The city was still when Noctis returned, its alleys emptied of the screams that never came. His crimson coat trailed as he slipped once more into the barracks, shadows guiding him like silent sentries.
He emerged through the stone of Serana's chamber. She lay where he had left her, sprawled in exhaustion, her armor still clinging to her frame. Her face was turned toward the shuttered window, pale in the thin line of moonlight.
Noctis lingered at her bedside, golden-crimson eyes drinking in her stillness. He licked his lips slowly.
What if I drank from you again?
The thought curled through him like flame. But her pallor was sharper now, her lips faintly blue from the blood he had already taken. Her breathing was steady, yet shallow.
He tilted his head. Patience stirred. No… not tonight. Another taste now, and your body may fail you. Better to let you ripen for another night. I will savor it then.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned closer, his shadow stretching across her form. Then, with a slow movement, he slipped into her bed.
His hands resting against her armored frame. The moonlight spilled across them, stretching their forms into silver shadows on the wall.
The silhouettes began to move. His rose and fell over hers, entwined in rhythm. Her shadow bent atop his, swaying, rising and lowering with every subtle shift.
Serana stirred faintly, soft moans slipping past her lips — dreamlike, helpless. "Mmmhh… ahhh…"
Noctis's eyes burned gold and crimson as he smiled, watching their shadows dance. He was inside her now, savoring both her body and the illusion painted across the stone. This was his celebration — her strength turned into weakness, her Faith mocked in the most intimate silence.
Her lips parted with faint moans, dream-born, answering illusions she could not see.
Noctis's smile deepened. It was not her body he sought tonight, but the image — the theater of shadow and sound, an intimacy conjured by his will. It was his celebration, her dream, and their mockery of the Faith she served.
Dawn crept over the barracks, its light slipping between shutters.
Serana stirred. Her eyes blinked open, her mind startlingly clear. She sat up slowly, expecting fog and confusion — but her thoughts were sharp, steady.
It was her body that betrayed her.
She shifted, then froze. Her armor clinked against itself, still strapped around her from the night before. She stared down at it, dumbfounded. She had gone to bed this way. Too tired to remove it.
Her lips pressed thin. A weary sigh escaped her. "Foolish."
She pushed to stand — and collapsed.
Her knees struck stone, her gauntlets scraping the floor as her arms failed to support her. She gasped, chest heaving. Her mind was clear, sharper than it had been in days, but her muscles trembled as though drained of marrow itself.
"What… is happening to me?"
She clawed her way back to her feet, each movement sluggish, weak. Sweat broke across her pale brow. Somehow she found the strength to open the door, stepping into the barracks corridor. Her expression hardened, as though she could will away the frailty consuming her limbs.
Behind her, the chamber was silent again.
Within the hollow of the wall, Noctis lay still. His eyes gleamed faintly through the cracks of stone, watching her retreat.
His smile returned, cold and hungry.
Yes. Grow weaker. Struggle. Break yourself against exhaustion. When the next night comes, I will drink again. I will see how much more I can take from you before your Faith crumbles entirely.
He closed his eyes, sinking into the stone's embrace. The day belonged to them. The night was his.
The barracks sank into silence as night claimed the city again. Torches sputtered along the walls, patrols paced the stone corridors, and the sound of clanking armor echoed through the yard.
But Serana did not return to her chamber.
Her strength had faltered throughout the day. Witnesses saw her stagger during inspection, collapse during a patrol briefing, and finally crumple on the steps leading to the officer's hall. By afternoon, she had been carried to the infirmary, her armor removed, her body laid across a cot while healers whispered anxiously over her state.
Noctis knew all of this, even from within his wall. Every word carried to him through the stone, every footstep told him of her absence.
When the sun dipped and moonlight once again painted the barracks silver, he stirred.
Crimson eyes flared open.
The stone hollow split around him as he emerged, stretching his arms, inhaling the cool breath of night. The chamber was empty. His lips curved downward.
"She is not here…" His voice was soft, edged with disappointment. He had expected to drink again, to celebrate once more. But the bed was cold.
Patience fled quickly. Hunger gnawed at him. He would not wait.
He slipped from the room into the corridors, shadows gathering around his feet. Guards marched by, oblivious, their chatter spilling into the air.
"…two more reported missing. A dockworker and a seamstress. Just gone.""Not only them. Did you hear? An adventurer too — from that tavern team. Scar on his face. His companions raised alarm this morning when he never came back.""They've already linked it together. People disappearing in alleys. No bodies. No blood.""They say it's a curse. Or something worse."
Noctis narrowed his eyes. His smile faded into thought.
Already?
He had expected two, perhaps three days before the absence of the bodies he had consumed would raise suspicion. He had been wrong. The city moved faster than he had given it credit for.
Which meant his hunting ground was already burning under watchful eyes.
If he fed again within these walls, the pattern would harden. Patrols would tighten. Fear would sharpen into vigilance. And the guards' eyes would turn inward. Perhaps even to Serana. Perhaps even to her chamber.
Noctis exhaled slowly, shadows curling around him like smoke.
"There is no other choice," he whispered. "I will have to hunt elsewhere."
His gaze turned beyond the barracks, beyond the clustered roofs of the city. Toward the countryside, where roads stretched dark, villages lay unguarded, and caravans crossed the night.
Outside the city. There, suspicion cannot grow. There, no one will connect the vanishings to these walls.
His smile returned, faint and cold.
Noctis cloaked himself and slipped into the outer streets. Patrols crossed in twos and threes, ropes tied between them now, their precautions grown from rumor into ritual.
He passed unseen.
The gates loomed ahead, their towers lit with braziers. A watch was kept, but none looked closely enough into the shadows to see the crimson figure dissolve past them.
Noctis crossed the threshold, the walls of the city falling away behind him. The land spread vast, open, and dark beneath the stars. Fields lay hushed. A road cut through the plain, its stones damp with dew.
The air here was quieter. Cleaner. The scent of human blood did not thicken it like in the alleys. But it was there, faint traces on the wind — farms, travelers, small settlements.
He inhaled deeply.
"Yes. This will do."
Behind him, in the barracks infirmary, Serana stirred. Her eyes fluttered, her lips parted. The healers hushed her back to rest, their hands glowing faintly with healing runes.
She felt cold. Empty. She could not explain why.
But outside, the predator who had drained her strength walked free, turning his hunger toward new fields.
The city would breathe easier for a moment. And then, in the dark roads beyond its gates, fear would begin again.
The fields beyond the city stretched quiet under a blanket of stars.
Noctis moved along the old stone road, his boots brushing dew from the grass. The city's noise lay far behind him now, replaced by the hum of insects, the rustle of tall stalks, the occasional bark of a distant dog.
Here, the air tasted different — fresher, freer. The scent of human blood lingered faintly: in the cottages dotting the plain, in the small farmsteads clustered around the road. Men and women slept inside, unguarded, unaware.
Noctis smiled faintly.
So soft. So easy. They will never know what comes for them.
He slipped from the road, shadowing the edge of a small farmstead. The wooden fence creaked in the breeze. Through a cracked shutter he saw a man and woman sleeping by a low fire, a child curled between them. His hunger stirred, urging him forward.
He tensed to move — then stopped.
A sound.
Faint. From the treeline.
Noctis turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. In the woods beyond the farm, something moved. Not human footsteps. Not the tread of boots. Quieter. Faster. Blending seamlessly into the night.
The prey inside the house forgotten, Noctis drifted toward the treeline, his curiosity pricked.
The forest embraced him with its silence. Branches swayed overhead, moonlight filtering in fractured beams. He stepped lightly, senses stretched wide.
Then he saw them.
Wolves.
A small pack, their fur mottled gray and black, eyes gleaming faintly in the dark. They prowled the underbrush, muscles taut, ears pricked. The largest — a scarred alpha — stared at him directly, lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth.
Noctis stilled. The wolves did not attack, but they did not retreat. Their hackles rose. They circled slowly, wary of him, recognizing something unnatural.
His lips curved.
Interesting. Even beasts feel it — the wrongness in me. Yet they do not flee outright. What would happen… if I fed on one of you?
The thought burned in him. He had taken human blood, priestly blood, adventurers, nobles. But beasts? Never. The hunger within urged him to test it. To see if the Grid would respond.
The alpha lunged suddenly, testing him. Noctis's hand flicked.
Phantom Dash.
In a blink he closed the distance, one hand seizing the wolf mid-leap. Its body writhed in his grip, claws raking uselessly against his coat.
He tilted its neck aside, lips brushing fur. Then his fangs sank deep.
Hot animal blood surged into his mouth, iron-rich and raw. The wolf shuddered violently, eyes wide, before collapsing limp in his grasp.
Noctis drank deep — then whispered the word that had erased so many before.
Devour.
The body convulsed, dissolved into shadow, and vanished into him.
The forest went silent.
Then the System flared.
[System Message]
New Blood Grid Branch Unlocked — Beastkin LineageConsumption of non-human lifeform detected.Branch Connection: Bestial EvolutionFirst Node Revealed: Feral Instinct — sharpened senses, heightened reflexes.
Noctis froze, eyes narrowing, then widening in astonishment. A new branch? His lips parted in a slow smile.
"So… even beasts are not beyond me. Their essence feeds the Grid as well."
He raised his hands, and for a moment shadows bent to reveal the new branch of his Blood Grid — jagged lines forming the shape of a beast's spine, with glowing nodes branching outward like claws.
The first one pulsed: Feral Instinct.
The remaining wolves snarled, some bolting into the dark, others standing rigid with hackles raised. They felt it now. Their alpha had been erased, their essence stolen by something not of this world.
Noctis's eyes glowed crimson-gold. He stepped toward them once, and they scattered fully, vanishing into the trees.
He did not pursue. His hunger was sated enough — for now.
But his mind burned with new possibilities.
"If beasts grant me strength…" He licked his lips. "Then the wild is mine to harvest as much as the city."
Noctis returned to the edge of the fields, his crimson coat brushing grass. The cottages still lay quiet, their lights dim, their families asleep. For the first time since his escape, he looked at them not only as prey, but as cover.
The city would panic over vanishings. But outside its walls? Wolves and wild things already claimed lives in the night. If men vanished here, who would ever think to blame anything but the beasts?
He smiled, teeth catching moonlight.
"Yes. I will hunt the countryside. Humans and beasts both. The Grid will grow."
The stars wheeled above, indifferent, as the predator walked deeper into the fields.
The pack scattered into the dark, paws tearing soil, but Noctis's hunger sharpened with the thrill of discovery. He had felt it in the first wolf — that wild, unfamiliar essence slipping into his veins, kindling something new in the Grid.
Now he wanted more.
He blurred through the trees, shadows spilling from him like smoke. A wolf yelped as he struck, seizing it by the hind leg and dragging it from cover. His fangs pierced, hot blood surging into his mouth. The body dissolved into shadow.
He moved again, faster. Another leapt from behind. He spun, catching its throat mid-air, biting deep. The beast writhed, then vanished in ash.
One by one he hunted them. Each fall was clean, each kill erased into silence. The forest that had moments before bristled with growls was quiet now, only the rustle of leaves betraying where survivors had fled.
The alpha was gone. The pack broken. And in his veins, something new burned.
Noctis stood in the clearing, moonlight falling over him, his coat streaked with shadow. He exhaled slowly, savoring the quiet.
Beast Essence.
The word itself had not been spoken by the System, yet he felt it within. It was different from Blood, different from Faith or Iron. Wilder. Primal. It vibrated in his senses, sharpening his hearing, stretching his awareness into the dark around him.
He flexed his hands. His nails felt keener. The air carried scents he had ignored before — moss, bark, the faint musk of deer further north. His eyes glowed brighter, adjusting more easily to the gloom.
Yes. The wolves had given him more than food.
He raised his hand, calling forth the Blood Grid.
The lattice flared into existence before him, crimson lines branching like veins across a void of black. He had walked its paths many times, opening nodes, chaining upgrades. But now, from the lower edge, a jagged new line stretched outward — the Beastkin Lineage.
The first node pulsed, faintly glowing. Feral Instinct. Already his body resonated with it.
Two more nodes had revealed themselves faintly further down the branch: one shaped like a claw, another like a fang. Their names were shrouded still, waiting to be claimed.
Noctis smiled faintly, fingers brushing the glowing paths. So even beasts grant me a lineage. Then the wild itself is mine to consume.
But then another thought pressed him.
I have been staring only at the Grid. The lattice of power, the branches of hunger. But I have not checked… the rest.
He frowned. The System had always spoken in fragments — skills, essence gains, combat trees. He had never paused to explore beyond. Not truly.
He drew his will inward. "Status."
The lattice of the Blood Grid folded back, and a new screen opened in its place — lines of faint script etching themselves into the air.
[Status Screen]Name: Noctis (???) — Crimson InheritorAlias: Alaric NocturneRace: Progenitor Descendant (Fragmented)Condition: Bound by Betrayal, Broken Shackles
Essences
Blood: 1,280
Faith: 155
Iron: 45
Soul: 4
Wraith: 1
Apex: 1
Beast: 3
Attributes
Vitality: 2,400
Strength: 162
Agility: 178
Endurance: 150
Perception: 190
Will: 205
Combat Trees Active
Blood Arts (Tier I–III)
Faithbreaker (unlocked via Serana)
Beastkin Lineage (newly revealed)
Notes: Attribute growth pathways undiscovered. Blood Grid review recommended.
Noctis read the words carefully, his eyes narrowing at the hidden lines. Unranked. System Override. Creator Authority.
He tilted his head, golden-crimson eyes glowing. "So there is more here than even I understood. I am not bound to the ranks of mortals. My path is carved apart."
The new Beast Essence glowed faintly in the corner of the ledger, feeding the Beastkin Lineage. Already, it whispered promises. The Grid would open further.
Noctis closed the screen with a thought. The forest was silent around him, but his hunger had only deepened.
Tomorrow, I will see how far this Beastkin branch runs. And how much more essence the wild can give me.
He turned toward the road again, crimson coat flaring in the moonlight. The countryside stretched wide before him, endless prey waiting in the dark.
The forest still held the silence of his hunt. Blood and shadow lingered in the air like smoke after a fire. Noctis stood alone in the clearing, the moon watching him through fractured branches.
He exhaled slowly, crimson eyes narrowing. The discoveries of the night before still burned in his mind — not just skill nodes, but attribute spheres hidden all along the Blood Grid. Power not only in art, but in the very marrow of his body.
He wanted more.
Feeding Again
The wind carried scents to him now with uncanny clarity. Sweat. Woodsmoke. The faint crackle of torches. He followed it, weaving between trees until the shapes of another farmhouse emerged at the treeline.
Inside, three figures slept by the fire. Their heartbeats pulsed in his sharpened perception, rhythmic, fragile.
Noctis smiled.
He slipped inside like a draft of cold air. There was no scream, no struggle. Fangs pierced, warmth flooded him, and shadows swallowed what was left. By the time he stepped outside again, the cottage lay silent, its hearth dimmed to embers.
His hunger quieted. His essence surged.
Returning to the Grid
Noctis raised his hand. The lattice of the Blood Grid unfurled once more, crimson veins stretching across the air like a spider's web.
He scanned past the combat nodes — the bold runes of Blood Arts, the jagged lines of Faithbreaker, the fresh claw-marks of Beastkin Lineage — until his eyes found the smaller lights.
There.
A green spark between two branches. Its glow wavered like wind through leaves.
[Agility Node — Minor]
Unlocks +10 Agility.Cost: 20 Blood Essence + 1 Beast Essence.
His lips curved. He fed the essence into it.
The rune flared, and in an instant his body jolted. His muscles tightened, tendons coiling like springs. The world seemed slower, his movements sharper, faster. He flicked his hand, and the motion blurred, his coat snapping like a whip.
[Agility +10]
Noctis's laugh was low, cold. "Sharper. Yes. I will outrun their eyes before they even turn to see me."
Another spark drew him. This one iron-grey, steady and heavy, pulsing between Faith and Blood nodes.
[Endurance Node — Minor]
Unlocks +10 Endurance.Cost: 25 Blood Essence.
He pressed his will into it.
The rune shattered. A rush of heat spread through his chest and down his limbs. His skin prickled as if scales had brushed beneath it, his bones ached, then hardened. Breath came easier, deeper. His body no longer trembled from exertion — it felt like a fortress of flesh.
[Endurance +10]
Noctis rolled his shoulders, the sound of bone cracking echoing in the clearing. His smile widened.
"Stronger. Faster. Harder to break. Every prey I consume will not just feed me — it will sharpen me."
Testing the Gains
He blurred forward, dashing across the clearing. The world bent with his speed, trees streaking past in ribbons of shadow. He stopped suddenly, skidding into silence, coat flaring around him. His feet dug into the soil but left no stumble.
Agility and Endurance twined together. His body moved with unnatural speed but landed with perfect stability, each step precise, every motion balanced.
Noctis looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. His claws gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"Once, I thought the Grid only gave me techniques. I was wrong. It can rebuild me. Piece by piece, until nothing of the mortal shell remains."
The Promise of More
He closed the Grid, the runes fading into the night. But their echoes lingered, glowing behind his eyes. Strength, Perception, Agility, Endurance, Will — all waiting to be fed, all waiting to be unlocked.
The world itself was his granary. Humans, beasts, soldiers, priests. Every essence would carve another path, reveal another spark.
Noctis tilted his head toward the horizon. The first faint threads of dawn wove across the edge of the sky. His coat brushed against the grass as he stepped back toward the woods.
The countryside was vast. Its prey countless. Its essence endless.
And he would take it all.
The bells of dawn tolled across the barracks, their bronze chimes echoing through the city beyond. Soldiers stirred from their bunks, armor clattered into place, and the smoke of morning fires curled upward into the pale sky.
Inside the infirmary, the air was thick with incense and the faint glow of runes painted on the walls. Healers moved between beds, tending to groaning soldiers, whispering blessings over the wounded from the cathedral collapse.
At the far corner, Serana stirred.
Her eyes opened slowly. For the first time in days, her vision was clear, free of haze or pain. She pushed herself upright, expecting her body to tremble as it had each morning since the collapse — but it did not. Her limbs were steady. Her breath deep. Her face warm with color once more.
She touched her cheek in disbelief. "I… feel well."
A healer looked over, startled. "Lieutenant? You—your pallor… it's gone."
Another hurried closer, checking her pulse, her eyes, her skin. They exchanged glances, bewildered. "Strength returning. Faster than expected."
Serana slid her legs over the cot and stood. Not once did her knees buckle. She inhaled deeply, straightening her back. A faint smile touched her lips.
"I cannot rest while the city stirs," she said firmly. "The barracks need me."
The healers protested, urging her to remain longer, but she shook her head. The pale weakness had vanished, replaced by vigor. She felt refreshed, renewed, as if some weight had been lifted from her blood itself.
She walked out of the infirmary and into the barracks yard. Soldiers looked up, murmuring. Yesterday she had collapsed repeatedly, pale as parchment. Today she strode with renewed strength, her voice sharp as she barked commands.
Rumors began to ripple already.
"See her? She's better!""Yesterday I thought she'd fall dead. Today she looks stronger than any of us.""The healers must have worked a miracle."
Serana ignored their whispers. Duty awaited.
While daylight filled the barracks, another presence stirred in secret.
Beneath Serana's very chamber, within the hidden hollow carved from stone, Noctis lay awake. His crimson eyes glowed faintly as he listened to the bustle above. He could hear her steps — firm again, no longer faltering. Her voice rang clear through the walls.
He smiled.
"She recovers. Good. She will last longer."
But it was not Serana who consumed his thoughts this morning. It was the Grid. The revelation of the minor nodes still thrilled him, filling him with hunger not only for blood, but for essence itself.
He summoned the lattice into the darkness of the hollow.
Crimson veins stretched across his vision. The great combat nodes pulsed, but it was the smaller sparks between them that seized his focus now. Strength, Agility, Endurance, Perception, Will — all waiting, all glowing faintly like hidden jewels.
Noctis extended his hand toward one cluster. A violet spark flickered near the Faithbreaker branch.
[Will Node — Minor]
Unlocks +10 Will.Cost: 25 Faith Essence.
He smiled. He had more than enough. He pressed his will into it.
The rune shattered, violet flames spiraling into his chest. A surge rushed through his mind, fortifying the walls of thought, hardening the core of his will. He felt it instantly: resistance to pressure, to divine intrusion, to the weight of foreign faith.
He laughed softly in the hollow. "So even their sacred light will not bind me."
Another spark, iron-grey, caught his eye.
[Endurance Node — Minor II]
Unlocks +10 Endurance.Cost: 25 Blood Essence.
He fed it. The rune burst, power flooding his frame. His muscles ached briefly, then solidified, his skin hardening with unseen strength.
He clenched a fist, feeling the raw durability in his flesh. "Let their swords break against me."
He traced further, his eyes finding yet another glimmer — green this time, far from the rest, linking Blood Arts and Beastkin.
[Agility Node — Minor II]
Unlocks +10 Agility.Cost: 20 Blood Essence + 1 Beast Essence.
He hesitated only a moment before feeding it. The essence drained, and his body jolted, faster, sharper than before. His fingers twitched, already itching to test the speed that now thrummed through them.
Noctis sat back within the hollow, closing the Grid. His body thrummed with new life, his senses keener, his mind sharper, his limbs stronger.
Three more sparks extinguished, three more gifts claimed. He could feel the difference. He was not only growing in skill but being rebuilt piece by piece — a predator forged anew each night.
Above, Serana carried herself like a reborn commander, her soldiers whispering of miracles. Below, Noctis hid in the walls, smiling in the dark, his own miracle carved from essence and shadow.
Two faces of recovery. Hers granted by faith, his by hunger.
The city would not see the truth until it was far too late.