Contrary to popular belief, the manifestation of a bloodline is not determined solely by its grade but also by the resonance of one’s spirit. Nevertheless, the severity of a bloodline can often be used to estimate its grade. A common grade soulseed produce minor aesthetical changes, while blessed soulseeds can be so utterly overwhelming that they change a person's entire appearance.
Interdicted study on the nature of bloodlines.
Hakeem Daily.
Calodan, sector 4.
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In the hall of the Black Order, where the color black reigned supreme, 34 students stood around a large table, arguing about the latest occurrence. Most of the students kept quiet, choosing to watch the others bicker like children as they shifted the blame from one person to the other.
One of those who chose to watch in silence was Daruk, who had crafted a chair of ice for himself and was seated, cross-legged, as chaos bloomed around him.
“Whose idea again was it to sit and wait rather than attack?” Lilith sneered. “Oh, I remember. It was yours, Grendar!”
“Lupin and Cameron shouldn't have been able to reach the fort without being spotted. The fault obviously lies with the buffons you chose as watchers.” Grendar shot back with an accusing finger at Marcellus, whose face was flushed in anger.
“I was on the lookout! All of us were, but you were the one who insisted on using that dumb plan, Grendar!” Marcellus snapped, his voice cracking with the strain of defending himself.
Grendar crossed her arms and scowled. “Oh, so now it's my fault? At least I came up with a plan, unlike you, Marcellus! What were you doing while the entire army was decimated? frolicking around with Meredith?”
Meredith, who had been silently stewing in the corner, exploded. “How dare you, Grendar? You will respect my station!”
“Oh, spare us your self-righteous indignation, Meredith.” Lilith sneered, her voice dripping heavily with scorn. “Maybe if you had focused more on our mission and less on your 'station,' we wouldn't be in this bloody mess.”
“Enough.” Cyrus shouted, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. “Cameron is an intangibility awakened. The watchers couldn't have sensed them.”
“What about Lupin, then?” Lilith asked, her tone still heavily laced with sarcasm. “Is she also an intangibility awakened?”
Cyrus scowled at her, a vein throbbing on his forehead in anger. “It doesn't matter, Lilith. This isn’t getting us anywhere, and arguing about who's at fault won't solve this problem.”
For a moment, silence reigned, and Daruk shook his head, a mix of amusement and weariness in his eyes. He had known this would happen. Too many powerful people in one group was a recipe for disaster, and this situation was no different.
It had taken them nearly half an hour to agree on a battle plan, only for it to fall apart before they could even execute it.
Daruk had expected something unique from the other group, considering their unique composition of affinities, but he hadn't seen this coming.
Yurin cursed quietly beside him as the conversation took a more serious turn, and Daruk chuckled. Perhaps they should have been more concerned about the fate of the team, but after so much argument during the first meeting, Daruk decided to sit this one out.
His wandering thoughts were cut short when Grendar sneered. “So what do you suggest, oh wise one?”
Cyrus took a deep breath, steadying himself. "We need to figure out what went wrong. Together. Blaming each other is exactly what they want. We should start by figuring out how they got into the fort in the first place, and then plan our next move."
“We don't need to figure out how they got in.” Lysirel spoke up. “They must have phased through the marsh and then the walls. When I saw Cameron, he'd just phased out of Aida's room.”
“Damn, that's overpowered.” Kellan Dravenor, one of Cyrus's buddies, shook his head. “How is someone that powerful not a high ranker? He's basically immune to all our affinities.”
Marcellus snorted. “Did you miss the part where he was hanging from the roof and screaming after being injected with ethereal essence?”
Grendar chuckled mockingly. “I'm surprised you didn't miss that part, considering you were supposed to be on the wall, watching!”
“How many times do I have to say we couldn't have seen him anyway; he was intangible?” Marcellus snapped, and just like that, the argument began again.
Lilith, Meredith, and even Isis soon joined in, eyes darting and hands gesturing wildly as they let out their grievances.
If this wasn't his group, it would have been hilarious watching them scramble and bicker while the other group put plans in motion. It might have been amusing at first, but now it was just annoying.
Yurin, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the chaos, going so far as to add his own inputs every time the argument seemed to be dying down.
The situation escalated quickly, and at one point, even those who had formerly chosen to maintain silence joined in on the argument.
Insults flew, auras were released, and a slight haze of bloodlust soon filled the air. If it weren't for the fact that he, Yurin, and a few others remained calm, he would have thought they were being affected by a mind-altering rune or skill.
Another ten minutes of argument passed before Cyrus got frustrated enough to release his aura. He must have imbued it with an astounding number of willpower weaves, because as the purple haze of spatial energy burst out of him, space twisted violently, and the auras of the others shattered beneath it.
People flinched and winced as they suffered a backlash, and even Daruk had to draw on his willpower to maintain his nonchalant pose.
“Are you all crazy? Can't you see that this is exactly what they want?!” Cyrus shouted, his face red with anger. “We’ve lost our entire army and sixteen of our members. Yet, rather than come up with a suitable plan, you’re bickering and arguing like children.”
His piercing gaze swept past the entire group. “I swear on Raol's name; the next person that offends me is going to regret it.”
The students shifted awkwardly, throwing glares at each other, but for now they kept their mouths shut, not only because they feared Cyrus as a more powerful student but also because it would be the height of foolishness to offend the son of a duke.
After a moment of silence passed, Cyrus sighed. “We only have 34 members left, and only a few of them are high-rankers. How are we supposed to go against the other group and win this exercise?”
There was a beat of silence before Lilith spoke. “I suggest we go on offense this time. Our numbers might be lesser, but we are still stronger than them.”
“No.” Daruk blurted out. As much as he’d wanted to stay silent, he wanted to win too, and he couldn't stomach another loss like the one they'd just been dealt. “It is foolish to underestimate Ayisha and my brother. Knowing them, they've planned for this and several other eventualities. They know we're stronger, so they must have made preparations to counter that, first by logging out almost a quarter of our members. Attacking them outright is not a wise decision.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Cyrus asked, and that was exactly where the problem was. Daruk had no idea. He had no knowledge of strategy or tactics. He'd never planned to be a warrior but a noble and a scholar until his whirlwind of a brother twisted his destiny.
He sputtered, "I don't know; I mean, I was only pointing out that we would be walking into a trap by attacking them outright.”
At that moment, Daruk regretted even speaking up at all. He should have just maintained his silence and pretended to be more knowledgeable than he was letting on.
“Thank you for that very interesting input.” Lilith said, and Daruk winced at the slight mockery that tinged her tone. She swept her gaze across the group. “So, are we attacking or not?”
Cyrus closed his eyes and sighed, obviously just as inexperienced as Daruk was. “Daruk is right; still, I doubt we have a choice. A direct, overwhelming attack is all I can think of.”
“What about Ankaz?” Grendar asked. “Is it wise to take our flagbearer with us?”
“They'll never expect us to leave him behind.” Luthir spoke up for the first time. “Besides, in the chaos of battle, they'll barely have the time to figure out who it is.”
“It's settled then. Ankaz and three others will stay behind, while thirty of us attack the Red Order." Lilith swept her gaze across the gathered students and smiled. “Let's put those sniveling maggots in their place!”
The gathering dispersed a minute later, and Yurin chuckled as they stood up. “Man, that was premium drama.”
Daruk snorted, still ashamed. “This was a terrible plan.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Yurin laughed. “It's fun, though.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
They walked out of the fort a minute later and turned to observe the scattered remains of their army. Only a few dozen of them were left, aimlessly roaming around as they mourned the death of their commander.
It was a sad sight. A company of two hundred soldiers was reduced to these scattered remains of distraught soldiers, only a few dozens in number.
The fact that Lupin, Aodhán's girlfriend, had been the one to wreck such havoc was the most surprising. Unconsciously, he had underestimated her—a simple cloak affinity—how dangerous could she be?
Now, after seeing just how dangerous she could be, he wondered if he could get an invisibility skill from his affinity. It should be possible, shouldn't it? Or perhaps a sort of mirage that distorted his appearance?
His thoughts were dragged away from his musings when Cyrus announced. “We're leaving in five minutes. Adrian and I will teleport everyone to an area near the border where we'll gather before attacking.”
As Cyrus divided them into groups, Daruk turned his gaze to the second spatial awakened in the group. He was a commoner, one who had participated in the tournament and lost against Yurin.
Now, Adrian stood just a step behind Cyrus, acting more like a guard than a friend of any sort. Still, when their gazes met, the boy scowled in annoyance, and with a sigh, Daruk turned his gaze away.
Usually, people failed to acknowledge the fact that he and Aodhán were brothers, mostly because of how different they looked, and for that reason, they didn't treat him with the same envy-turned-hate they had for Aodhán.
It should have made life within the academy easier, but what sort of brother would he be if he were friends with the same people who harbored negative sentiments against his own brother?
“What about the soldiers?” Ankaz, their flagbearer, asked, and once more, Daruk turned his gaze to the scattered groups.
Cyrus cursed in frustration, apparently having no solution to that particular problem, but it was a valid question. They couldn't leave the soldiers here. They were supposed to treat this as reality, and who goes to war without an army?
“We’ll just have to leave them here.” Lilith replied, but was almost immediately countered by Kellan. “Have you forgotten that we're supposed to treat this as reality?”
Before another argument could break out, Yurin spoke. “Why don't we try to elect a new commander from among them? I mean, if this is supposed to be reality, then the rules have to apply.”
At first, Cyrus was skeptical, but after he appointed one of the soldiers as a captain and the uniform changed to display his new rank, he had recreated the entire army structure.
With new leaders in place, the scattered army was whipped into a semblance of coordination, and the next moment, space rippled as Adrian transported them knees deep into the disgusting marsh.
It took their group three spatial jumps to cross the one-mile marsh, and by the time they appeared at the border, they were covered in green-tinted water, tadpoles, rotten vines, and mud.
As he dusted himself free of the vines and tadpoles, Daruk turned to observe the red fort. Up ahead, only a few miles away from their depressive black sun, was a blazing red sun that almost seemed to be made out of blood.
Yurin heaved as the metallic scent of blood tingled their nostrils. “I'm not sure which is worse. Gloomy darkness or sanguine light?”
Daruk wrinkled his nose in agreement. The order of black was depressing and surrounded by a disgusting marsh, but even at the border of the red order, the scent of blood and viscera hung densely in the air.
Tall trees riddled with red leaves filled the area around them, and a blood-red stream flowed only a few meters away.
“Are we ready?” Cyrus asked, his nose wrinkled in disgust as he teleported the army to the border, and after a chorus of affirmation, they teleported once more, and this time, they arrived a few hundred meters away from the Red Fort, which stood imposingly like a castle crafted out of solidified blood and glass.
They moved forward immediately, wary of traps and ambushes, but they found nothing, and as they walked through the gate without resistance, Daruk began to feel uncomfortable.
The sight of the Red Army gathered a few meters away eased his mind a little, but it did nothing to assuage his growing suspicions that they were walking into a trap.
Only Yurin shared his suspicions, though, as the next moment, Cyrus laughed. “Good, they must have been so drunk on their inconsequential victory that they're now underestimating us. We need to split up immediately: fifteen of us to attack the fort, and the rest to take on the stragglers.”
*What about the army?” Marcellus asked. “A few of us can take them out, easy peasy.”
“Conserve your energy.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “The army doesn't matter; what we need to focus on is the flag bearer.”
Daruk wanted to advise caution, as his suspicions kept growing, but after a moment of contemplation, he decided to keep silent. Perhaps he was being overly paranoid, and the order of Red order was truly underestimating them.
They split into two groups, with himself, Cyrus, Lilith, Marcellus, Tobias, Curtis, and Imani in the first group, leaving Yurin, Isis, Meredith, Grendar, and a few others to take out the stragglers.
Cyrus signaled for them to get ready, and the next instant, they teleported into the hall of the Red Fort. Red curtains covered the windows, and hairline cracks covered the floor and walls.
There was no one else within the hall except a boy with bright red hair and red-ringed black pupils who stood flush against the opposite wall. Hundreds of red energy wisps flowed out of his back, and when Daruk's gaze followed the wisps, he found them connected to several explosives embedded into the walls.
The boy spread out his arms and grinned. “For the love of carnage.”
If Daruk’s suspicions had been a slight din in his head before, now they thundered in his mind, and without hesitation, he channeled five strands of energized willpower into {Forge} and created a dome around himself, which he further imbued with durability and thickness.
Still, the first explosion rocked the building to its core, causing a sudden, violent expansion of the cracks that covered it. Shockwaves rippled through the structure, shattering windows and cracking concrete.
Then, in a terrifying cascade, subsequent explosions ripped through the building. Walls buckled inward, floors collapsed, and his dome cracked, shuddering violently as debris was thrown in all directions like a storm of destruction.
It took several minutes before the shockwaves subsided, and Daruk exited the dome to find the once towering fort reduced to a chaotic heap of concrete and metal.
The building was completely destroyed, and Daruk half expected to see the broken bodies of his group members twisted beneath large slabs of cracked concrete. The boy who had triggered the explosion was gone, probably logged out by his own attack. Brutal.
Still in shock, Daruk turned to take in the devastation, and that was when he saw a shimmering purple dome of spatial energy standing amidst the wreckage. Cyrus, Kellan, and Lilith emerged from the shimmering dome a moment later, eyes wide with shock and disbelief that quickly morphed into anger within Cyrus, who turned to glare at Daruk and shouted. “Where is that brother of yours? I swear, I'll kill him.”
Before any of them could react, though, the sound of marching soldiers reached them, and they rushed out of the rubble to find the army of the Black Order marching towards the border.
It didn't make sense. Nothing was going according to plan, but the most important question remained: where were the remaining members of the black order?
Daruk grimaced. Granted, he had very little knowledge concerning war and strategy, but they'd been played throughout this battle, led around by the nose like sheep, and Daruk hated that. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his intelligence, but this whole simulation exercise made him feel like an idiot.
Yurin and the other half of the group rushed towards them, eyes wide, as they took in the destruction of the fort. Kellan narrated their ordeal, and silence descended on the group.
They had just lost another twenty-seven members in this attack, but the sad fact was that if this were reality, those twenty-seven people would be dead for real.
Those who had been taking the exercises lightly before finally became somber, their expressions turning grim.
“What do we do now?” Ursaz Urdania broke the silence. “There are only twenty-three of us left, including about two dozen soldiers.”
“We've lost.” Cyrus snapped. “All through this exercise, they've maneuvered and manipulated us like children. They're obviously better than us.”
“Perhaps they're better.” Adrian responded calmly. “But they haven't won, though; we still have our flag bearer, and we can still fight. The battle is only over when we give up.”
Daruk sighed. The boy was right. But what could they really do to turn this battle around? All they had were a few soldiers, who, to be honest, were simply walking bags of flesh, ripe for killing, and twenty-three members, half of whom could barely create ten weaves of willpower.
Still, there was hope. They were stronger than the other group, and all they had to do was get them out on the battlefield. Direct confrontation was the only way they could win; anything aside from that would result in catastrophic failure.
An agonized wail echoed from beneath a pile of rubble, and as one, the entire group rushed forward, thinking it was a trapped member of their group who had managed to escape being logged out.
Using their ability, they pulled apart the slabs of concrete, and it wasn't until Daruk saw a familiar strand of the fiery red hair that he realized they'd been played once again.
He stumbled backwards immediately, but it was already too late, and before he could call out a warning, another explosion rocked the earth. Pain ripped through him, and the sense of melting skin overwhelmed his mind.
The simulation world disappeared, and he gasped as his ASR pod opened with a hiss. He stumbled out of the pod immediately, his legs shaky from the ordeal, and he clutched tightly to the edge to steady himself.
Groans filled his ears as other members of his group stumbled out of their pods, faces as white as sheets.
When the pain finally died down, Daruk turned to find Professor Alaric grinning at him. “They say death by explosion is a very unpleasant way to die. Care to narrate your experience?”
…..
Ankaz Urdania sat with his arms folded between three other members of the red order. A sense of defeat and disappointment weighed heavily on them. They had been outplayed, manipulated, and herded around like helpless sheep throughout this exercise, and now only four of them were left.
It was hard to believe they had lost, even with the number of high-rankers they'd had in the group. When he'd been assigned to the group, he'd been ecstatic, sure of their victory. He couldn’t have imagined that they would be beaten so thoroughly.
If this was a real war, all those who had been logged out would have been dead. Never to live again until the next reincarnation cycle. He shuddered once again, thankful that Calodan had pulled out of the war.
His remaining companions, Bakhtin, Celeste, and Yvonne, exchanged glances, each of them grappling with the realization that they were all that remained of their once-mighty group.
The weight of responsibility fell on him, and he tightened his grip on his sword. Yet he knew the odds weren't just stacked against them; it was literally impossible for them to win.
Bakhtin broke the silence a moment later, suggesting that they run or hide to prolong their inevitable capture, but Ankaz shook his head. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable.
Still, they clutched their weapons tightly, prepared to fight to the last. Perhaps, even though they’d failed the exercise, they would get some bonus points for valor.
They didn't have to wait long, as only a few minutes later, the door was thrown open, and a group of over forty students walked into the fort.
His courage wilted when confronted with their numbers. What use was fighting when Aodhán or Ayisha alone could take them all?
Ayisha strode forward, her eyes brimming with triumph, and Ankaz' grimaced. Ayisha Helsarin was a recluse if there ever was one, and he was surprised to see his “ghost” of a housemate leading the group.
She offered a mocking bow when she came close enough and smiled. “Hi Ankaz, I'm sorry to announce that your group members are now dead.”
Chuckles rang out from her group, and Ankaz shifted awkwardly on his seat, acutely aware of the hopelessness of their positions.
With a disarming smile, Ayisha announced their defeat and demanded their surrender, a notion that was met with reluctant complaince from his remaining companions.
Ankaz pushed himself to his feet. “Fine, you win. We surrender to the red order.”
Immediately he spoke the words, thunder rumbled, the simulation faded, and Ankaz found himself in his pod once more. He stepped out of his pod a moment later and found himself surrounded by the rest of his group, each wearing grim looks while shouts of jubilation and victory echoed from the other side of the hall.
“Congratulations to the red Order." Professor Alaric smiled. “This was an exciting exercise, and I'm sure you've all gained one thing or another. To today's losers, I urge you all to do better next time. Learn from your mistakes and avoid repeating them.” He clapped his hands. “Class dismissed.”
Shouts of jubilation rose again, and Ankaz grimaced as his younger sister, Scarlett, raced towards him, her grin almost unnaturally wide.
“Oh, you should see your faces.” She laughed. “Tell me, brother, what does failure taste like?”
He grabbed her by her silky hair and pressed his knuckles into her head while she laughed and struggled to free herself. “It tastes like dog shit, you little punk!”