Kael and Nyros stepped out of the prison, but the sight that greeted his eyes was nothing like what he had imagined.
There was no blue sky, no shining sun, no light bathing the world like in the stories he'd heard. Instead… what lay before him was a realm built from black stone—dark, suffocating. The surrounding walls were made of the same bleak material as his prison cell. Narrow buildings, some leaning, others stacked on top of one another as if struggling to breathe. The light didn't come from a sun or moon, but from dim yellow lamps above doorways or leaking through cracks in the walls.
There was no fresh air… only an old, decaying scent that could only be described as stillness.
And the people—if they could even be called that.
They walked slowly, whispering to themselves in voices too low to hear, eyes locked on the ground, as if they no longer recognized the world around them. Some seemed deranged, with blank stares or twisted bodies. Their clothes were torn, filthy with dust and blood, as if they had lost all connection to dignity long ago. Still, not one of them looked at Kael. He may as well have been a ghost.
He stood there for several long minutes… no one moved toward him. Only whispers echoed again and again—phrases he couldn't understand, spoken like prayers to something unseen… or long-awaited.
"Don't be surprised," said Nyros softly, his voice carrying a sorrow that couldn't be hidden.
"This is the Lower district. Here live all those exiled from the world above—those who couldn't control their bloodline, those who lost their minds, those with hybrid blood… or anyone who became a threat to the Middle District."
He paused, the sadness still clinging to his words.
"They don't see this place as a prison. They see it as rebirth. A second chance. A place that heals. That cleanses. That prepares them for redemption. They worship it. They worship this earth. But the longer someone stays here… the more this place consumes them. Until they disappear."
Kael looked at him carefully. He saw a strange glimmer in Nyros' eyes. He didn't ask anything—but his heart whispered that Nyros wasn't talking only about the others.
He raised his head to speak—when suddenly, a quiet wave swept through the entire place. Some people ran. Others hid. And some stood in the streets, shouting, arms and faces raised toward the black sky.
Voices rang out, rising above the whispers:
"The second pulse!"
"The tremor is near!"
"The Tremor… the Tremor!"
The words echoed down the alleyways, from every mouth, like some ancient collective prayer.
Kael felt it.
Something stirred in his blood—a wave that slipped through his veins and ignited in his heart. He didn't understand it. He turned to Nyros.
"Ny—"
But he couldn't finish.
Nyros grabbed his hand and pulled him violently. He ran without explanation.
They ran fast.
And then… the world changed.
The once-still walls began to breathe. Cracks burst open from the ground, from the walls, from the sky itself—oozing thick, black blood. Waves of darkness swept through the alleys. Buildings shook. Some shrank. Some crumbled like illusions.
And some people… opened their arms, embracing the blood with mad joy.
When it touched them… they didn't scream.
They didn't burn.
They simply vanished.
Melted.
Swallowed by the blood.
And they laughed.
Laughed wildly.
Kael gasped, trembled, gripping Nyros tighter as they ran with everything they had.
"Jump!" Nyros shouted.
They jumped onto the roof of a low building. The blood hadn't reached them—yet. But—
The building vanished.
As if it had never existed.
They fell.
A pit opened below them, pouring with thick black blood.
At the last moment, Nyros's body ignited with red fire, and he soared upward—but he couldn't reach Kael.
Kael fell.
Into the blood.
It consumed him—rushing into his mouth, nose, ears. His short black hair darkened even more. He began to choke. The blood was too thick. Too much. His red eyes flared brighter, and his thin face turned crimson. He was going to die.
And then… the voice came.
The voice that had been with him since birth.
The only voice that ever spoke to him.
The one that always wished him dead.
"Who do you think you are… cursed blood?"
And everything changed.
The blood began to draw in.
Not from outside.
But from within.
Kael didn't swallow it—his body absorbed it. Every cell in him began to devour it. There was a lake's worth of blood… and still, Kael's body drank it like a bottomless pit.
And then came the pain.
Not like before.
Something far beyond human.
He screamed—inhuman, primal. His body arched, heart thundering.
Above, Nyros heard the scream.
And knew—Kael was still alive.
He dove into the pit, stunned by what he saw. Kael's body writhed in agony. The earth pulled away from him. The blood… retreated.
"The blood feared by the Nine Lineages… is fleeing from a child?"
He whispered in disbelief. He didn't know who Kael truly was, but he knew this child would change the world—either for salvation or destruction. But he would challenge the laws.
Then he remembered:
"He can't stay here. If anyone finds out he was chosen by the Blood… they'll all come after him."
Nyros's red aura burst into flame. He grabbed Kael—even as burns began to form across his skin.
Kael didn't feel the fire.
Because the pain inside him… was beyond any flame.
Nyros rose into the air, soaring fast with Kael in his arms.
And Kael's screams… tore the sky apart.