By The Blood

Scare me? Wouldn't that be pointless? Karl's body jerked, moving swiftly toward another robed figure. By now, two of them had been killed. However, with the horned man's command, the remaining attackers regained their focus, their gazes resolute.

"For the New Age!" they shouted, spreading out. Though their movements were chaotic, they still managed to be somewhat disorienting.

The robed men launched their assault, sending rays of green light at Karl. Beams of green light approached from every direction. Karl tossed shards into the air and quickly vanished.

Reappearing beside one of them, he raised his sickle, ready to strike. But just as he moved, a green ray shot toward him. He dodged, but the light grazed his shoulder. Suddenly, Karl's hand hit the ground with a thud. He could neither lift it nor move it.

Though unsure of what exactly had happened, Karl quickly deduced that his hand had likely been made heavier by the ray. Sensing an opportunity, several newmans rushed toward him, their daggers drawn. While the green rays were powerful, they couldn’t kill on their own; that required more traditional methods.

Five or more newmans closed in, leaving three behind, including the horned man. At that moment, Karl opened his mouth, and a loud, piercing scream echoed through the room. The building trembled slightly as the wave of sound erupted. Dust blew into the air, the walls cracked, and even the glass ceiling shattered, showering down like glittering shards. The reddish moonlight streamed in, unfiltered, illuminating every corner.

The sound continued for several seconds, and all the men surrounding Karl collapsed. Some bled from their ears, while most were simply unconscious. Those still conscious were rendered immobile, their senses overwhelmed. The attack had knocked out nearly everyone.

So powerful! Despite having seen this ability before, Karl couldn’t help but marvel at its potency. Mist flowed in from the shattered windows, filling the room with a thick, white fog. Everything became blurred, reduced to mere silhouettes.

Sensing this was the best time to escape, Karl suddenly saw a hand emerge from the fog. It pushed him with great force, propelling him backward. To Karl, it felt as if he were falling, as though the direction behind him had inexplicably turned into a downward plunge.

He crashed into the wall, though still he felt no pain.

"This is the second power of the green-faced starfish. With it, they can bind people or objects to different surfaces or shift their orientation in space. They can even use it on themselves," Anette explained.

From Karl’s perspective, the spiral room now appeared as a wide corridor stretching upward. It looked like something he’d need to climb to escape. The man who had pushed him stood to the side, charging toward him—it was the horned man. Two other Newmans were running beside him.

How do you fight against something like this?

"This is your lesson, master. When fighting Newman, you must be cautious and ready to use your powers strategically. Otherwise, you’ll meet a grim end. Despite being one of the earliest factions, the Newmans became a significant threat by developing their own unique evolutionary branch," Anette lectured.

Branches mean power, and power means evolution. Karl used this analogy to make sense of it all.

As Anette’s words resonated, the world shifted again. What had been "up" turned into "down" for Karl, and he fell once more—this time toward the other side of the room, where the newmans were closing in with their daggers. No, it felt more like he was being pulled toward them, or perhaps he was falling in their direction.

Are Sanguines this powerful? Karl wondered. If so, this would be the level of strength he could aspire to once he became one himself.

He vanished. His form reappeared in another corner of the room, this time near the staircase and behind the newman. The corpse of the dead beastman lay beside him, but thankfully, his senses had returned to normal.

"Without fusion evolution, the latching power can only be used twice before it goes on cooldown. Now, the remaining newmans will attack, but they can’t use the green rays for a while. Unlike my powers, theirs have significant cooldowns," Anette clarified.

Not fully understanding her explanation, Karl nodded inwardly, observing as she expertly controlled his actions to perform moves that would have been impossible for him alone. However, he was learning as much as he could.

The two newmans cursed and rushed at him again. This time, the old man who had not yet used his green ray released it.

"The green ray has a longer active time before its cooldown compared to the other abilities, but it can only be used three times," Anette noted before vanishing from sight.

The thick fog made visibility difficult, even for his controller, who was struggling to dodge some of the attacks that seemed to emerge from the mist.

One of the newmans, frustrated by his inability to strike the intruder, poised his dagger for a final assault. They were running out of time—sooner or later, invigilators would likely sense the disturbance and come down to eliminate them. Even though Karl trusted in Anette's prowess, he had heard one saying ever since arriving in this world: Invigilators equal worst-case scenario. He wasn’t sure if that referred to their sheer power or something else, but he had no desire to find out.

Lost in thought for a brief moment, Karl suddenly found himself lunging at a newman, the sickle sinking deep into the man’s throat. Confusion flashed across the newman’s face as he barely had time to register what had happened before pain overwhelmed him. He slumped to the ground, clutching his throat in a futile attempt to stem the blood.

Now, only two remained.

She might actually pull this off, Karl thought, admiring her skill and learning from her actions.

But then he was abruptly thrown backward, crashing through a door and into a dark room beyond. He looked up, seeing the horned man approaching from the side, shrouded in the encroaching fog. Beside him was his final accomplice. To Karl, it looked as though the man was walking along the walls.

"Did you really think I’m like the rest of them? Did you believe I’ve only evolved once? I’m not that weak. There’s no way I was going to die here."

"He’s lying," Anette’s voice echoed inside Karl’s mind. "This power is likely something he inherited from his bloodline, as a half-human born of a Sanguine. Fortunately for him, his blood is potent enough, and his parents were strong enough, to pass down some of their powers."

So powers can be inherited, Karl thought, realizing that power acquisition seemed more natural than magical. Just like how animals pass on their traits to their offspring, Sanguines can share some of their abilities with their children.

"However," Anette continued, "while strength is important, knowing when to be a coward is also essential. Run when you need to."

Before Karl could fully process her words, his body slipped into the ground as if it were liquid, passing through it as though it rippled like water.

He landed gracefully in a vast hall, scattered with broken chairs, shattered glass, and debris. The room was lifeless, devoid of anyone else. Without pause, his body moved on its own, darting out through the hall’s doors.

Confused by the intruder's sudden disappearance, the horned man nodded in satisfaction. "This is how it should be. Normal humans should see us and tremble in fear; they should recognize the Newmans as the superior beings." Pride filled him at the thought that his presence had frightened the assassin away. Though he couldn’t be sure which faction the intruder belonged to—whether it was another faction or a hired mercenary—it hardly mattered now.

With a grasp of the powers used against him, he was confident he could track the intruder down. Perhaps this would even earn him the opportunity to evolve again. Yes, his bluff had worked, scaring off the attacker. These events might be the stepping stone he needed to gain the grace and blood required for further evolution.

Laughing to himself, he muttered, "In a way, I didn’t lie."

Suddenly, a piercing ringing sound echoed through the room.

"Death to the impure!" a voice boomed from above.

"What?" The horned man looked up, startled.

A figure floated high above, silhouetted against the fog where the glass ceiling once stood. The man wore a simple gray coat buttoned on both sides of his chest, paired with white trousers. His left arm gleamed with a metallic, silver sheen. But what stood out most was the monocle perched on his right eye and the long white coat he wore.

With a stern expression, the figure clenched his fist, and a blinding white light exploded from it.

The horned man, covered in grotesque protrusions, could only watch helplessly as the light pierced through the mist and enveloped him. How could this be? He was supposed to evolve, ascend to a special class, finally take a step toward greatness, and show these insignificant humans his superiority. How could I die here?

From a rooftop, shrouded in mist, Karl stood and observed the old cathedral, now engulfed in a radiant white light. It was as if the sun had descended upon the structure, its brilliance spilling out from every crack, hole, and window. The gray cathedral seemed to house the very sun itself.

"That’s enough for today," Anette’s voice resonated within him.

____________

Karl woke up in the dark basement, the only source of light a dim, eternal lamp sitting on the desk. For a moment, he remained in bed, his teeth clenched and fists tight. The pain was overwhelming. He felt dizzy, feverish, exhausted, and nauseous. It was as if his entire body had been fed through the meat grinder back at the flesh cultivator's manor. It took him a while to gather enough strength to glance around.

The room, however, was not as empty as he had initially assumed.

Sitting at a nearby desk was a brown-haired Sanguine, one eye visible while the other was obscured by his hair. His expression was odd, as though he were contemplating several matters at once. What had Abraham done to him?

Karl managed to sit up, his muscles tightening, sweat pouring down, and his eyes twitching as sharp pain coursed through his body. For a moment, he wished he could plunge himself into a bucket of ice to ease the agony. Eventually, he began to adjust to the pain, his accumulated strength coming through at a critical moment.

The world around him grew sharper, and the sounds faded into a distant hum.

In a vast forest where trees resembled corals, their red branches stretched out like rigid tendrils, as if eager to pull anything closer. The branches were as crimson as the cloak worn by the man who stood in front of an army. Cloaked in red and clad in armor, the faceless man held a sword pointed southward, shouting in a booming voice, "Bring me the heads of the twelve families!"

The massive, black-armored figures responded with a thunderous roar, their voices echoing throughout the coral forest.

Karl’s eyes snapped open. This dream again? he thought. Over the past few days, the visions had grown stronger and more frequent. Previously, he would only receive these dreams once a week, or on rare occasions, every two to three days. But now, they had become almost constant. Still, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The strength he gained from the visions was invaluable, especially since he was surrounded by Sanguines and constantly immersed in danger. Survival was a priority.

However, he noticed something different this time. The room appeared clearer, the sounds sharper, and even the pain had lessened. It was no longer as unbearable as before. He could hear the voices of beastmen and their taskmasters outside the room, feel the faint breeze against his clothes, and even hear the breath of the other person in the room reverberating in his ears. Everything seemed heightened and more intense.

This is the best I’ve ever felt after the visions! Karl felt the urge to express his relief, but the presence of the other scrutinizing gaze in the room made him hold back. In situations like this, even minor displays of weakness could have consequences. He didn’t know these people well enough to risk that, so he chose not to show any vulnerability.

"What kind of beastman are you?" Aurelian asked, his voice heavy with curiosity and suspicion. After spending the entire day with Fredrick, watching performances in one of the exclusive noble theaters in the city, he still hadn’t been able to gather any useful information. Despite Fredrick’s connections, which gave him access to such places, Aurelian remained at a loss. Even when he attempted to read Fredrick's memories, the mind tendrils seemed to slip away from his grasp. This wasn’t unexpected, as Aurelian had already suspected Fredrick was part of the special class