Blood.
The scent of it was heavy in the training grounds, soaked into the sand, smeared across steel, and still dripping from wounds too fresh to clot.
Lucien Vale stood at the edge of the circle, barefoot, collar still sparking from the fight with the chain creature hours ago. His shirt clung to his skin, torn and stained, but his eyes—sharp, calculating, amused—were brighter than ever.
"Get used to the smell," Elira said beside him. "It's not going away."
Lucien tilted his head. "I don't mind. It reminds me of home."
She gave him a look, unsure whether it was a joke.
It wasn't.
The two were part of the bottom batch — the lowest-ranked slaves forced to train first, bleed first, and die first. They were thrown into the training yard before sunrise and handed crude wooden weapons to spar with other chained recruits.
Most didn't even know how to hold a blade. Lucien did.
He remembered wars, ambushes, forbidden duels, dragon-slaying hunts… and of course, the time he impaled a king with nothing but a sharpened bone.
The instructors barked orders, "Pair off! Spar till someone stops moving!"
Lucien rolled his neck and looked around.
A large boy—scarred, angry, and twice Lucien's size—was approaching with a wooden club.
Perfect.
[Instinct Flow: Shadow Reflexes – Available][System Suggestion: Do not kill. Just scare.][Or… maybe a little pain?]
Lucien smiled, lifted his staff lazily, and waited.
The brute charged.
Lucien ducked under the swing, jabbed the boy's stomach, then swept his legs. The thug crashed hard.
Before he could rise, Lucien placed the tip of the staff at his throat. "That was sloppy. Want me to teach you how to die slower?"
The boy scrambled back.
The others stared.
Elira, from her corner, nodded slightly.
Word began to spread.
#513 wasn't normal.
Later that day, they were herded into the mess hall. A giant stone room filled with rusted benches, moldy food trays, and the foulest soup imaginable. Lucien sniffed his bowl. He wasn't sure if it was food… or punishment.
"This isn't soup," he muttered.
"It's warm," Elira replied. "That's good enough."
Lucien stirred the sludge with a finger. "I used to dine on phoenix marrow stew. This might be made from rotting boots."
Elira smirked. "Eat fast. The Warden's dogs are watching."
Lucien noticed them too—hooded figures along the walls, their eyes covered in black glass. Not guards. Observers.
One of them was staring directly at him.
[New Passive Unlocked: Threat Sense][Effect: You can now feel killing intent within a 10-meter radius][Warning: Targets sensed. Prepare defensive mindset.]
Lucien looked up. The observer flinched.
"Interesting," Lucien whispered. "They're testing me already."
That night, something strange happened.
Lucien dreamed.
But it wasn't a normal dream. It wasn't even a nightmare.
He stood in a black void. Floating. Alone.
Then, a ripple passed through the space.
A figure appeared. Towering. Cloaked in shifting shadows and dragon scales. No face. No name. Just… presence.
[Draco Umbra has sensed your soul][Synchronization in progress][Trial of Blood Awakening begins now]
Lucien was pulled into a battlefield of stars. Dozens of dragons — shadows, light, bone, flame — roared across the skies. They fought, screamed, died.
In the middle of the chaos, Lucien stood weaponless.
Then, a voice thundered.
"WHAT ARE YOU?"
Lucien stared at the sky. "I am no one's hero."
"WHY DO YOU FIGHT?"
"Because I want to."
"WHY DO YOU LIVE?"
"To take everything they tried to keep from me."
Silence.
Then, a black blade fell from the sky, landing in Lucien's hands.
[Weapon: Abyssfang — Bound to Shadow Magus][Awakening Progress: 12%][New Skill: Bloodlink – Empower with pain]
Lucien jolted awake, drenched in sweat, pulse racing.
His hands… were shaking.
Not from fear. From power.
The collar sparked again, fighting to suppress the energy now flowing in his blood.
Across the cell, Elira stirred. "Another trial?"
Lucien nodded. "They keep coming."
"You're growing too fast."
Lucien chuckled. "Is that concern I hear?"
"…No. Curiosity."
He leaned closer. "Good. Because curiosity is a useful thing. Stay curious, Elira… and you'll survive longer than most."
As the sun rose, they were once again dragged into formation. But this time, the Warden stood waiting with a group of masked officials. The air buzzed with importance.
"Today," the Warden announced, "we begin the Blood Feast."
The crowd fell silent.
"It is a rite passed down since the founding of Hollowspire. You will fight… not for survival, but for selection. Those who impress us move up. The rest… remain meat."
Lucien's eyes lit up.
A stage.
A chance to show just enough to climb, but not too much to threaten the system.
He stepped forward. "#513, ready."
The Warden blinked.
Then laughed. "Well, well. Our little dragon wants to feast early."
Lucien bowed with mock respect.
"Oh, I don't want to feast," he said, eyes glowing faintly.
"I want them to choke."