Leon moved to the beach, well away from the hubbub of the group, to unload his stash of corpses.

Starting with the velociraptors and working his way up in order of size, a single specimen of each creature he’d killed lay on the sandy shoreline.

The findings from his examination were less than satisfactory.

Any dinosaur lacking a specialised ability bore a [Lesser Degenerated Drake] bloodline.

Which unsealed his own bloodline by only 0.01 per cent.

He’d need hundreds of these pathetically weak bloodlines to unseal one per cent of his own. Plus, once Leon considered the sheer amount of effort he’d have to waste on core extraction, the outcome became obvious.

The velociraptor, carnotaurus, spinosaurus and T-Rex corpses vanished back into his storage ring. The effort of extraction outweighed the reward.

The Venomback Spinosaurus and Flamma Tyrannosaurus offered a substantial increase, with their [Lesser Degenerated Flame Drake] and [Lesser Degenerated Poison Drake] bloodlines.

At one per cent per bloodline, Leon kept their corpses out, moving on to inspect the true heavy hitters of the Tutorial.

The Creeping Death Spinosaurus and the Infernal Rex. A massive ten per cent each for their [Greater Degenerated Flame Drake] and [Greater Degenerated Chameleon Drake] bloodlines.

The massive disparity between a lesser and greater bloodline invited questions- ones he didn’t have answers to.

So long as he could break his own blood free, Leon cared little for the particulars.

A shame, both that he had only a handful of these cores and that he could not use them in smithing once he’d consumed their essence.

His bloodline took priority, though. The way forward would remain barred until he completed his Capstone Quest.

Cores were tricky little bastards to hunt down, always close to the centre of the beasts, located between the stomach and the heart, buried in hardened tissue. Pale white orbs, each one bearing unique twists and formations, yet still keeping to a pattern.

Looking at them for too long hurt Leon’s head, the small pile he’d amassed behind him growing as he settled into a process.

Place the corpse, rip open the flesh, dig until he could extract the core, toss the core, store the desecrated corpse and repeat.

The heavy hitters alone contributed enough cores to release his bloodline seal. More than Leon had hoped, he kept extracting cores anyway, now knowing they served a purpose in smithing, taking the time to rip them out now would save him the trouble later.

The lack of light did little to hinder Leon, an unexpected benefit of his raised stats, allowing him to acclimate to low-light conditions with greater ease.

By the time he’d finished gutting everything worth gutting the sun had risen and another morning arrived in the Tutorial.

The absence of the ranking board had startled Leon, though he’d expected its eventual disappearance.

A sign that the nature of the game had shifted from competition to cooperation?

Or had they simply hit a natural endpoint, the Tutorial no longer interested in handing out freebies?

Either way, Leon had more important things to focus his limited attention on.

Pulling an Infernal Rex core from the pile, Leon felt it.

A similar swirling power at the centre of the core.

One he could take, with but a thought and a flex of his bloodline.

The Swordfiend called on his lineage, the hungry beast eager to rip into its breakfast.

The core split in Leon’s hand as his aura made contact, a formless mass of power sucked into his body as he assimilated the lesser bloodline, his own tearing the intruder to scraps that sank into the seal binding him.

The pop-up confirmed he had completed the first step.

“[Greater Degenerated Flame Drake] bloodline consumed. Bloodline seal loosened by ten per cent.”

He repeated the process another eight times, each time his bloodline growing more active as he drew closer to unlocking his power.

The final core split open and it was akin to a dam bursting within Leon, flooding him with assurance.

Above all, below none.

His birthright claimed.

The flurry of pop-ups did little to affect his burgeoning mood.

“Bloodline seal released. Swordfiend bloodline unsealed.”

“Capstone Quest Completed! Further progression is now possible!

Displaying possible progression options:

1. Reclass- Choose a new Class from any you qualify for. Retain your accumulated stats, insights, bloodline and any self-created or externally mastered Skill. Skill [Fiendish Bloodrite] will be lost.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

2. Attempt a breakthrough to the [G] Grade.

User’s current odds of success are twenty per cent.”

A few interesting observations came to Leon.

He would retain two of his bloodline skills, no doubt due to their intimate connection to himself.

The loss of [Fiendish Bloodrite] hardly mattered. Outside of allowing him to break his seal, the skill had hard limits on usefulness.

Learning to extract bloodlines without it would be more useful since he could use any freely extracted bloodlines as boons to bestow on loyal followers.

His odds of breaking through had jumped. A nineteen per cent increase, his higher stats and his unsealed bloodline were no doubt the reason for the increased chances of success.

How insulting.

That the System dared give him any less than a one hundred per cent chance to break through. Clearly, its evaluation of his bloodline only went skin deep, the overwhelming glory of the Swordfiends too much for the weak machine to quantify.

His might matched only by magnanimity.

He would allow this insult to stand.

For now.

Soon, his blade would terrify even the uncaring heavens.

Storing everything that remained, Leon draped his bloodline about his shoulders, a mantle that clung tightly to him as he walked back to his abode.

His control had improved. He felt the beast that had once been slow to stir shift and roil as he commanded.

No longer would it control him- even his own blood knew better than to oppose his will.

The smith, her name already vanished from his mind, toiled still.

The leeches had yet to rise. That called for discipline. The knife-slinger or noble fool would exact punishment on his behalf.

It would be unseemly for a king to dirty his hand by striking a peasant.

A vague memory struck Leon.

The iron had failed to bend to his will yesterday.

He had been deemed deficient.

How could the fault lie with him? Clearly, the rebellious ore had conspired to humiliate him.

The insolent metal would learn its place alongside everything else in existence, that being firmly beneath Leon Knox’s boot.

Before he could strike it, the woman stopped him.

“Apprentice? You okay?”

Foolish! Her concern should be saved for the iron.

“I, Leon Knox, have never been better! Come, allow me to show you the proper way to forge an arming sword!”

The chronomancer’s way of referring to herself struck Leon as most fitting. How else would any ignorant fools learn his name?

“Goddammit- Master warned me you might do this, Leon. How much did you release?”

What an insightful peasant she was! She even recognised that he had unbound his bloodline!

Such insight deserved a truthful reply.

“All of it. The might of my lineage courses through me, the true power of a Sword-“

Leon’s sentence faced interruption as Layla slugged him in the face. The Swordfiend sent sprawling into the dirt, blood pooling in his mouth.

Standing over him, the blacksmith shook her head.

“You should know better than to say that out loud, apprentice. Alright, come on. Master taught me how to deal with this.”

Spitting blood into the dirt, Leon bounced to his feet, following after the blacksmith.

They stopped in the secondary clearing; the ground flattened by the intense sparring Kong Xia and Bethany had used it for the day prior.

Her sneak attack had failed to even knock a tooth loose, yet she clearly sought to fight him.

How humorous!

For bringing such levity to this morning, the Swordfiend would humour her.

Drawing his blade, Leon motioned the woman towards him.

“Come then. Do not expect to land a hit on me. You’re not dealing with the average swordsman anymore.”

Layla drew no weapon, merely raising her fists as she replied.

“What am I dealing with then?”

“I have risen above and become a legend, by embracing my birthright as a Sword-“

The second punch felt far worse since she’d managed to hit the exact same spot.

The physical pain came secondary to the immense humiliation Leon felt.

He couldn’t react, couldn’t even see her move.

Within the blink of an eye, she’d punched him, then returned to her position on the other side of the clearing, not a hair out of place.

He expelled more blood spit following the blow and this time a tooth she’d knocked loose.

A more lucid Leon would have been worried about re-growing that.

The current Leon instead loosened his self-imposed restrictions.

Pulling himself back up, blood running down his chin, he again taunted her.

“Not bad, not bad at all. Clearly, I’ll have to use more than one per cent of my legendary Sword-“

She broke his nose this time.

Leon felt the cartilage crack and snap as her knuckles smashed into him.

Okay- clearly he needed to get serious here.

“Fine, fuck it. You want to play? Let’s play. The might of a Sword-“

Not the face this time- the kidney.

Her strikes possessed an uncanny ability to travel directly through his armour and hit his flesh as though he were wearing nothing.

Agony left Leon kneeling in the dirt.

Tears flowed unbidden as Leon felt pain on a level he’d not felt since he’d had his eye slashed open.

Layla called out to him, standing over him with a disinterested look on her face.

“Accept you’ve lost Leon. I don’t enjoy hurting you.”

Pity laced every word.

How fucking dare she pity him.

He’d rip out every single organ she had and feed her corpse to the shark.

Choking out a response between throbs of pain would hurt, but the insult to his pride could not be allowed to stand.

Shakily, he rose to his feet, burning energy to restore his bruised kidney.

“Fuck. You. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of my Sword-“

She kicked him this time.

Right between the legs.

Leon thanked whichever gods were watching over him that nothing popped except his over-inflated ego.

Getting kicked in the dick left the poor Swordfiend weeping in the dirt for nearly ten minutes.

In between promising that he’d eat her still-beating heart and rhetorically asking why she’d kicked his little buddy, Leon channelled energy to heal his wounds.

His tooth reformed, good as new thankfully.

Once done, he leapt up again, more composed than he’d been previously.

“Alright. I know when I’m beat. You win, I lose.”

Of course, he was lying through his teeth.

A Swordfiend bowed to no one!

As soon as she dropped her guard, he’d strike.

He didn’t fool Layla.

This time she kicked his legs, two quick strikes leaving him with broken bones.

Not retreating this time, she stood over him.

“You know I’m a swordsman as well, right? You aren’t even worthy to face my blade.”

That stung, his own taunt thrown back in his face.

This time he accepted his loss, the last of his arrogance bleeding out alongside the blood in his legs.

Once healed, Leon pulled himself back together, bowing to Layla.

“Thank you. Seems I lost control of myself.”

Dropping her fists, the blacksmith walked off, her reply delivered over her shoulder.

“Thank my Master- he taught me that method. His clan called it The Humbling. Eat, then come see me and we’ll get you your Job today.”

Pulling a chocolate bar from his storage ring, Leon sucked the sugary goodness down.

His bloodline had truly subverted his thoughts- he’d believed himself undefeatable, immortal.

Without Layla’s interference, he would have leaked his own bloodline to the world.

That would have only been the start.

His arrogance would have driven him to ever more foolish acts.

Shaking off the shudders he’d felt, Leon made his way back to the main clearing, fresh respect for both his bloodline and blacksmithing mentor in his heart alongside a resolution.

Constant vigilance- letting his unfettered bloodline stoke his ego had harsher consequences now. This recent flareup had subverted his thinking far more effectively than before.

No doubt thanks to its freshly liberated status.

With no guarantee a stronger person would be around to keep him humble, he needed to keep to his strategy of restraint, to starve the beast of the easy victories it craved.

He’d learned another valuable lesson today.

Higher Grade beings wouldn’t kill him- Zerasos had made it clear the threat of an Infamy point prevented murder.

They’d break him instead, beating him into the dirt, until he’d learned his place- beneath their boot.