Since there was nothing that needed immediate attention, I put in a request for a class-3 ruin. Since I was a class-3 myself, finding a temporary team to partner up with wasn’t difficult. I messaged them through the forums and got a reply pretty quickly. It was decided we’d meet at the start of the following week to discuss distribution terms and make a plan of attack. Money wasn’t a huge concern for me right now so there’d be no problem with a smaller split. I was more focused on absorbing souls which were more valuable in my opinion.

There was also a note left on my door that told me Evanora would reach out to me very soon. Since she was the leader of a lot of witches, it made sense she was busy. Though, I wondered how much of her time she put aside to meet me personally. I half-suspected she was held up somewhere studying the translation of the runes I gave her.

I couldn’t demand that she drop everything to see me, but she should be more inclined to hand over some artifacts since she put off meeting me right away. At least, if she was as kind-hearted as she made herself out to be.

She survived for hundreds of years while maintaining secrecy which made me think she wouldn’t have an issue with killing someone who got in her way. After all, to think that she somehow kept the moral high ground while her fellow witches were being hunted down would be pure ignorance.

“When did things get so complicated?” I asked myself, feeling listless all of sudden, but that didn’t last long.

The best way to get a handle on things was to get stronger first. I began pondering about my lifeblood since I had a few hours before I was due to see Stanley Wilkes.

The key words used in the grimoire were “untethered” and “control.”

As far as I knew, I hadn’t untethered myself and I didn’t quite get what that meant. Control, was obvious but I couldn’t figure the difference between plain blood manipulation and lifeblood.

‘Oh, yeah there was that wasn’t there?’ I clapped my hands together.

There was the Art of Mortality too. It had a much grimmer description since it directly stated I needed to explore my own death. I had no means of temporarily “dying” or entering a “near-death” state, so it had to mean the Art of Mortality was dependent on understanding lifeblood first.

“I could ask Evanora for references too,” I mumbled, just realizing there was no better source to go to than a witch who lived for a few hundred years. Maybe she had some old historical records or books I could look through for reference.

‘So, I’ll guess I’m putting that off until she arrives,’

Like the path of the Dread Sorcerer said, I wouldn’t receive anything for free on this path. I would have to take a direct approach if I wanted to grow. If that meant reading thousands of pages without a guaranteed payoff, well, I was more than up to it.

Without a clear goal in mind at the moment, I simply practiced controlling my blood. I went through basic shapes and altered their density in order to gain experience with using it.

Now, while I could manipulate blood while it was outside of my body, I was hesitant to the same with the blood being pumped through my body. There wasn’t exactly room for error if I accidentally cut off the supply of blood to a vital organ.

That technically meant there were three big stages involved so far.

External Manipulation, which allowed me to create armor, projectiles, and weapons.

Internal Manipulation, which would, in theory, allow me to possibly regrow limbs, regenerate faster, alter my blood flow, and increase my muscle strength for a period of time.

I guess the third stage could be described as Property Manipulation seeing as I could change the properties of my blood.

Leaving lifeblood out from the equation, each stage had its own strengths and weakness, like range, energy required, and usage limit.

There was also the fact that repeatedly switching between each one would be taxing on my body regardless of which one I chose to use.

That aside, both external and internal manipulation complimented the death bringer path if I opted for close combat.

Manipulating the properties of my blood was no doubt the strongest possible stage. If I could develop it more than it was worth expanding on.

I was also reminded of drawing runes in blood which made me wonder. Was that a form of lifeblood manipulation? Seeing as my blood was the medium used to empower the runes. I’d have to experiment the next time I entered a ruin alone.

I easily lost myself in time while practicing the Art of Sanguina and only noticed it was late in the evening after the sun was already setting.

“I guess it's about time,” while saying so, I got up and threw a coat on before leaving.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

…

Under the cover of a quickly darkening sky, a murder of crows flew toward the downtown area of the Emerian Island. As the focal point of the city/island, there were tall sky rises and upscale storefronts befitting the nature of the businesses surrounding them. Deeper in the city is where the nightclubs, bars, and other venues were.

In the era where gifted were oftentimes more famous than singers or actors, it wasn’t strange to see a packed building due to a guest appearance. It also wasn’t unheard of to hear about a drunken fight between two or more gifted breaking out. As a result, police, as well as guild patrols, always remained close to the district.

It was a fact that didn’t escape Casper’s notice as he flew overhead. He surveyed his destination from above, discovering that there was an increased amount of security when compared to the other venues. It made sense, seeing as Stanley was probably well aware of what type of position he was in and made sure to bring his own people.

‘If you were worried, you should’ve hidden yourself in a bunker,’ Casper thought as the crows descended into an alley.

His method of approach? Slip in through the back entrance of the club.

His eyes flickered pale white as surveyed the two security guards in his way and found they were ordinary people. Behind them, there were blotches of souls that blended together but from that entanglement of people, he could make out a few bright presences. It meant that there were gifted among the club-goers, obviously, they were real security for Stanley while the two men outside were more or less fodder for Stanley. All in all, there were several class-2’s who were possibly carrying artifacts in addition to Stanley himself who was probably armed to the teeth with expensive artifacts.

Hunkering in the shadows of the alley, Casper carefully thought about the specifics of his plan.

First and foremost, cause a disturbance to get non-combatants out of the building. Using a security guard’s gun or pulling the fire alarm would probably work. However, the former would cause them to stampede out faster, which was all and well, but it would bring the nearby guild and police patrols just as quickly.

If the fire alarm was pulled, they’d leave in a slow and orderly manner. Also, the police and guild patrols would wait for the fire department to arrive rather than rush in.

If he was confident and killing everyone in a short time span, he’d go for the first option. Due to the chance of artifacts being present, the second choice was his best bet if nothing went wrong.

“Okay, I think it’s all good.” Casper’s habit of speaking to himself had clearly had yet to disappear.

He feigned his best injured/drunken gait and stumbled toward the two of Stanley's personal armed guards standing outside while muttering incoherently.

“Hey!” One of the men immediately shouted as he approached.

“I-I need help,” Casper said with a stiff tone, hardly convincing to the ears of the two men.

Luckily, he manipulated his blood, to cover his hand, making it seem as if he were nursing a stomach wound.

“The police, call the–” Casper tumbled over, falling to the ground in a slightly rigid and restrained manner, but it went unnoticed by the security guards.

“What the hell happened?” One security guard approached while the other pulled out his cellphone, however, the number he was attempting to dial wasn't an emergency line, but Stanley himself.

Before either one of them could say anything, two crystalline needles shot out from Casper’s hand and pierced bodies. Less than an expert marksman, Casper missed any spots that would kill them instantly and had to fire a few more needles all at once.

The security guards collapsed after suffering from the sudden attack, leaving Casper to dust himself off as he climbed to his feet. The sensation of souls trickling into his body was odd after going without it for so long, but he ignored it and retrieving a gun from one of the dead security guards before prying open the backdoor with a scarlet blade and slipping inside the club. He tucked the firearm into his waistband just in case the fire alarm failed to work properly and he needed a plan B.

The music blared obnoxiously along with the muffled conversations that seemed to be filling the area. As Casper proceeded inward, he felt the air was warmer and stuffier than outside. The dense crowd was a little intimidating for him, not just because their safety would affect his life, but also the fact he had rarely been to such a crowded place.

‘I should definitely keep focused,’ Casper honed in the growing discomfort and scanned around the club for Stanley.

And, as expected, sitting comfortably in a VIP booth was Stanley Wilkes with an attractive woman nestled up beside him. Watching the perimeter of the booth were the gifted who were tasked with protecting him. A few of which were wearing jewelry, but it was hard to tell if they were artifacts or just plain accessories from sight alone.

As if telling him, Casper suddenly felt the penumbra began to grumble.

“What’s that boy? You smell artifacts?” Casper spoke to the penumbra jokingly but was quickly met with silence.

Clearing his throat, he maneuvered through the crowds of people and stuck to the wall. Since the lights were dim, he didn’t stick out as much as he should’ve. His plainclothes and gloomy demeanor were eyebrow-raising enough given the flashy and expensive outfits being showcased around the club.

Eventually, Casper arrived at the fire alarm plastered with warnings not pull unless there was fire.

“Sorry to ruin your night guys,” He mumbled before pulling the lever downward.

The emergency lights immediately began flashing as a high-pitched alarm filled every corner of the club.

A voice came over the loudspeaker urging people to proceed outside in a calm and orderly manner and for the most part they did.

Casper turned to see what Stanley was doing but was stunned to see that the person in question was staring directly at him as everyone left.

An arrogant smile filled his face as he pushed the woman away from him and stood up, whispering something to the several gifted who surrounded him. They slowly spread out, advancing toward Casper while Stanley fell back into his chair and propped himself up as if a good show was about to play out.

Taking a glance to the cameras around the club, Casper covered his body in blood armor which also helped to obscure his face. Since the crowd had begun to clear out, it would be hard to continue to hide his identity during the fight.

The gifted, instead of drawing guns, drew knives with detailed guards and master-crafted blades. They were no ordinary weapons, that much was clear.

“Artifacts,” Casper murmured begrudgingly while his scarlet blades silently extended from underneath his sleeves.