the air around the behemoth overhead flickered. Chains¡ªthe same he had seen before, entrapping the Hordred rats¡ªbut this time shackled around the neck and limbs, binding it to this valley.

    The chains rattled ominously.

    As if it had felt his gaze, the presence lowered its head and fixed its gaze onto the ant that had dared to stare.

    Every fiber of Miles¡¯s being screamed to cower, to flee, but he summoned all his will to remain standing.

    Their eyes met, his own locking with¡­ a pair of giant yellow orbs, speckled with black dust.

    The intensity of those eyes was so much so that he was forced to blink again. And when Miles opened his eyes again, the presence was no more, and everything was as it had been.

    Just him, giant bones, and rotting carcasses.

    Miles simply wiped at his eyes.

    These strange visions were getting more frequent, and somehow, he was getting more and more accustomed to them.

    Usually, there were just that, but this time something had changed.

    As if a muscle he had not known existed had been activated, he felt a response from some nascent, intuitive sense, alerting him to a presence his five senses had missed.

    Miles snapped around, away from the deathly bone cave, towards a sudden burst of color.

    A deep azure like the depths of an ocean, rustling amidst the trees.

    Of course, it was that little girl again and the moment he saw her, she raised an index finger to her lips, as if gesturing him to be silent.

    Miles almost shouted at her, but for some reason he did as was advised.

    She pointed, with that same finger, upwards.

    Miles carefully followed the direction but saw nothing other than the canopy above them.

    He looked back down, confused.

    ¡®What?¡¯

    The girl''s hair was orange now. An impossible yet natural color, like a setting sun.

    If nothing else, this confirmed her hair that truly was on the fritz.

    The strange fae child gestured upward, as if telling him to go into the sky.

    And before Miles could move to do so, or do anything else, she stepped behind the nearest tree.

    His enhanced senses had always drawn blanks when interacting with this strange girl, and it was with strange confidence that he knew she had vanished again.

    Miles¡¯s mind swirled with questions, about the nature of this mysterious existence, her illogical presence, but...

    He stepped backward, preparing himself.

    With a soft exhale, he rushed forwards, pounced onto the nearest oak tree and began his ascent, quickly scaling it and coming to a stop amidst the highest branches.

    First, he glanced through the canopy, searching for anything in particular just in case.

    As expected, he found nothing out of the ordinary.

    With that, he was fairly confident that this was what he had been asked to do.

    Miles wasn''t sure why he had decided to follow her advice. It was entirely possible the girl was some type of manic fae (like pixies) and had just thrown him some meaningless information to send him on a wild goose chase but...

    He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

    Perched amidst the branches and foliage, Miles set his gaze upon the forest down below, waiting.

 CHAPTER 48: The Valley of Bones - Part 2

    Miles crouched amidst the branches, expanding his senses through the forest. He paused at every shadow, the lightest noise or scent that felt out of place, searching for anything unexpected. There was nothing.

    It was just a forest in an entrenched valley, with the bones of a giant beast and the stench of sickly blood.

    ''Why did she want me to be silent? What does she want me to see?''

    Unless the strange girl was intent on making a fool of him, he was missing something.

    The wind, ever his ally, cradled past his skin, tapping upon him the secrets of all that it blew past. And even then, it was more of an estimate than any manner of confidence, for the air was unsure. All it knew was maybe, perhaps, something was amiss. That seemed to be enough.

    Miles blinked, the world shifted (as it seemed to do rather frequently now), and only then did he see them.

    It was as if they had appeared out of thin air.

    Miles threw the full brunt of his sensory prowess at them, but¡­ despite the thin, gaunt bodies caked in grime and dust, they left no stench.

    Though they crunched over branches and rock, his ears refused to pick up the noise.

    Even the winds were confused, only vaguely aware something was present, but unable to know what it truly was.

    Their existence fundamentally contradicted everything he heard, smelled and felt.

    Were it not for the fact that he had expected something, and was looking directly at them, from a position of clear sight, he would have been caught entirely off guard

    At first glance, they seemed to be three adult men, dressed in nothing but tattered leathers, the picture of a wild, uncivilized people. But as if to grant them a sliver of order, etched upon their sleeves were clear numbers.

    217, 101 and 666.

    Miles couldn''t help but pause at the troubling insinuation of triple digit numbers. His gaze wavered, for they did not travel light and dragged large packages behind them, wrapped in the same discolored leather they wore. These packs were massive, larger than even the men that carried them. They seemed to hold something alive, for they moved and wriggled about like fattened larvae. Even the contents of the packs made no noise and gave no smell.

    ''What are they?''

    The most mysterious aspect of them was their apparent non-existence to his senses. It was no enchantment frame or engraved ward; Miles could see no sources of the sheer scale required for something like this. It was neither a Fae ability, given either by birth or by serum, for there were no traces of the tell-tale sweet stench. His instincts denied the possibility.

    No, this was something else entirely. Something innate, a natural ability.

    Miles refused to believe these numbered savages were Elven, or Dwarven for that matter. The pointed-ear cavalry and the all-forgers of the Chasm were legends, not unsensed ghosts.

    ''Could they be revenants? Or maybe related to the wisp-like wintry Fae?''

    Possible, but he doubted it. This was because despite everything, the numbered savages were utterly ordinary. Boorish and uncouth, savage and tribal, but human all the same.

    They had little care for hygiene, scratching at dirty skin, unwashed hair and even other unmentionables. That had made Miles wonder whether they were some off shoot evolved species from some of the more humanoid Fae (goblins, orcs, ogres, trolls, and etc.) but it too was unlikely, for these numbered were not physically blessed, struggling to move even the packs they dragged, forced to paused for rest every so often.

    At least they were capable of speech. Miles attempted to read their lips, but quickly realized it was not a language he was familiar with. That was fine, for he could still understand enough from their body language.

    Number 666 the apparent elder, had his chest puffed out despite his bulging pot belly, and laughed brazenly. Yet for some reason, 101, the youngest and the tallest, had his head lowered, seemingly uncomfortable. The third man, number 217, muscular and heavily bearded, laughed along with 666, reacting appropriately to whatever the elder said or did. Even so, he would occasionally stop to pat the back of the youngest, 101. He seemed to appreciate it.

    Miles narrowed his eyes.

    It was obvious these numbered savages were related to the (maybe Fae) girl he had encountered prior. These numbered men exhibited nearly the same characteristics as her, invisible to most of his senses, and perhaps even the uncanny ability to appear and disappear.

    ''They are not Fae, I''m confident now, but they are not Human either. Then... what are they?''

    Well, it was high time he found out. Unlike the strange girl who would vanish as soon as he saw her, these men were slow. He had ample opportunity to have his questions answered by Detect. The air flickered and above the heads of the three men appeared the information he sorely needed.

    [Veilbound Human - Spiritsworn - Lvl 20~]

    The terminology meant nothing to him, meaningless for anything but conjecture, and he had a fair supply of that.

    The levels were a bit troubling, but if push were to come to shove, he should be able to handle them. Miles watched in silence as the trio of Veilbound approached the center of the valley, where the broken cave of spinal and rib bones was.

    The Numbered arrived, and as they halted for breath, Miles''s eyes fell upon the leather wrapped packs they carried, still wriggling and bumping about. His eyes traced the outlines of their contents, a sinking feeling rising within his gut...

    The savages had no second thoughts and pulled their packs into the dreadful cavern of bone, being instantly cloaked in its dark shadows. This meant nothing to Miles''s eyes, and he witnessed firsthand how their demeanor changed the moment they had stepped in. The prior joy and relaxedness seeped out like air from a deflating balloon.

    It was as if the men had been hijacked, their strings of decision-making latched onto by an unpracticed puppeteer. Perhaps that explained why they now moved like inhuman automatons, simply going through the motions. It was only the youngest, 101 who seemed mildly terrified, but he too eventually mimicked his elders.

    A sudden flash caught Miles''s eye, reflecting light.

    Metal, forged. The three Numbered were now brandishing military grade knives. Even as Miles wondered how these savages could have gained access to forged weapons despite having no proper clothing to wear, they quickly cut through the ropes that held the leather packages.

    The discolored, off-putting leather fell apart at the sides, revealing the contents.

    Miles wished he could say he was surprised.

    Wrapped in leather were people, men and woman, invisible to all his senses but sight, the same as the numbered.

    Miles double checked with Detect, confirming his suspicions.

    [Veilbound Human - Lvl 10~]

    However, they were distinctly different from the Veilbound. They were naked as the day they were born, entirely hairless, bald and morbidly obese. Were it not for their human skin, they might have been mistaken for some manner of orc, with a particularly bad case of consumption disorder.

    Though their eyes were shut in peaceful sleep, they moved, wriggling here and there as if acting out the dreams they saw. It all reminded Miles of something familiar, especially when one of them began dry humping the air.

    The moment he saw the brick sized block of ominous metal, blinking, attached to the backs of their necks...

    Ah, Otherjunkies.

    The same manner of hapless victim that populated the streets of Yumekuro, only these were using some ancient version of the same popular neural implant.

    ¡®...How? How do these ''Veilbound'', inside a Doorway, have access to our tech?¡¯

    There were no answers, and the Otherjunkies continued to wriggle about with disgusting motions, unaware of the fact that three savages stood over them, wielding knives.

    Miles felt the grip of his hands, that held onto the branch he was balanced on, tighten. Despite the pain, his nails dug deeper, even piercing through the wood.

    He could not afford to make a move. He had no information on these numbered, Veilbound. He had sworn mere hours ago that he would not allow the repercussions of blind action ever again.

    Miles set his jaw, staring with unblinking eyes.

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    At the same moment, one of the Otherjunkies, a woman, began to laugh. Had he heard it, Miles believed it would have sounded loud and ecstatic. She must have been experiencing a particularly pleasant facade in the Otherworld, that is until her laugh was cut off, replaced with coughing, gagging and spluttering.

    The moment her throat was slit, all that came out of her was blood.

    The oldest Veilbound, 666, ad slit her throat with a single line, and other savages followed his lead. Whatever discomforts the youngest 101 had had seemed forgotten, for he acted decisively and tore through the jugular of his Otherjunky just as mercilessly as the others.

    Mindless killing made only worse by the fact that this particular series of Otherworld implants had a rather inhumane, poorly thought-out feature. The moment it sensed the critical state of its users, they shut down, dragging the dreaming into the harsh reality of death.

    With their throats long ripped apart, the helpless men and women could only gasp and scream, uselessly struggling to keep in the blood that gushed out of their throats.

    Miles could only grind his teeth.

    It was a dreadful sight; one made even more ominous by the fact that he heard no sound. He could only see their suffering.

    The three Veilbound must have heard it though, but other than 101 who seemed mildly off put, they reacted as if they were even more deaf than him.

    While the Otherjunkies painted the floor of the cavern in blood, the oldest of the Veilbound, walked into the depths of the bone cavern, returning with a collection of metallic bowls. They divided the bowls among themselves, evenly and began to place each of them under the gushing necks of the dying, gathering any and all blood they could.

    The Numbered seemed to be entirely detached from the morbid acts they involved in, as if they were collecting gutter-beer from a keg and not blood from soon-to-be corpses.

    Miles let out a shaky breath, eyes frozen upon the sight of appetizing crimson. He could not have been more grateful that he could not smell, having to restrain his thirst.

    But it was as if reality intended to be cruel, for the moment the bodies of the Otherjunkies went still with death, he smelled it all.

    For a moment, Miles wondered if he was imagining it, filling in the blanks for a smell he should have felt, but this was¡­

    Fresh, metallic, leaking life. Real death.

    The scent of warm, fresh blood tickled his nostrils, calling him to go, to drink, to satiate himself entirely and dance in gluttony.

    Somehow, he managed to reel in the desire, focusing on his returned senses instead.

    He could smell the familiar filth of the dead. He could hear the monotone, flatlining beep of the Otherworld implants. Even the wind seemed aware now, tapping upon his skin about the dead that had manifested out of nowhere.

    ¡®Did¡­ did their deaths cancel whatever effect had kept them hidden from my senses?¡¯

    Possible. Unfortunately for Miles, the acts he had just witnessed was not the end of it.

    ¡®What in the Sidhe--?¡¯

    He watched, disgusted but drooling, as the trio of still intangible Veilbound brandished their knives and got to work.

    They first carved out the stomachs, removing bulging piles of fat, digestive systems and other inessentials. Then they skinned and carved out the flesh, packing away the blocks of meat into the same leather the presently dead had first been brought in.

    The Veilbound acted as if they were seasoned butchers working on cattle. Each cut was thorough and perfectly placed. It was only the youngest, number 101, that seemed inexperienced, causing blood to squirt into the air. But then there was a flicker of gold around his blade and within minutes, he improved to match the other two, as if he were a blessed genius of the blade.

    The numbered savages were anything but wasteful. They did not leave a speck of flesh on bone, going so far as to scratch out even the ligaments and cartilage. Every portion of flesh was somehow thoroughly squeezed out, gathering the blood into those same metallic bowls.

    Miles¡¯s eyes were glued to the process.

    He told himself this was to keep a better eye on the three barbarians, but with his mouth salivating at each splatter of fresh blood, he was not so sure.

    The bowls were filled, and the numbered savages brought out more, continuing their macabre butchery and blood collection. They also packed away the blocks of neatly cut human flesh into the leather, like leftovers being kept aside for dinner.

    What remained of the corpses, the bloodied, fleshless skeletons, got the expected fate. The veilborn worked with clinical efficiency, lifting the remains and mercilessly piercing them upon the spikes, so that the newly dead could join the dozens of similar corpses that existed within the bone cavern.

    That particular mystery was resolved rather quickly, but Miles could not bring himself to care.

    His throat was scratching with an itch that did not end, his skin burning as if dipped in fire, and he was swallowing gulps of empty air. The sight of the rippling, scarlet liquid, now placed in laden bowls (about three from each numbered savage). It was as if they had prepared the blood for him.

    Miles might have just pounced, but fortunately he was not entirely starved and somehow managed to control himself with focused breathing.

    By the time he regained his focus, the Veilbound were moving out. They carried their portions of blood-filled bowls and split up into the forest.

    The older, rotund 666, remained closer to the center, while the other two moved further. The younger number 101 ventured to the very edge of the forest valley, and the third, 217 remained somewhere in the middle, closest to where Miles was.

    The three Numbered savages stood still for a moment, as if waiting for the others to get in place. And then, they began to walk, and¡­ shout.

    It was not just the additional force in their vocal movements that led Miles to believe they were shouting. For the first time somehow, Miles could hear them.

    Or at least, he thought he did.

    Resounding roars, perfectly timed such that each voice overlapped, resonating in a single unearthly voice. Though they were loud, they seemed to be echoed from some far off, distant place.

    Miles felt his skin crawl.

    From the intonation, from the purposeful movements and actions that adorned each phrase, he could tell. This was a chant, a ritual, all based on an offering of sacrifice.

    The very forest seemed to change then. The invisible current he had felt the moment he had stepped into this valley, surged to a new intensity. Even the wind seemed to pick up, roaring through the valley, screaming of destruction.

    It did not take Miles long to realize that the path the numbered savages walked on was not entirely random, but a purposeful circling around the valley, centered upon the sacrificial bone cavern. The very same blood scent trial that had led him around in circles.

    After every few steps, the Veilbound would dip their hands into the bowl of blood and flick it out into the forest. The ground hissed, puffing out smoke, as if the blood were corruptive acid. Plants or leaves that touched it would shrivel, scattered bones would yellow and thin, any and all colors would fade and discolor.

    The blood was reminiscent of the black ichor Miles had accidentally brought out from the mind world, but perhaps not as dangerous, for soon enough the blood disappeared. It did not evaporate, but seeped deep into the forest, taking all of its strange effects with it. It was as if the blood had done nothing in the first place, but it left the very air burdened with an intangible heaviness.

    This strange energy, supercharged by this ritual, it entered him as well. Perhaps it was due to the close proximity, but Miles could feel it, sneaking in through his breath, his eyes, ears, nostrils, and even the pores of his skin.

    He didn¡¯t think much of it, for it was not particularly painful. It felt like a mild heat, which he expected would at worst be cured by conditional undeath soon enough.

    Miles observed the Veilbound, struggling to make sense of this sickly ritual.

    A common theme in this forest had been strange visions. From mysterious little girls, visions of trees and monsters, to even arrays of colored orbs. Maybe this ritual was related?

    Miles was unsure.

    At least until he¡­ blinked, again.

    This time was wholly different from all the visions he had seen while inside this Valley.

    It was that strange sixth sense, relying on a new muscle, which caused his connection with the Lupine Spirit Within to expand outward into reality. This was the first time Miles had managed to do so, without the assistance from the Seat of the Wurkan, and it showed.

    His bird''s eye view of the forest from the canopy flickered, suddenly filled with a horde of glitch-ridden stutters, flashing and sparking with discolored light. These sparks of color were darkened, faded, and¡­ beset by a grim rot. They seemed to resemble the same globes of vibrant color he had seen before but it was as if he was seeing with rotten, squinted eyes, vision blurred and darkened.

    That was when from amidst them rose the quadrupedal form of that same monstrous being he had seen over the behemoth skeleton. It remained chained down, suffering from festering wounds. It struggled against its entrapment, roaring, exhausted but desperate.

    The surges and sparks of energy everywhere flickered out, completely vanishing as they left behind pinpricks of darkened corruptive light. These dots of light moved as one, melding and gathering together, finally forming into streaks that struck the body of the monstrous being.

    If this strange behemoth of light were something alive, Miles could swear what he saw was screaming, as the lashes of darkness seared into the body like burning scars.

    Contrary to its pain though, its faded luminosity grew more tangible with each lashing. Though the creature faded, it was also... greater.

    The heaviness that weighed upon the air increased. The ominous energy surged, crackling, burning and seething. The Veilbound savages continued their ritual, scattering blood, seeping into the forest, and causing the chained creature of light was lashed more and more.

    Eventually the ritual reached its climax, the weight upon the air reached a crescendo. And that was the same moment that Miles¡¯s role as a silent observer ended.

    By then enough of the mysterious energy was within him, enough that it could state its purpose. A message spoken by its very essence.

    It started as a whisper, grew louder, finally forming a clear voice.

    Blood. Rage. Murder.

    Whatever that was, it was quickly overshadowed by the severity of the notifications that appeared within his vision.

    Ding!

    [You have discovered (Tier III) Source Fulcrum #2: Tomb of the Fallen(?) General]

    [The casting of the Vinasha Rite of Bloodied Land (Lesser) has been catalyzed by Veilbound sacrifices at the intersection of four Doorway Loci.

    You, as an agent of Vinasha, a newborn Kindred will be granted a blessing of +10 to all attributes for as long as you remain within this land.]

    There was a tangible, haunting sense of loss, as if Miles had taken back several steps from whatever progress he had made. But Miles couldn¡¯t care much when it was overshadowed by the apparent rewards. All he wanted to do was relish the sudden onset of power from the attributes.

    Fortunately, he had self-control, well aware that the effect this ritual was temporary. As for the adverse effects, he could tell that the words the ritual had spoken had to be answered first. As long as he remained silent, whatever problems that occurred would only inconvenience him for a few moments.

    Unfortunately, Miles may have forgotten that there was something within him that was extremely willing to respond.

    Newborn, concordat.

    A growl almost rumbled out of his throat. Something within him had echoed the sentiment, more than overjoyed to reciprocate. It was like the fading voice received a second wind.

    What was once a voice, became a shout, and then a roar.

    Blood. Death. Murder. Kill. Kill. KILL.

    Miles almost cried out in pain, his eardrums feeling as if they would explode at the sound of metaphysical screams.

    His eyes shut of their own volition. He could tell now. It was a familiar entity within him that had responded. Not just one, but two.

    One was in it for the chaos, while the other was desperate, betrayed and seeking to survive. Somehow, just barely, at the very fringes of the edges, their intentions had overlapped. And through their unintended agreement, they had shattered an already fragile balance.

    Ding!

    [Warning: Title (Un)Balanced has been influenced by the effects of the Vinasha rite.

    Vessel of the Beast ?L?u?p?i?n?e? ?S?o?u?l? Within (Sealed) -> Vessel of the Beast ?L?u?p?i?n?e? ?S?o?u?l? Within (Partially U?n???s?????e?a???l??e?d)]

    Miles¡¯s eyes snapped open, pitch-black and blinding white each, from the sclera to the pupil.

    These were the eyes of not one, not even two, but three beasts, another responding to the call, and they would let loose their anger wherever they could.

 CHAPTER 49: The Numbered - Part 1

    Miles was still crouching amidst the branches of the Hallow¡¯s oak, his eyes flickering with depthless darkness and blinding light.

    Unsealing the Beasts.

    Something similar had happened once before, a complete unsealing of the Beast Within.

    At least this time around it seemed to be only (partial). Perhaps that explained why there was no ebony smoke fuming out of his pores, falling over his back in a cloak of living shadows.

    And yet, as the Beasts remained within him, unable to leave physique as they would have had they been completely freed, somehow this seemed worse.

    The blood in his veins surged with fire and ice, searing and freezing both at the same time. His heart was beating in struggling bursts, as if forced to come to life. This physical pressure combined with the supernatural force that had allowed his undead blood to flow, caused the circulation to strain his blood vessels to their utmost limits.

    Each palpitation burned his veins, agonizing, filling him with immense, endless energy. It was mostly unfamiliar, lustrous, lunar-like and predatory. The little that he recognized carried the tell-tale flavor of what could only be Blood Burn. The enhancement from the skill seemed to stack with each painful heartbeat, as if mimicking the optional skill he had once ignored.

    The primal energies roared through his being, and Miles felt his form shift to accommodate it.

    His lips curled, making space for elongated incisors that he did not possess. He felt his fingers bend, as if to hold invisible, intangible objects, as if¡­ they were not hands but claws.

    The pain of the super-charged blood flow exceeded its limit, forcing Miles to double over in agony.

    He could hear his heartbeat, echoing within his skull. He could almost feel his veins bulging, and... he could feel tears trickling down his face. No, not tears. Blood.

    Miles''s control shattered like a broken dam, and the next thing he knew his bent legs had launched him into the air in a magnificent leap.

    The cold air buffeted his free fall, a painful, chilly balm applied over the whipping of branches and leaves. The air hissed in his ears and Miles struggled with what remained of his reason, trying to grasp at whatever tree he ventured close enough to, but none could hold his weight and snapped painfully into his suit.

    Panic began to set in when he was only a few moments away from reaching the ground. Even Conditional Undeath might have trouble recovering from being splattered all over the ground.

    It was only when he stared directly at his foreseen fate that Miles realized there was something directly below him. At the end of his free-falling trajectory was one of the Veilbound.

    Something to soften his landing then, he might survive just yet. However, before Miles could reach the ground in a sickening crunch of blood and bone that was hopefully not his own, he blinked.

    The strange sixth sense called for his connection to the Lupine Soul once again, and... what he saw was no longer a man.

    They were flashes of roaring viridian green, dashing and whirling around the numbered savage beneath him. They were akin to Fae sprites, only more green and more active, compared to the usually unresponsive, unreactive species.

    ''What is that? Something related to the colored shapes I saw before?''

    Only a single thought crossed his effected mind, and Miles did not think much more of it, until... those flashes of green moved as one, and lashed out at his free-falling form.

    Miles flinched, but as expected the flashes were neither real nor tangible, passing harmlessly through him.

    Then the wind spoke to him, whispering of an old debt, an unavoidable payment, lamenting what it was being forced to do.

    Out of nowhere, a sudden gust of wind picked up, and struck him where the green sprites had missed, throwing his formerly falling body, sideways.

    Miles gasped in pain as his back smashed into a robust Oak trunk, shattering a bone or two. He slid down to the ground, reeling and heaving.

    [-1 HP]

    [HP 9/10. External and Internal Injuries Detected.]

    [0.6 ¡Ö 1 BP lost. 9/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles growled through the pain and swept away the notification.

    ¡®What was that? Magic? A Fae Ability?¡¯

    He couldn''t tell. It was nearly identical to the Fae ability of Aeromancy, were it not for the strange shapes of green.

    Miles did not get much longer to strategizes as something, burning and scalding, crawled its way up his throat. He hurled, vomiting out a mass of congealed black ichor, splattering all over the ground, the grass almost hissing at its touch.

    He wiped off the remnants of the disgusting liquid from his lips, almost scalding to the touch.

    Miles recognized the strange fluid, the same he had hurled out back in the cavern inside the Hordred Rat maze and had caused a glitch in his use of detect, the same he had accidentally brought from his mind world.

    ''Fuck.''

    Though supposed to be a partial unsealing, this did not seem any better than what he had experienced before. Although there were no tangible forces trying to contend with his will, there was still something here, nudging his choices ever so slightly.

    As if to prove the point...

    Ferrosanguis Arma (Ironblood Armament).

    The skill activated of its own volition, upon the blood of his back, even though Miles hadn¡¯t intended it. The blood from his most recent injury crystallized, staunching the bleeding and forming a hardened exoskeleton underneath his suit.

    The Veilbound savage was taking his time, number 217, moving towards him with apparent confidence.

    With a painful breath, Miles struggled back on to his feet.

    He had not intended to venture into sudden, unplanned combat. It had not been his choice, but now that he was, there was no longer any room for second thoughts.

    As conditional undeath worked on his wounds, Miles could feel the Beasts within him relishing what awaited him.

    The fight, the hunt, the massacre.

    Miles leapt forwards, pouncing from side to side as if he were more animal than man, moving with the immense speed granted by a 43 (+10) boosted agility, enhanced even further by nameless footwork.

    Number 217 did not remain still, with masses of emerald light gathered around him, the Veilbound thrust his hands forwards, screaming something that Miles''s ears failed to hear. And yet, the word, the phrase, it echoed through him, vibrating with unnatural potency.

    Kunatu.

    The wind roared following behind those same green lights as they began to swirl, rotating and revolving around 217.

    Miles could still hear the strange term rumble and tumble within his skull. It was a nonsensical term that made no sense, but eventually, what he heard was something else entirely.

    Storm.

    Indeed, it was as if these floating lights were generals of the legions of wind, commanding the air to move. What formed first was a mere breeze, but it became a gust, and that gust was soon a tornado. Within mere seconds the towering storm had reached nearly the height of the valley, buffeting Miles¡¯s comparatively miniscule form.

    This extent of skilled Aeromancy would have had him retreat instantly, but the Beast(s) within him did not care, mindlessly thrusting his body through the whirling winds.

    His insights about the flow of wind, whispered to him mere moments in advance were analyzed with impossible instinct and channeled into nameless movement, somehow keeping him grounded and not swept up by the storm. It was a struggle even then, not helped by the fact that whatever wind this was, it was sharp, gashing through exposed skin.

    Though the ogre skin of the suit held strong, and the light blood armor underneath did its job, the sharp slashes of wind cut him all over, ripping open his hands, face and neck, over and over.

    [External Injuries Detected.]

    [0.3 ¡Ö 0 BP lost. lost. (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    Fortunately, the blood loss was not severe but as Miles danced through the sharpened storms, he realized it was just serious enough to become more.

    Ironblood Armament.

    For the second time the skill was called without his intent, and the blood seeping from his hands were willed to crystallize and solidify, crawling over his fingers, sharpening and affixing, until it finally formed something resembling the claws of a deathly beast. These were a pair of clawed gauntlets, forged of ruby blood crystal, elongated and sharpened.

    Without a second thought, Miles slashed them at number 217.

    The Veilbound savage was caught off guard, by he who had come rushing through a literal tornado. His sharpened crystal claws touched upon skin, even drawing the faintest of blood, but¡­

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    All of a sudden Miles found himself stuck, frozen in midair, as if he had been caught by an invisible hand.

    The wind was screaming, but it was far too late for him to dodge now. He was also not ¡®frozen¡¯, not really. Rather a horde of those green lights were now revolving around him, causing the wind to surge around him, holding his helpless figure in a pocket of trapped air.

    Miles found it impossible to escape from, when the force that held him was wind being swept up by intangible green lights. Still, the Beasts within had him struggling like a frantic animal trapped in midair.

    Number 217 finally relaxed at the sight of his helpless figure, and ventured closer, just enough to speak.

    Maybe it was a question because the savage seemed to expect a response, but whatever it was, it was ineligible and unheard to Miles''s ears. Besides, he had more important things to do, especially because the blender of green lights around him and the Veilbound had finally revealed the slightest of openings.

    Ferrosanguis Clavam (Ironblood Spike).

    Something red, warm and deliciously metallic, splattered all over Miles¡¯s body. He let his tongue stretch out, lapping up a few stray droplets of the blood.

    [-2 BP (Consumed by Ironblood Spike)]

    The blood point cost for the skill hit him hard, exactly like a sudden vanishing of a fifth of his energy. But it was worth it, because the next thing he knew, the green lights around him had scattered away like flies. The wind was suddenly ambivalent, and with nothing to hold him Miles was sent crashing onto the grassy floor.

    He hurried to his feet, swerving from the ordeal.

    For a moment he stared downward, at the gurgling, dying figure of number 217, now with a foot-sized ironblood crystal spike impaled through and out the back of his neck. The stench of blood hit his nostrils, for death had made the Veilbound tangible, the same as their sacrifices to the rite.

    Ding!

    Uninterested, Miles waved away the distraction, more focused on his rising thirst, burning and overwhelming. He barely held it back by sheer willpower, and only relaxed when relief came in the form of a sudden blood replenishment.

    [+3.6 ¡Ö +4 BP leeched.]

    [Remaining Blood Points: 10/10 (+ Blood Bank: 4/100)]

    Whatever cost Miles had incurred so far was paid back in full by this, with a little bit of interest as well.

    He stared at the blood spike still impaled within the man¡¯s neck, where the parts of his body surrounding it seemed to have deflated, as if the contents inside had been spontaneously absorbed.

    Though Miles had just ''fed'', he could not help but find the remaining blood tantalizing. And for the first time ever, something in him pined for something a bit different.

    He found himself gazing at the broken man, eyes drawn to his chest. But what he sought was something that wasn¡¯t visible, something that was inside, something that was beating.

    However, before he could act¡­

    Miles collapsed to his knees, heaving, gagging, and another burning mass of vile darkness hurled itself out of his throat.

    The dark ichor sizzled upon the grass, though when he reached to wipe his mouth this time, he found quite a bit of it had stretched harmlessly over his face. Somehow, there was some of the pungent liquid on his suit and hands as well, which he promptly and harmlessly wiped away.

    Miles heaved tired breaths, slowly forcing himself to stand¡­

    He needed to recover from this (un)balance, he needed to find a solution--that was when he felt that same voice, unheard but echoing through his skull.

    Kadu.

    Miles''s enhanced five senses were an ability he had just recently learned to rely on, but they had been almost entirely useless in this forest.

    For the first time in a long while, they came in clutch, notifying him of the wind that had lashed at the back of his neck, screeching.

    Miles did as the wind suggested and ducked.

    It was just in time too, because a visible crescent of blinding light ripped past the top of his head, shaving off a few of his hairs.

    He let out a nervous exhale, when the slash began to expand exponentially, moving through the valley and phasing through the forest.

    For a moment, nothing happened.

    Then, with resounding thuds and clouds of exploding dust, the gigantic trees past him began to topple over one by one, as if falling dominos. They had been completely severed by that single slash.

    Once again, the initially meaningless term echoed within his head until it became something meaningful.

    Blade.

    Miles turned around, slow but wary. His eyes of darkness and light homed in on another Veilbound. This was the youngest, number 101.

    The Numbered savage stared at him with such tangible hatred, his gaze shifting between Miles and the now dead number 217. The savage¡¯s hands lifted and positioned if they were holding some manner of tool, imagined and non-existent, for he was actually holding nothing.

    Miles blinked.

    The Lupine Soul opened his eyes, and he could see now that 101 wielded a sword formed of strange, yellowed light. The savage hefted the blade, and Miles could swear the very air vibrated with tangible sharpness.

    He barely pounced to the side, when a giant explosion of wind and rubble threw him into the air, finally slamming his back into a previously severed tree trunk. Fortunately, the branches snapped under his weight, unable to pierce through his ogre skinned suit, or break the previously formed ironblood armor.

    [External and Internal Injuries Detected.]

    [0.3 ¡Ö 0 BP lost. lost. (Negligible. Not considered.)]

    Miles¡¯s vision was unbalanced and shaky, but he could see enough to realize that where he had been, was a massive gash razed through the earth. He should have been terrified by this near-epsilon-like prowess, but the Beasts that held most of his reins couldn''t care less.

    Ironblood Armament.

    Again, the skill acted without his intent, and the blood that had seeped under his suit reformed, compounding onto his ironblood exoskeleton. And without a single thought more, Miles leapt forth, conditional undeath helping him to shrug off the majority of his injuries. Enhanced agility and nameless movement carried his animalistic figure towards the sword wielding Veilbound.

    Ironblood Spike (x2)

    Miles was not sure how he managed it, but during his maddened rush forwards, he managed to lift his palms and shoot out two explosive bursts of ironblood crystal.

    [-4 BP. (Blood Bank: 0/100)]

    It did not do much but cost him precious blood for the yellow blade flashed twice, and both ironblood spikes were cut in half right through the middle. It seemed 101 had caught onto that particular trick.

    Miles barely reacted, dodging a second sword slash aimed at where he had been. A close call, but somehow Miles managed to position himself so that the explosion of rubble would propel him further forwards, and... he was upon number 101.

    The blood crystal claws flashed, and the Beasts within him intended to rip into the body of number 101, but¡­

    Something caused him to fail, something that had ripped right through the ogre skin of his suit, through the blood armor, piercing his chest.

    [-3 HP]

    [HP 6/10. External and Internal Injuries Detected.]

    [2.3 ¡Ö 2 BP lost. 8/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles groaned in agony, the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air again. He crashed into another mass of wood, the armor did its job even better this time, not even registering the crash as an injury.

    Unfortunately, the damage was already done.

    Reeling, his vision swirling, Miles tried to get up, but¡­ he could not.

    He was being held down. By something that well and truly hurt.

    Miles glanced at the source of the pain and felt a chill rush through him. There was a second golden blade of light impaling him, directly through the heart and into the trunk behind him.

    ¡®Well, thank the Sidhe it wasn¡¯t a wooden stake.¡¯

    He almost chuckled at his own humor but was forced to stop as he vomited out another mass of black blood. Conditional Undeath was struggling to heal him, the blade inside his heart seemed to be disrupting the process.

    [-1 HP]

    [0.3 ¡Ö 0 BP lost.]

    Blood seeped out of his struggling heart, bleeding internally. Miles heaved heavy breaths and began to act, pulling himself up the blade and persevering through the pain. He had just begun to near in on the end, when a leathered boot slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and spearing him back into the blade. It was as if he were stabbed a second time.

    [-3 HP]

    [1.6 ¡Ö 2 BP lost.]

    Miles thought he heard someone screaming in pain. He couldn''t care much though, for the first blade of light was now a quarter of the way through his throat, forcing blood to seep down his neck.

    [-3 HP]

    [HP 2/10. External and Internal Injuries Detected.]

    [1.8 ¡Ö 2 BP lost. 4/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles flinched, as the chill of true death by decapitation swept over him.

    He could hear them now, clear as day. The Beasts within him were howling.

    They were well aware of his situation. One wrong move, and the blade could finish its job, faster than they could use any skill.

    The Beasts howled and howled, enraged at being outclassed, infuriated by their helpless situation, incensed by the mere feeling of fear. Miles¡¯ thoughts were barely any better, utterly influenced by those within him. When the young Veilbound entered his vision, all he felt was rage.

    Number 101 responded in kind and spat onto Miles¡¯s face. The savage wiped his mouth and smoke with a smug tilt of his head, posing some ineligible question.

    Miles could not care any less. His rage at the disgraceful act made him see red. His own rage merged with those of the Beasts. The thirst seemed to fade away, even the agony of being a mere 2 Health Points away from death.

    Since he did not answer the question, the blade moved a few centimeters deeper into his neck.

    Ding!

    [-1.4 HP ¡Ö 1 HP]

    [HP 1/10. External and Internal Injuries Detected.]

    [1.2 ¡Ö 1 BP lost. 3/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles felt himself tremble.

    Fear? No, it was not fear.

    It was his chest that rumbled, echoing a low growl that emanated from the darkest depths of himself.

    It was the world itself that trembled. It was the endless spheres of color floating in the air that rumbled. It was everyone but him that trembled.

    This was also the first time he so clearly saw the hordes of colored orbs, without being seated on the Seat of the Wurkan, without an attribute boon to Influence. It was as if the orbs had been summoned, for a few of them even stepped towards him, burning with vibrant color.

    Miles could feel them consider him, presenting the halves of their offers. Pacts to be. If only he could offer something in return... but he had nothing to give.

    It was true, he had nothing of value that interested them. However, the Lupine Spirit was different.

    The low growl stemming from his chest, rumbled louder, seeping into the world itself. Though they had not left on the best of terms, the wolfen spirit was magnanimous, and reached out in his stead.

    The Lupine Spirit did not pay any interest to the dozens of offers being presented. It ignored all of them, focusing only upon a single spark of yellow light, golden, carrying shadows of clashing blades and shimmering swords. The very same light that was currently stabbed in his heart and neck.

    Nothing was offered, no pact was made, all that was done was an exchange of thoughts and ideas, a simple communication. A remembrance of ancient oaths and owed responsibilities.

    Miles would have been lying if he said he did not relish the sight of these yellowed orbs appearing conflicted. But it was only a delay, for in the end the light had to compromise and acquiesce.

    And just like that whatever pact number 101 had used to gain his power, was overshadowed by the Lupine Spirit.

    The blades of light flickered, fading and stalling in place, directly disobeying their wielder.

    Though it was only for a moment, it was just enough.

    Just enough to allow Miles to vomit a mass of disgusting ichor into his own mouth and spit it right into the face of the bewildered Veilbound.

    Number 101 reeled backward, screaming a scream that made no sound, as the acidic black bile burned through his face.

    Miles¡¯s lips curled in bloody satisfaction.

    An eye for an eye, revenge for spitting on his face. As for the rest, well, that was just interest accrued.

    The Veilbound savage was screeching in agony, blinded, stumbling all over the place. Counter-attacking was the last thing on number 101''s mind.

    Miles had hoped to recover enough to stand, but the blades returned first, pushing past the influence of his wolfen spirit and returning directly into his wounds.

    Unfortunately for 101, he had not recovered enough either and stumbled a step too close.

    That was his final mistake, and Miles took his throat, the claws formed of blood crystal ripping right through.

    Miles looked upwards, squinting past the rain of blood, bearing witness to a glorious sight.

    The Veilbound, formerly cocky and confident, now gasping and suffocating in disbelief. 101 was struggling in vain, trying to stifle the blood loss from his throat, pathetically acting the same as those he and the other savages had so heartlessly sacrificed.

    A base, animalistic part of Miles, one that he hoped dearly were the Beasts Within, watched on with glee. Until at last, the youngest of the Veilbound, the wielder of golden blades, toppled over.

    Ding!

 CHAPTER 50: The Numbered - Part 2

    Miles collapsed into an exhausted heap, as the tension that had kept him together seeped away.

    The blades of golden yellow trembled in mourning, bereaved by the betrayal they had been forced into. They were helpless to do anything of their own and eventually dissipated as well. However, their departure was their own revenge, for they left behind deep, piercing gashes in his chest.

    [1.6 ¡Ö 2 BP lost. 1/10 BP remaining.]

    Dark scarlet liquid, his own blood, poured out of him in gushing torrents. The same way he desired to quench his thirst with the blood of others, he desired to staunch the bleeding. What was his, was his. Unfortunately, the often-reliable Conditional Undeath was moving at a snail¡¯s pace for some reason...

    Almost as if the speed of regeneration was dependent on the volume of blood, he had within himself.

    His mind reacted slow, thoughts connecting far less often than he was used to. He could even feel his vision fraying at the edges, darkening, lulling him to an endless slumber.

    [0.4 ¡Ö 0 BP lost. 1/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles blinked through a sudden sense of disorientation. He could not afford to lose any more blood. And he was not regenerating sufficiently either.

    The shadows over his eyes darkened, whispering subtle temptations, calling him to rest. Even the Beasts were unnaturally silent, as if allowing the silence so that he could give in.

    ¡®If even they cannot¡­¡¯

    Miles might have done so, giving in entirely, but¡­ but his eyes fell upon his chest.

    Not the terrifying injury that had slashed through the ogre skin of the suit, not the gaping hole in his chest that exposed his nauseating organs beneath torn flesh. No, Miles was focused on what lay hanging beside them.

    Though covered in blood, the frayed wood and the simple thread loop of the yin-yang talisman was exactly as it had always been.

    A flicker of light, called his attention, shifting his gaze towards his own hand. Miles managed to focus his vision, just enough to see what it was. The glowing eyes of the Lykaon ring.

    It was as if a pail of iced water had fallen over him.

    ¡®What in the holy hells am I doing? Why would I need some Beast to do the work for me? When I, alone, can handle anything and everything?¡¯

    Miles focused his dissonant, wavering vision upon the blood seeping from his heart, caking his suit and shirt.

    Ironblood Armament.

    The blood answered the call of the skill, the droplets of scarlet trailed to his command, moving, gathering and solidifying, crackling, into some manner of blood crystal binding over his wounds.

    So much blood covered his chest, and Miles funneled it all into forge what he envisioned.

    First came the two halves of the front plate, starting with the left side of his chest to better cover the pierced wound. The two plates crystallized, as if forged of steel and affixed together as if true armor. Then came the back plate, connecting and solidifying the front.

    Perhaps he was delirious, perhaps he went a bit too far, or perhaps there had been too much blood. Somehow Miles forced the blood to extend to the very edge of his jaw, forming a solidified gorget that defended the throat. No longer would he leave his neck exposed. There was still more blood remaining, and Miles willed them to gather over his shoulders, forming pauldrons.

    By the end of it, though it had only been a few minutes, he was garbed in something that resembled a proper defense. Not just a coating of blood crystal, but genuine armor. But what mattered most was that it had perfectly stifled his bleeding, as if a scab over a minor wound.

    Miles had not improved anything significant, Conditional Undeath was unreliable, but he now had time. Enough that he could afford a moment¡¯s break, and time to think.

    His situation was dire. All that remained between him being alive and well and being comatose prey, was [1/10 HP] and [2/10 BP].

    A thundering growl swept out of his throat, and Miles felt the Beasts, silent the entire time, finally coming back to life. His throat seared, burning from dehydration. The pain of his thirst intensified to the point he felt he could only be satisfied if he drained a few lakes of blood.

    Spurred on by the pain, Miles found himself stumbling back on to his feet, knees shaking with weakness. He could not help but lick his lips, eyes flicking over the dead corpses before him. The bewitching smell of blood, the mesmerizing sight of dark, viscous scarlet, the only cure to his ail.

    Miles remembered little of his former disgust regarding the hygiene of the numbered savages.

    He desired one thing only, and that was to gorge upon the nearest body, to go hog wild satiating himself.

    ¡®I need blood, and, I have no choice about how I obtain it. I do not even have enough blood to form an ironblood spike, so I¡­ I have no choice.¡¯

    Though Miles desired nothing else but to give into this forced logic, his mind was not so easily tricked. And somehow, he used the last of his fraying will power to force himself into a walk.

    ¡®If¨CIf I give in, there will be no going back.¡¯

    As Miles ventured closer and closer to the source of blood, he could foresee his future. The sight of himself gorging on corpses, blood soaked, insane and manic. A monster.

    Perhaps it was this realization that allowed him a feat of superhuman will, allowing him to... walk past the corpse, ignoring the appetizing source of blood that was numbered 101. Or perhaps it was his nails, digging into bloodied palms, painful enough to focus his will.

    The Beasts were not pleased. They howled, screamed and roared, furious and exasperated that Miles was casting them to a fate that was certain death.

    But he persevered. He kept up his slow pace, even as he felt the last of his energy seeping out.

    [0.2 ¡Ö 0 BP lost. 1/10 BP remaining.]

    Miles¡¯s instincts focused on the only possible saving grace left. The corpse of number 217 in the distance.

    However, it was too far away. His failing body would not make it. The Beasts almost forced his retreat, forced his legs to turn, and have him yield to his desires, but Miles did not relent. He dug his nails in deeper, grit his teeth until he tasted the iron of his own blood, and¡­ kept on.

    Miles was halfway to Veilbound savage 217 when his legs failed him. They could not hold his weight any longer and collapsed, sending him crashing to the ground.

    He could not feel his legs now and would not rise though he wished to. It mattered little, for Miles had reached what he wanted.

    His hands reached out, feeling the splinters nearby, the remnants of the Ironblood spikes he had used before.

    In his fight with the sword wielding numbered 101, he had blindly used the skill twice, failing to consider the heavy cost of blood, and wasted them entirely. That might just become what saves him now¡­

    With the last of his energy, Miles grabbed a fistful of the ironblood spikes, the sharp edges strangely failing to harm his own body and began to crawl back. His elbows dug into the earth, sharp stones stabbing him through the sleeves of the suit, as he dragged himself back.

    [0.2 ¡Ö 0 BP lost. 1/10 BP remaining.]

    He could feel his vision begin to waver, threatening blindness. His body failing, regeneration entirely halted.

    Miles was utterly exhausted now. He was running on fumes, but the sight of the blood up ahead rejuvenated the Beasts. They were the ones that pushed him the last of the distance, until finally, he collapsed onto the corpse of number 101.

    He felt his mouth chattering, biting down on thin air. With the hole in his heart, the muscles on his upper torso were torn so horribly that the Beasts could not even make him turn his neck to feed. A saving grace perhaps because it gave Miles the time to avoid a drastic reaction. Time to use the final scraps of his energy and raise his hand.

    He wielded the ironblood splinters as if blades, directly above the gut of the dead Veilbound.

    After that, he just allowed gravity to do its job.

    There was no proper strength in his attack, but the blood crystal was razor sharp, and the spikes managed to pierce halfway in.

    The smell of fresh blood and half-digested meat tickled his nostrils. His delirious self, savored it, until Miles¡¯s half open eyes witnessed a horrifying sight. Centered around the blood crystal spikes, the savage¡¯s torso collapsed entirely inwards. The skin wrinkled, dehydrating, as if subjected to an instant consumption of sorts. In the end, only dried skin was left upon the bones, like thinned parchment. That was the cost to finally receive rejuvenation.

    [+3.2 ¡Ö +3 BP leeched.]

    The blood was like a second wind, water to a dying forest, chasing away the darkness that had almost swallowed his mind. The intolerable thirst waned, becoming so much less.

    Miles growled, and he pulled out the spikes from the now deflated torso, and stabbed it in again, this time into the heart. With greater strength than even before, it pierced directly through. He did it again and again. Arms, legs, brain through the eyes, nothing was ignored until all that was left of number 101 was a mutilated mass of dried skin and bone.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    [+2.1 ¡Ö 2 BP leeched]

    [Remaining Blood Points: 6/10 (+ Blood Bank: 0/100)]

    It was as if a starving man was suddenly stuffed full of food, relieved but troubled at the same time. Miles could feel Conditional Undeath begin to work with renewed fervor, rushing through his injuries. Even the flesh of his chest and his speared heart seemed to come alive, knitting and affixing themselves to quick recovery.

    His breathing heavy, finally, Miles could lay against a fallen tree trunk and rest for a few moments.

    He could not believe how close he had been to defeat this time. He had lost so much of his blood, completely emptying his blood bank. Had it not been for his last, completely unproven attempt at manually using ironblood spikes to consume blood¡­

    Miles shuddered. Thankfully, that was not the case, and he had managed to recover.

    A total of 5 BP had been recovered thanks to numbered 101. This was considerably below the average human blood cost. Either the Veilbound savage''s were different physiologically, or the rest of it had been spilled when he slashed their throat.

    Miles did not believe there was any reason the spikes could not absorb fallen blood but too bad that blood was nowhere to be seen. Disappeared into the earth, absorbed by the land, no doubt. The strange ¡®rite¡¯ was still underway, he was still being enhanced, and he was still partially (un)balanced. Miles could still hear the endless whispered screams, that had surely influenced his actions so far in some way or the other, if he focused hard enough.

    Blood. Death. Murder. Kill, kill, kill.

    They resonated through his skull, but strangely enough, his mind was mostly his own. It was truly a far cry from his former experience in being (un)balanced. Though Conditional Undeath had recovered its usual pace, and his injuries were healing, Miles did not rest for long and hurried to his feet well before he was fully recovered.

    For a moment, his gaze settled on the ruined corpse of number 101, bringing him to a pause. But with a deep breath, he made his decision.

    Miles had just tormented a dead corpse, casting upon them the very fate he had so reviled when the Beast had done the same to Knight Xavier. And he would do it again.

    Holding the shrapnel pieces of the ironblood spike in hand, Miles prepared to move onto the blood that remained in the corpse of number 217.

    He was well aware of the hypocrisy, but he had no choice. Unfortunately for Miles, that was the same moment this ¡®reason¡¯ rushed into the clearing (yes, a clearing now that dozens of trees had been felled by the golden sword slashes).

    Miles was caught off guard, having expected more time to prepare.

    He stared at the newcomer, whose presence was hidden to all senses but sight. He observed their exhausted, sweat glistening form, as if they had been forced into a physical task beyond them.

    The man¡¯s bulging belly heaved with each deep breath; a distinguished number 666 stitched upon torn leather clothes.

    The last of the Veilbound Savages had arrived.

    ***

    Number 666 revealed no emotion. His eyes flickered across the clearing, pausing upon the remains of the corpses of the numbered for barely noticeable seconds. His face was a confusing mask of nothing, but Miles could feel the savage''s entire being emanating a calm, deathly rage.

    The oldest Veilbound set his eyes upon Miles, and with it, the entirety of his anger.

    Miles flinched, even as the connection to the Lupine Soul expanded.

    What he saw caused a cold sweat to trickle down his back.

    There were no green sprites or golden swords.

    Instead, a six armed, six faced, six-legged figure had manifested behind number 666, and in an instant, the figure vanished into the depths of the number 666''s body.

    The numbered savage roared into the sky, a roar that he could finally hear.

    The trees shivered, the forest vibrated, and it made Miles feel as if the sound alone caused the entire Doorway to tremble.

    The Veilbound¡¯s skin began to blister, peeling away to reel ugly red flesh underneath. His bones snapped about, as if cast with a bout of terrifying seizures, twisting his spine in grotesque revolutions.

    Miles did not stay still any longer.

    Intending to interrupt whatever this transformation was, he blasted number 666 with the explosive rounds of the Caucon, since with only 6 BP remaining, he could not afford to use Ironblood spike.

    Miles could not tell if what happened was accidental or intended.

    Number 666 was flailing about, twisting in unnatural, inhuman motions as his skeleton reformed, bulging and expanding his flesh. And somehow, each twist and turn dodged both bullets.

    Miles could swear the Numbered savage cackled in amusement.

    Cursing himself for wasting ammunition, he exploded forwards, brandishing both the Caucon and the Ironblood splinters as weapons.

    Miles slashed with the ironblood spikes, but somehow it was dodged. He tried to strike some more, but they too were dodged. What few attacks he got in, left no wounds, and the injured flesh was burned away. He shot with the Caucon, twice point blank, but somehow the massive blob of jiggling flesh disjointed his body out of the way.

    Every attack he missed, every moment he allowed 666, filled him with sheer dread. He was running out of time.

    The Veilbound was in no hurry, giggling, inhuman teeth glistening in a gleeful grin.

    Miles felt a guttural roar echo from within him, as he, and the Beasts acted as one, pushing everything they had into their attack. He let loose a flurry of powerful fists and kicks... all dodged the same as before. The rare few that landed did nothing, only jarring his bones as if he had struck a lump of rippling lard.

    And then, it was too late. There was no longer a numbered 666.

    All that remained was a red skinned monster, holding its bulging belly as it bounced about, a jiggling mass of flesh, licking its whole face with a grotesque tongue that put far-reaching toads to shame.

    Eyes once human flickered with a sickly hellish red, and it smirked, revealing an inhuman shark like maw, serrated fangs glinting. Even the ambient temperature seemed to have risen a few degrees, because Miles was sweating heavily.

    The Beasts within Miles were predators, creatures at the pinnacle of the food chain, and they could tell very easily when they were out of their depth. And Miles stared at what he had just read with the help of detect.

    [Veilbound Imp - Dread Spiritsworn - Lvl 80]

    If the fight with number 101 had been pushing him to his limits, this was well beyond him. Once again, he and the Beasts were unanimous. They turned tail and fled.

    Miles exploded with the full force of nameless move¨C

    There was no wind to warn him, only an estranged sixth sense.

    It was as if he were running in slow motion, forced to watch as the Imp appeared beside him.

    Though he was aware of its arrival, Miles was helpless before its insane speed. The imp playfully licked his cheek with its looping tongue, and¡­ slammed a fist into his side.

    Miles could do nothing but be the mouse in a cat¡¯s paw. All he managed was twisting his body to direct the attack towards his armored chest and avoid hitting anything vital. It worked, most of the force was absorbed by the blood crystal chest plate. The blood armor was one of Miles¡¯s best constructions with Blood Armament, leagues above the simple blood crystal coating he had been using prior. But even then, it cracked upon impact, scattering crystal shards of scarlet.

    The remaining force sent Miles flying into a nearby tree stump, slamming his poor side, again.

    [-1 HP. 9/10 HP remaining.]

    [External and Internal Bleeding detected. -0.4 BP lost.]

    [Remaining Blood Points: 6/10 (+ Blood Bank: 0/100)]

    The blood armor was still effective, and Miles managed to sway back onto his feet.

    That hadn''t been too bad. At best that punch was on par with the giant fists of rat flesh and metal he had experienced back in the Hordred maze. Yes, not too bad at all.

    However Miles had forgotten something. Unlike the giant fists constrained to piles of garbage, the Imp was not as limited, and there was no mystical boundary he could hide behind.

    Miles heard a giggle, and the blob of red was before him. He reacted instantly, shooting another round of the Caucon. He didn¡¯t even get to see if it hit, for another fist slammed into him, and guided by the only sense he could rely on, Miles aimed it into his chest armor again.

    The blood crystal shattered further, but it was even less damaging than before. Unfortunately, the blow had come from above and the residual force slammed him into the ground. Miles, reeling from having his head crack against a random stone, did not get to dodge again.

    The next blow hit his face, broke his nose. The next crushed his gut, rearranging his internal organs. And another, reverberated through his skull, slamming it deeper into the stone he had hit in the first place.

    [-1 HP. 8/10 HP remaining.]

    Red fists slammed down into him, endless and unforgiving. Each of them struck with a searing heat that permeated through skin and flesh, burning through whatever regeneration he managed. The blood armor and suit did its best, but against an endless rain of blows there was little it could do.

    His head was murky, like he was thinking through mud, and Miles felt his bones snap, organs rupture.

    [-2 HP. 6/10 HP remaining.]

    [Critical Internal Bleeding detected. -0.8 BP lost.]

    He thought he heard screams, but it could not have been him. He would never. Finally, his chest plate splintered and shattered, having done its absolute best.

    Miles struggled, summoning Blood Armament, reaching for the blood pooling underneath his suit.

    Yes, there was more than enough to forge new armor. It was not intended, but what his bloodied and bruised eyes witnessed forming upon him was an armor that was barbed and spiked, as if a porcupine''s quills.

    Miles did not know why it had formed as such, but it worked. He could hear even louder screams now.

    Of course it wasn¡¯t him, it was obvious the demon had impaled its fists on the spikes of his armor. Obvious, until an unfortunate punch rumbled through his torso completely mashing his organs, and another made it past even that, splintering his spine.

    [-4 HP. 4/10 HP remaining.]

    [-1.1 BP lost. Remaining Blood Points: 4/10 (+ Blood Bank: 0/100)]

    Ah, that explained why he could no longer feel his legs. Miles felt he should be frantic, struggling to survive. But his brain was slow, everything akin to a faded dream, and the Beasts were nowhere to be found.

    Conditional Undeath was struggling, fighting an uphill battle against the heat in his wounds, and the little blood he had left. That combined with his subconscious use of Blood Armament on every drop of blood that left him, were the only things that kept him alive.

    That was perhaps his misfortune, because it seemed to only be delaying the inevitable. Grasping at straws, Miles tried to do the same he had done with the first Veilbound, and aimed his palm at the demon¡¯s head.

    Ironblood Spike.

    The blood spike had barely begun to form, when the creature slapped his elbow, bending the bone backward, making him miss entirely.

    [-2 BP.]

    His other arm struggled to shoot the Caucon, but it took a while for him to even realize he had long lost his grip on the gun. By then even that arm was broken, and it was too late. Miles could no longer move, or even think properly.

    [-3 HP. 1/10 HP remaining.]

    Whatever he had managed to recover from the previous fight, was completely gone now.

    Through the pain, Miles felt his delirious mind focus, just enough to feel himself be dragged to the sight where the corpses of the former numbered remained. They were nothing but skin and bones now.

    In his current state, mind shifting, desiring nothing but blood, Miles couldn''t care less about what he had done.

    The demon that held his ragged figure was laughing, cackling and giggling. It was a bellowing, roaring laugh. Sorrowful, insane, and ecstatic.

    Miles felt himself being lifted into the air, the cold winds stinging against what remained of his body. His limbs were twisted, his spine cracked, and his skin and flesh sizzled as if on fire. That was when he realized he was being held from his foot, over the head of the Imp. It was as if he were a fish, and down beneath him were the lips of a grinning maw.

    The imp spoke, saying something he did not hear, nor could read from the lips.

    But Miles understood.

    An eye for an eye. Revenge.

    The serrated mouth expanded, stretching wider and wider than what could be possible, until it was stretched wide enough to fit twice of himself. He thought he could see the depths of the digestive system from here. Realization hit him, and it terrified even his broken train of thought. Forcing thought through his fading mind, Miles did the last thing he could.

    Ironblood Spike.

    But¡­ this time, he couldn¡¯t even aim. His arm was bent, pointing somewhere else, and all it did was form a shattered apparition of a spike that cracked as soon as it appeared. And for the first time ever, Miles¡¯s blood points reached total zero.

    [-2 BP. Remaining Blood Points: 0/10 (+Blood Bank: 0/100)]

    He was nothing. He was empty. He was no different from skin and bone.

    Miles barely felt the grip on his foot let go, and he fell into the imp¡¯s mouth. He barely felt his legs and arms begin to be crushed. He barely felt the gnarly teeth chewing on him, savoring his taste.

    His suit was a punishment, for the tough ogre skin kept him intact, suffering through more crushing under the power of these demonic jaws. He felt his limbs grinding into paste. He felt his bones crumbling, innards being smashed into paste.

    Miles could still hear someone screaming, even sobbing. Pathetic.

    Sometime during that, he was swallowed whole, and he could finally lose consciousness.

    To be honest, it was a mercy.

 CHAPTER 51: Ab#r##ti#n

    He was weightless and groundless, his body slow to move or respond. He was floating, but he could feel the particles that brushed past him.

    This was no wind, but some manner of liquid¡­ strangely familiar...

    A painful groan escaped him and his eyes flickered open, just in time to see the air bubbling upward, through turbid and corrupted waters.

    Gazing around him, it was obvious.

    Somehow, he found himself in his mind''s world, submerged within the seas, specifically the half that was crimson blood.

    Towards the other side, he could see the wall of ichorous corruption that infected the line between the two seas, and even beyond, were the fragments of what remained of the luminous white sea.

    The blood sea was not untouched either, polluted by pockets of ichor and globules of corruption, each churning about as if boiling oil.

    Miles''s ears picked up the sound of a strange sizzle, followed by the stench of something rancid set ablaze. As if half-digested meat, sauced with bile, deep fried.

    He traced the ghastly stench to its source and eventually... stared down at himself.

    Miles grit together what remained of his shattered jaw to hold back a scream.

    He was barely himself. He was missing both arms and a leg. Only patches of skin held his torso together. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, spine and bones crushed and deformed. He was a facsimile of a human body.

    Even the little skin and flesh he had left was rotting and sizzling as the ichorous corruption had set upon it.

    Miles had been wrong. Falling into the seas had not killed him. He was only being rotted alive.

    The only silver lining was that he was numb to it all, feeling none of the agony he should have.

    What a mercy it was to watch one''s body shrivel away, without the pain.

    A distraction, a thundering roar reverberated through the mind world, rattling through what remained of his bones.

    Miles raised his head, surprised to find a massive shadow cast over him. No, the entire world.

    He flinched at the sight.

    Only a Grand Giant of legend could hope to match the sheer size of this creature, for its head alone covered the skies.

    Even deformed through the turbid waters of the seas, Miles could see the ugly face of the red-skinned demon, its beady eyes flashing with fires of greed, its tongue looping through the skies like a pink, fleshy dragon.

    A single bead of drool trickled down from its lips into the seas, the impact rolling through him, and as if a tsunami, towering waves rose in response. Such was its scale.

    It seemed swallowing him whole had given the Imp the opportunity to consume his mind world as well. And it seemed more than eager to do so.

    The giant imp stretched its mouth wide open, expanding it endlessly and unnaturally.

    Eventually, a hideous, cavernous hole of serrated walls covered the skies.

    Terror and disgust possessed Miles in equal measure. He was little less than a living corpse, but he could not, would not, allow such a fate without a fight.

    This was his mind world.

    He attempted to gather an attack, some manner of opposition, at least a disturbance or distraction. But his last remaining limb was like rusted machinery, his mind was mud, and he wasn¡¯t even sure if the seas responded, or it was the demon''s effect.

    Whatever control he attempted to gather would be shattered, divided, then scattered elsewhere.

    At the end, Miles was gasping in exhaustion and disbelief.

    Mind world meditation was supposed to reflect on his self. If he could not even control himself¡­ what could that mean?

    Well, the answer came.

    A current of dark scarlet looped around him as if a mermaid toying with a mesmerized sailor. The darkness gathered and coalesced, finally forming an abyssal shadow he was quite familiar with.

    The Beast Within stared right in his face, its fangs curled in a horrifying grin. It seemed amused, pleased, and entirely uncaring of the creature that were about to consume their world.

    A growl reverberated through the water opposite, and a mass of liquid white forced itself through the corruption, into the red sea Miles found himself in.

    The Beast Within turned towards it with barely veiled hatred, and the Lupine Soul manifested from within the luminous blob of liquid.

    The wolf seemed even more battered and injured compared to when Miles had last seen it, but there was a fire in its yellow eyes, one he had not seen before.

    The two Beasts hissed and growled at each other, but neither made a move to attack.

    Miles expected they would do something, perhaps gather their forces in a momentary truce, but¡­ there was no such thing.

    The Beast Within was grinning, eyes twisted with sick pleasure, as it stared upwards at the cavernous maw in the skies. The Lupine Soul stood still as well, though its muscles were tense, as if prepared to launch upwards at a moment''s notice.

    Miles refused to do the same and attempted a counterattack once again, not that it fared any better than before. He continued to do so until he realized it was futile.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    The Imp¡¯s bulging maw fell closer and closer, and as it did, it inhaled deeply.

    The seas rose higher and higher, droplets of liquid floating upwards in defiance of gravity, and finally, the demonic tongue touched the seas.

    The Imp squealed in joy, its delight echoing through the skies. It was as if it the creature had discovered a novel delicacy.

    The demon continued to consume and consume, only stopping to giggle in eerie bliss.

    The scarlet blood, the luminous white, that it could consume easy enough. But that was not all that was here.

    The mind world was (un)balanced, and infecting it was a festering corruption. An acidic, ichorous poison.

    It was a danger that threatened the very existence of the Beast Within and the Lupine Soul. It had been agony to Miles himself.

    So how could some lesser demon consume it?

    Well, the Imp only realized so, when the ichorous tar splattered into its open mouth.

    The same corruption was currently burning through what remained of Miles. It was still festering upon the wounds of the Lupine Soul. It had rotted a living plant to death.

    But all of that was¡­ muted, for this was a thousand times worse.

    The reaction was explosive. In an instant, an entire patch of imp mouth flesh turned black, sickly, and rotten.

    The demon screeched in agony. Thin stick-like arms appeared from its sides, clawing at its own mouth.

    The corruption spread like an infectious wildfire.

    The imp tried to scratch it out, but all that fell was rotten flesh and blood, revealing the ichor had already burrowed deep inside.

    The skies stormed, and the seas roiled.

    The imp was in a frenzy, struggling to rid itself of the corruption, but it was too late.

    All it could do was scream.

    ***

    The immaterial existed on one side, and the material on the other.

    Vawulan, the hungering ones, were neither material nor immaterial, but reliant on both for existence.

    Wurkan, the wolves, were both, but trapped in one, bound by the commandments of those at the pinnacle.

    These were the rules of this world.

    It, however, was born of both, neither and more, all at the same time.

    That was also how it knew there was none other of its nature, no existence akin to itself.

    The outside world rejected it. Its existence harmed its own creator. It appeared only when the two sides clashed. It was limited in what it could do, and when.

    Yet it so easily dominated those that had allowed its birth.

    It was an accident, a strange oddity, a one in a never chance, something that was not supposed to exist.

    It was grand, great, everything and nothing, all at once.

    That was why it had been so intrigued by the little plump red one, the one that actually dared to try to¡­ consume it? Consume its world?

    Since the creature had bested its creator, it had allowed the creature the first strike. But as expected, it did not even need to fight back.

    First the--Imp(?)¡¯s mouth had fallen to its dark dominion, and the pointy little teeth had rained down into its world.

    The creatures'' screeching and screams were... intriguing. It had not heard many sounds, not beyond those of its own creator.

    Next came a gangly rope of flesh, darkened and shriveled, so much so that a light movement of the Imp''s head dismembered it. The worm-like tongue sank to the depths of its seas.

    The tenor of the screams changed, and that was interesting as well.

    Its domain had expanded over the Imp¡¯s head, veins shriveling and blackening.

    Something interesting happened then.

    That was the wolf, the same that had had a part in its divine creation. It really did like the furred one, for they were the only thing that kept it entertained, obstructed from consuming every drop of the two seas.

    The wolf bounded through the gaping hole where the imp''s mouth had been, diving deep into its barely alive carcass.

    It was no longer interested.

    Its opponent had been disappointing. This imp had lost simply by facing its nature, not even facing any attempted retaliation.

    As expected, it was born of conflict, imbalance, and destruction. It was chaos and death made physical.

    It was named¡­

    The screams were barely audible now, and soon, the Imp had become even smaller, for its dominion had shriveled the flesh, leaving only a giant rotten prune in the sky.

    Right.

    It had tried to give itself a name, one fitting for its manner of existence.

    It was not well-versed in the practice and had failed.

    Until that moment, when it came across, a whisper carried in the wind.

    One word, whispered by its own creator from deep within the seas, staring at the splendor of its nature.

    How fitting.

    Even the world seemed to accept the name, and that was how it should be. For it was unique enough to warrant such attention.

    What remained of the Imp collapsed in a thundering explosion of red, white and black.

    Bubbles rose and giant waves rolled, and what remained of the creature melted, vanishing into the seas.

    An acceptable celebration for its naming ceremony.

    Yes, henceforth, it would be named¡­

    Aberration.

    ***

    Miles had let the word slip out of his own mouth.

    The impossible events above him had filled in any gaps or confusions he had about the previously glitched term. He had known then and there what the corruption was.

    Aberration.

    Who could blame him? What he had witnessed was--ridiculous, to say the least.

    An Imp rivaling a grand giant, turned into a shriveled prune.

    He had watched, from closer up than he wanted to be, how even that had rotted further, melting into the surrounding seas.

    The ichorous corruption, the Aberration, was far more dangerous than he had ever expected, but¡­ at least it had done something.

    He had survived, and his injuries were lesser.

    Even the Beast Within, who vanished with a wink and a cunning smirk, seemed more solid. The Lupine Soul was in better health as well, its injuries no longer fatal, or perhaps it was simply the fact that the wolf was no longer enraged with him, too busy gnawing on¡­

    ¡®Is that a heart?¡¯

    The wolf flashed a glance, guilty, but determined, and then it too was gone.

    It was as if their presence was all that had kept him anchored to the mind world...

    For the moment they were gone, Miles returned to darkness.