He didn't feel much after hearing the this—after all, the people who had died weren't his family or anyone he truly knew or cared for.

It wasn't as though he could do anything about it, so he chose not to concern himself with it. There were more pressing matters at hand.

He turned his attention back to the woman.

"Let's go. Lead the way," he said.

The woman glanced at him for a brief moment before continuing her path toward the village. He wasn't in any rush to catch up, though. All he wanted now was a place to rest—somewhere quiet where he could finally read the contents of the book he'd found in the cave.

They walked side by side, keeping their distance. After a while he finally asked her name.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice casual. The woman was beautiful—blonde hair, purple eyes, and an ethereal golden aura that seemed to surround her. She stood out in a way he couldn't quite place.

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she glanced at him as she walked.

"Saixa," she said. Her eyes flicked to him for a moment before returning to the path ahead.

"Saixa, huh?" he repeated, noting the way she said it—like she wasn't used to sharing it. He chose not to press further.

After a moment, he asked, "Are there other mages like the Forsaken sorcerer?"

"There are," Saixa replied, her tone even. "Nocturnum sorcerer, who draw from the night; Blood sorcerer, who use their life force. Many kinds, each with their own ways."

He nodded. "Different paths, different magic."

It didn't take long for them to reach the village.

He cast a silent glance at the woman, wondering who she was. One thing was clear—she had to be someone of high status.

As he looked at the village ahead, he spoke. "We've arrived. What are you investigating here?"

Saixa scanned the village, a faint golden light flickering in her eyes. She then turned her gaze toward him, as if finding nothing of interest.

"Are you planning to stay in this village?" she asked.

"Yeah, sort of. The Capital City isn't exactly the safest place to live."

She tilted her head, considering his response for a moment. "Hmm."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I offer you an accord," she said, her tone, without any emotion attached. "Work under me, and I will provide you with everything you need. Protection, resources, and direction. You will lack nothing."

He turned to face her, his expression neutral. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather stay here for now. I need time."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Saixa didn't show any visible surprise. She had expected this response . a part of her already knew he would reject her offer, but she wasn't concerned by that. She wasn't the type to lose over a single exchange.

"Think about it," she said evenly, offering him a choice, not out of need but out of consideration. "You will find it's a better path than isolation here. But I won't rush you."

Without another word, she turned and walked away,.

...

A short distance from the village, Saixa came to a stop. In front of her, a figure kneeled, his head lowered in respect. She didn't acknowledge him immediately, instead letting her gaze remain on the horizon for a moment.

"Keep an eye on him," she instructed in a tone that was more matter-of-fact than anything else.

"Yes, my lady," the figure replied.

Saixa didn't waste another second. She reached into her satchel, pulling out a mask that she carefully adjusted to her face. As soon as it was in place, her appearance shifted—her golden hair darkened, her whole demeanor shifting as if she were an entirely different person.

With a final glance back at the kneeling figure, she turned and walked into the shadows.

...

Back in the village, he approached a house which might be of Village head. The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man with graying hair and weathered features.

"Can I help you?" the village head asked.

He looked past him for a moment, taking in the simple surroundings, before turning his gaze back to the man. "I'm looking for a place to stay," he said calmly. "Something simple. Just need a roof over my head for a while."

The village head raised an eyebrow, still unsure of his's intentions. "We don't have much to offer," he replied, scratching his chin. "The village is quiet, and resources are limited. But... you're welcome to stay in one of the unused houses. You'll have some space to yourself."

he nodded slowly, appreciating the offer. "I don't need much. A bed will suffice. I can help out around here, if needed."

The village head studied him for a moment before stepping aside. "Alright. You're welcome to stay, then. The house at the edge of the village should do."

"Thank you," Keeper said, stepping forward. "I'll make sure not to be a burden."

He slowly walked in the direction the old man had pointed.

When he arrived, he entered the house, closing the door softly behind him. The small dwelling, tucked on the outskirts of the village, provided the solitude he sought. He moved to the window and shut it, ignoring the faint sound of the wind scraping at the edges. He preferred the silence, the calm.

He glanced around the empty room—simple and unremarkable, with a table, a few chairs, and a dusty floor. It would suffice. He wouldn't stay long.

He moved to the table, pulled out the book, and set it down.

"Let's see if there's anything useful in this," he muttered as he slowly opened the book.

Despite the language being unfamiliar, he could understand the words. It might be one of the perks of being a Constellation.

As he began to read, it appeared to be some kind of story.

"In the ancient times, there existed a wounded Blood God."

"The God was bloodied, wounded, as it died and killed."

"But his remains…"

"DeathBlood Sorcery."

"The Sorcery of Wounded Blood of Death."

"The wielder of DeathBlood will never escape the grasp of death, for it is bound to their very essence. They may wield it, but they will never control it."

He paused, trying to make sense of it. A wounded Blood God… the god died and killed, its remains giving birth to DeathBlood Sorcery, a sorcery tied to the very essence of death.

What did it all mean?

"System, do you have any idea?" he asked.

[From The description

The DeathBlood Sorcery is a type of magic that originates from a "Blood God" who was severely injured and died. After its death, its blood remained, and that blood became the source of this magic.

When someone uses DeathBlood Sorcery, they draw power from this Accursed blood. The catch is that the more they use it, the more they become bound to death itself. It's not a magic you control, but rather, it controls you. The more you rely on it, the more it consumes you, and the user can't escape death—it's tied to their very essence..]

As he listened to this the more interestg it became..

"So, this DeathBlood Sorcery... It's not just magic. It's tied to death itself, almost like a curse," he muttered. "I draw power from the blood of a dead god, but the more I use it, the more death claims me. That's... dangerous."

He turned the page.

"Blasphemous Blood Curse,"