BLOOD MOON : THE LAST LINEAGE

Chapter Three: The Price of Power

The chains burned.

Not with fire, but with weight — with the force of betrayal, of loss, of fate closing its jaws.

Alan knelt, the light-forged bindings holding his limbs to the ground. Arrows flickered like static around him. He could feel Seraphina's presence in the fog, Kael's boots grinding broken stone, and Hunzun's lightning building again in the sky.

And then… Alan began to laugh.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't manic.

It was bitter. Tired. Inevitable.

Kael frowned, stepping closer. "You think this is funny?"

Alan said nothing, still smiling.

Kael raised a fist glowing with aura, and struck. Alan's head snapped sideways. Blood spilled down his chin. Another punch to the ribs. Another to the jaw. The ground cracked under each blow, but Alan did not resist. He simply took the pain — as if it meant nothing.

"Stop," came a calm voice.

It was Aero, staff glowing softly in the background.

"We're here to kill him. Not torture."

Kael turned slightly, grinning. "Kill him, huh?" He snorted. "You think this is justice? This fool still believes the Bloodmoon Clan is dying because they're evil." Kael spat on the ground. "What a simple, weak-minded idiot."

Aero's gaze flickered. He said nothing.

Alan coughed and slowly raised his head. His red eyes locked on Kael, then shifted to Aero.

"This is my last," he whispered.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

He closed his eyes, whispered a phrase in a forgotten tongue — and his pupils ignited with crimson light. The glow spread through his veins like wildfire. His muscles tensed. The very air warped around him.

Seraphina's chains began to tremble.

Then they shattered.

The pulse of aura that erupted threw Seraphina's clones backward like dolls. Kael stepped in instinctively — only for Alan to appear behind him in a flash. One blow — and Kael hit the ground, unconscious, his ribs shattered.

Hunzun fired a lightning bolt — Alan caught it in one hand and hurled it back with double force. The mage screamed and fell.

Agrai raised a wall of stone — Alan burst through it like dust, knocking her out with a blow that shook the cliffs.

Seraphina loosed an arrow from the mist — he appeared before her before she released the second. A flash of red. Then silence.

She collapsed beside the others, unconscious.

Only Aero remained.

Alan's breath was ragged now. His skin was glowing faintly, cracks of red light forming down his arms like glass about to break.

The spell was working — and killing him.

He approached Aero, who stood still, staff lowered, unafraid.

Alan reached into his cloak and pulled out a small black box. He extended it gently.

"Take only the blue ring," he said. "Nothing else. It's not a weapon. It's a gift."

Aero, unsure, took the box. He opened it slowly — inside were dozens of ancient rings, each pulsing with relic energy. But one — a faintly glowing blue ring — shimmered with strange warmth.

He pocketed it silently.

Alan turned away, blood dripping from his fingertips. His eyes looked to the peak of the citadel — now burning, broken, and hollow.

He knelt and placed his hand on the bloodstained ground.

Then he whispered the final words.

The earth began to rumble. A swirling vortex of wind and red light tore open the sky above the heart of the fortress. One by one, treasures, scrolls, blades, rings, artifacts, relics, and sacred armor were pulled into it — items sealed for generations by the Bloodmoon. Everything that remained.

All of it.

Even the pearls of the First.

Aero watched in silent awe as the treasures disappeared into the whirlpool, vanishing into whatever dimension Alan had summoned.

When the last object vanished, Alan stood still, shoulders trembling.

He exhaled.

Then the glow on his body intensified.

One final pulse of power — and the mountain exploded in light.

When the dust settled, there was nothing left but wind and silence.

And Alan… was gone.