Now long behind him was the Combat Hall Delta.
the noise of the crowd had died away.
The fighting spirit had been taken out of him.
There was still some fire under the skin of Nclai.
Alone he paced the inner galleries of the academy... coat gone, blood caked around the corners of his mouth, walk smooth. All the students that met him, stepped aside; some in admiration, others in terror.
He did not recognize them.
He did not need to.
He remained sensible of the last hand of Dresk still but not on his body.
It pressed more inward...
As it had rattled loose a seal
...
System Alert: Sync Ratio 10.1% Reached
Access to Crimson Sovereign Codex Unlocked
Lineage Codex Pathway Open. Episode I Available
...
Nclai made his dorm and locked the door in his quiet way.
The silence closed.
He was seated on the edge of the bed, with his hands upon his knees.
He made no attempts to open the Codex.
Not so right away.
He was glancing at his palm.
The same which hit Dresk.
The very one which has moved when he did not order it to do so.
The very thing which just now was somebody elses.
His respiration became slow.
Then...
His hand went up.
A tiny flickering sigil appeared over his palm, a burning red like metal cooling. Letters twisted into an open ring and then reformed themselves to burning letters:
...
Bloodline Codex – Sovereign Lineage Log: Active
Legacy Episode I: The Awakening of the Previous Sovereign
Sync Milestone: 10%
Status: Ready for Playback
...
His thumb hovered over the sigil.
There was hesitation...
But not fear.
Just weight.
The kind that came before the truth.
Before inheritance.
He tapped it.
The room dimmed.
A low hum began to rise.
The Codex pulsed.
And Nclai...
Descendant of something far more ancient than bloodlines...
Began to watch.
...
Legacy Episode I – The Awakening
Unlock Requirement: 10% Sync Ratio
Status: Unlocked
...
They say the world already belonged to others.
The Elven Empires.
The Dominion of Flame.
The Old Beast Tribes.
Even the scaled blood of dragons had carved their marks across the continents.
But there was a gap.
A silence in the night.
A power unclaimed.
And into that silence... he was cast.
No name.
No kin.
Cursed by something ancient and forgotten, left to die in a pit where even death didn't want him.
He didn't die.
He changed.
Blood called to him.
Bones mended.
Flesh hardened.
And in that cursed night, something older than any race awakened.
The first of his kind.
...
The hunger was overwhelming.
But it was not madness.
It was clarity.
He moved in shadows, unseen and untouchable, testing his strength on the wild and the wicked.
A beast one night.
A soldier the next.
Where he was not satisfied till he struck a pack of werebeasts, foaming, boasting, a dread to dwellings, distance of miles.
They lunged.
He did not shrink.
One blink.
One breath.
and with a mere flick of his finger...
Blood from their body burst out then...
Rupture.
Their whole body turned into splashes of blood.
Their insides spread everywhere.
Torn inside by an Internal force, bypassing all laws that have ever existed.
...
Those who witnessed it spoke in whispers.
"He commands blood itself."
"He bends death."
"He walks between life and void."
And then they followed.
Not from fear.
But from awe.
He turned them, one by one, only the loyal, only the chosen.
Each bite rewrote fate.
Each soul bound by something deeper than magic.
And from the dark, a kingdom rose.
Stone and silence.
Night and law.
Not built for the world.
But to replace it.
...
When the blood moon rose for the first time over that fortress of shadows, they gathered below the black citadel and roared his name.
"HAIL NICKLAUS AZRAEL!"
...
Nclai sat in silence, eyes locked on the floating red sigils still burning above his palm.
The words hadn't faded.
The truth hadn't either.
Nicklaus Azrael.
The name pulsed like a war drum behind his eyes.
Not just a myth.
Not just a story.
A monster.
A god in shadows.
And his bloodline.
He felt cold, but not from fear.
It was something deeper.
Like his marrow had turned to ash.
Like every heartbeat was echoing through time.
Was this what he was becoming?
No...
This was what he already was.
The codex grew dark, the weight grew not.
Still the pictures of his memory danced before his eyes the werebeasts rent, the faithful turned, the song swelling like thunder on a crimson moon.
His fingers trembled.
Not from weakness...
But Power awakening,
Out of the understanding that his instinct, his reflexes, his anger... it was all not arbitrary.
It was the history.
It was heritage.
And it had teeth.
He didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
The silence in his room wasn't empty anymore.
It was throne-room quiet.
...