《The Blood Beyond Dimensions》


 Chapter 1: Sollivan

    A breeze of cold air laden with a hint of dust passed through a small hole in a wooden wall belonging to an old, dilapidated house entirely made of wood that had started to decay due to its age.


    The house wasn¡¯t large inside, consisting of a very spacious room on the left side, which housed a hearth filled with cold ashes and burnt wood that had stopped burning hours before. On the opposite side of the wide room, there was a slightly large table filled with various books and paper scrolls, some worn and torn while others were new and preserved, holding the scent of fresh paper that lent an air of knowledge.


    Cough!


    Cough!


    A dry coughing sound spread from a small, short door across the wide room, filling the otherwise silent space with an eerie coldness and gloom.


    In a slightly smaller room adjacent to the wide room, which occupied most of the space in the old house, there was a wooden bed upon which a young man in his late twenties lay. His face was ordinary¡ªnot beautiful nor unattractive¡ªbut seemed pallid due to his very pale skin and the large dark circles under his closed eyes, which twitched slightly in a strange manner as if he were suffering from a disturbing nightmare. Suddenly, the young man opened his eyes to reveal pupils of a faint, brownish color devoid of the life that typically glows in the eyes of the young, making him appear like an old man who had endured the harshness of life.


    Exhale!


    The young man let out a long sigh as his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling of the room, which emitted a faint, almost imperceptible cracking sound. After a short moment of stillness, the young man moved slowly, pulling himself into a sitting position. He then scanned the room with a look filled with melancholy, finally stopping at a wooden wheelchair near his bed. With great effort and slowness, he extended his hand and grasped the armrest of the wheelchair, pulling his frail body with difficulty.


    The old, tattered mattress sagged and a part of it fell to the cold floor, but the young man didn¡¯t mind. He continued his struggle until he managed to pull himself fully onto the wheelchair. His breaths were harsh, and his face was taut, showing the difficulty of moving from the bed to the wheelchair.


    Huff!


    The young man let out a long, strained sigh, and his tense expression relaxed slightly. He adjusted his sitting position and placed his hands on the wheelchair¡¯s wheels, ready to push himself, but the fallen mattress blocked the path of the small front wheels.


    *Hmm...*


    The young man emitted a soft, mocking grunt, bending slightly despite his immobile legs. He was used to it, but he didn¡¯t care. He leaned down, picked up the fallen mattress, and arranged it a little before gripping the wheels of the wheelchair again and pushing himself towards the wide room. The wheelchair wheels emitted a harsh, creaking sound as they rolled over the worn wooden floor, and the chair itself wobbled slightly, making a squeaking noise due to its age. Despite everything, the young man¡¯s gaze remained calm and clear as if he felt nothing.


    ¡°The place is so messy¡­¡±


    The young man sighed wearily as he looked at the scattered books and items throughout the room. He didn¡¯t bother trying to do anything about it. He guided his wheelchair towards the cold, unlit hearth and picked up a small wooden board that he placed across his immobile lap. He grabbed some wood shavings and flint stones beside the hearth and began striking them together, producing tiny sparks that fell onto the shavings and ignited slightly.


    After gently blowing on the tiny flame, it grew to life. Quickly, he tossed it into the hearth and added more shavings to sustain the flame. He then placed small wooden pieces beside the hearth, and as soon as they touched the fire, they ignited, causing a puff of gray, acrid smoke due to the poor quality and cheapness of the wood. Nonetheless, warmth began to spread throughout the room, reducing the chill and loneliness of the grim old house.


    The young man¡¯s gaze froze for a moment on the fire consuming the wooden logs, growing bigger and spreading more heat, smoke, and a foul odor. Yet, his eyes remained fixed on the flame, the flickering tongues of fire reflecting in his dim, cloudy eyes. In that moment, fragmented memories surfaced in his calm mind.


    His name was once Sollivan Duskwraite, from a family of some noble standing. His family had served under the wing of the Golden Lion Empire for generations, achieving great honor that earned them respect and admiration from the citizens of their previous city. Sollivan himself was a talented fighter, surpassing both his father and grandfather in martial skills, making him the pride of the family with high hopes pinned on him. His grandfather had hoped Sollivan would outshine all his ancestors and become an imperial knight, achieving the highest degrees of glory and honor, directly serving the imperial family.


    ¡°The Golden Eye...¡±


    Sollivan muttered softly, words barely audible, as the reflection of the fire in his eyes dimmed strangely, unlike the rising flames in the hearth. He then let out a long sigh and pushed his wheelchair towards a nearby wooden chest by the hearth, containing sacks filled with grains and a few potatoes with mold-covered skins. He reached for a handful of potatoes, placing them beside his thigh on the chair, then attempted to grab a handful of thick wheat flour, but his hand halted suddenly. His distant memories stirred, awakening old sorrows within him, but he shook his head resolutely, pushing those troubling thoughts aside. He murmured with a sad tone, filled with bitterness:


    "It''s all over... everyone is dead... and I¡¯m paralyzed... no point in thinking about the past. I can''t do anything."


    A look of sadness crossed his pale face, but he ignored it and picked up a handful of flour, placing it in a rusty metal pot filled with soot stuck to the bottom. He added a bit of water, mixing it into a loose dough, then set the pot on the hearth. Then he moved to the other side of the hearth, took a small knife and a wooden board, and returned to the large table. He began peeling the potatoes and cutting them into small pieces. After finishing, he added the potato pieces to the flour and water mixture, then sprinkled a little salt to cut through the bitterness of the mixture.


    After a few minutes, the strange soup Sollivan prepared started to simmer. He took a ladle and a bowl, pouring half of it into the bowl for himself, then covered the rest with a round wooden disc to keep out insects and dust. After setting the ladle aside, he took a small wooden spoon and slowly pushed his wheelchair with one hand while holding the bowl with the other. Despite the difficulty of maneuvering the wheelchair in this way, he showed no anger or frustration. He focused entirely on guiding the wheelchair and protecting the soup from spilling and staining his tattered clothes.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    When he reached the table, he placed the soup and spoon on it and smiled a faint smile, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. He secured his chair in place and began to eat slowly, finding a quiet satisfaction in the meal despite its poor taste. For Sollivan, this simple meal was a luxury compared to his daily existence. He often spent his days subsisting on hard, black bread and water, rarely tasting fresh vegetables. Meat was known to him only on the rarest occasions.


    After finishing his meal, Sollivan cleaned the table and returned the dish to its place after washing it with water.


    Ring! Ring!


    A loud bell rang out, jolting Sollivan¡¯s dull gaze, which was immersed in cleaning the cooking utensils. He raised his head with a sigh of frustration, resigned:


    "I¡¯m late again."


    He quickly pushed his wheelchair toward his small room, where he grabbed an old, slightly torn shoe. He struggled to put it on over his cold, helpless feet, then picked up a worn leather bag placed beside the bed. He pushed himself back toward the cluttered table filled with books and manuscripts and began sorting through the pile in front of him. He chose one new, clean book and an old, tattered one with its cover beginning to fall apart, then placed them carefully inside the bag to avoid wrinkling their pages. He secured the bag with a worn leather strap around his waist and attached it to the side of his wheelchair.


    He then moved toward the wooden door of the house, which was locked with a large wooden plank. He glanced around his home one last time to make sure everything was in order. After confirming that the fire in the hearth had died down and only a little smoke was rising from the small metal chimney, he took hold of the door handle. But he hesitated for a moment, pausing.


    He took a deep breath and opened the door. A light breeze from autumn hit him, carrying dust that irritated his eyes and a foul odor that filled the air. His face scrunched up momentarily at the smell, but he quickly pushed his wheelchair outside the house. Before him stretched a narrow alleyway, crowded with ramshackle wooden houses. Some were large, others small, while some jutted above single-story homes in disjointed arrangements. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the sound of barking stray dogs filled the air. A few domesticated chickens wandered here and there, pecking at the dirt-streaked ground, mixed with muddy puddles and remnants of human waste.


    Bark!


    Sollivan closed the door tightly behind him, then began to push his wheelchair through the narrow alley. The place teemed with passersby who had rough appearances and gloomy expressions. Most people wore faded gray clothes made of coarse linen, while a few were dressed in tattered or incomplete clothing. Some looked extremely dirty, with foul odors clearly emanating from them, indicating they were likely homeless, while others seemed more orderly despite the age of their clothing, maintaining a relatively acceptable level of cleanliness.


    Sollivan pushed his wheelchair with difficulty through the uneven and muddy ground. Dirty water and sticky mud clung to the wheels of his chair, and some droplets splashed onto his worn shoe and the bottoms of his pants. However, he showed no interest in it, continuing to push his wheelchair. His eyes scanned the people around him cautiously. Some shot him disgusted looks, while others blatantly spat to the side when his wheelchair blocked their path.


    ''As usual.''


    He continued his way without lowering his guard. He had been robbed several times, and his bag had been stolen by unknown people before, so he held onto it tightly. Whenever he spotted a suspicious person, he would slow down and place his hand on the bag, cautious and wary.


    As he pushed his cart and scanned his surroundings, his gaze lingered for a moment on some dirty little children playing innocently, oblivious to the world around them. He smiled for a moment, but his mood quickly soured when he noticed one of those children who used to bother him, sometimes even provoking the other kids to steal from him or roughly push his wheelchair, causing him to fall once and injure himself.


    "Hmph, damn child!" Sollivan pushed his cart faster before the annoying kids could notice him. After putting a good distance between them, he took a deep breath, relieved to have left the place. After several minutes, the dirty, narrow alley improved as the number of houses decreased and side streets increased. The ground became cleaner, making pushing the wheelchair smoother, and Sollivan¡¯s pace quickened, as did the reduced, irritating vibrations.


    Sollivan continued to push his wheelchair, and after several more minutes, he completely left the filthy area filled with dilapidated buildings and poor people. Finally, he reached a main street, where part of the ground was paved with stones. The sides of the street were lined with bustling shops displaying a variety of inexpensive and luxurious goods. There were also fragrant restaurants releasing tempting smells into the crowded street, filled with people from various social classes. Some were dressed in fine clothes made of the finest silk and cotton, while others wore simple linen garments.


    From time to time, a line of guards could be seen, wearing thick leather armor reinforced with a layer of solid metal, and iron helmets protecting their heads and faces. Their armor was plain without any embellishments, indicating their low rank. Nevertheless, whenever people saw them, they made way for them with respect. Sometimes, some would move aside out of fear.


    The guards'' gazes were sharp, looking around with hawk-like eyes, capable of seeing everything. They didn¡¯t take any additional actions other than patrolling, but that was enough to keep people calm, making no one dare to cause trouble in the main street of the city.


    After half an hour of leaving his home, Sollivan finally reached his destination, a large shop with a huge sign hanging above its door reading "The Minor Library." He pushed his wheelchair and entered through the wide door of the shop, which was filled with the scent of books and old manuscripts. The large shop was filled with several big shelves full of different types of books and manuscripts, and there were some clean, well-arranged tables and chairs in the other part of the room. Near the entrance, there was a large reception desk where an elderly man in his late sixties was sitting, with a thick white beard and a small, pointed mustache, full of wrinkles beneath his eyes. He held an old book in his hands, reading it intently.


    When the elderly man heard the sound of the wheelchair, he raised his head slightly and looked at Sollivan with a calm and relaxed voice, "You¡¯re late as usual." He then folded the book and set it aside, looking at him with an expectant gaze.


    Sullivan smiled faintly and replied with a chuckle, "And as usual, I''m sorry." He then opened his bag and pulled out the two books he had brought, handing them to the elderly man who took them and set them aside. The elderly man asked in a very friendly tone, with some excitement, "Did you read the book I gave you?"


    Sullivan raised his eyebrows, holding back a faint chuckle, "It''s very good. I have to admit, you''ve outdone yourself this time. All of your previous books seemed ordinary compared to this one."


    The elderly man sighed with relief and looked at Sullivan with eyes that flickered with a bit of excitement, then spoke with a happy tone, "You know how to flatter this old man, but hearing your opinion really comforts me." This elderly man was Ellis Goodwin, the owner of the small bookstore where Sullivan worked. Despite being his boss and older by several years, Ellis treated him like a close friend. They would discuss many matters related to the store and their personal lives. Ellis''s passion was writing, and he had authored several books and manuscripts, often seeking Sullivan''s opinion before making them available in the bookstore.


    Sullivan smiled and pointed to the two books on the desk, "By the way, I finished copying this book. I hope you''ll review it."


    Ellis looked at the two books with a complex expression, then sighed deeply before speaking with a gloomy tone, "Sullivan, you really overwork yourself. I understand winter is approaching and you need money for supplies." Ellis opened his mouth to say more, but then paused and sighed again, adding, "You know what? There''s no need for me to say more. You''re too stubborn, and my words won''t change your mind."


    Sullivan''s primary work involved copying old books and creating new copies. He earned a few silver coins for each book he copied, sometimes a bit more if the book was lengthy or included detailed charts and illustrations. Although he earned a slightly higher commission, the job was demanding and time-consuming, often allowing him to complete only one or two books a week.


    A faint smile appeared on Sullivan''s face, full of gratitude, "Thank you for worrying about me, my friend, but don''t worry, everything is under control." Despite saying that, a look of helplessness appeared on his face, and he felt a tense sadness. ''I really hope so, I''m exhausted, physically drained, and mentally shattered. I only have a few years left to live, yet I''m still holding on and trying to enjoy what remains of my life, even though it''s just a messy piece of the puzzle.'' His emotions mixed for a moment, causing him to lower his head and gaze at his motionless feet with a blurry look. ''Winter is coming, and business is about to slow down. I still haven''t saved enough money. Also, peaceful winter is my most loved and hated season at the same time.'' Due to his inability to walk and the snow piling up, making it difficult to navigate his wheelchair, Sullivan spent most of the winter indoors, reading books and historical records that he loved so much. They were the only things that made him feel and see things he could no longer experience, even though they were relayed from others'' experiences.


    ...


    "Anyway, Sullivan, you can take a break. It''s still early, and the store won¡¯t be busy for a while. I¡¯ll handle the few customers who come in during this period." Ellis¡¯s concerned voice snapped Sullivan out of his scattered thoughts. He then raised his head and looked at the worried elderly man, feeling a warmth in his heart and sincerely thanking him, "Thank you, my friend. I think I¡¯ll be bothering you a bit. Haha!"


    "No need to thank me!" Ellis laughed and waved his hand, motioning for him to go.


    Sullivan pushed his wheelchair a few steps, and then he heard the sound of footsteps from a customer approaching. He turned his head slowly and glanced at the short person standing in front of the reception desk. His brows furrowed in annoyance. He felt his calm chest tightening and turning into a surge of anger, but these feelings only lasted for a moment before he returned to his usual calm, examining the face of the elderly woman with her wrinkled skin and the look of disgust in her eyes. The elderly woman didn¡¯t give Sullivan a single glance and walked towards the reception desk, where Ellis greeted her with all due respect.


    "How can I assist you, madam?"

 Chapter 2: Strange Book

    Despite the immense difficulty Sollivan faced in maintaining his composure every time his eyes fell upon the old woman''s face, he stood beside the reception desk, watching her intently, driven by sheer curiosity. In the five years he had worked here, this woman had never once set foot in the shop.


    ''That wretched old hag... What could she possibly want? I doubt someone like her has any interest in reading...'' He swallowed his words, grumbling sarcastically to himself, trying his best to keep his calm.


    Over the past five years, Sollivan had never felt such conflicting emotions as he did today. Just seeing the old woman stirred painful memories he had long buried in the depths of his heart.


    Quietly, he muttered as he stared with foggy eyes, filled with suppressed memories and emotions, "I hate winter."


    Six years ago, as winter approached, his family had been completely wiped out.


    He himself had been gravely injured, his life hanging by a thread. In the moment he was on the brink of death, drowning in despair, his sworn uncle, Leonard Winglet, had made the decision to sell all of the deceased family''s belongings. He used every bit of the money to purchase expensive medicines to save Sollivan''s life.


    Yet all he could do was barely keep him alive, leaving Sollivan paralyzed and significantly weakened. His uncle had told him he wouldn''t live past the age of thirty.


    During that period, Leonard had fallen into a deep depression and indescribable sorrow, accompanied by an ever-present fear that the killers of his sworn brother would return to finish what they started by taking the life of his nephew.


    After much deliberation, Leonard decided to sever ties with Sollivan to ensure his safety. Yet his conscience wouldn''t allow him to abandon him entirely. Instead, he entrusted him to the care of the family''s oldest servant and her grandson.


    He handed them 200 gold coins and gave Sollivan 50 coins from what remained of the family''s wealth, instructing them to leave the city, purchase a house, and start a new life.


    Whenever Sollivan recalled the long journey he had endured in the biting cold of winter, burdened by his injuries and the weight of his shattered heart, he felt an indescribable bitterness and humiliation that refused to fade.


    Sigh...


    He slowly raised his head, his gaze landing on the face of the old woman¡ªa face that bore the marks of a life of prosperity and comfort.


    ''That cursed old hag¡­ She took all the money my uncle gave her to help me and used it to build a residential complex in the slums and a hotel in the city. She earns hundreds of silver coins annually and only gives me two silver coins at the start of each month.


    I don''t know if it''s out of pity or fear that my uncle might find out she abandoned me. But whatever her motives are, it doesn''t change the truth. She broke her promise and left me to rot and freeze in a decrepit room in the slums.


    And worse, she made me endure her endless complaints about how she had to spend a single gold coin to buy that crumbling house.''


    The deeper Sollivan sank into his bitter memories, the tighter his chest felt, leaving him unable to calm himself. Finally, he exhaled deeply, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts from his mind, and a faintly vacant expression spread across his face.


    He glanced at Ellis and the old woman, neither of whom noticed the rapid shifts in his expression during those brief moments.


    At that moment, the old woman''s voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts.


    "Do you buy books?"


    Her tone lacked any warmth or respect, as if her mere presence in the shop was a favor.


    "Hmph." ''Miserable old hag¡­'' he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with anger. He turned his gaze to Ellis, whose brows furrowed slightly but who refrained from showing any extreme reaction. Ellis decided to handle the situation professionally, responding in a tone laced with mild sarcasm.


    "Yes, ma''am. We buy books. But not everything with pages and a cover deserves to be called a book."


    "Fine."


    The old woman placed a rectangular object wrapped in cloth on the counter. She then removed the wrapping, revealing a thick book with hundreds of pages. Its cover was pitch black and incredibly thick, almost resembling a thin metal plate.


    Sollivan''s curiosity was piqued, but he couldn''t make out the book''s details clearly due to his lower position and relative distance. Even Ellis appeared intrigued as he picked up the book to examine it. At that moment, the old woman began to speak, trying to emphasize the book''s value.


    "This book belonged to an Arcane Master who stayed at my inn. That scoundrel paid for a whole year but disappeared for six months. He must have died in the war. In the end, we had to open his room, and all we found was this book. It''s clearly something valuable."


    "Its value will be determined after inspection."


    Ellis said as he opened the book. However, the moment he did, his brows knitted together, and a strange expression spread across his face. This change didn''t escape Sollivan, who grew even more curious and puzzled. After a moment of tense silence, Sollivan heard Ellis addressing the old woman in a dissatisfied tone.


    "This book is written in a strange language."


    Sollivan quickly pushed his chair toward the counter, approaching the old woman, who shot him a displeased look and stepped aside. She quickly responded, attempting to justify herself.


    "The language doesn''t matter. It''s still incredibly valuable! It belonged to an Arcane Master.


    Surely, it''s an Arcane Masters manual. Do you know that even the cheapest one of these books, is worth over ten silver coins?"


    The look of displeasure on Ellis''s face deepened, and he replied with an audible complaint.


    "Even if it is an Arcane Masters book, which I highly doubt, it''s useless to anyone if it''s written in an unknown language like this."


    "Let me see."


    Sollivan''s voice, filled with curiosity, cut through the discussion. Ellis glanced at him briefly before handing him the book.


    The moment Sollivan took hold of the book, he was surprised by its weight, his hands dipping slightly under the unexpected heaviness. His eyes widened slightly as his curiosity deepened, especially when a faint, peculiar scent emanated from the book. He began examining it intently.


    The cover was pitch black, just as Sollivan had seen earlier, but upon closer inspection, he noticed raised decorations framing the edges. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    At the center of the cover was a strange symbol protruding from the surface, its texture rough like stone.


    Sollivan extended a finger to feel the unfamiliar texture, studying its details with intrigue.


    He opened the book slowly, his eyes falling on the first page, which was filled with strange writings in a deep blood-red color. The sight made him mutter in astonishment.


    "What is this?"


    His voice rose slightly in surprise, unaware of himself, as his gaze remained fixed on the book.


    Ellis looked over at him.


    "You''re surprised too? It''s just a bunch of random scribbles I''ve never seen before."


    Sollivan didn''t reply, remaining focused on the collection of ancient characters.


    Unlike Ellis, his shock wasn''t merely due to the strangeness of the symbols; he felt a vague familiarity with them. A nervous expression crossed his face. ''I''ve seen symbols like these before.'' His eyes locked onto one character, and after a brief moment of thought, he recalled its meaning. ''This represents the letter B.'' However, he couldn''t decipher the rest of the symbols.


    Though Sollivan knew the vastness of the world, he was also aware of how few languages truly existed. Most people spoke the Common Tongue, while the remaining languages were either ancient or exceedingly rare. Despite the age and experience gap between him and Ellis, Sollivan''s knowledge in this particular field was broader.


    While Ellis focused on literature, poetry, and history, Sollivan''s interests revolved around the strange and extraordinary¡ªparticularly in the fields of medicine, languages, myths, and lost relics.


    His fascination stemmed from two primary reasons: the hope of finding a recipe or ingredient that could heal him, and his quest to reconstruct his damaged vein.


    After browsing through the book for nearly three minutes, Sollivan shook his head in disappointment and said to the old woman, "This book is worthless. The only notable thing about it is its cover. It''s impossible for it to be an Arcane Master manual; it''s far too thick and filled with writing without any illustrations."


    Hearing Sollivan''s assessment, Ellis turned to the old woman and said politely,


    "I''m sorry, ma''am, but it seems your book isn''t of much value. However, we can offer you one silver coin for it, solely because of its unique leather cover."


    A deep scowl formed on the old woman''s face, and she complained in an irritatingly loud voice, "One silver coin? This is a valuable book owned by an Arcane Master , and you''re offering me pocket change? It seems your shop''s reputation is hardly deserved!"


    Despite her words, the old woman knew perfectly well that the book was worthless.


    Before bringing it to Ellis''s shop, she had shown it to her grandson, a skilled Arcane Master who served in the city''s joint guard force. After examining it, he told her it was just junk that no one would buy. Still, she was determined to sell it for a slightly higher price.


    The old woman''s words sparked quiet anger in Ellis. A cold glint appeared in his eyes as he took the book from Sollivan''s hands and handed it back to her, saying icily.


    "Here, take your book and find somewhere else to sell it. Our shop has high standards and doesn''t deal in trash."


    The old woman''s lips twisted in arrogance, and a grim look appeared in her eyes. She snatched the book and cursed loudly, "Miserable wretch!" Then she turned and stormed out in angry strides. But after taking a few steps past the door, she heard a calm voice call out to her.


    "Wait a moment, I''ll buy the book for two silver coins."


    The old woman slowly turned back, her eyes filled with suspicion and scorn as she stared at the young man in the wheelchair.


    Ellis, too, cast a look of irritation and confusion at Sollivan.


    He was well aware of Sollivan''s peculiar hobby of collecting rare and strange books and manuscripts, but he was deeply annoyed by the old woman''s behavior.


    He said skeptically, "What are you saying, Sollivan? Why would you want to buy a worthless book like that?"


    Before Sollivan could reply, the old woman stepped closer and spoke in a brash tone, "I want three silver coins."


    Sollivan raised an eyebrow slightly, and despite everyone''s varying looks directed at him, he replied coldly, "Two silver coins is all I''ll offer. Take it or leave it; no one else is going to buy this trash for a higher price."


    Hmph! The old woman placed the book on the reception desk under Ellis''s helpless gaze and flashed a mocking smile that made her features appear even uglier.


    She extended her hand, pointing toward Sollivan, and said, "Pay up!"


    Without looking at her, Sollivan turned his wheelchair and spoke in a cool tone, "You don''t need to pay this month''s dues. Consider them the payment for the book."


    At those words, Ellis''s eyebrows arched in astonishment as he stared at Sollivan''s back with bewildered eyes. Several questions flooded his mind. ''Dues? Do they know each other? But¡­'' His confusion deepened as he recalled how both of them had acted like strangers upon meeting.


    Ellis quickly glanced at the old woman, who snorted in disdain before turning and leaving in a huff.


    Sigh!


    Ellis froze for a moment, then picked up the book and set it aside for Sollivan to collect later. But suddenly, something dawned on him, and he murmured softly, "Who exactly is Sollivan?"


    Though he had worked with Sollivan for many years, he had never heard anything about his family or origins. Even Sollivan''s last name was a mystery, adding to his enigmatic nature.


    As Ellis pondered further, he decided to push the thoughts aside, his face returning to its usual calm and polite expression.


    He muttered quietly, "Everyone has their secrets, and there''s no need to pry into them."


    These words weren''t merely an attempt to reassure himself; they reflected his genuine belief.


    He understood all too well the complexities of relationships and the strangeness of people in this world. After all, he himself carried secrets he would never dare share with anyone, not even his closest acquaintances or friends.


    ...


    In a quiet corner of the library, behind a shelf crowded with books, Sollivan sat back, relaxing as he closed his eyes peacefully.


    He was unaware that his previous action, seemingly simple on the surface, had sent Ellis into a whirlwind of deep thought, making him reevaluate his stance toward him.


    "Where have I seen you before?" he murmured in a low, puzzled voice.


    He opened his eyes and looked at the library ceiling with a complex expression.


    I''m sure I''ve seen this writing before, but where? Was there something similar to it in his home? His confusion deepened, and the questions began to burn in his mind.


    He felt an intense urge to return home and examine the pile of books and manuscripts he had collected over the years in search of answers. But the thought of worrying Ellis or making him suspicious of his intentions stopped him.


    This is really frustrating. He sighed in exhaustion and closed his eyes again, trying to calm himself.


    His body relaxed, and he drifted into a peaceful nap.


    Time passed quietly, and the number of customers in the library gradually increased. However, despite his growing workload, Ellis didn''t disturb Sollivan or ask for his help. He handled everything on his own.


    After an hour of comfortable sleep, Sollivan finally opened his eyes, gazing at the corridor between the bookshelves. He heard the footsteps of customers and realized he had been asleep for quite some time.


    I bet Ellis regrets his suggestion now, he thought with a faint smile, chuckling quietly.


    He raised his hands, adjusted his hair, and wiped his face to shake off the traces of sleep. He then calmly wheeled himself toward the corridor, where he noticed a man in his early thirties. The man had a noble appearance, dressed in elegant clothing, and stood before a bookshelf, carefully inspecting the books.


    Sollivan turned his head toward the reception desk, where Ellis was busy assisting customers, then approached the man in his wheelchair and spoke in a respectful tone.


    "Are you interested in the history of the Golden Lion Empire?"


    The man slowly turned around, his eyes slightly surprised. After a brief moment of hesitation, he replied, "Not exactly, but I''m looking for historical books that discuss the era before the empire."


    Sollivan was surprised by the man''s request and asked in a skeptical tone, "Do you mean the Great Empire?"


    "Yes."


    Sollivan wheeled himself toward a nearby bookshelf and carefully examined the titles. After a moment, he picked up a thick book with a faded cover and handed it to the man.


    "The period you''re asking about was rarely documented. This book contains all the remaining recorded information about that era."


    The man''s eyes widened slightly, and a doubtful expression appeared on his face.


    "Really?"


    Sollivan chuckled lightly before smiling and adding, "You could say that, but most of what''s in this book consists of mysterious legends, and the dates aren''t very accurate. So, I wouldn''t recommend relying on it as a scientific or historical reference."


    Hearing his response, the nobleman''s concern eased.


    Sollivan had understood the reason behind his worry.


    Historical books and records were not something easily obtained or readily available.


    The few accurate books that existed were owned by ancient and powerful families whose histories spanned hundreds of years or were kept in the Imperial Library, which only a select few could access.


    So when he heard that the book was comprehensive and contained various historical information, he became deeply skeptical of its credibility. If what he had heard was false, it meant the shop owner was lying to him.


    But if it was true, then this book was of immense value and shouldn''t belong to a place like this.


    After the strange tension between the two had settled, the nobleman asked again,


    "Do you have more books like this?"


    Sollivan replied, "Yes, we have a few more books and some simple manuscripts."


    "Show them to me."


    Sollivan led the nobleman to the bookshelves and pointed out a selected collection. After much examination and searching, the man left the library carrying three books and four old manuscripts, looking quite satisfied with his purchases.


    Without taking a moment to rest, Sollivan immediately approached another customer to offer assistance, guiding them to the appropriate books and fulfilling their requests.


    The day continued at a slow yet exhausting pace. As autumn neared its end, people began preparing for winter by purchasing their essential needs, including books as a source of entertainment.


    The shop filled with the voices of customers and unfamiliar faces, increasing the pressure on Sollivan and Ellis, who focused on serving customers while also keeping an eye on the store to prevent any theft amid the chaos.


    After long hours of grueling work, Sollivan finally paused in the middle of the shop, closing his eyes for a brief moment to take a short rest, while Ellis remained occupied with reviewing the day''s accounts and organizing sales records.


    "I''m heading out now," Sollivan said as he wheeled himself toward the reception desk.


    He glanced at Ellis, who was still buried in calculations, and smirked.


    "Looks like you''ll be here for a while."


    Ellis scoffed sarcastically, then grabbed two books¡ªone incredibly old and the other completely new and pristine¡ªand pushed them toward Sollivan with a teasing smile.


    "Looks like you have a long night of copying ahead of you. As for me, I''ll be asleep the moment I get home."


    Sollivan raised an eyebrow with a resigned smile, "You win this round."


    He wheeled himself away from the desk toward the door, but Ellis''s voice suddenly stopped him.


    "Wait a moment."


    Sollivan turned around to find Ellis holding the black book that had concerned him earlier that morning. Ellis smirked lightly.


    "It was a really tiring day, wasn''t it?"


    Sollivan responded calmly, "I know."


    He placed the black book into his bag alongside the books that he will need to copy, then slowly left the shop. As soon as he stepped outside, a cold breeze greeted him, making him shiver.


    He lifted his head and looked at the sky, which was darkening as sunset approached, while thick clouds gathered over the horizon.


    ''The weather is getting colder ''.


    He guided his wheelchair through the familiar alleys, where shadows gradually spread, covering the narrow paths.


    After half an hour of moving through the quiet streets, he finally arrived at his humble neighborhood, which seemed less lively than usual. The passersby had disappeared, the chickens had returned to their nests, and stray dogs roamed here and there.


    His eyes wandered across the neighborhood until they finally settled on his doorstep, where a mysterious figure stood, their features obscured by the dim light.


    His brows furrowed slightly with concern, but the tension quickly faded as he moved closer to the door and recognized the person waiting for him.

 Chapter 3: Reading Between The Lines

    When Sollivan spotted the mysterious figure standing near the door, he quickened his steps, straining to see more clearly in the dim light.


    To his surprise, the figure was just a child¡ªnot yet in his teenage years. The boy was thin and slightly short, though his height seemed appropriate for his age.


    His small face lacked the softness and innocent gaze typical of children. Instead, he looked pale, his expression unwavering, and his eyes held a harshness that suggested an adult trapped in a child¡¯s body.


    This was not unusual in the slums, where most children were either orphans or had lost one parent, forcing them to seek work to support themselves or their families.


    Their young age limited their options to simple tasks: tending horses in stables, serving food in taverns, cleaning alleyways, or working as porters and errand boys in the markets.


    The child before Sollivan was Devlin, an orphan who had lost his parents long ago. Without hesitation, Devlin rushed to Sollivan¡¯s chair, gripped its handles, and pushed it toward the house.


    Sollivan said nothing, simply relaxing in his seat and catching his breath. Within moments, they reached the house¡¯s entrance. In Devlin¡¯s eyes, there was a faint glimmer of respect, despite the silence between them.


    Sollivan pulled out his key and unlocked the door before asking calmly, ¡°Will you manage this winter?¡±


    Pushing the chair inside, Devlin replied with gratitude, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve saved enough to rent a room and buy what I need.¡±


    ¡°Good. You know where the empty water jars are, but light the fireplace first.¡±


    Gripping the wheels of his chair, Sollivan pushed himself toward the table cluttered with books and manuscripts.


    Without glancing at Devlin, he set his bag aside and began scanning the manuscripts, his eyes wary as he tried to recall where he had seen that strange language before.


    Meanwhile, Devlin walked to the fireplace, ignited a few flames, and watched as warmth slowly spread through the room.


    He picked up a half-melted candle nearby and lit it. Stepping toward Sollivan, whose features were gradually swallowed by the encroaching darkness, he placed the candle beside him, brightening the room¡¯s lighting.


    Without a word, he moved to a corner where several earthenware jars and small wooden bottles were stacked before quietly leaving the house.


    Sollivan lifted his head and glanced at the slightly ajar door. A cold draft slipped through, causing the candlelight to flicker and cast fragmented shadows across his face¡ªrevealing a complex expression.


    Devlin was no stranger to Sollivan.


    One could even say he was an unofficial servant, helping with tasks Sollivan struggled to complete on his own: fetching water from the communal well, buying necessities on stormy or rainy days, and other errands.


    In return, Sollivan gave him a small sum of money at the end of each week.


    Five years ago, when Sollivan had regained some strength, he began venturing outside his home, exploring the neighborhood and getting to know his neighbors.


    During that time, he met Devlin, an orphan who had lost his parents in a tragic accident, leaving him utterly alone.


    Soon after, vagrants took advantage of his weakness¡ªlooting his home, driving him out, and claiming it for themselves.


    At first, Sollivan paid no attention to the boy, dismissing him as just another troublesome street urchin.


    But as winter arrived, Devlin¡¯s frail body began to resemble a tattered corpse, gnawed by hunger and bitten by the relentless cold. Though Sollivan had trained himself to be indifferent, watching the boy¡¯s suffering stirred an unfamiliar hesitation within him.


    He saw himself in that small child¡ªboth had lost their loved ones, been robbed of their former lives, and left to rot in the world. Yet, Sollivan¡¯s circumstances had been slightly better.


    In the end, he decided to take Devlin in for the winter, despite not fully trusting him. At first, both were wary, treating each other with suspicion and caution. But as time passed, Devlin¡¯s fears eased, and Sollivan¡¯s guard lowered, allowing their relationship to improve.


    A deep sense of gratitude grew within Devlin¡ªSollivan had saved him from certain doom. In return, Sollivan found his loneliness slightly lessened and his daily struggles made easier during the harsh winter.


    However, he never intended to shelter the boy for long. When spring arrived, he taught Devlin how to survive and fend for himself, then cast him out to find his own work and shelter.


    ...


    Sollivan pulled a thick book from his collection and slowly opened it, revealing a small square compartment carved into its pages.


    At the heart of the hollow space rested four gold coins, glimmering faintly under the flickering candlelight. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers hovered over one of the coins.


    ¡°One coin¡­ that¡¯s all he needs to begin, but the risk of failure is still high.¡±


    At the age of thirteen, a child¡¯s Auraxis main vein fully develops, allowing them to train in martial arts and cultivate the energy of Auraxis within their bodies.


    However, before they can begin, they must first purchase a Vein Opening Pill, a special pill that helps them surpass their human limitations once they have trained their bodies sufficiently and advanced through the stages of the Body Strengthening Realm.


    Yet, the risk of failure remained significant, making Sollivan hesitate.


    Due to his own financial struggles, he decided to wait before making a decision.


    Each pill cost a single gold coin¡ªa hefty sum most people could not afford. As a result, many either never started training or began years later, only after saving enough money. This delay often stunted their progress, as they missed the optimal period for cultivation and lacked the necessary resources to advance.


    In the past, his uncle had given him sixty gold coins to cover his expenses, but within the first year, most of it was spent on medicines, herbs, and doctors in a futile search for a cure. For all the exorbitant treatments he endured, all he gained was a slight improvement in strength and a limited recovery of his lost vitality.


    Still, he refused to give up. Whenever he found something that might help, he bought it¡ªleaving him with a modest stock of rare herbs he had obtained by chance while working in the library.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Ironically, sixty gold coins were enough to let a poor man live comfortably, yet for Sollivan, they had done nothing more than slightly ease his suffering.


    ¡°No need to dwell on that now.¡±


    Pushing the book aside, he picked up a stack of manuscripts and began examining them carefully.


    Every document and book he flipped through contained valuable and diverse knowledge¡ªranging from rare herbal studies to legends of lost treasures and even the ancient history of his continent.


    However, books in this field were extremely rare, and some were written in unfamiliar languages or consisted merely of drawings without explanations.


    Through his personal efforts, he had meticulously annotated his own notes, allowing him to gain a broad understanding of many fundamental fields and learn bits and pieces of every language he had encountered.


    Because of this, he had recognized one of the symbols in the mysterious book earlier.


    Time passed slowly and quietly as Devlin went back and forth, carrying empty jars out and returning with them filled with water. Night fell, and the alleys darkened, but the scattered torchlights, though scarce, were enough to guide his way.


    Meanwhile, Sollivan remained seated, reading at a steady pace, reviewing the records and notes he had carefully compiled.


    It was his habit to organize his books and information, ensuring everything remained in order. After identifying the manuscripts worth scrutinizing, he began sorting through them with unwavering focus.


    By the time Devlin finished his work and left for his own lodging, minutes had turned into hours. The candle that had illuminated the corner of the room gradually melted away, leaving only a small stub. Around its base, hardened wax had accumulated, forming frozen droplets that resembled dried glue.


    Suddenly, Sollivan lifted his head. The candle flame flickered violently, casting shifting shadows across his face, illuminating his eyes with a rare gleam of excitement.


    In his hands was a large manuscript, its strange symbols filled with dozens of explanatory notes and annotations¡ªone that he had spent a long time deciphering.


    He set the manuscript aside, a satisfied expression settling on his face¡ªhis curiosity about the mysterious language had finally been sated.


    However, a slight pain throbbed at his temple, a dull ache from the mental strain he had exerted. Normally, he would begin transcribing any book he brought home as soon as he arrived, but this time, he had become entirely absorbed in deciphering the language of the black book, neglecting his usual work and losing precious hours of his time.


    Even so, he didn¡¯t mind much¡ªhe had found something truly worth his attention.


    ¡°I got so caught up in my research that I forgot myself...¡±


    Sollivan exhaled heavily, only for a faint growl from his stomach to remind him of his intense hunger.


    Without sparing the manuscript another glance, he pushed his chair back and wheeled himself toward the fireplace, where the dying flames flickered weakly, leaving behind only a few glowing embers.


    Quickly, he tossed in some dry twigs to rekindle the fire, then reached for the metal pot, lifting its lid.


    A strange aroma wafted up¡ªa mixture of the leftover soup he had made that morning, now thicker and more concentrated. He added some water to thin it out, waiting for the flames to strengthen before placing the pot over the fire.


    As the food slowly warmed, his gaze drifted to the satchel lying beside the table, and he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°What secrets do you hold¡­?¡±


    ...


    [Two Weeks Later]


    As the days passed, the once-clear sky grew heavy with dense gray clouds, obscuring the sun¡¯s warmth and bringing with them a biting cold.


    Snow fell relentlessly, blanketing the entire city in white. Layers of snow piled upon the streets and rooftops, transforming the once-thriving city into a desolate, lifeless expanse.


    Most shops had closed, and passersby became a rare sight.


    Even the stray dogs, known for their incessant barking and mischief, had disappeared¡ªeither retreating from the merciless cold or seeking shelter somewhere warmer.


    In one of the city¡¯s poorer districts, where silence hung thick over the alleys, a fireplace crackled inside a run-down house, spreading a faint warmth through its walls.


    Sollivan sat in his chair, staring at the book. Its cover was cool to the touch, its surface smooth yet oddly rough at the edges, as if resisting his grasp.


    Then he opened to its first page. Across the table, dozens of papers lay scattered¡ªsome crumpled or torn and tossed aside carelessly, while others were neatly arranged in a careful stack beside the book.


    In his hand, he held a sleek, sophisticated pen that stood in stark contrast to his surroundings.


    Crafted from a single smooth piece of black material, it fit perfectly between his fingers, its needle-thin tip housing an intricate mechanism that ensured effortless writing and preserved the ink.


    He wrote at an excruciatingly slow pace, pausing frequently to scrutinize the first page of the black book, as if attempting to unravel an impossibly complex cipher.


    After what felt like an eternity, he finally leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long breath before rubbing his wrist, which ached from the relentless hours of writing.


    Despite his clear need for rest, he straightened once more, picked up the organized papers, and placed them beside the sheet he had just finished.


    His expression hardened, shedding all traces of exhaustion or relaxation, as he began linking the fragmented words in his notes to those on the first page of the black book.


    With calculated precision, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper and resumed translating, drawing upon every word he had deciphered so far.


    Unlike before, when his translation had been hesitant and fragmented, the page now filled quickly with words, as though something had finally clicked into place.


    Sollivan lifted his head, a faint smile of satisfaction crossing his lips. A quiet sense of accomplishment seeped into his chest, warming him slightly despite the cold.


    His gaze dropped to the lines he had just transcribed, but his brow soon furrowed, his expression shifting to one of confusion. Then, in a cautious, expectant voice, he began to read aloud.


    ¡°Only blood seals the pact, only blood opens the gate.¡±


    His voice echoed in the silent room, carrying with it a strange, unshakable weight.


    His eyes flickered to the book¡¯s center, where symbols intertwined in an elaborate design, carved deep into the page, pulsating with an eerie, forbidden power.


    Even in the dim light, the ink shimmered in the darkness, whispering promises of strength.


    He continued reading, as though the words slipping from his lips belonged to a world not his own.


    ¡°With the essence of life, the veil shall be lifted¡­ Life for life, world for world, and the soul shall witness what no eye can see, tread where no foot has stepped.


    Each world has its door, beyond which lies the unknown¡­ If opened, horrors shall awaken. No light, no mercy, no return for the unready.¡±


    For the briefest of moments, the page beneath his fingertips pulsed faintly, its rhythm syncing with the uneasy beats of his heart. Yet the sensation faded too quickly for him to take notice.


    At last, his voice carried him to the final line, his words slipping into the air in an almost unnatural whisper, tinged with something sinister.


    ¡°Let but a single drop fall, and the threshold shall open¡­ Let your blood flow, and seal your fate.¡±


    Sollivan stared at the last sentence in silence, a tangle of disappointment and confusion swirling within him.


    The book¡¯s introduction was cryptic, elusive, as though it concealed a truth yet to be revealed. His eyebrows arched for a moment before he turned to the second page, which was filled with writing.


    Drawing upon what he had learned from translating the first page, he began analyzing the text. But within just five minutes, his expression shifted, and his brows visibly trembled.


    He flipped to the next page, and after two more minutes, his features contorted. He started flipping through the pages rapidly, eyes darting over the words, struggling to comprehend them. But something was wrong.


    After minutes of tense staring, Sollivan slammed the book shut with a muffled thud.


    ¡°This is nonsense!¡± he muttered angrily, his gaze flickering in every direction as he tried to steady himself.


    After reviewing the second page and the following ones repeatedly, he realized he could no longer translate a single letter.


    It was as if the words had transformed into cryptic symbols, completely different from those on the first page. This wasn¡¯t merely a change in language¡ªthe letters themselves were devoid of meaning, as though they were utter gibberish.


    ¡°All that effort... wasted.¡±


    A surge of frustration welled up within him as he recalled spending two silver coins on a book he couldn¡¯t even read.


    But the money wasn¡¯t what angered him the most¡ªit was the time he had wasted. Two whole weeks spent translating just a single page¡ªtime that could have been used for something far more productive.


    He took a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind of the nagging thoughts.


    Reaching for the paper on which he had written the translation, he stared at the last line with vacant eyes, his voice barely a whisper as he murmured.


    ¡°Let but a single drop fall, and the threshold shall open¡­ Let your blood flow, and seal your fate.¡±


    His gaze shifted to the black book resting on the table, lingering on its intricately designed cover.


    ¡°A drop of blood¡­ There are books and ancient manuscripts that only open with a blood imprint.¡±


    His eyes fell upon the engraved symbol at the center of the cover, recalling what he had read on the first page.


    His expression changed, and the curiosity that had faded beneath the weight of disappointment began to stir once more.


    Picking up the book, he ran his fingers over its cold surface, an odd look of anticipation crossing his face.


    He reached out with his left hand toward a small knife lying beside the table, studying its sharp, icy blade for a moment. Then, with quiet resolve and without hesitation, he pricked his index finger against the tip.


    A crimson drop welled up, slowly trickling down the metal before he set the knife aside and pressed his bleeding finger against the symbol at the center of the cover.


    He waited, his heart pounding with expectation and apprehension.


    The blood seeped into the engraving, staining its strange design. But¡­ nothing happened. Seconds passed. The center of the cover darkened with the deep red liquid, its shade pale in contrast to the book¡¯s abyssal black.


    Sollivan exhaled slowly.


    ¡®I shouldn¡¯t have gotten my hopes up¡­¡¯ he sighed again, this time in final resignation, and moved to withdraw his finger¡ªonly for his expression to twist in shock, his eyes widening.


    His finger wouldn¡¯t budge.


    It was as though it had fused with the book, refusing to move no matter how hard he tried.


    ¡°What now?¡± A tremor coursed through his chest, a blend of fear and unease sending a shiver down his spine. Yet, beneath the apprehension, other emotions began to creep in¡ªan inexplicable longing, a suppressed thrill, and an eager curiosity for what would come next.


    The sensation of being stuck didn¡¯t last long. It faded swiftly, allowing him to finally pull his finger away. But that no longer mattered. His focus remained locked on the book.


    The blood that had stained the cover was now being drawn into the engraved symbol, as if the book itself was drinking it.


    Then, the book trembled violently, its weight seeming to increase tenfold. Even Sollivan¡ªwho had long lost sensation in his legs¡ªfelt a faint illusion of crushing heaviness pressing down upon his paralyzed limbs.


    A pulse!


    The book quivered again, like the heartbeat of a beast roused from slumber.


    At that moment, an inexplicable dread flooded through Sollivan, his heartbeat racing in a desperate, frantic rhythm¡ªas though his body sought to flee, despite remaining utterly still.


    Yet, even amidst his overwhelming fear, he couldn¡¯t tear his gaze away from the glowing symbol at the book¡¯s center. It protruded further, its hue deepening into a mesmerizing crimson¡ªlike a deceitful flame, luring moths to their doom.


    A deafening throb!


    The ground beneath him shook violently, shadows rippling across the room like entities stirring from an ancient slumber. The fire in the hearth crackled, sending embers dancing into the air.


    Yet, the disturbance did not extend far¡ªthroughout the impoverished district, only a faint tremor was felt. The heart of the city, meanwhile, remained undisturbed, lost in its oblivious tranquility.


    But Sollivan cared for none of it. Not the tremors. Not the flickering shadows.


    All of his attention was consumed by that glowing crimson symbol¡ªone that no longer resembled a mere carving. It was an eye.


    A sinister, all-seeing eye, peering into the depths of his soul, unearthing secrets he didn¡¯t even know existed, whispering knowledge beyond his comprehension.


    And before he could fully grasp what was happening, an unseen force surged through him, yanking him into oblivion.


    His body collapsed, his head striking the table with a resounding thud.


    Darkness swallowed him whole.

 Chapter 4: awakening

    Pulse!


    Sollivan''s closed eyelids fluttered before he slowly opened his foggy eyes. With difficulty, he raised his hand, clutching his head, which throbbed with a sharp pain, causing him to furrow his brows in agony.


    After a few moments of suffering, the foggy vision gradually faded, and the ringing and whistling in his ears subsided, allowing him to think more clearly.


    He shook his head slightly, rubbed his face, and then looked ahead. But his eyes widened in shock, his features froze, and he was left speechless before muttering in a hoarse voice:


    "Where am I?"


    Everything he had known before was gone. His home, his city, the cold winter snow... everything had vanished, leaving only a vast plain covered in strange, dark blue plants stretching endlessly.


    A few scattered trees here and there barely broke the monotony of the scene, making him feel as though he were trapped in a strange dream.


    With great effort, Sollivan raised his head and stared at the sky. His widened eyes grew even more bewildered, and words caught in his throat. He wanted to take a deep breath, but he couldn''t.


    Above him, the warm yellow sun he knew had disappeared, replaced by a massive, faint orange orb, despite its enormous size and close proximity. It looked like a full moon, so close that he could see solar waves dancing on its surface like joyful fire dragons.


    Shock, confusion, fear, awe, and sorrow... Sollivan couldn''t pinpoint the emotions he felt in that single minute of clarity. But he was sure of one thing: he wasn''t dreaming.


    The refreshing breeze that caressed his cheeks, the faint rustling of the grass that delighted his ears, and the warmth of the giant sun that heated his skin... all these sensations were undeniably real.


    He held his breath, shook his head filled with chaotic thoughts, and calmed himself with difficulty.


    Then he stood on his feet and took a step forward, turning his head left and right, searching for anything other than the blue grass and distant trees.


    In his daze, he realized something that made him freeze in place once more. Slowly, with wide eyes, he lowered his head and looked at his feet, standing straight.


    Thud!


    He moved his right foot and took a step forward, crushing the blue grass beneath him. Despite seeing it clearly, he couldn''t comprehend what was happening.


    He took another step, then another, then another... Before he knew it, he had taken ten steps, but his eyes remained fixed on his feet. His shocked heart raced wildly, sending a tingling sensation that made his limbs tremble involuntarily.


    An indescribable excitement, inexplicable joy, and deep fear... He reached out with his trembling hand and pinched his leg hard, feeling a sharp pain that unleashed the flood of emotions trapped in his heart.


    "I can walk... I can walk!" Sollivan smiled with pure happiness, repeating his words like a madman as he ran wildly, like someone who had lost his mind.


    "I can run!" He reveled in the wonderful feeling he had lost for years, filled with happiness and joy, and felt a deep calm in his heart, as if a heavy mountain had been lifted from his body.


    The gentle breeze played with his black hair, and the soil and grass flew with each step he took.


    His pulse quickened, and he began to feel some fatigue, but he didn''t want to stop and lose this intoxicating feeling of bliss. Moreover, he felt a deep fear that he would wake from his dream the moment he stopped.


    After running a long distance, he felt exhausted and fell to the ground on his back, gazing at the strange blue and golden sky. His eyes seemed to smile from sheer joy.


    Despite his calm demeanor, polished by years of suffering, at this moment, he couldn''t control himself, and his emotions fluttered with overwhelming happiness, like butterflies experiencing flight for the first time.


    Roar!


    His body suddenly shook, and his smile froze. The overwhelming joy turned into deep fear.


    Quickly, he stood on his feet, his muscles tense and ready to unleash all their strength to run or fight at any moment. But his mind, which had regained its calm, prevented him from taking any rash actions.


    At that moment, for the first time in a long time, memories of hunting with his father and grandfather returned to him, and he remembered all the experience and guidance he had learned.


    Calmly and very slowly, he bent slightly, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings like a hawk, searching for any strange movement.


    But he found nothing, even though the air around him felt thick and suffocating. He tried to calm his rapid, shallow breaths, but his racing heart refused to give him any peace.


    ''The beast that roared didn''t take any action or attack? Is there a reason for that, or is it just far enough not to sense my presence yet? If I try to run now and escape, it might sense my movement and find me.


    And even if I don''t move, the wind might carry my scent to it. In either case, I''m doomed.''


    Sollivan took one last look at his surroundings, glanced at his feet for a moment, and pushed aside all the joy he had felt earlier. Then he muttered in a low voice:


    "I''ve regained my ability to walk, but my training is nonexistent, and even the basic skills I know won''t help me much. My body seems too tense."


    He crouched completely to the ground, pressing his ear to the soil, trying to sense any vibrations or signs of approaching danger. But there was nothing, which gave him a slight sense of relief, which he used to calm his heart and steady his breathing.


    After ensuring that his mental and physical state had improved, he got up from the ground and began to move very slowly. Every step he took was calculated carefully, trying to avoid making any sound that might attract attention.


    His sharp eyes, like those of a hawk, scanned his surroundings incessantly, and his ears were alert for any sound, no matter how faint.


    Despite all his caution and the quiet surroundings, the oppressive feeling of danger didn''t fade; on the contrary, it grew stronger.


    From his past experience, he was sure that this fear wasn''t just a fleeting feeling but something deeper and more mysterious, as if the air around him pulsed with hidden warnings.


    But despite that, he pushed himself to continue, heading toward some dense trees that seemed like a safe haven that could provide cover from prying eyes.


    Step by step, his goal grew closer, and the suffocating feeling he felt began to lessen.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    But despite that, he didn''t lower his guard; on the contrary, his senses became sharper, and his expression grew more stern. After a few more steps, he reached his destination and suddenly increased his speed, running into the small forest.


    Huff!


    After moving away from the edge of the forest, he fell to the ground, leaning his back against a thick tree trunk, and exhaled heavily as sweat dripped from his forehead.


    ''This place is very dangerous. Everything around me is strange and unfamiliar.


    I visited the Black Death Forest with my father, and it wasn''t this quiet. There are no sounds... no birds, no insects.


    If I hadn''t heard that roar earlier, I would have thought I was in a barren, dead land.''


    He raised his head and looked at the sky through the dense leaves, muttering with confusion and fear:


    "The sun above me isn''t the sun I know, and even the sky is a different color, and the ground seems to lean toward blackness... as if I''m in a world different from the one I know."


    Sigh!


    He stood up quickly and raised the caution he had lowered during his short rest.


    He looked left and right with sharp, wary eyes, then sniffed the air around him for any strange smells. But he found nothing.


    ''I need to leave this place.''


    The more time he spent in this place, the more his anxiety grew, and he began to feel uneasy.


    Only thirty minutes had passed since he woke up, and during that time, he had experienced things and emotions more complex than anything he had felt in the past five years.


    After gathering his courage and steadying his breathing, he began walking through the forest, which wasn''t too dense.


    Occasionally, there were wide gaps between the trees, but they still provided good cover amidst the vast plain around them.


    Whistle!


    Suddenly, Sollivan stopped walking abruptly.


    He turned his head suspiciously and began listening closely to the faint sounds that reached his ears. The sounds weren''t close, but they gave his heart, filled with fear and despair, a bit of calm and hope.


    Then he began walking again, faster this time, following the source of the sounds. His silent surroundings began to regain their vitality. The birds that sang lively returned, and the annoying insects filled the place.


    Gurgle!


    Among the various sounds, he heard a familiar one that made his heart tremble with joy.


    He changed his direction, and without walking far, he reached the source of the sound, which was a small stream with clear, beautiful water that shimmered in the sunlight. After looking in both directions of the stream and ensuring it was empty, he knelt and looked at the reflection of his face in the clear water.


    But at that moment, he frowned strangely. He brought his face closer to the water, and then his reflection became clearer. His pale face, with dark circles, had become clear and healthy.


    Also, his brown eyes had become pitch black. But the strange thing that made him feel some anxiety was the appearance of strange shapes on his forehead that resembled black scales.


    ''What happened to me?''


    He touched his forehead gently and felt the slightly rough texture of the non-protruding scales, muttering, "I don''t understand... everything is strange, even myself."


    Growl!


    A faint gurgling sound came from nearby, making the confused Sollivan stand quickly with a tense body. He looked around cautiously, and then he noticed a vague shape hiding behind some tall grass.


    Only a convex back with a dark yellow color was visible, but it was enough for him to realize that it was a beast lying in wait for him. His eyes remained fixed on the hidden shape, and he slowly stepped back.


    Step by step, the distance between them increased, but the hidden beast didn''t make any movement, which increased his confidence and quickened his steps.


    Slash!


    His foot suddenly slipped due to a misstep in the stream, making him stop in place for a moment with a stern face.


    He watched the convex back of the beast and found that it was still in place. Very quietly, he lifted his foot from the water and took a step back.


    But at that moment, suddenly, the beast jumped from behind the grass and ran toward him at high speed. The hyena-like beast opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and growled with a screeching, metallic sound.


    "Damn it!"


    Without any hesitation or moment of stillness, Sollivan turned and began running at full speed.


    His steps were strange and carried a steady rhythm, making his movements very smooth. With great agility, he avoided the trees in his path, using them as a natural barrier behind him.


    Although the distance between him and the beast was very short, the beast couldn''t shorten it; on the contrary, every time it got closer to Sollivan, he suddenly changed direction, causing the beast to stumble and sometimes crash into the trees, making them shake violently.


    Sollivan''s hair danced in the wind, and his clothes fluttered.


    His muscles were tense and full of energy, and his breathing was steady and harmonious. Every step he took was smooth, as if he were sliding on soap over a smooth floor.


    This movement technique was called Light Steps, a very common technique among Arcane masters and those who had strengthened their bodies. It increased their speed while reducing the physical effort they exerted, allowing them to run longer distances with less effort.


    Sollivan continued running desperately. Although he had maintained his physical strength for as long as possible, his body and tense muscles began to tire. His steady, harmonious breathing became chaotic, and even his smooth running began to show signs of strain.


    He turned his head slowly and looked at the beast running behind him, seeing it open its mouth strangely, as if smiling maliciously.


    " Mother F****!"


    All he could say at that moment was a few hateful curses before looking ahead. Then he tried to increase his speed, but his body had already reached its limit.


    ''I don''t have much stamina left. I need to lose this beast, or I''m dead.''


    Sollivan quickly changed his direction toward some distant trees intertwined with each other.


    But he didn''t realize that the beast had reached him at that moment and swung its sharp claws at his back.


    Sollivan felt a cold chill on his back and jumped to the side quickly.


    Slash!


    The beast''s claws grazed his back superficially, causing small wounds and tearing his clothes.


    This made Sollivan, who had intended to land on his feet, lose his balance and fall to the ground. But the techniques of his family, which he had trained in the past, didn''t leave his mind.


    Quickly, he rolled strangely like a cat, making his fall smooth, then stood up quickly and continued running toward the intertwined trees without losing momentum. The beast stopped for a moment and growled in frustration, then chased him at an even greater speed.


    Sweat poured profusely and soaked his clothes. At this stage, his breathing became completely chaotic, and his steps were no longer fast.


    He could no longer maintain the Light Steps technique and began running normally, relying only on his willpower, as his physical strength had long since run out.


    His eyes remained fixed on the group of trees that were only a few dozen meters away. Using the last of his strength, he increased his speed. But despite that, the beast reached him and pounced, wanting to kill him.


    Using the same method as before, Sollivan jumped, avoiding the beast''s saliva-filled, ferocious jaws, and rolled on the ground, filling his body with scratches and bruises caused by the stones on the ground. Then he stood up, exhausted, without hesitation, and ran.


    Every step he took was filled with despair and a deep desire to survive.


    He looked left and right, but he found nothing he could use to lose the beast chasing him except the intertwined trees ahead. Although his steps became stumbling and slow, and his breathing became irregular, while his eyes began to blur from exhaustion, he succeeded in reaching his goal.


    He was only a few steps away from his destination, but at that moment, he felt the ground beneath him shake and the air around him ripple. Faintly, he could sense a suffocating feeling of death. But he didn''t lose his composure.


    With the last of his strength, he used the Light Steps technique again, jumped forward, and turned around before landing. Then he saw the ferocious and terrifying face of the beast in front of him, with only a few centimeters separating them.


    With a mocking smile, Sollivan raised his foot and kicked the beast''s ugly face hard, causing its saliva to fly and several wrinkles to distort its already hideous face. Then he pushed himself back and entered through a small hole in the intertwined trees.


    The beast crashed into the trees and destroyed some of them due to its strength. It shoved its front leg through the hole in the trees and tried to grab Sollivan, who crawled away quickly like a worm.


    The branches and roots of the trees intertwined in a strange shape, forming a large network of small, narrow tunnels, where the light was slightly dim compared to the outside.


    From the outside, this network looked like a very wide tree composed of hundreds of branches, extending for several tens of meters.


    Huff!


    Huff!


    After moving a considerable distance away from the beast, Sollivan finally stopped crawling. His breathing was very erratic, and his face was drenched in sweat.


    But at that moment, he exhaled deeply, and his tense muscles relaxed. The nervous expression on his face faded, and he swallowed a mouthful of saliva to moisten his dry throat.


    His mind became foggy, and his eyelids grew very heavy, causing him to close his eyes and fall asleep without realizing it.


    Time passed slowly, but the beast continued to scratch the tree trunks with its sharp claws to no avail. After a very long time, it finally gave up and left to search for another prey.


    Huff!


    Sollivan opened his eyes nervously and tried to get up, but he hit his head hard against a thick tree trunk with a very sharp edge, causing a wound on his forehead.


    Hot blood flowed from the wound, which swelled quickly and stained his hair, giving him a strange warmth.


    The fog in his eyes cleared, and he regained his composure, then stretched out on his back and stared at the faint light seeping through the holes among the intertwined branches and trunks.


    He raised his hand slowly, and then he felt a sharp pain in his joints and muscles.


    He touched his bleeding forehead, then raised his hand and looked at it to find it covered in a dark liquid that wasn''t visible well due to the darkness.


    "How much time has passed, I wonder?"


    He lowered his hand and wiped the blood from his forehead, then moved very slowly and assessed his physical condition.


    "Huff, I''m exhausted. My body couldn''t handle the techniques I used. My joints hurt terribly, and my muscles are filled with tears. In my current state, I can''t do anything if I encounter more beasts."


    Gulp!


    He tried to swallow his saliva, but his mouth and lips were too dry, prompting him to stick out his tongue in an attempt to moisten them. But there was no result.


    ''I''m so thirsty.''


    Sollivan smiled wryly, then moved his exhausted body. After avoiding the trunk he had hit earlier, he turned around and changed his direction toward the exit.


    He crawled slowly and without making any sound, like a slippery worm. After a few seconds, he reached the hole he had entered earlier, where faint white light seeped through, slightly illuminating his path.


    He cautiously stuck his head out, looking left and right with a stern face, and upon confirming that his surroundings were clear, he felt some relief.


    But he didn''t come out immediately and remained lying in the tunnel for a few more minutes. During that time, he noticed that the entrance to the tunnel had widened slightly and was filled with broken branches and claw marks.


    ''Was the beast trying to widen the entrance while I was unconscious? This beast is very smart. I need to be careful.''


    Sigh!


    Sollivan emerged from his burrow and stood unsteadily on his feet, then raised his head to look at the dark sky, where a large, beautiful white moon cast its faint light on the dark forest, making it less ominous.


    Behind the large moon, thousands of shining stars and dozens of small moons of various colors were visible. Some moons were as small as a pea, and some were slightly larger, the size of a grape.


    After gazing at the sky for a brief moment, he lowered his head and muttered with a grim expression.


    "This is not my world."


    Although he had doubted it when he saw the large, strange sun in the morning, he was now certain of it.


    ''How... did this happen? And why..?''


    Even after thinking about it for a short while, Sollivan couldn''t find the right words to describe what he felt.


    But he calmed himself quickly and began to think.


    ''I''m in a different world, and even my body seems different. Although my facial features remain the same, those scales on my forehead and my black eyes aren''t part of me. Even my body has become stronger compared to my real body.''


    ''Is this because of the black book? All of this happened after I placed my blood on it.


    Is the book some kind of portal, and my blood was the trigger that activated it? But that doesn''t make sense.


    The treasures I''ve heard about and read about don''t work so simply. They require many factors to activate, and most importantly, they need Auraxis energy. But my body is ordinary; it shouldn''t be able to support the book''s activation, no matter what it does.''


    "Wait a minute?!"


    Sollivan''s body trembled, and his features twisted.


    "Am I dead? Did the book kill me and bring me to this strange world? Am I trapped here, then?"

 Chapter 5: Still Running

    Sollivan''s face froze for several minutes. His heart tightened, and his mind went blank, unable to think of anything.


    He wasn¡¯t angry or sad, but he couldn¡¯t simply accept the situation. Although everything he thought of remained mere theories that couldn¡¯t be confirmed, it turned his usually calm demeanor into chaos.


    Despite being disabled and ostracized, living a bleak life in his world, that life had been earned through the sacrifices of many people, and he had come to accept it long ago. He had even clung to hope, believing that one day he might heal himself¡ªor even find his family¡¯s killer and take revenge.


    Deep down, he knew his hopes and dreams were just fantasies that would never come true, but at this moment, he felt a profound sense of guilt.


    He had regained his legs and physical health, but in exchange, he had been transported to a place far from his homeland, surrounded by wilderness and beasts that could kill him at any moment.


    The feeling of emptiness lingered in his mind and heart for a long time, making him oblivious to his surroundings and the blood trickling from the wound on his forehead, flowing into his right eye.


    The dark blood entered his eye, causing his blank face to twitch. He tilted his head in discomfort and raised his hand to rub his eye, which now had a faint burning sensation.


    He shook his head in anger and looked up at the sky with bloodshot eyes, then let out a long sigh that carried all the negative emotions that had built up inside him.


    His heart calmed, and his mind regained clarity. He lowered his head, but then froze for a moment, his eyes widening in suspicion. He gently rubbed his blood-filled eye, cleaned it, and looked again in a specific direction.


    There, he saw a column of black smoke rising into the sky. Due to the pitch-black night and the distance, the smoke wasn¡¯t entirely clear, but Sollivan wasn¡¯t foolish enough not to recognize what it was.


    "Campfires?! The shape and size of the smoke can¡¯t be anything else. It¡¯s clear there are people nearby." His sadness and confusion disappeared, replaced by caution and wariness.


    Gulp!


    He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to moisten his dry throat.


    "Should I go and meet them? But considering I¡¯m in a different world, who knows what kind of problems I¡¯ll face when I meet them? Maybe their appearance and language are different.


    And if I can¡¯t communicate with them, I¡¯ll likely be killed due to the misunderstanding that will arise from my sudden appearance in this place and time." After thinking about it, he shook his head. "This isn¡¯t possible." His hesitation wasn¡¯t unjustified.


    Human nature is twisted, and the people nearby might be dangerous. Even if they were ordinary people, they wouldn¡¯t trust someone who appeared suddenly in the middle of a desolate plain full of beasts.


    "Let¡¯s set aside the matter of these people. I need to find a solution for my thirst. If I don¡¯t hydrate my body, my weakness will increase."


    Despite his reluctance to leave his safe spot, he had no choice. Night was the best time for beasts to hunt, but it also provided Sollivan with cover to hide and sharpened his sense of hearing.


    He gathered his courage, then bent down slowly, picked up some soil, and smeared it over his wounds and clothes to mask the pungent smell of blood that covered his body. His method wasn¡¯t 100% effective, but it reduced the spread of his scent and made it more confusing.


    After ensuring everything was fine, he began walking quietly and cautiously toward the stream he had seen in the morning. The distance between them was short, but his slow and careful pace made the journey take a long time.


    His steps were silent, thanks to his use of the Light Steps technique, which eased the burden on his exhausted muscles and joints. His ears were working at full capacity, and whenever he heard a suspicious sound, he froze in place and held his breath.


    After walking for several minutes, he began to hear the sound of fresh water flowing, making him lick his lips involuntarily.


    Without rushing, he maintained his pace and finally reached his destination. The faint moonlight reflected on the water, making it shimmer with a mesmerizing white glow.


    The sound of the flowing water eased his fear of his footsteps being heard. He walked quickly and without hesitation, like a hungry horse, plunging his head into the water that caressed his face and washed away the blood and dirt from his forehead.Stolen novel; please report.


    Gulp!


    Gulp!


    He didn¡¯t lift his head from the water as he began drinking quickly, swallowing some of his blood and the dirt scattered around his face. But he didn¡¯t mind the metallic taste and continued drinking until he ran out of breath.


    Then he lifted his head and looked around cautiously. Drops of water fell from his wet hair, making a faint sound in the lifeless area. But he didn¡¯t feel at ease and continued listening intently. After a minute of stillness, he finally moved.


    He scooped some water with his palm and cleaned the wound on his forehead, noticing that his blood looked dark under the moonlight.


    He didn¡¯t pay much attention to it and washed some scratches on his hands, ignoring the wounds that required him to remove his clothes, like the wound on his back caused by the beast¡¯s claws. After finishing, he looked at the stream and followed its path with his eyes.


    "If I continue walking along the stream, I might find some human settlements. Then, gathering information will be easier, and I won¡¯t attract much suspicion."


    Sollivan bent down again, took a few sips of water, and then headed back to his burrow with a refreshed body. After retracing his previous path, he reached his destination in slightly less time than before.


    When only a few dozen steps remained, he suddenly stopped and felt a faint shiver in his body. His expression twisted, and his gaze froze on the back of the large beast that had chased him earlier, now standing in front of the intertwined trees.


    Scrape!


    Quickly and quietly, Sollivan hid behind the nearest tree and stole a quick glance at the beast, which was cutting tree branches at the entrance with its large claws.


    The sound of wood scraping echoed in the area, accompanied by the beast¡¯s faint growl, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who heard it.


    He held his breath and took a step back, but he accidentally stepped on a small wooden branch, causing a faint cracking sound that made the beast stop and freeze in place.


    "Damn it!" Sollivan couldn¡¯t find enough words to describe his feelings at that moment other than silently cursing in his heart.


    As expected, he saw the beast slowly turn and look in his direction. The beast opened its mouth full of teeth, forming a hideous smile filled with malice.


    Run!


    That smile was like a bell that alerted him. With frantic speed, Sollivan fled, using the Light Steps technique and unleashing all the energy he had saved. Because of this, he quickly put distance between himself and the beast, which was slightly delayed in pursuing him.


    His initial speed was the result of his explosive burst of energy, but after covering dozens of meters, his steps slowed, and his breathing became erratic.


    His body hadn¡¯t recovered much energy, and because of this, he knew he couldn¡¯t run as far as before. He turned his head slightly and looked at the beast chasing him closely, then suddenly changed direction, using the trees to make the beast stumble and slow down.


    Seizing the moment, Sollivan changed his path and headed back toward the intertwined trees. But the beast regained its balance and ran parallel to him, unintentionally blocking his path to the trees.


    His eyes widened, and his steps faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. A dark look appeared on his face, and he stared in a specific direction with tense nerves.


    The beast was blocking his path while simultaneously closing the gap between them. It didn¡¯t take long for him to realize he was trapped. His expression grew darker, and his heart boiled with intense anger. He turned and glared at the beast with dagger-sharp eyes, growling:


    "You want to play rough? Let¡¯s play, then!" He quickly changed direction, stopped conserving his strength, and unleashed all his remaining energy, running as fast as he could.


    Although he was just an ordinary human, his running technique and the zigzag path he took made the beast, which was faster than him, fall behind by several meters.


    But the zigzag path filled with trees began to thin, and after running a few more meters, Sollivan left the tree-filled area and emerged into the endless grassy plain.


    But he didn¡¯t stop. Although his breathing became ragged and his steps began to falter, his eyes remained fixed on the point of light burning in a specific part of the plain.


    After they entered the open area, the beast became much faster than before due to the lack of obstacles. Within seconds, it closed the distance between them significantly.


    Sollivan realized this, but he didn¡¯t try to do anything. His strength had failed him, and all he had left was the power of will and hope driving him forward.


    The burning fire was far away, but he kept running until he could see some small tents and what appeared to be people, their shadowy figures dancing in the flickering firelight.


    Roar!


    The beast, which had caught up to Sollivan, leaped and attacked him with full force, aiming to slash his neck with its sharp claws.


    Sollivan realized this and, as usual, wanted to jump aside and dodge the attack. But his body hesitated for a split second, then he changed his mind, opened his mouth, and shouted at the top of his lungs:


    "Help!"


    The claws reached the back of his neck, but he didn¡¯t stand helpless.


    His body swayed like a slippery snake, and he twisted in a strange, curved motion, causing the sharp claws aimed at his neck to graze his thigh instead. But even that superficial blow was strong enough to knock him off balance and send him spinning like a ballerina before he fell and rolled on the ground.


    Despite the intense pain he felt, his eyes remained fixed on the people in the camp, who suddenly stood up, armed with weapons, and looked in his direction.


    The beast wasn¡¯t stupid. Seeing a group of armed people looking its way, it sensed danger and froze for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, Sollivan quickly stood up and began running, shouting in a hoarse, dry voice:


    "Help!"


    His second shout alerted the cautious people, who then began running toward him, carrying their weapons. But his shout also caught the beast¡¯s attention, and it began running toward him with frenzied speed, eager to kill him before the dangerous people arrived.


    Sollivan realized this and, in a hurried and stumbling manner, began running in a zigzag pattern. But he was too slow.


    The beast reached him and pounced on him with full force. A single blow from it would have been enough to cut Sollivan down and turn him into a lifeless corpse. But he wasn¡¯t a coward or helpless, and he didn¡¯t stand idly by waiting for death. He stopped running and turned around quickly.


    His mind was clear, and he could see everything around him clearly. The people running toward him were still a bit far away, while the beast had reached him, with only a few feet separating them.


    "There¡¯s no choice but to fight." Sollivan let out a long sigh at his miserable self, then changed his stance. He clenched his fists tightly in front of him, and his frown and sadness disappeared, replaced by a sharp, deadly gaze that made him radiate a powerful aura, contrary to his exhausted appearance.


    This aura wasn¡¯t just an illusion, as the beast itself faintly sensed danger. But it didn¡¯t stop or hesitate. It opened its mouth full of teeth and lunged at him, aiming to bite his head.


    Sollivan moved with insane force, unleashing all the strength he had, starting from his feet firmly planted on the ground, which fueled the momentum of his powerful and swift punch.


    Unexpectedly and suddenly, he punched the beast under its chin and near its windpipe.


    Smash!


    The sound of the powerful punch hitting the tough hide echoed in the area, accompanied by a faint scream and howl from both Sollivan and the beast. Sollivan¡¯s fingers broke, and the muscles in his arm tore, while the beast felt a strange dizziness and pain in its head, causing it to freeze and howl in pain.


    Its eyes became bloodshot, and its expression twisted, but despite the intense pain it felt, it attacked Sollivan and struck him with the back of its hand with great force, sending Sollivan, who was standing in place with a pained expression and a stiff body, flying like a feather and landing several meters away, hitting his head on a large rock protruding from the ground.


    "Did I succeed?" His exhausted eyes and stiff body pulsed in harmony.


    His consciousness began to fade little by little, but his vision remained fixed on the beast, which had regained its balance and began running toward him.


    "This is the end, then." He muttered silently and resignedly. He no longer wanted to struggle and had accepted the outcome that would come.


    But despite that, his eyes remained fixed on the beast, and then he saw it hesitate for a moment in


    place before leaping and dodging a long spear that fell and blocked its path.


    "Huh." Sollivan smiled faintly, closed his eyes, and lost consciousness.

 Chapter 6: Blood

    A blood-red moon rose in a starless, pitch-black sky, casting its dim crimson light over an endless, desolate land.


    In the midst of this monotonous and eerie scene stood a young man with ordinary features, black hair, and dark eyes, staring expressionlessly at a terrifying, monstrous beast that resembled a grotesque hyena.


    The beast let out a deafening roar, akin to the screams of thousands of mutilated children. Its thick, blood-like saliva splattered onto the ground, corroding it with a sizzling, unsettling sound.


    Despite the horrifying sight, Sollivan remained calm, emotionless, as if detached from the world around him. He stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before finally taking a single step forward.


    Step!


    The ground beneath him shook violently.


    Step!


    Then another. And another. In just four steps, he covered dozens of feet, closing the distance to the raging beast, which remained rooted in place, roaring incessantly.


    Sollivan raised his head and stared at the monstrous, hideous face now only a few feet away from him.


    Terror, helplessness, panic¡ªthese were the emotions anyone else would have felt in his place. Perhaps they would have even wet themselves in fear.


    But Sollivan didn¡¯t flinch, even as the beast¡¯s foul, rancid breath washed over his face, carrying an indescribable stench.


    He raised his tightly clenched fist, radiating an indescribable power, and delivered a punch straight to the beast¡¯s neck.


    Boom!


    The beast¡¯s head jerked violently, twisting at an impossible angle. But that wasn¡¯t the end of it¡ªhundreds of cracks spread across its body, starting from its neck and extending to its limbs, accompanied by a sharp, shattering sound, like a ceramic vase breaking.


    Seeing this, Sollivan¡¯s expression finally changed. A mocking smile spread across his face as he muttered coldly,


    ¡°You¡¯re just a beast.¡±


    He withdrew his fist, clasped his hands behind his back like an emperor surveying his domain, and watched indifferently as the beast howled in agony, slowly crumbling.


    But it didn¡¯t disintegrate completely; instead, its cracked body began to ooze a dark, sticky blood that pooled on the ground, forming a small puddle that quickly expanded.


    Sollivan took a few steps back, his brows furrowed in deep confusion, but he didn¡¯t intervene. The blood continued to flow, turning the puddle into a vast, red lake.


    Then, in an instant, the lake receded abruptly before surging upward, forming a massive wave that grew larger and larger, heading toward the red moon in the sky.


    At that moment, Sollivan¡¯s composure shattered. Terror gripped his features, his confidence and calm demeanor vanished, and he began to run in desperation¡ªbut it was futile.


    The wave crashed down on him, sweeping him away.


    His body was crushed, and the deadly whirlpools dragged him mercilessly, tossing him around like an ant caught in a flood. His eyes turned red, his face flushed, and blood began to seep from every pore of his body.


    He tried to scream, but the blood rushed into his mouth, choking him, suffocating his last breaths. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his body began to dissolve, merging with the raging waters around him.


    He disappeared entirely.


    ...


    ¡°Hooof¡­?!¡±


    Cough¡­! Cough¡­! Cough¡­!


    Sollivan¡¯s eyes snapped open as he gasped wildly, coughing violently. Water spurted from his mouth as if it had been trapped inside him.


    Mucus mixed with water dripped from his nose, sticking to his drenched face. His vision was blurry, and a loud ringing filled his ears as he looked around at the vague shapes surrounding him and the flickering flames in the background. His mind struggled to process what was happening.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Cough!


    His physical and emotional pain intertwined, and he couldn¡¯t stop coughing and trembling. His heart pounded madly, and his warm blood gushed from his unhealed wounds, staining the ground beneath him a dark color. He tried to move, but he couldn¡¯t, and his suffering only intensified.


    He was tied to a large pole embedded in the ground.


    After what felt like an eternity, the coughing subsided, but he was still breathing heavily. The blurriness in his vision cleared, but the pain in his head and the ringing in his ears persisted.


    Memories began flooding his mind rapidly¡ª


    His arrival in this strange world¡­


    The terrifying beast¡­


    His desperate fight, his brush with death¡­?!


    Before he could organize his thoughts, a harsh voice, laced with murderous intent, pierced his ears.


    ¡°Who are you? Where did you come from? What is your purpose?¡±


    Sollivan lifted his head with difficulty, drenched and exhausted, looking at the faces before him. They appeared human, but¡­ not entirely.


    In front of him stood several individuals with tall, muscular builds. Small red horns protruded from their foreheads, and hard, pale red scales ran across their brows and necks.


    Their ears, though human-like in structure, were long and pointed. Their other features, though strange, were close to human.


    One of the men frowned as he noticed Sollivan¡¯s eyes quickly scanning them. He stepped forward, lifted a leather pouch filled with water, tore it open, and abruptly poured the cold liquid over Sollivan¡¯s bewildered head.


    ¡°Agh¡­!¡±


    Sollivan¡¯s body convulsed violently, but he couldn¡¯t move due to the ropes binding him.


    Unintentionally, he moved his broken hand, causing him to howl in pain. At that moment, he regained full consciousness and stared at the three figures before him, stunned.


    But the man didn¡¯t stop at pouring water. He grabbed Sollivan¡¯s hand forcefully and pressed on his broken fingers, making him scream in agony.


    ¡°Aaaah¡­!!¡±


    ¡°Ah?!¡±


    Without any regard for his cries, the man repeated his question in a harsh tone.


    ¡°Who are you? Where did you come from? What is your purpose?¡±


    ¡°Answer?!¡±


    He increased the pressure on Sollivan¡¯s hand, watching his pained expression.


    When he saw Sollivan¡¯s eyes begin to lose focus, he stopped squeezing, pulled his hand away, and glanced at the small amount of blood staining his fingers with a complex expression that lasted only a moment before he regained his composure and splashed the remaining water from the pouch onto Sollivan.


    ¡°Hooof¡­!¡±


    Sollivan shuddered again, suppressing a groan. His expression twisted in pain, but despite everything, he showed no resentment or hostility. His mind was racing, but the pain in his head slowed his thoughts.


    After a brief moment, he finally opened his mouth and spoke in a trembling voice.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡±


    But he couldn¡¯t form the words properly.


    The man in front grew impatient and was about to press on Sollivan¡¯s wounds again when one of the men in the back grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.


    This person was different from the others¡ªyounger, with more prominent features. His skin was smooth, his horns longer and sharper, and their color darker than the rest. Despite standing in the back, his presence was overwhelming.


    Sollivan lowered his head helplessly, calming slightly, then finally spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sollivan... I was here... because... I don¡¯t know.¡± He shook his head with a distorted expression and stammered, ¡°I... can¡¯t remember... Ah?!¡±


    A deep frown appeared on the faces of the men before him.


    They exchanged glances, their brows furrowed, before the young man stepped forward and knelt gracefully, bringing himself to Sollivan¡¯s eye level. His sharp, dark eyes bore into Sollivan as he spoke coldly.


    ¡°Sollivan, then... Let me tell you something. We are not patient people, and your silly tricks won¡¯t work on us. So speak up and tell us who you are, and we won¡¯t make things difficult for you.¡±


    A serious look crossed Sollivan¡¯s face as he stared into the young man¡¯s eyes with fear and pain.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t remember anything. All I know is my name. I don¡¯t even know who you are or what I¡¯m doing here. Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to you? Why?¡± His fear began to turn into panic, and he lost his composure.


    His rapid, fear-filled words only deepened the frowns on the men¡¯s faces.


    The rough-looking man¡¯s brow furrowed, and he quickly stepped forward, slapping Sollivan hard across the face. The force of the blow turned Sollivan¡¯s head to the side, and blood sprayed from his mouth and nose. The man growled,


    ¡°You filthy wretch, how dare you raise your voice at the young chief!¡± He raised his hand to strike again.


    ¡°Warrior Willard, that¡¯s enough,¡± the young man said indifferently. He then looked at Sollivan, who was staring wide-eyed in the opposite direction, his lips moving as if he were saying something, but no sound came out.


    For a brief moment, a dark expression flashed across Sollivan¡¯s face before it turned to sheer terror. He began to tremble and raised his head to look at the young man¡¯s eyes, utterly stunned.


    The young man¡¯s brows furrowed, and he turned to Willard with a meaningful look before saying to Sollivan,


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten minutes. When I return, I want a satisfactory answer.¡± He stood calmly and gestured for Willard to follow him.


    ...


    [Willard¡¯s POV]


    Willard raised his hand, which had been gripping Sollivan¡¯s broken fingers, and looked at the dark blue blood staining his rough skin. Though he didn¡¯t show it, his hand trembled for a moment before stopping.


    He felt a mix of emotions and wondered inwardly, ¡°Primordial blood...¡± Even though he had seen it before, touching it made him feel a sense of inferiority.


    His complex emotions lingered for a moment before he turned his stern gaze back to Sollivan, who was writhing in pain.


    When he saw Sollivan¡¯s lips move as if trying to speak, his frown deepened, and he wanted to inflict more pain. But then he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. He turned his head respectfully and looked at the young man with the powerful aura behind him.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Willard,¡± the young man said.


    Willard took a step back and, without waiting long, saw Blear stand and gesture for him to follow.


    The two walked slowly to the edge of the camp. The number of people in the camp was small, but due to the sudden incident, the rest had been dispersed in all directions to monitor their surroundings.


    When they reached a relatively empty spot, they stopped. Blear looked at Willard with wide eyes, unable to hide the shock he had concealed earlier. ¡°Is what we saw true? This person has primordial blood.¡±


    Willard couldn¡¯t pinpoint his emotions, but his face twitched, and his expression became unusually stern. ¡°When I touched it, I felt the blood in my body tremble with inferiority.¡±


    ¡°Even if I don¡¯t believe my eyes, my instincts can¡¯t be wrong,¡± Blear said with confidence, but he lowered his head and looked at the ground uncertainly.


    ¡°How can someone with primordial blood appear in this remote part of the vast plains? It¡¯s impossible,¡± Blear added, scratching his forehead as if trying to massage his brain, which was struggling to find a solution.


    Willard thought for a moment, then spoke. ¡°We can¡¯t decide this matter on our own. Even though this person is lying about his identity, killing someone with primordial blood or leaving him be could bring a lot of trouble. We don¡¯t know who supports him.¡±


    Blear was surprised and asked, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Willard shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s something wrong with this person. Even though he has noble blood, he¡¯s incredibly weak. And his body doesn¡¯t bear any of the characteristics of the three primordial lineages.¡±


    Blear was puzzled, and his confusion grew. After a brief silence, he finally decided.


    ¡°The only two people in the tribe who can make a suitable decision about this are the chief and the priest. It seems we¡¯ll have to take him with us.¡±


    The faint chirping of a bird echoed across the vast, silent plains, making Blear and Willard look to the east.


    ¡°Dawn has already arrived. The events of this hectic night have left us unable to rest. Tell the men to pack up the camp. We¡¯ll head back to the tribe in two hours.¡±


    ...


    Sollivan stared at the large fire in the center of the camp, his expression lost and his body tense with fear. His eyes were filled with confusion and a hint of despair, but his mind grew calmer.


    ¡®My face betrayed me. Everything happened so suddenly. These brutes didn¡¯t give me a moment to think about what to say or do.¡¯


    He sighed silently. ¡®These people aren¡¯t simple. Their numbers aren¡¯t small, and they¡¯re well-trained and well-armed.¡¯ His thoughts paused as he remembered something.


    He lowered his head slowly and looked at his blood-stained clothes. In the clear light of the fire, he noticed the unfamiliar color of his blood¡ªit wasn¡¯t red but a dark blue.


    Sollivan was stunned. ¡®My blood is different. This explains their strange reactions.¡¯ With his limited knowledge and the shock of the situation, he couldn¡¯t form a logical explanation. But he was sure of one thing: his blood wasn¡¯t normal.


    ¡®Things are getting more complicated.¡¯

 Chapter 7: Strange tribe

    In the midst of the vast, monotonous, and repetitive plains, a small caravan composed of dozens of people and a few horses and carts loaded with supplies made its way.


    Most of the caravan members walked on foot, while the young leader Blear and Willard rode on massive horses, leading the group of warriors toward their destination.


    The horses they rode were not ordinary. They had massive bodies, sharp horns protruding from the center of their foreheads, blood-red eyes, and sharp fangs, making them resemble monsters more than domesticated horses.


    But the most peculiar feature of their bodies was the natural, solid armor made of their skin, which spread from their hooves to their bellies and stopped at their necks. The upper part of their bodies, their backs, were covered in fur, making riding them somewhat comfortable.


    In the middle of the caravan, where the largest number of armed warriors were gathered, Sollivan''s hands were tied to one of the carts, forcing him to walk hurriedly and stumble as his back slightly hunched from his inability to keep up with the caravan''s pace. This caused him to be dragged forward involuntarily.


    His broken hand was wrapped in thick, strange brown leather, tightly bound to prevent his fingers from moving, which somewhat alleviated his pain.


    Nevertheless, his breathing was erratic and labored, and his body was drenched in sticky sweat that made his dirty clothes cling to his skin.


    Despite his many attempts to steady his breathing, he couldn''t hide his exhaustion. But the caravan didn''t stop to rest, making his expression grow darker.


    He looked around helplessly, scanning his surroundings. If it weren¡¯t for the occasional scattered trees, anyone in his position would have thought they were walking in place.


    "Huff!"


    ''There are no hills or elevations, just a flat plain full of grass and a few trees. Even the beasts and animals are almost nonexistent. Throughout the journey, I¡¯ve only seen a few birds.


    This land is like an endless desert plain. Seeing this monotonous view for a long time would make anyone stuck here uncomfortable. But that¡¯s not the problem.''


    He shook his head irritably and glanced at the warriors surrounding him, muttering.


    ''How much farther do we have to go before these people stop to rest? We¡¯ve been walking for five hours at a very fast pace, but they haven¡¯t shown any desire to stop.''


    He lowered his head and looked at their feet, observing their strange way of walking for a short while before letting out a sarcastic sigh.


    ''Ordinary humans can¡¯t keep up with trained warriors.''


    He wasn¡¯t blind, and he knew they were using some kind of movement technique, like light steps. For him, the distance they had covered was extremely long and had exhausted his body.


    If it weren¡¯t for his strong willpower, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to continue. But for the warriors around him, their pace was very slow, to the point that some of them complained about it.


    ...


    Hours passed, and the sun began to set peacefully, but the caravan didn¡¯t stop.


    Instead, they continued their journey at an even faster pace. Each step they took covered a great distance. As for Sollivan , he sat on one of the carts and silently watched their path.


    A few hours earlier, he had reached his limit and could no longer walk, causing him to collapse and be dragged by the cart. The caravan finally stopped because of this, and after a brief consultation, they decided to place him on the cart and continue their journey.


    They could have done this from the beginning, but Sollivan was just a prisoner who couldn¡¯t expect kind or respectful treatment. If he hadn¡¯t been slowing them down, they wouldn¡¯t have moved him to the cart.


    Despite the rest he had gotten, his nerves didn¡¯t relax, and his expression grew darker.


    His sharp eyes kept looking at the strange shape that had appeared in the distance on the plain. His body tensed and twitched involuntarily, but in the end, he could only mock himself.


    ''Can¡¯t things be a little easier? Ever since I came here, I¡¯ve been jumping from one danger to another, facing problems beyond my capacity.''


    He raised his head and looked at the crimson sky that was about to darken, smiling bitterly.


    ''It¡¯s all so ironic. I¡¯d rather go back home and read books. One adventure in this life is enough for me.''


    He fell silent, lamenting his uncertain fate, but despite that, he quickly regained his composure and turned to look at the warriors around him with curiosity.


    He was no longer anxious¡ªor rather, he hid his anxiety by letting his curious personality take over. He observed the warriors and examined their bodies carefully.


    ''I wonder, what is the name of their race? It¡¯s clear they¡¯re not human, despite the slight similarities between us.''


    He thought for a moment, furrowing his brows with a complicated expression.


    ''Ignorance is a fatal weakness. I¡¯ve read all kinds of books and manuscripts, but all my knowledge is useless now. That¡¯s why they say: A thousand miles of travel is better than reading a thousand books.''


    He mocked his own ignorance, then cleared his mind and began reviewing everything that had happened to him, raising the questions he deemed appropriate.


    ''There are significant differences between us, and we share no connection or knowledge.


    This puts me in a weak position, and I¡¯ll be seen as a threat. That¡¯s not the problem here. They¡¯re strong, and I¡¯m weak, which makes me nothing more than a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.''


    His mouth twitched as he thought about it, and he involuntarily swallowed a mouthful of saliva.


    ''No, it¡¯s clear they don¡¯t know what to do with me. Is this because of my blood? This complicates things even more. Maybe I¡¯ll become a slave. Ah, there¡¯s no use thinking about it. I can¡¯t find any solutions or answers. This is frustrating.''You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He resisted the urge to scream in surrender, but in the end, he raised his head and let out a long sigh that all the warriors around him noticed.


    ''Everything will be revealed soon.''


    ...


    His gaze fell on the small, strangely shaped city ahead of them.


    At its center stood a massive structure resembling a tall, primitive cylindrical tower. It had no features¡ªno windows, no pointed peaks, no protruding shapes¡ªjust a stone cylinder, with some blue grass growing on it, altering its color in some places.


    But the rest of the city¡¯s components weren¡¯t visible due to a massive wall surrounding it on all sides. There were a few small towers designated for archers, but they weren¡¯t very tall or well-crafted.


    For Sollivan , who had seen the architectural beauty of the Golden Lion Kingdom, this city seemed crude, dilapidated, and extremely primitive. Even the Red Bell City where he lived, which he despised for its backwardness, seemed advanced in comparison.


    The materials used in the construction were random and inconsistent. A large part of the wall was made of square yellow stones stacked together, but in some sections, it was built of wood or patched with clay and bones.


    Even after examining the massive wall, he didn¡¯t think much about it. He didn¡¯t have the luxury of enjoying the scenery.


    When the caravan reached the city¡¯s large iron gate, his heart began to pound, and his body tensed. His thoughts fell silent, and the only thing left in his mind was a single sentence repeating like an alarm.


    ''Whatever lies beyond this gate, I must survive.''


    In the tall towers beside the gate, the guards watched the caravan of warriors with confused faces full of questions. They glanced at each other in bewilderment, and none of them dared to leave their posts.


    The young leader Blear and Willard saw this but didn¡¯t do anything.


    They remained standing in their places, looking at a specific spot. After a few moments, a large, burly man with a thick beard and disheveled hair appeared.


    His face was marred by a massive scar that ran from the middle of his head to his chin. His face looked fierce and terrifying, but contrary to his appearance, his eyes were calm and clear, out of place with his demeanor.


    "Open the gate," the fierce man ordered in a calm voice, then left his position without looking back.


    Creak!


    The iron gate slowly opened, revealing the interior of the small city, which consisted of hundreds of small houses¡ªor rather, hundreds of large tents made of beast hides and wood.


    The tents were arranged in an orderly manner, forming neighborhoods and streets, with some empty spaces here and there. A wide street divided the city into two sections, starting from the large gate.


    The group of warriors and Sollivan entered through the gate and walked down the wide street. Whenever the passersby saw them, they made way and stood to the side with their hands clasped over their chests and their heads held high.


    Even Sollivan , drowning in fear, couldn¡¯t resist the urge to enjoy the strange and fascinating sight of the city.


    When he saw the people¡¯s actions on the sides of the road, he immediately realized it was a form of respectful greeting filled with reverence.


    He looked at the young leader riding his horse with pride and dignity, like a crowned prince. Then he remembered some of the warriors¡¯ conversations about him.


    ''They referred to him as the young leader. Does that mean he¡¯s like the royal heir here? What an honor to be captured by their prince personally.''


    Despite his sarcasm, his expression remained dark, and it grew even darker when he saw the caravan approaching a large, arched tent in the center of the city. Due to its enormous size, the tent looked like a small palace.


    As for the stone tower, after entering the city, its location became clear to Sollivan. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn¡¯t located in the center of the tribe but at its end, outside the wall surrounding the tribe, isolated from the rest.


    ''The feeling of helplessness refuses to leave me.''


    The caravan stopped in front of the large tent¡¯s gate, surrounded by strong warriors wearing thick leather armor.


    Their armor wasn¡¯t well-crafted, and even the armor of low-ranking guards in his kingdom was better. But it was clear that the materials they used were of very high quality and expensive.


    Sollivan wasn¡¯t a master of the Arcane or someone who had strengthened his body, but he had seen many strong people in his life. He immediately realized that the guards of the large tent were extremely powerful individuals, the elite warriors of this tribe.


    "Get down," Willard stood by the cart and pointed at him with a stern expression.


    Without hesitation, Sollivan climbed down from the cart and stood politely and respectfully.


    But contrary to his polite demeanor, Willard grabbed his arm with a strong grip, making him groan, and dragged him hurriedly toward the tent¡¯s gate. The guards in the area watched them with sharp, hawk-like eyes, but they didn¡¯t do anything and remained standing like stone statues.


    Blear walked at the front, and as soon as he reached the gate and was about to enter, he paused for a moment, causing Willard and Sollivan to stop as well.


    He turned slowly and looked at the warriors who had accompanied him, then ordered in a very stern voice.


    "No one is allowed to leave until the leader decides on this matter.


    If any of the information you¡¯ve witnessed leaks out, you will be executed. Is that understood?!"


    All the warriors nodded and thumped their chests with their clenched fists.


    "Understood."


    Their voices were as strong as their bodies, making Sollivan''s ears ache.


    Despite hearing his followers¡¯ response, Blear didn¡¯t show any reaction. All he did was look at one of the guards at the gate.


    "Make sure they carry out this order."


    Unlike the other warriors, the guard didn¡¯t overreact. He simply nodded faintly and returned to standing like a statue.


    They began walking again and entered through the large gate, arriving at a long hallway with some closed wooden doors on the sides. But at the end of the hallway was a large door guarded by two tall figures.


    Blear''s stern expression and fierce aura, which radiated strength, became subdued and filled with respect. His strong steps became lighter, as if he didn¡¯t want to disturb the sanctity of the place.


    Sollivan saw the changes in him and sneered inwardly with resentment.


    He wanted to curse Blear and Willard , who was hurting his shoulder, at the top of his lungs, but he resisted that overwhelming urge to avoid hastening his death. He continued walking with dignity and calm, even though he was being dragged forcefully by Willard.


    His eyes burned with intense anger, but his face was filled with fear that he tried to hide. He wasn¡¯t acting or pretending¡ªit was the truth of his feelings. No matter how strong his willpower was, he wasn¡¯t an unshakable person.


    He passed by the guards at the large door, and at that moment, he felt his blood pulse strangely.


    But that feeling quickly faded after they passed through and entered a large hall in the middle of the palace tent. The tent was well-lit despite the absence of any flames.


    Sollivan raised his head and looked at the large, glowing stone emitting a pure white light at the top of the hall.


    ''A glowing stone.''


    This stone wasn¡¯t unfamiliar to him. He had seen it in his uncle¡¯s palace and in the palaces of powerful families. Although glowing stones weren¡¯t extremely rare, they were still expensive, especially one of this size, which he had never seen before.


    He didn¡¯t stare at the stone for long, then quickly looked around and examined the hall, decorated with the finest types of soft leather and covered with a very smooth carpet. Finally, his gaze fell on the end of the hall, where a large throne stood slightly elevated as a sign of high status.


    But he didn¡¯t contemplate the throne for long, because as soon as he saw the person sitting on it and their eyes met, his blood began to boil again.


    This time, the boiling was so intense that he felt a great heat in his body.


    His thoughts stopped, and he couldn¡¯t calm himself. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening to him, but his eyes didn¡¯t leave the person sitting on the ornate throne.


    It was a noble-looking man in his late thirties, exuding a powerful and noble aura. He looked at Sollivan with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce deep into his soul.


    Like the others he had seen before, this man wasn¡¯t ordinary¡ªhe seemed even more peculiar. His horns were extremely long and sharp compared to the others, and his scales were a deep crimson. Unlike the others, his scales weren¡¯t just on his forehead and neck but extended down to below his eyes. Even his irises were brown with a reddish tint.


    His face was chiseled with a masculine structure, and his eyebrows looked sharp like swords. Although he didn¡¯t say anything, Sollivan , frozen in place, felt a slight suffocation just by looking at him.


    He didn¡¯t understand the reason and didn¡¯t have the chance to think about it because he was trying to calm his strangely burning body. After several seconds, he finally managed to lower his head and calm himself. He looked at the ground, his face drenched in sweat, and didn¡¯t dare to raise his head again.


    His emotions and thoughts churned in silence. At this moment, he was certain that he couldn¡¯t do anything. Whatever his fate was, he had to stop all desires to resist and accept it.


    ...


    While he was lost in his inner turmoil, the young leader Blear stepped forward and stood before the throne, thumping his chest with his strong fist.


    "This young man greets the Supreme Leader."


    He lowered his hand, opened his fist, and patted his chest more gently, then greeted again.


    "This young man greets the High Priest."


    His second greeting was directed at a strange man standing behind the emperor¡¯s throne.


    Unlike the others, the High Priest wore a black robe that covered his entire body and head, revealing only his pale eyes, which remained fixed on Sollivan in a strange manner. Even hidden behind his robe, he couldn¡¯t hide the widening of his eyes.


    After a brief moment of stillness, the High Priest¡¯s eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced quickly at the Supreme Leader, who remained fixed on **Sollivan**. He didn¡¯t do or say anything, like the others, and waited silently for the Supreme Leader to speak with his rigid expression.


    None of the attendees were surprised by this strange development, as the Supreme Leader was the person with the purest blood in their tribe.


    It was clear that the reaction his blood had upon sensing primordial blood was the strongest among them. After a long silence, the Supreme Leader finally spoke.


    "This is truly unbelievable."


    His voice was strong and eloquent in a strange way.


    But after saying these few words, he fell silent again for a few seconds before saying in a slightly harsh tone


    "High Priest Otieno, examine his body."


    It seemed as though the High Priest had been eagerly waiting for these words.


    He hurriedly walked forward without responding to the king and stood in front of Sollivan , who didn¡¯t dare to raise his head again, fearing he might lose control of his body once more.


    Everything that had happened to him since arriving in this world was so strange that he couldn¡¯t keep up with it all. Even now, he couldn¡¯t think clearly.


    Before he realized it, he saw a tall, dark shadow standing in front of him. He felt the grip on his shoulder loosen as **Willard** released him and took a respectful step back.


    He finally raised his head and looked at the tall, dark figure before him, seeing only his strange black eyes.


    But this time, his blood didn¡¯t react. On the contrary, he felt a cold shiver deep in his soul. Vaguely, he didn¡¯t understand the reason for his dark feeling and strange fear.


    Before he could say anything, he saw a pale, thin hand with slightly unnaturally long fingers gripping his uninjured wrist. Despite the icy coldness he felt and the terrifying tremors overwhelming his heart, he didn¡¯t dare pull his hand away.

 Chapter 8: The Truth of Blood

    A cold sensation emanated from his wrist, spreading throughout his entire body, as if an invisible eye were staring deep into his soul. He held his breath for a moment and furrowed his brows.


    Earlier, when he had seen the bodies of the warriors and felt their powerful auras, he realized they belonged to an elite group of the strong. But now, he was utterly stunned by the strength of this small tribe.


    Everyone knew that when Arcane Masters reached a certain level, they developed what was known as "superior perception," akin to having extra eyes that could see everything. For the first time in his life, he felt this sensation sweeping over his entire body.


    Despite his astonishment, his eyes never left the priest''s, and he cautiously observed the expressions on the priest''s face.


    At first, he noticed the priest opening his eyes in surprise, but after a few seconds, that surprise turned into deep confusion, causing the priest''s brows to arch.


    A few seconds later, the priest hesitantly removed his cold hand from Sollivan''s wrist, as if wanting to examine his body again, but he didn''t. Instead, he turned to look at the Supreme Leader.


    At that moment, Sollivan let out a sigh of relief.


    But before he could fully relax, he felt a strong hand grip his arm. He slowly turned his head and frowned at Willard, but he didn''t utter a word, enduring it in silence. Then he refocused his attention on the priest, who remained silent.


    A strange look appeared in the priest''s eyes, and Sollivan listened intently to what he would say next.


    This was his only chance to unravel some of the mysteries surrounding his condition and gain information. Ever since he noticed the cautious way the warriors had treated him, his mind had been filled with questions.


    After a moment of hesitation, the priest declared firmly, "He indeed possesses primal blood. The young leader''s suspicions were not mistaken." His words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving everyone in shock.


    Even the guards, who had remained as silent as statues, involuntarily stumbled in their places. Everyone turned at the same moment and stared at Sollivan with sharp eyes filled with fear.


    Even Sollivan himself opened his mouth in astonishment. ''Primal blood? What is that? Why is everyone so shocked? Is it something great or terrible?''*


    At first, he thought the priest''s answer would clear up the confusion, but it only deepened his bewilderment. He quickly glanced around, his eyes eventually landing on the Supreme Leader, whose face bore a stern and serious expression, though he tried to hide it.


    No one noticed that the priest had shown a strange expression and hesitantly opened his mouth before declaring once more.


    "His blood is primal, but it is not pure. It is filled with impurities, and he is not a pure Kornavar like us. In fact, he is a hybrid of another race."


    Everyone in the room gasped again, and even the Supreme Leader let out a relieved sigh, his tense expression easing slightly. Sollivan, who had been observing him from the beginning, noticed this and felt a sharp pang in his heart.


    He turned his head and scanned the faces of those present, finding that their shock had lessened, replaced by complex expressions. He didn''t understand why.


    ''The word "hybrid" changed everyone''s attitude. What does it mean? And why am I a hybrid? Are all these changes that happened to me because of that strange black book?''


    The questions in his mind multiplied, but he remembered something.


    ''So their race is called Kornavar. I was sure they weren''t human like me, even though I''ve become half-Kornavar and something else.''


    After a minute of silence, Blear asked the question that was on everyone''s mind.


    "What is his full race, Your Eminence, the High Priest? You are the only one qualified to determine that."


    There weren''t many races in their world, and the vast plains they lived in were ruled by scattered tribes. No trace of other races had appeared throughout known history.


    Blear was burning with curiosity, as he was a young man who had yet to experience the adventures of exploring the distant world. Though he tried to hide it, his question carried a hint of envy.


    In the "Red Horns" tribe, the High Priest was the most knowledgeable, for two reasons. First, as a priest, he had studied in the Priest''s Tower, granting him knowledge even the Supreme Leader couldn''t access.


    Second, Priest Otieno had left the tribe in his youth and wandered the plains. There were rumors that he had reached the western borders before heading to the central city where the Priest''s Tower stood.


    The priest remained silent and didn''t answer Blear immediately, but the latter wasn''t annoyed and waited patiently. Everyone understood that determining the race of a stranger was a difficult task.


    Even Sollivan felt curious and wanted to know the answer. He looked at the priest, who seemed lost in thought, and suddenly the priest turned to him and grabbed his wrist again.


    He felt the same cold shiver, but this time he didn''t flinch. Instead, the priest stared at Sollivan, examining every part of his body.


    He withdrew his hand and touched Sollivan''s forehead with his cold fingers, feeling the smooth black scales, unlike their own hard scales. He opened Sollivan''s eyes and looked into his black pupils, then placed his hand on his chin and opened his mouth.


    No one interrupted, and everyone waited in anticipation. Even the Supreme Leader, who had dominated the atmosphere in the room, faded into the background as everyone''s curiosity grew.


    Meeting someone with primal blood was no ordinary event, even if his blood was impure.


    After a moment of silence, everyone regained their composure, and the shock on their faces was replaced with looks of challenge and envy. Even Willard, who stood to the side, shot Sollivan a glance of inexplicable hatred.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Finally, the priest released Sollivan''s hand and stepped back slightly, allowing Sollivan to breathe a sigh of relief. His entire body had been examined to the point where he felt embarrassed and violated by the intrusion into his privacy.


    The priest looked at the Supreme Leader, and this time his gaze was filled with relief, without any confusion or hesitation.


    He said calmly, "He is half-human. This explains why his body lacks any distinctive features and why he is so weak. Everyone knows that humans are impure beings, with a weak lineage and great sin."


    All of Sollivan''s complex emotions vanished, replaced by a strange expression on his face. He had been eager to learn any information about humans, but what he heard froze him in place. "Humans are a sinful and weak race."


    He didn''t fully understand the meaning of the priest''s words, but he realized they were directed at the Supreme Leader, who now looked completely at ease.


    Sollivan wasn''t stupid, and he immediately understood that the tribe had been tense because of his primal blood, but learning that he was a human hybrid had dispelled their concerns.


    ''What does this mean? Humans can''t be that weak. Even if their tribe is strong, I''m sure the Golden Lion Empire could easily wipe out this tribe.


    Is there a reason behind this? And what does he mean by lineage? Humans in my world rely on energy, not lineages like beasts.''


    There were significant differences in the concepts he knew.


    The humans who ruled his world were merely an impure and weak race in this world, and perhaps their training methods were different or nonexistent. He didn''t understand the intense hatred for humans, but the word "sinful" gave him an idea of their status.


    Willard glanced at Sollivan with a hint of hidden schadenfreude, then turned his attention to the Supreme Leader.


    After uncovering the mystery surrounding Sollivan, the High Priest returned to stand behind the large throne, awaiting the Supreme Leader''s final decision.


    Blear, standing at the back, sighed softly and let out a long breath, then looked at Sollivan one last time and muttered under his breath, "My worry was unnecessary, but things won''t end so simply.


    Even if he''s half-human, he still has primal blood. It''s clear that Father won''t rush into any decisions."


    His thoughts were on point. Earlier, when they were leading Sollivan to the tribe, he had sent a message to his father, informing him of everything, but he kept some ambiguity.


    He didn''t tell them that Sollivan had primal blood, only that he suspected it. The strange characteristics of Sollivan had made them certain that something was amiss, and now everything was clear.


    The Supreme Leader''s stern gaze swept over everyone in the room, making them shiver. Then he spoke in a rough, authoritative voice, "This person will remain with us, and we won''t make any decisions for now.


    To avoid any unwanted incidents, he will be marked with the Well''s seal. As for everyone present here, you will keep everything that happened a secret.


    This is confidential information that must not reach enemy tribes or even members of our own tribe.


    Blear, relay my words to your followers. Anyone who dares to leak this information will be exterminated along with their family. This tribe has not encountered any strangers in recent days."


    Everyone fell silent and listened intently. Even after hearing his threat of execution for traitors, no one blinked or seemed surprised. In fact, his orders were less severe than they had expected.


    The Supreme Leader raised his hand and opened his mouth, but he paused for a moment. "This hybrid will be detained in the Well''s Tower. He cannot leave, and no one can meet him. Priest Otieno."


    The priest stepped forward quickly and stood before the Supreme Leader with utmost respect. "What are your orders, Your Excellency?"


    "I leave this person in your custody. Handle him with care." The Supreme Leader''s tone was cold and threatening. A dark glint appeared in his eyes as he scrutinized Priest Otieno.


    The priest showed no reaction, only bowing his head slightly and replying submissively, "Your words are law, my lord. Who would dare to disobey?"


    The Supreme Leader waved his hand, "Everyone may leave, except Blear."


    His tone was as cold as ever, but it softened slightly when he mentioned his son''s name. No one reacted to the order, and everyone began to leave, including the guards.


    Sollivan remained standing, observing the room with a dark, enigmatic expression.


    Because of this, Willard yanked him forcefully, causing him to stumble and rush toward the door.


    A mocking smile appeared on Willard''s face, as if he were laughing silently, but Sollivan only gave him a sidelong glance before straightening his posture and walking slowly, as if he weren''t a prisoner but a guest.


    His cold demeanor wasn''t unjustified. He hadn''t been in control of his fate since being captured. If his fate was death, he would accept it with dignity without bowing his head to these people.


    As he walked proudly through the castle''s corridor, he felt an intense cold spreading across his back.


    Without turning around, he sensed a cold presence behind him, rendering him unable to do anything but walk in silence. Even the pride in his steps faded, and he couldn''t maintain his composure.


    Behind him, beside Willard, Priest Otieno suddenly appeared and walked silently, his strange eyes fixed on Sollivan''s back.


    Because of this sudden appearance, Willard shuddered and broke out in a cold sweat.


    All his arrogance and mockery vanished, and his steps became devoid of pride, as if he had tucked his head into his neck, wanting to disappear from the priest''s sight. The priests weren''t particularly liked by the tribe members due to their strange temperaments and dark auras.


    Everyone knew the reason was their dealings with the Well, which tainted everything around it. Despite their deep respect for the priests, they couldn''t coexist with them amicably.


    "Damn it," Sollivan cursed silently and swallowed a mouthful of cold saliva. He didn''t know why, but ever since meeting the priest, he had felt a bad premonition. Though it was unnatural, he didn''t want to ignore it.


    Since coming to this world, his strange senses had saved him from several deadly dangers. He frowned worriedly, *''This man has something bad in mind.


    I don''t know what it is, but it''s not good for me. Even the Supreme Leader seemed wary of him earlier, to the point of threatening him not to do anything strange. Can''t things be easier?''* Even his desire to curse vanished, replaced by deep sarcasm at his bad luck.


    ...


    After leaving the Supreme Leader''s palace and passing through the silent, torch-lit tribe, Sollivan, his guards, and the High Priest finally reached the end of the main street running through the center of the tribe, arriving at the protective wall.


    But this side looked completely different due to the cylindrical tower connected to it. In the wall, there was a massive metal gate guarded by four individuals.


    Unlike the regular warriors who wore leather armor, these guards were dressed in dark black robes that covered their entire bodies, similar to the High Priest, but with additional layers of light leather armor over their robes, indicating their status as warrior priests.


    When they saw the High Priest and the entourage of guards accompanying him, two guards stepped forward and gently touched their chests with their palms.


    Their greeting was gentle, unlike the warriors'' salute, which was filled with cruelty and strength, making Sollivan slightly surprised. To him, the priests seemed like an independent organization, even though they were part of the tribe. Even their base was outside the city walls and strangely fortified.


    "Open the gate. You two will guard this person. The rest, leave."


    The priest gestured for the accompanying warriors and Willard to leave, which they did without hesitation.


    In fact, their steps were unusually quick, making Sollivan feel that there was something wrong with the place he was being taken to.


    He raised his head, looking up at the tall, dark tower, then took a step forward toward the guards standing in front of him.


    He had spent a long and arduous day, and exhaustion weighed heavily on his body, but he kept his senses alert, watching the black door leading into the tower as it slowly opened.


    As soon as it opened wide enough, a chilling darkness seeped into the area, and the torches around him seemed to dim significantly.


    For a moment, he thought he saw shadows moving, forming sinister shapes, but it lasted only a brief moment before everything returned to normal, and the interior of the tower became clear before him.


    The guards pushed him inside, and they walked alongside the priest through a long corridor with branching side passages, lined with torches and doors along the walls.


    Their footsteps made faint sounds as they led him to an unknown destination, and during that time, he began to carefully examine his surroundings. He looked at the walls made of square stones but frowned for a moment.


    ''These aren''t rocks... they''re much lighter. They seem more like a powdered material mixed and shaped in some way.''


    He had read about some civilizations that built their homes from certain types of soil that later hardened to become as strong as rock.


    He had also read about secret techniques that could alter the nature of materials through complex reactions, making them suitable for use in specific environments.


    Only a few minutes had passed inside this strange tower, but he immediately realized it wasn''t an ordinary structure¡ªit had been built for a specific purpose.


    The tower was massive, with many rooms and floors, and he caught glimpses of staircases leading to them as he walked. He continued analyzing everything around him until the group stopped in front of a large white door guarded by two burly men.


    Clang!


    The priest pulled out a large set of keys from his robe, containing three large keys. He selected one and inserted it into a small hole in the door, then turned it.


    Creak!


    Rumble!


    The door automatically slid to the side, and the ground shook slightly, emitting a loud creaking sound from behind the walls. At that moment, Sollivan was surprised by the thickness and weight of the door, as well as the relatively advanced mechanism in this primitive tribe.


    His former kingdom had been highly advanced in several fields, and when he arrived in this tribe, he had thought they were technologically backward. But this moment made him reevaluate his view of them.


    "Move."


    One of the guards pushed him forward, and they walked through the dark staircase behind the door, but they only took a few steps before encountering another white door.


    The priest pulled out another key and opened the door in the same manner, then they continued until they reached the third door, just as Sollivan had expected.


    As soon as the last door was opened, the two guards stopped and pushed him forward, past the priest, who showed no interest. Then, without turning to him, the priest pushed him from behind and said coldly, "Keep walking."


    Sollivan turned his head slightly, only to be startled by the priest''s eyes, which had become strangely dark, sending a shiver down his spine.


    Whoosh!


    At that moment, he felt a cold breeze seep into his bones, making him hesitate for a moment before looking toward the end of the dark staircase. Part of him screamed to stop, but the reality was clear¡ªhe had no choice. Stopping meant being dragged down by force, which could worsen his situation.


    Gulp!


    He pushed aside his hesitation and slowly walked down the dark staircase until he reached the bottom. There, he saw


    a faint light barely illuminating the space ahead, making his blurry vision slightly clearer.


    Then, as he took the last step off the staircase, his eyes widened, and his body froze in shock at what he saw before him¡­

 Chapter 9: A Human Shadow

    He had read many descriptions of strange places in his world, but he had never seen or heard of anything resembling what he was witnessing now. His body froze, and his blood began to simmer faintly. His eyes remained fixed on the black figure in the center of the dark, vast hall.


    The figure wasn¡¯t clear; it looked like a massive abyss filled with a sticky black substance moving in all directions randomly.


    Although the sides of the hall were illuminated by dozens of glowing stones, the light seemed to be absorbed into that black hole, from which a cold breeze whispered like the breath of death, accompanied by an indescribable, strange odor.


    "Move." The priest pushed him from behind, snapping him out of his daze and causing him to take a stumbling step forward.


    He stopped himself and quickly glanced around before his eyes returned to the pit that resembled a deep abyss¡ªor rather, a well of tragedies.


    During his quick scan of the room, he noticed several people present, dressed in black robes like all the priests he had seen before. However, unlike them, the auras of these individuals seemed faint and muddled, as if they had been dipped in a pit of sticky mud.


    He walked slowly and hesitantly, approaching the strange pit.


    As he got closer, the simmering in his blood intensified, but this time it wasn¡¯t hot. Instead, he felt an intense cold running through him, as if his blood was rushing with eagerness and longing, accompanied by something else.


    Unconsciously, his nose began to bleed. Drops of his blood fell to the ground, and with each drop, the darkness in the black well rippled toward him, as if drawn by a mysterious force.


    His hesitant steps came to a halt, and he wanted to retreat, but suddenly he saw the darkness gather together, forming a large, tentacle-like appendage. It wasn¡¯t solid but rather sticky, like a muddy tentacle dripping with drops of darkness.


    The appendage crawled across the ground, leaving behind a trail of black liquid. At that moment, Sollivan wanted to retreat and escape, but he couldn¡¯t. He faintly realized that his body was frozen in place by a mysterious force that prevented him from moving.


    His expression contorted, but he didn¡¯t allow panic to take over. He kept watching the appendage as it slowly crawled toward him until it reached the spot where his blood had fallen.


    "What is this thing?" he thought silently as he observed the appendage touching his blood and beginning to absorb it.


    The appendage emitted a strong pulsating sound, then suddenly leaped toward his face¡ªor rather, toward his blood.


    Sollivan wanted to retreat, but he forgot that his body was immobilized. Before he could react, the priests in the hall finally moved, making strange gestures with their hands at a frantic speed.


    Their energy harmonized, and several black chains emerged from their hands, intertwining before falling over the mouth of the well, covering it like a large net that emitted an annoying clinking sound.


    The shadowy appendage that had reached Sollivan¡¯s face disintegrated into a black mist, colliding with him and scattering in all directions.


    Cough! Cough!


    The darkness in the hall lessened, and all the priests around the well let out a long sigh. They looked at him simultaneously with eyes filled with shock and resentment.


    The chains in their hands disintegrated, and the darkness returned to spread throughout the place, but the well became calmer than before.


    As for the High Priest, he remained standing in his spot, watching everything that had happened with an ambiguous expression, but his dark eyes gleamed faintly when he saw the strange appendage.


    After everything had calmed down, he walked forward and placed his hand on Sollivan¡¯s shoulder, who was sweating profusely, and ordered coldly, "Move forward."


    Although his mind was still chaotic and hadn¡¯t fully recovered from what had happened, Sollivan walked involuntarily and approached the pit, causing all the priests around him to heighten their vigilance and prepare for any emergency. But this time, nothing happened.


    "Kneel."


    Sollivan, who had felt the chill of death moments ago, didn¡¯t dare to disobey the priest¡¯s orders.


    Without hesitation, he knelt down while his eyes remained fixed on the dark well before him, filled with fear and awe.


    But at that moment, he noticed that the turbulent darkness began to calm down slightly, and then small red eyes appeared, looking at him for a moment before disappearing.


    Everything happened so quickly that he couldn¡¯t clearly see the mysterious figure, but his expression stiffened.


    He turned his head and looked at everyone around him, noticing that their expressions hadn¡¯t changed. He wondered with furrowed brows that didn¡¯t hide his fear.


    ''Did they not see that? Or is it something normal in this crazy pit? What the hell is this place, and what do they plan to do with me here?''


    His questions and confusion multiplied, making his heart race, but suddenly he regained his composure and focused all his attention on the priest, who suddenly placed his hand on his head.


    The priest¡¯s long fingers touched his forehead, making him feel disgusted, but his expression didn¡¯t change, and he kept staring blankly at the pit before him.


    He began to hear a mysterious muttering coming from behind him, but it also seemed distant at the same time.


    He felt a slight dizziness that made him forget his terror, and it seemed as if he had fallen into a long illusion. But that dark feeling lasted only a moment before disappearing. At that moment, he saw the faint black mist floating above the pit moving strangely and harmonizing with the obscure words.


    The mist gathered and began to take shape, transforming into a long, thin chain. Before he could realize what it was, the chain flew toward him at high speed.


    His eyes widened, and his fear returned. He wanted to avoid the chain, but he was helpless to move, and all he could do was watch helplessly. The chain hit his forehead, but he felt no pain.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Instead, his mental state began to change suddenly. His fear and the feeling of helplessness he had felt disappeared, and he no longer thought about anything.


    All that remained was a haze and a deep desire to sleep. Yet, he still had a vague feeling of something cold wandering through his body unchecked.


    Time passed extremely slowly, and after what felt like an eternity, he regained his clarity and mental stability. At that moment, his eyes widened, and he turned his head in confusion.


    His senses returned to full strength, and he realized that the mysterious muttering coming from the priest¡¯s mouth had stopped.


    But he didn¡¯t feel relieved; on the contrary, his mood became disturbed. He slowly lowered his head and looked at his chest. He didn¡¯t know why, but he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart, capable of crushing it at any moment.


    ''Is this an illusion? Or is this the Well¡¯s seal their leader spoke of?''


    All he could think of was more questions. He raised his head and looked at the dark abyss, letting out a long sigh.


    ''More questions. Ever since I set foot in this world, dozens of questions have piled up in my mind, and it doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯ll get any answers soon. An uncertain fate and lost thoughts. Things don¡¯t seem to be getting any better.''


    While lost in his sarcasm, he saw the darkness of the well ripple ominously again before the small red eyes he had observed earlier appeared.


    His body shivered involuntarily as he remembered the black appendage from before.


    He moved slowly, and this time he found himself able to move. He turned toward the priest standing behind him and noticed that he was breathing heavily. "Does the seal exhaust him?"


    When this question crossed his mind, he saw the priest, who was breathing heavily, suddenly raise his head and look at him with astonished eyes before shouting in a tone filled with anger and fear.


    "Stop the shadow!" The priest moved quickly and pushed Sollivan, who was lost in his daze, aside, causing him to fall to the ground and skid several steps, scraping the black soil beneath him. His expression twisted, and he groaned in pain, but he didn¡¯t let his guard down.


    He looked at the spot where he had been standing and saw the High Priest and the other priests surrounding something black¡ªor rather, a dark humanoid figure with red eyes moving frantically in all directions, dodging the priests¡¯ attacks. But despite its speed, the shadow wasn¡¯t strong enough.


    One of the chains sent by the priests pierced its chest, and the monster¡¯s chest deformed and exploded, turning into a vague mist accompanied by a loud, annoying scream.


    "Damn it, more trouble!" Sollivan cursed loudly while covering his ears as tightly as he could.


    But his eyes didn¡¯t leave the misty figure, which continued to flee despite its injury. At that moment, the atmosphere around them cooled, and the cold breeze coming from the well stopped.


    All the priests turned at the same time and looked at the well, which had become strangely still, with grim expressions.


    Sollivan didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but the priests¡¯ expressions made his heart race.


    "Damn it!" One of the priests wanted to curse, but the words got stuck in his throat when the sticky substance in the well rippled violently, and a massive, grotesque head emerged from it, so horrifying that the sight alone was enough to induce nausea.


    The monster had a lizard-like head, but it had ten eyes scattered irregularly across its face, along with dozens of short, sharp horns protruding from below its mouth. The well wasn¡¯t very wide, but it was enough for something this huge to pass through.


    "What¡¯s happening to the well?!"


    "Is there something wrong with the concealment seal?"


    All the priests muttered in hoarse voices, lacking the composure they had earlier. But their confusion and astonishment lasted only a moment before they heard the High Priest¡¯s stern orders, snapping them out of their shock.


    "Seal the entrance and close the gate! No one or anything is allowed to leave this place. Light the signal!"


    His hands didn¡¯t stop moving as he spoke, and as soon as he finished his orders, a small red square appeared in his hand. The shape expanded rapidly and turned into a massive barrier protecting the gate leading to the surface.


    At the same time, more than half of the priests moved together and surrounded the well, beginning to form some mysterious seals with their hands, their expressions stern.


    Amid this monstrous chaos, Sollivan remained sprawled on the ground like a dead rat, and the only thing moving in his stiff body was his cold, calculating eyes.


    He had been trapped with the others inside the large hall, and although he was somewhat far from the well, the chilling aura of death emanating from it made him unable to maintain his composure. But despite everything that had happened, he didn¡¯t allow fear to take over and decided to stay in his spot until everything was over.


    Roar!


    The massive head roared loudly and began to slowly emerge from the dark well, but the priests didn¡¯t stand idly by. They formed dozens of intertwined chains that fell over its head and pushed it down with tremendous force. Sparks flew everywhere the chains collided with the monster¡¯s metallic, armor-like skin.


    But even though the monster was pushed down slightly, the priests couldn¡¯t force it further.


    The monster opened its mouth filled with sharp teeth and began to bite through the chains effortlessly, causing the priests to stagger and fall back. The weakest among them coughed up blood, while the stronger ones quickly regained their footing and formed more chains.


    Even after the monster had severed hundreds of chains, it couldn¡¯t free itself or bring out more of its limbs, as more chains continued to surround its head. Even if only faintly, the monster was being pushed back into the well.


    On the nearer side, some priests continued to surround the black shadow that was trying to escape. Although their numbers were small compared to the others, they didn¡¯t face much difficulty due to the shadow¡¯s weakness.


    Every attack they made caused the shadow to disperse, and although its body reformed, it became smaller and smaller, leaving it in a dead end and screaming in a desperate, repulsive voice.


    ¡­


    A stern expression appeared on Priest Otieno¡¯s face as he worked quickly to stabilize the barrier he had created, but his focus remained on the monster whose head had emerged from the well. He felt a silent regret as he thought, ''I shouldn¡¯t have provoked this hybrid¡¯s blood. I didn¡¯t expect the reaction to be this strong¡­ This isn¡¯t normal, even for a soul lineage.''


    Otieno furrowed his brows.


    ''No matter how I think about it, there¡¯s something strange about this person¡­ His lineage seems unstable, as if it was just born. Is this because he¡¯s a hybrid? Or is there another reason I¡¯m not yet aware of?''


    These thoughts weren¡¯t random; it was known that lineages were unstable at birth, especially primal bloodlines. Even the slightest influence could lead to catastrophic results, ranging from the weakening and erosion of infants¡¯ bodies to their deaths.


    For this reason, the births of children with distinctive bloodlines were conducted with extreme caution, attended only by trusted parents and grandparents and supervised by a "Keeper of Secrets."


    This keeper possessed special abilities used to temporarily seal the newborn¡¯s lineage until it stabilized completely.


    After birth, the child and mother were isolated for a full month before the purity of the lineage was declared, a procedure applied to all lineages, regardless of the strength of their blood.


    As for Otieno, Sollivan¡¯s blood seemed to him like that of a newborn, as if only two days had passed since he came into the world. This was extremely puzzling, and he couldn¡¯t find a logical explanation for it.


    ''Even if he belongs to the soul lineage, how was he able to summon this monster from the abyss?''


    Suddenly, his expression froze, and astonishment replaced his confusion. His eyes widened as he glanced at Sollivan lying on the ground.


    ''He¡¯s a hybrid¡­ half-human¡­ and his lineage traces back to lands far from the vast plains.


    They can¡¯t easily reach this place, and if they do, they wouldn¡¯t move freely for fear of drawing the attention of other lineages. Doesn¡¯t this make him an irreplaceable opportunity? Despite the impurity of his blood, he isn¡¯t much different from pure bloodlines.''


    His confusion gradually faded, replaced by a faint smile as he muttered vaguely, "Isn¡¯t this the best?"


    But his thoughts were soon interrupted as he finished stabilizing the barrier. After taking a deep breath, he gathered his momentum and rushed toward the well, ignoring the shadow, which wasn¡¯t as much of a threat as the other monster.


    He stood before the massive head with dark eyes, but unlike the other priests, he felt no fear and didn¡¯t form any seals with his hands. He remained in place while his robes fluttered in the cold wind.


    "Secure this monster!"


    His words carried the authority of a leader, and as soon as they reached the priests¡¯ ears, they unleashed all the energy they had been conserving, doubling their momentum.


    More chains appeared and surrounded the monster from all directions, even binding its mouth, which had been trying to bite through the chains, rendering it unable to move. It could only look around with its sharp yellow eyes, filled with indescribable malice.


    Otieno¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but he nodded slightly, showing his satisfaction.


    He didn¡¯t have much time before the priests reached the limits of their energy, so he didn¡¯t hesitate. He unleashed all his power and assumed a combat stance, completely contrasting his pale, frail appearance, but this contrast lasted only seconds before disappearing.


    His thin body began to swell, and his muscles bulged, pulsating with overwhelming strength and dominance.


    His loose robes became tight, accentuating his powerful body like a carved statue. He looked at the monster with sharp eyes, making him seem like a completely different person. In moments, he had transformed into a fierce warrior, with no trace of the priestly presence he had had before.


    But he didn¡¯t stop there. He clenched his fist and focused all his energy into it. The monster they were facing wasn¡¯t weak enough to be taken lightly, so he decided to end things with a single blow before the situation worsened.


    The air around his fist began to ripple, as if trying to escape his overwhelming force. Then, after a few seconds of preparation, the priest leaped high above the well, leaving a small crater in the ground beneath his feet. He soared through the air, his eyes fixed on the monster¡¯s head, which stared back at him with fear.


    Boom!


    Without hesitation, he delivered his deadly strike directly to the deformed head. His fist collided with the monster¡¯s body, sending sparks flying in all directions.


    But this time, the tough skin dented under the immense pressure and shattered. The chains binding the monster broke, and it was freed, but it didn¡¯t attempt to struggle. All it did was let out a desperate roar as its teeth flew out and its eyes deformed, half of them turning into a sticky, bloody paste.


    The black liquid in the well rippled, and a massive shockwave spread, forcing the priests to retreat several steps. Even Sollivan, lying on the ground, couldn¡¯t prevent his body from rolling away.


    As for the shadow, it was flung backward with tremendous force, crashing into the red barrier separating them from the door.


    Its body deformed and turned into black smoke that scattered in all directions, but it quickly reformed. It stared around with its dark eyes until its gaze fell on Sollivan, lying motionless.


    In a fleeting moment, the shadow stretched across the ground like a creeping mass and rushed toward him at insane speed, taking advantage of the priests¡¯ distraction.


    On the other side, Otieno forcefully pushed the monster back into the well, then turned smoothly and landed on his feet. Without hesitation, he ordered sternly, "Renew the concealment seal!"


    The priests moved immediately, surrounding the well despite their physical exhaustion. They steadied themselves and channeled their remaining energy into forming mysterious seals and obscure symbols.


    "Stop!"


    A strange cry echoed from behind them. Otieno turned quickly and looked at his companions to find them chasing the shadow, which had finally reached Sollivan and pounced on him!


    The priest¡¯s expression twisted, but he couldn¡¯t move due to the seal he was forming. All he could do was shout in despair.


    "You can¡¯t!"

 Chapter 10: The Supreme Leaders Intervention

    [The Hall of Leadership]


    The Supreme Leader sat silently on his throne, his eyes closed and his expression calm and serene, though his brows were furrowed in a mysterious manner. His mind was working rapidly, analyzing the dilemma they faced. He reviewed every possible scenario, but his frown did not ease.


    Although the knowledge of Sollivan''s true nature had brought him some relief, he was not foolish enough to let his guard down completely because of it.


    After a short while, he finally opened his eyes and looked at the young noble standing respectfully before him.


    "Blear, are you sure of what you said? Are you confident that your followers didn¡¯t overlook anything?"


    Blear raised his head and looked into his father¡¯s eyes with confidence, then replied politely, "I¡¯m certain, Father. We searched the area multiple times, and the result was the same each time.


    There were no traces other than those of the hybrid boy. Even after tracking them, we lost his trail near a plain ruled by a powerful beast."


    Blear¡¯s brows furrowed, and he paused for a moment before adding in a doubtful tone, "Your concerns are valid, Father. Upon reconsidering, the traces left by the hybrid were strange and fragmented, as if he had suddenly appeared in that location."


    The warriors¡¯ ability to track traces was the second thing they prided themselves on, after their strength. But the traces left by Sollivan had left them deeply puzzled. They had been unable to follow them once they disappeared near the plain of the powerful beast.


    Even after hours of searching, they had found nothing despite combing the entire area. Concealing one¡¯s traces wasn¡¯t impossible, but Sollivan was weak and helpless, making it impossible for him to possess such an ability.


    Even the possibility of a powerful individual aiding him seemed unlikely, especially given the circumstances in which they had found him.


    Blear¡¯s frown deepened, and at the same time, a strong curiosity arose within him, making him eager to uncover the truth about the hybrid he had brought back. To him, as much as Sollivan posed a potential threat, he was also an opportunity to understand the truth about primal blood and the powerful clans beyond the vast plains.


    Blear was a strong young man of high status, but that was limited to his tribe alone. If he ventured far enough from his homeland, he would become just another ordinary person with common blood, like the majority of the world¡¯s population.


    However, he had no desire to remain confined to his homeland forever. His ambitions were great, and he aspired to reach heights beyond his father and ancestors. Why not leave the plains for better, more prosperous lands?


    The Supreme Leader looked at him and noticed the subtle changes in his expression and aura. Immediately, he understood his thoughts.


    He shook his head and smiled faintly. Seeing his ambitious and conflicted son reminded him of his own youth. He, too, had entertained such wild thoughts and fantasies when he was young.


    For this reason, he decided to remain silent and offer no advice or guidance, leaving time and experience to refine his son¡¯s ambitions and character. Observing his son¡¯s mental state made him forget his original purpose. After a moment of silence, he let out a long sigh, expelling the gloom that had settled in his chest.


    His long sigh snapped his son out of his daze, and Blear looked at him. At that moment, he found his father gazing sharply at a specific corner of the tent, his eyes as piercing as a hawk¡¯s, as if they could see through a person¡¯s depths and penetrate thick walls.


    Blear slowly turned his head and looked in the direction his father was staring, but all he saw was a wooden wall covered with some embroidered leather.


    He furrowed his brows and looked back at his father, only to find him still gazing in the same direction, as if he could see beyond the wall and into the distant, dark horizon. Then, he heard him say with a hint of sarcasm, "There¡¯s no need to overthink it. Everything will be revealed in time."


    The Supreme Leader turned and looked at him with a gaze that carried some tenderness, without losing his regal dignity. Then he said in a gentle tone, "Go and rest. You¡¯ve traveled a long way. There¡¯s no need to dwell on this too much. I¡¯ll take care of everything. All you need to do is¡ª"


    His words suddenly stopped. His brows furrowed deeply, and a strange look appeared on his face. He quickly turned and looked in the direction of the stone tower, and his surprise turned into shock, followed by an extremely stern expression.


    The drastic changes in his expression did not escape his son¡¯s notice. With fear and hesitation, Blear asked, "What¡¯s wrong, Father?"


    His fear was not unfounded. The things that could make his father show such expressions were few and far between. If it wasn¡¯t an attack from an enemy force or a powerful beast, he couldn¡¯t fathom what kind of disaster they might be facing.


    The Supreme Leader froze for a moment, then his usual stern expression returned. He turned slowly and replied in a cold, dark tone, "A powerful presence has emerged in the isolation tower."


    These words struck Blear like a thunderbolt, making his head ring. His thoughts tangled, and strangely, a vague image of the human boy appeared in his mind, deepening his frown.


    He didn¡¯t understand why he thought of the human hybrid the moment he heard about the well. In a hesitant tone, he asked with a hint of fear, "The well... Does this have something to do with the hybrid we sent with the priest?"


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    The well was no trivial matter. If you asked all the tribes in the central plains about the most dangerous thing they could face, their answer would be unanimous: "The emergence of abyssal beasts from the wells."


    Yet, despite this, they were unwilling to give up the wealth that could be extracted from the wells. For this reason, the wells were strictly guarded and isolated in fortified towers and castles to prevent potential disasters.


    The Supreme Leader did not answer his question. All he did was stand from his throne with full dignity, spreading his majestic and overwhelming aura around him. Then he said in a tone as stern as a royal decree, "Follow me."


    ...


    Above the tribe¡¯s massive gate, a middle-aged man leaned on a thick beast hide and drank a strange brown liquid from a crudely made wooden bottle.


    The man had a large beard and unkempt hair, along with a massive scar that divided his face in two, reflecting the flames above the wall and highlighting his fierce and terrifying appearance. This was the same man Sollivan had seen earlier, the one who had opened the gate for them.


    The disfigured man raised his bottle again and took a sip of the strange drink with sunken, drunken eyes. But his drowsy eyes suddenly became clear.


    His hand froze in place, and his breath stopped, causing the liquid in the bottle to spill onto his face and cover his dirty beard. His brows furrowed, and without warning, he jumped from his spot and ran at an insane speed toward the leadership palace.


    ...


    In a small tent in the eastern region of the tribe, a burly man held a small, gentle-eyed child in his hands and played with him happily.


    Despite his massive build and stern features, the man¡¯s eyes were gentle and clear, like those of a peaceful man. He had a small mustache and a light beard, and although he wore elegant clothes, his rough appearance remained unchanged.


    "Wah!"


    The little boy smiled and played with his father¡¯s large hand happily, making the rough man¡¯s heart soften. But his relaxed body suddenly stiffened.


    His brows furrowed, and his gentle expression turned stern. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the leadership palace. Carefully, he placed the boy down in his cradle and covered him, ensuring he was warm and protected from the night¡¯s chill.


    He walked slowly out of his tent and closed the door. At that moment, all traces of gentleness disappeared, and he ran at an insane speed, reaching the leadership palace within seconds.


    As soon as he arrived, his eyes met those of the disheveled man who had also appeared in front of the palace¡¯s wide gate. The two men did not speak or greet each other. All they did was look at the man who had suddenly appeared from behind the gate.


    Both men stared at the Supreme Leader with stern faces, then, with utmost respect, they struck their chests with their fists and saluted him.


    "Supreme Warrior Kendrick greets the Supreme Leader," the disheveled man saluted first, then the burly man spoke: "Supreme Warrior Fredrick greets the Supreme Leader."


    The rank of Supreme Warrior was no small matter. In their tribe, the "Red Horns," the Supreme Warrior held the highest status after the Supreme Leader and the High Priest. For this reason, there were only four Supreme Warriors, the elite of the elite and the undisputed strongest under the Supreme Leader.


    The Supreme Leader did not respond to their greetings and ordered sternly, "Warrior Kendrick, summon the Death Warriors and surround the isolation tower. There¡¯s a breach."


    "As for you, Fredrick, you will accompany me inside the tower."


    The two warriors were surprised and looked at each other in shock. They had sensed the Supreme Leader¡¯s aura, which he only released in emergencies.


    But they had not expected a breach or invasion from the well. Despite being among the strongest in the tribe, they were still far inferior to the Supreme Leader.


    This explained why they hadn¡¯t sensed the aura of the beast that had emerged. Their respectful auras disappeared, replaced by raw power. Warrior Kendrick looked at the Supreme Leader and struck his chest like a drum before rushing off.


    As for Fredrick, all he did was stand in place and wait for the Supreme Leader to move. But his usual calm and peaceful aura had completely vanished, leaving only an urgent desire to go to the well and eradicate the problem.


    Blear silently observed everything, secretly admiring his father¡¯s dominance. A look of longing appeared in his eyes, and his desire to become stronger grew.


    To him, the position of Supreme Leader was not guaranteed. Their tribe recognized only strength.


    If he did not meet expectations and reach a high level, he would be sidelined by his followers, who would see him as unworthy. In their culture, status meant little, and people would not pledge loyalty to anyone weaker than themselves.


    Unlike Sollivan¡¯s previous world, where strength played a fundamental role, people still held some respect for those of high status, even if they were weaker.


    After a brief moment of hesitation, Blear steeled himself and stepped forward, then struck his chest and said firmly, "Supreme Leader, let me accompany you."


    The Supreme Leader turned his head and looked at him with a less stern expression, and without hesitation, he replied, "Very well."


    Although what was happening inside the well was still unknown, he was confident in his ability to handle the situation. Despite the danger, this disaster would be a good opportunity for his son to broaden his horizons and deepen his knowledge of the well and the abyssal beasts.


    Blear smiled happily and wanted to strike his chest in gratitude, but his father¡¯s rough hand gripped his shoulder and stopped him.


    Before he could realize what was happening, his father took a step forward, covering hundreds of steps in an instant, as if flying at incredible speed. Blear¡¯s hair and clothes fluttered in the wind, and his eyes widened to take in the exhilarating feeling of this long leap.


    As soon as the wind subsided and the world around him regained clarity, he found himself standing before a massive, fortified tower. He looked around warily and in awe, then glanced at the four guards in front of the tower¡¯s gate.


    He felt a faint chill coming from behind him. He turned slowly and saw Supreme Warrior Fredrick, who had just arrived. He had been slower than the Supreme Leader, so he had lagged behind for a moment.


    As for the well guards, upon seeing a group of unknown figures appear out of nowhere, they took a step back and prepared for combat. But as soon as they recognized the Supreme Leader, their eyes widened, their fighting intent vanished, and was replaced by great respect. At the same time, they gently touched their chests and bowed their heads slightly, saluting him.


    "Your Excellency, the Supreme Leader."


    "Open the gate." Although the Supreme Leader ordered them sternly, he couldn¡¯t hide the slight frown that appeared on his face.


    ''What¡¯s going on? The tower should be in chaos due to what¡¯s happening in the well. Weren¡¯t they informed?''


    His brows furrowed. ''Perhaps the priests in the well have isolated the lower hall from the rest of the tower.''


    The gate opened, revealing the long, torch-lit corridor. Without hesitation, the Supreme Leader and his companions walked inside. Their steps were incredibly fast, and they navigated the winding passages smoothly, having memorized the route by heart. After a few seconds, they reached the first white gate.


    Clang!


    The Supreme Leader took the keys from his pocket and quickly opened the gate, which closed behind them as soon as they entered.


    Blear silently followed his father¡¯s movements, observing everything without uttering a word. The situation was critical, and he didn¡¯t want to distract his father from the task at hand.


    They opened the subsequent gates with the same speed, and at the third gate, a dark aura saturated with a terrifying chill spread through the area, making him shiver involuntarily. He glanced at his father and Fredrick, but he noticed no change in their expressions, as if they were unaffected by this mysterious cold. Without hesitation, they continued descending the stairs.


    When they reached the lower hall, they were met with a massive red barrier blocking their view of what was happening on the other side, but it couldn¡¯t hide the aura of death emanating from behind it. The Supreme Leader frowned and muttered, "As I expected."


    Then he put the keys in his pocket, gathered his energy in his fist, and with eerie calmness, punched the barrier.


    Crack!


    It seemed like an ordinary strike, but it was imbued with immense force, causing Blear and Fredrick to step back. The first layer of the barrier shattered, and a network of cracks spread rapidly across its surface.


    There was no need for a second punch, as the wall began to crumble, turning into rubble within moments.


    As soon as it collapsed, an angry scream echoed through the hall.


    "You can¡¯t!"


    The Supreme Leader and his companions quickly scanned the hall, finding the priests busy completing the well¡¯s seal. But what truly caught their attention was the mysterious shadow pouncing on Sollivan, who was trying to crawl away, albeit very slowly.


    The Supreme Leader extended his hand and muttered angrily, "Damn it... It¡¯s trying to form a contract with him!"


    In an instant, he disappeared from his spot and reappeared beside Sollivan, but his intervention came too late.


    The shadow had completely attached itself to Sollivan¡¯s body, spreading over him like a black liquid crawling slowly across his skin, as if it were living paint.


    Blear¡¯s expression changed, and conflicting emotions appeared on his face. But what dominated him most was bitterness... and envy.


    Yes, he felt jealous of Sollivan, who had obtained this rare, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He silently lamented not being born with strong blood like the wretched hybrid before him. He wasn¡¯t sure of his feelings and didn¡¯t know how to react to the situation, so he simply sighed and observed from afar.


    "Ah..."


    Sollivan¡¯s eyes turned completely black, and darkness spread across his body, completely obscuring his features. He screamed in suppressed pain, trying in vain to tear off the black layer covering his skin, but all he managed to do was wound himself, causing drops of blood to seep out.


    As for the Supreme Leader and the others in the hall, they silently observed, not daring to intervene. They knew well that any interruption to this process could lead to catastrophic consequences for both parties, and perhaps for the entire hall.

 Chapter 11: The Contract

    "Damn it!"


    "Damn it!"


    Sollivan, who was crawling backward helplessly, stared at the shadowy humanoid figure. A faint black mist was emanating from the shadow''s fleshy body, forming a dark cloud around it that made its appearance even more mysterious. As Sollivan was drenched in sweat, his eyes met the cold, red eyes that were moving across the shadow''s body.


    Those eyes were just glowing points like jewels, without any whites around them. But what was most terrifying was how they moved; they slid across the shadow''s black skin, shifting from its featureless face to its head, neck, and other parts of its body, giving it a comprehensive view of its surroundings.


    Sollivan felt a sense of foreboding. His heart pounded violently, and he wanted to stand up and run, but he was unable to move. Time seemed to freeze before his eyes, and he saw the shadow slowly moving toward him.


    Out of sheer fear, he involuntarily closed his eyes. At that moment, he felt an intense cold spreading rapidly through his body, starting from his hands. He forced himself to open his eyes and saw a layer of dark, sticky blackness covering his skin and clothes, forming an incomplete cocoon that was crawling to cover the rest of his body. His soul trembled with fear, and his body convulsed.


    "Get away!"


    To his surprise, he found that he could move his limbs relatively smoothly despite the black layer covering him. With all his might, he slowly moved his uninjured hand, as if underwater, and grabbed the black layer, trying to pull it away. But it was like sticky rubber, stretching intensely but not breaking, remaining firmly attached to his skin.


    "Damn it!"


    He cursed loudly and reduced the force of his pull. But at that moment, the black layer melted and flowed through his fingers like water, then reattached itself to his skin. His eyes widened, and he snorted air through his nose like an enraged bull, frantically pulling at the sticky substance and scratching it with his nails. But his struggle was futile, and all he managed to do was hurt himself. His blue blood flowed profusely, covering his body and the black cocoon over him, which emitted more black smoke.


    Thump!


    Suddenly, a dark feeling overwhelmed him, and the cocoon around his body expanded rapidly. He felt his blood leaving his body quickly, making his consciousness blur for a moment. But he didn¡¯t give up and continued to pull at the black layer despite the intense resistance.


    "Ah..."


    After a brief struggle, he managed to remove part of the black layer, revealing a portion of his blood-covered skin. But he was surprised to see his blood being pulled by an invisible force, greedily consumed by the black substance. Before he could realize what was happening, the blackness expanded again and covered the exposed part of his skin.


    His thoughts dimmed, and a look of despair appeared in his eyes. The seconds passed slowly, and within moments, the black cocoon covered eighty percent of his body, leaving only his head and part of his back. His hands froze, and he could no longer move them as smoothly as before. He slowly turned his head and examined his condition with a desperate look, then let out a long, melancholic sigh. He no longer struggled or thought, and all he did was lie there with an empty gaze, letting the black cocoon cover him.


    He regained his composure, and his thoughts became clearer. He accepted his fate and no longer wished to engage in futile struggle. As a final, honest look from a dying man, he turned his head and looked at the blurry figures around him, noticing the expressions of the few people nearby. Then he muttered in an emotionless voice.


    "What a strange look they¡¯re giving me."


    After voicing his thoughts, his brows furrowed again. ''Their gaze is very strange, as if they¡¯re not seeing someone being devoured by a monster. Their gaze is more like...?!'' He stopped his thoughts, slowly raised his head, and quickly scanned his body.


    At the same time, he tried to move his limbs, and unexpectedly, they moved smoothly. Even his hands, which had been restrained earlier, moved naturally. His eyes widened, but he didn¡¯t overreact and lay back down calmly, muttering, "I¡¯m fine."


    Due to his previous panic and desperate struggle, he hadn¡¯t thought about his situation properly. Now, having regained his composure and clarity of mind, he realized that the shadow around his body hadn¡¯t harmed him. All he felt was a vague sense of stickiness and a dense tickling sensation, as if thousands of insects were crawling over his body without biting him.


    After understanding his situation correctly, he was no longer in a hurry or afraid.


    He took a deep breath, turned his head again to look at the blurry figures around him, ''None of them moved to save me. Either they¡¯ve lost hope, or my situation isn¡¯t as dire as I thought.'' Then he looked at the blackness around him and asked in a mysterious tone.


    "What are you? I heard them call you a shadow, but you¡¯re too gentle to be evil. What¡¯s your name?" He stared at the shadow with curiosity, but he received no response. The shadow continued to silently and greedily consume his blood. At that moment, a strange idea occurred to him, and he remembered some texts he had read before.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Only blood seals the pact, and only blood opens the gate."


    The same sentence he had read in the black book suddenly came to mind. He didn¡¯t understand why, but he felt a vague sense and an obscure idea about his situation. He focused his mind with all his strength, organizing his thoughts in search of an answer.


    Time passed slowly, but in reality, it was only a minute. During that time, the shadow continued to absorb his blood, and the more it drank, the more solid and cohesive its body became.


    Within this minute, the shadow expanded to cover his entire body except for his head. But, contrary to expectations, Sollivan wasn¡¯t disturbed or reacting violently. He remained lying there with a lost gaze. Suddenly, he smiled faintly and let out a mysterious hum, like a sarcastic laugh filled with strange happiness. He looked at the stone ceiling above him and muttered more clearly, "I¡¯m really an idiot."


    He reviewed his memories and recalled everything he had read, and after a short period of searching, he understood his situation. All the remaining tension in his body disappeared, and he relaxed indifferently. He raised his hands, covered in the black layer, and moved his sticky black fingers naturally. Then, calmly, he extended his fingers and forcefully inserted them into his wounds, reopening them and causing blood to flow profusely. Despite the pain, his gaze remained steady, and his faint smile didn¡¯t disappear.


    Gulp!


    The blood flowed and touched the black shadow, which drank it greedily without stopping. Without any sign of stopping, the shadow began to expand rapidly, and within a few seconds, it completely covered Sollivan¡¯s body, making him look like a black mass with a mysterious humanoid shape.


    The seconds passed quietly, turning into long minutes. But the black cocoon didn¡¯t move, remaining stationary like a lifeless object.


    ...


    Near the black cocoon, the Supreme Leader and the others stood watching silently. No one spoke or moved from their spot, not out of fear of disturbing Sollivan, but because they felt no need to. The well had calmed, and the priests had completed its seal. As for the High Priest, he walked to stand beside the Supreme Leader. But, unlike the others who watched with curiosity, his face showed a dark look and deep resentment. He hated the shadow intensely and wished to tear it apart and turn it to ash, but he didn¡¯t dare do so in front of the others.


    While the High Priest was burning with anger, Blear walked up to him and greeted him politely, "Greetings, High Priest."


    Otieno composed himself and showed a gentle smile, "No need for your respectful greeting, young leader."


    Contrary to his usual politeness, Blear didn¡¯t pay much attention to the priest¡¯s response, and his gaze remained fixed on the black cocoon. He asked with intense curiosity.


    "What happened, High Priest?" His question was like a bell that alerted everyone. The Supreme Leader and Fredrick turned to him with furrowed brows that didn¡¯t hide their anger.


    The priest pretended not to see the displeasure on their faces and answered innocently.


    "I don¡¯t know, Your Excellency. As soon as we arrived in the hall, his blood leaked unexpectedly, causing the well to react, and the abyssal beasts began to emerge. Although we contained the Thorny Salamander that tried to escape, we neglected to defend against the shadow, which took the opportunity and attacked the hybrid."


    Despite his attempt to shift the blame to Sollivan, the Supreme Leader and Fredrick¡¯s anger didn¡¯t subside. They stared at him for a moment before turning their gaze back to Sollivan.


    Suddenly, the black cocoon surrounded by black mist moved. It pulsed strangely, and it seemed as if a dark blue light spread through it, starting from the chest area.


    Thump!


    Thump!


    The Supreme Leader sighed and shook his head helplessly, saying in a mysterious voice that reached everyone¡¯s ears. "So this is the power of primal blood." He couldn¡¯t hide the slight tone of shock and respect in his voice.


    Then he continued without hiding his amazement. "This is the first time I¡¯ve seen someone form a contract with an abyssal beast without fulfilling any of the required conditions. The soul lineage is terrifying, as the rumors say." His voice softened, and his gaze became more mysterious, as if he were deep in thought.


    At that moment, Blear stood beside him and asked curiously, "What is this beast he contracted with, Father?" His question didn¡¯t contain any tone of reverence for the Supreme Leader, and it seemed like just a son asking his father.


    The Supreme Leader glanced at him and answered, "It¡¯s a shadow. Although it¡¯s not a strong beast and is of the middle tier, it¡¯s very useful due to its supportive role and extreme rarity."


    Blear nodded in understanding. "I see."


    His gaze remained fixed on the strangely pulsating cocoon. Then he heard his father say again. "I read in an ancient record that someone who possesses a shadow as a contracted beast is like someone with a second life."


    Crack!


    He turned his head and was about to say something, but he suddenly heard a loud cracking sound that made him quickly turn and look at the cocoon.


    The black cocoon began to crack strangely, emitting a loud cracking sound. Then it started to crumble, falling to the ground and over the human body lying like a corpse.


    There was no trace of the humanoid shadow left, and all that remained was Sollivan, most of his clothes eroded, leaving only some tattered rags covering parts of his body. His chest rose and fell, and his wounds stopped bleeding, as if they had received some kind of basic treatment.


    The Supreme Leader looked at him for a moment, then turned and said to Blear.


    "He¡¯s lost a lot of blood and is unconscious. Take him to one of the stone rooms to rest."


    "Yes, Supreme Leader." Blear gently touched his chest this time and walked slowly to stand beside Sollivan, who was lying on the ground. He quickly scanned his body, his lips twisting with complex emotions.


    Then he reached out and grabbed Sollivan by the shoulder. But at that moment, Sollivan, who had been unconscious, opened his eyes in anger, and with the remaining strength he had, he delivered a powerful punch to Blear, who was caught off guard and didn¡¯t react properly.


    Bang!


    "Ughhhh!"


    A muffled groan spread, making everyone in the hall quickly turn to look at them. Their expressions twisted, and their minds went blank. But the muffled groan didn¡¯t stop.


    Blear bent forward, holding his groin with a distorted face while resisting the urge to scream. His eyes turned white, and his pupils disappeared upward, making him look like a ghost. His twisted lips curled as if he had swallowed a sour lemon. He touched his groin with extreme fear, and after confirming they were intact, some color returned to his face, and his pain lessened.


    The damage he received wasn¡¯t enough to prevent his lineage from continuing, but it made him suffer greatly and experience the feeling of childbirth.


    As for Sollivan, who had almost destroyed Blear¡¯s future, he fell unconscious after his punch and didn¡¯t move again, like a lifeless corpse. No one in the room knew if he had truly lost consciousness or if he was pretending to avoid the consequences of his actions.


    ...


    Amid the strange chaos caused by Sollivan, the Supreme Leader remained indifferent. With pride, he walked toward the stairs. As soon as he placed his foot on the first step, he stopped and turned to look at everyone with sharp eyes full of power.


    His stern gaze made everyone present regain their composure and stand firmly. Even Blear, who was looking at Sollivan with dagger-like sharpness, stood straight and set aside his anger.


    Then the Supreme Leader spoke, "Give him a nutritious meal when he wakes up, and ask the Keeper of Secrets to treat him." He paused for a moment and hesitantly added.


    "Give him proper training. Fredrick, guide him until he starts training."


    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened in shock, and even Blear forgot his pain and anger for a moment when he heard his father¡¯s words.


    The Supreme Leader¡¯s words weren¡¯t empty or random; they carried one unambiguous meaning¡ªhe was interested in the hybrid they had captured.


    ...


    The High Priest stood behind the Supreme Leader, staring at his back with sharp, knife-like gazes, as if silently stabbing him. He clenched his teeth, took a deep breath through his nose, and cursed inwardly.


    ''Damn that bastard, he¡¯s playing with me! He¡¯s trying to cut off all paths to this hybrid.''


    His frown suddenly eased, and his gaze quickly turned toward Sollivan, who was being carried by Blear.


    ''Just wait... I won¡¯t let this golden opportunity slip away. I didn¡¯t want to resort to this option, but you¡¯ve forced me to.''


    He reached under his robe and felt something hidden in a small inner pocket. At that moment, a mysterious look appeared on his face, while his physical tension gradually eased, and his angry feelings turned into pure mockery toward the Supreme Leader.


    The High Priest remained standing in place, his gaze outwardly calm and clear, but behind the cloth covering his mouth, he was bitterly sneering. His twisted smile reached a point where his overly delighted teeth were on the verge of shattering. Yet, he continued to silently curse the Supreme Leader, immersed in dark thoughts and boundless hatred.