A Level 1 to 3 bloodline was considered Common.
A Level 4 to 6 bloodline was considered Uncommon.
A Level 7 to 9 bloodline was considered Rare!
To put this into perspective, bloodlines at Level 10 were named Blessed Bloodlines. The strength of this blood was more than worth an exchange of 400 000 Blessing Units.
One might say that it was ridiculous to take this route since you could just buy this bloodline from an exchange for 70 000 Blessing Units instead. However, that neglected one very important factor: availability!
It was impossible to exchange for things above your Level, which means you would have to become a Level 7 Priest before getting the chance to trade for this bloodline.
In addition, there was the problem of supply.
Bloodlines were scarce, whether by design or function. It was either Gods kept it that way on purpose, or it was just difficult to gather up bloodlines.
Considering the fact that even the Fallen Apostle Exchange didn’t have any bloodlines for Leonidas to exchange for, it was more likely to be the latter.
Gathering, storing and preserving bloodlines was a hassle. There was an entire Class dedicated to it in the Warlock, but why would such information be so easily shared?
Warlocks underwent countless tribulations to change and mutate their own bloodlines, they wouldn’t easily hand it down to someone else. And, their tombs were heavily protected.
Leonidas used his wandering thoughts as a method to calm his rage.
When his breathing was finally cool enough to not scorch his throat and lungs, he moved again, going through every inch of the room piece by piece.
He learned a few things.
For one, the coffin was a Level 4 item designed to preserve. It could keep his mother untouched and perfect for up to a year.
Secondly, the glass container used to house his mother’s bloodline was another Level 4 item designed to preserve. It could keep bloodlines and potions in perfect condition for up to three years.
After doing all of this, Leonidas finally had a steady heartbeat once again.
‘If I’m correct, they only started collecting mother’s bloodline recently. All this time I thought that… But it seemed that the bruises that covered her and her weakness came from the needles and them pumping so much blood out from her before concentrating it.
‘They probably thought that she was useless to them after she died, until they found a method to take advantage of her even after death…
‘And, if I’m really right, mother’s bloodline is likely related to how the Rardins managed to hold a monopoly over the Healer Class.’
Months ago, when Leonidas first met Anabel, she had told him that no one in their town had the talent to become a Healer, but suddenly the Rardins started producing them.
It was definitely an oddity that seemed to have no explanation whatsoever. But, if Leonidas’ conjecture was correct, they had his mother to thank.
If they only started extracting her bloodline like this recently, then what about all the other years of torture she had experienced? And, how had she managed to get a Healer to help Leonidas with his hearts?
It was very likely that the first time Yvette fell into the hands of the Rardins was when she had to beg and plead to have a Healer cure him.
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As a prostitute and without nearly enough money to pay for the Rardins’ services, what else could Yvette exchange for the health of her son?
Leonidas’ jaw clenched.
So it was his weakness that had led to all of this.
His mother’s letter revealed to Leonidas that the kind woman he had always known was far more intelligent and craftier than he had ever given her credit for.
Somewhere deep inside, Leonidas felt that his mother had likely known about the prowess of her bloodline. But, rather than keeping it a secret and biding her time to flip the tables as she originally planned, she gave it all up and willingly became a pawn all to save her son.
Leonidas closed his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek, only to be incinerated by the scorching heat of his skin.
Without a word, Leonidas began to slowly disconnect his mother from her chains, pulling out the thin needles one by one.
To Deacon Bruthers, it looked like Leonidas was just going around touching things. He had no way of knowing just how much information Leonidas had managed to deduce from these matters. So, he could only watch in silence.
Leonidas exchanged for the best dress he could afford from the Fallen Apostle Exchange.
Sliding the roof of the glass coffin away, he carefully pulled it over his mother’s head.
His hands trembled when he felt the rigidity of her body, but he pushed through. It was one thing to handle his mother’s corpse when she was wrapped and covered in fabrics, but being forced to look at her serene expression all the while was a different sort of tribulation.
Once Leonidas was done, he crossed his mother’s arms over her chest. And, after a thought, he reached for a pouch at his waist.
If there was anything Leonidas had to be thankful for in this moment, it was that Deacon Ezor’s actions had allowed him to preserve his mother’s beauty.
When he could afford it, he would buy higher- and higher-Level preservation treasures.
Then, when the day came that he reached that highest peak, his mother would be able to look down at the world with him, carrying with her the very same beauty she always had.
Leonidas reached forward, sliding his mother’s letter into her hands.
He took a pouch out soon after. He had always carried this with him, it was the very same pouch that had housed the culmination of his mother’s life’s work.
74 silver coins. 39 copper coins.
It was a number that would stay with him for a lifetime. It was that very number that had allowed him to start on his journey, a number it took his mother decades to accumulate.
Leonidas carefully placed the pouch into his mother’s hands.
He had read the letter enough to memorize every letter and stroke.
He had touched the pouch enough for its fine and delicate embroidery to begin to fray.
As much as he wanted to keep these items on his person, considering his current lifestyle, they wouldn’t last another year without becoming unrecognizable.
The only way to save them was to keep them with his mother.
Leonidas closed his eyes, placing his palm over his mother’s hands.
He expected to find warmth, but all he received in return was cold. It wasn’t oppressive, but it felt stinging to his hand, as though countless needles were pressing into him.
Leonidas exhaled a breath, allowing the pain to spread through his hand and arm.
For a man who couldn’t even protect his own mother, this was exactly the kind of feeling he deserved.
He basked in it, wanting to remember it.
But, at that moment, the pain reached his heart.
Leonidas’ eyes snapped open, his irises flickering with light.
He had thought that it was nothing more than an illusion just now, a phantom pain conjured up by his psyche.
During his research about the importance of Intelligence to a Mage, Leonidas had read a book about how much control the mind had over the body, there were even some people who still experienced pain in a limb they had already lost purely because their brain still believed it was there.
Leonidas had always been fascinated by the spirit’s insistence on the importance of the mind to a Mage, especially since it was Healers whose Spirit Pools were located in their minds, not Mages.
So, Leonidas had always wondered why it seemed, then, that the mind was even more important to those who used Mana like him.
Today, when he expelled his emotions with War Cry, Leonidas realized that the spirit was very much correct.
When his mind was calm, his Mana flowed smoother and faster. His deductions were also quicker and his reactions were more precise.
It somewhat made sense, in a pseudo-intellectual kind of way in Leonidas’ estimation.
The heart often reflected the body’s state of being and changed its rhythm based on your mood, so maybe this was why the state of mind was so important.
However, Leonidas knew that this was only a surface-level answer, if it could be considered an answer at all.
Still, this was all to say that Leonidas was certain that his mind had taken over the reins of his body again, only to open his eyes to realize that this feeling wasn’t one his psyche made up, it was real!
An odd flow of energy drilled into Leonidas’ body.
Despite the pain, his expression didn’t change as he simply analyzed the situation.
Soon, he realized that an odd resonance was being formed between himself, the pouch and his mother.