By The Blood

Throughout their stay, Fredrick continuously spoke about the boy, almost reverently, as if he were worshiping a god. Does he really think this boy is a god, not just a saint? Is it ignorance? Aurelian wondered. Despite this, Fredrick kept instilling a sense of reverence. To Aurelian, Fredrick resembled a profaner, trying to lure him into an evil faction. And there was no way Aurelian would fall for that. Joining such a faction would be a blasphemy against his faith—the Pure White God and the Sovereign ruler, chosen by the eleven gods and supported by the sanitarium. Yet, a small part of him clung to the hope that the boy was truly a saint. Because if he wasn’t, Aurelian feared he had already committed a greater act of blasphemy than he could ever atone for.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted. Of course, he was. The idea of gaining the backing of an evil faction to help him deal with Putray was undeniably enticing, especially after the disaster of his last attempt. But what good would it be to complete his mission if it meant he could no longer live with himself? As far as Aurelian knew, members of evil factions rarely evolved quickly and often died without ever reaching the special class.

Karl glanced at his brown-haired savior—the one whose name he still didn’t know. He had never asked. Fortunately, an opportunity to do so had finally presented itself. Unlike others, Karl didn’t feel particularly afraid of this man. He seemed harmless compared to some of the other individuals Karl had encountered. But that didn’t mean Karl would lower his guard. After all, even a snake can look like a harmless rope if you're not paying attention.

“What’s your name?” Karl asked, ignoring whatever the original question had been.

Frowning slightly, the man replied, “Aurelian.” Raised in the Empire, where all other races were generally seen as inferior, Aurelian found it difficult to treat the person in front of him with any real respect or equality, even though he suspected he might be a saint.

“I’m Karl,” he responded. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They left, but they plan to return,” Aurelian answered honestly, though he was still unsure of what was truly happening.

Karl rose from the bed and walked over to the table beside Aurelian. He picked up the sickle resting on it and examined the blade with curiosity.

This is the weapon that took more than three lives yesterday, Karl thought. Though he wasn’t nearly as skilled as his former “pilot,” he hoped to one day reach that level. However, most of her abilities were dependent on her power to teleport through mirrors. This was something he noted from her battle.

Watching the boy inspect the sickle, Aurelian prepared himself to act in case Karl decided to test the weapon. He hadn’t known where the boy had gone the previous night, but as dawn broke, he learned that the abandoned Pure White Cathedral had been attacked. There were rumors of an evil faction sacrificing beastmen, though an invigilator had ultimately stopped them.

What bothered Aurelian more, though, was the strange woman who had appeared from the astral alongside him, coinciding with the attack. He couldn’t help but wonder if his presence in this situation was due to a mistake—a consequence of the penance he had imposed on himself.

“Are you part of an evil faction?” Aurelian finally asked, unable to hold back any longer. If the answer was yes, then despite his morals, Aurelian would have no choice but to kill the boy. No saint could be part of an evil faction. Karl was a beastman after all, and this was for the sake of humanity. He knew that much.

He’ll kill me if I say yes, won’t he? Karl thought. The world had a general view on evil factions: they were dangerous and had to be killed on sight. If Karl admitted any affiliation—which, in a way, was true—he risked immediate death. Even if Aurelian wasn’t a Sanguine, his age and size would give him an overwhelming advantage in a confrontation.

This left Karl with limited options.

Still waiting for a response, Aurelian heard the boy finally say, “No.” Sensing his chance, Aurelian immediately attempted to probe into the boy’s memories. There was no way he would accept Karl’s answer at face value. He needed to confirm it himself. If Karl turned out to be a saint, Aurelian would willingly offer his life in penance for the sin of intruding into a saint’s mind. Though he wondered whether his tainted soul would be enough.

He saw the pulsing darkness and reached out for the tendrils, but suddenly, he encountered fierce resistance. The tendrils slipped from his control and abruptly slipped back into the darkness. What?! Aurelian staggered back, stunned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, it couldn’t happen. Only special class or higher beings could resist or even sense the intrusion of a Mind Worm. What did this mean? Was this boy a special class?

A tense silence followed. Aurelian eventually took a calming breath. “Alright, just wanted to ask.”

So, we’re both pretending not to push further, Karl thought, walking back to the bed with the sickle in hand. His gaze shifted to the wall, where Harrison’s picture was still screened. Should I start following him? he wondered.

Three knocks suddenly echoed from the door, followed by a fourth after a pause. Aurelian stood up and approached, his steps soft and cautious, unsure of what awaited him. He opened the door.

With the red dust swirling in the air, Fredrick entered with his usual smile.

“How are you, son of the fallen?” Fredrick asked, addressing Karl.

Karl nodded.

“It’s time for the long-awaited conversation,” Fredrick said, his grin widening. “We’re going somewhere.”

Karl stared at him for a moment, then gently touched his head, his fingers brushing the fake fur ears stitched onto it. “Can you remove these?” Karl asked. Despite his words, part of him didn’t really want them gone. After all, they held sentimental value—they were a part of his friend. But they were also restrictive. With the ears, he couldn’t move freely in the city without drawing attention from task-enforcers.

Fredrick smiled. “Yes, I can. But it will hurt,” he replied.

I expected that Karl thought, nodding in acknowledgment. His friend had sewn the ears on him, and even now, Karl didn’t understand why he hadn’t felt any pain during the process. Perhaps his friend had been a Sanguine.

Fredrick gently caressed Karl’s head, grasping the perpetually erect brown ears. They felt cold to the touch, which was expected from something that had died long ago. But the real question was: Shouldn’t something dead for so long have rotted by now? And Karl knew the answer.

Blood started to drip from Fredrick’s hand, trickling down onto the brown fur of the ears. A faint sizzling sound filled the air as tiny bubbles formed on the surface, smoke seeping from them. From a certain angle, it looked as if Karl’s head was on fire.

A hot, searing pain flared across Karl’s scalp. It felt like boiling water was being poured directly onto his head. It burned. It hurt. But he endured it. He made no sound and kept his face as neutral as possible. Showing pain was a sign of weakness, something that could easily be exploited.

Finally, Fredrick said, "Done." He pulled a pair of thin, blackened objects from Karl’s head. They looked like dried leaves that had been burnt to a crisp.

What in the Pure White...?! Aurelian nearly stammered in disbelief. He had heard of beastmen and knew they valued their fur, but he had just watched someone burn it away right in front of him! Yet, it raised another question: Didn’t the boy look entirely human now? Without his tail and ears, wouldn’t beastmen appear indistinguishable from humans?

As that thought crossed his mind, Aurelian shook his head, recognizing the contradiction. His curiosity about the boy deepened. Perhaps a visit to the Ministry would provide clarity. Not that he intended to make his presence known—he was likely considered a fugitive by now. Still, he wanted to see the cathedral, to bathe in the Pure White’s glory. There, he believed, he would discover whether the boy was truly a saint.

Karl scratched his head briefly but said nothing, simply nodding. Just like that, they’re gone. He pocketed the dried ears. He would keep them, at least until he built his utopia.

"Then let’s go," Fredrick said.

Leaving the basement, Fredrick led Karl to a place resembling a motel. It was a two-story building with red-stained walls and a wooden roof, both coated in the ubiquitous red dust.

They booked a room and soon stood outside its door.

Fredrick opened the door, revealing a well-furnished room. A fine rug covered the floor, and several comfortable-looking chairs were arranged around a hearth where a fire crackled warmly. A large desk, cluttered with numerous books, stood prominently at the room's center.

Seated in one of the chairs was Anette. She quickly stood up when she saw Karl. "Master," she said, "we believe you have questions, and today we’re here to answer them."

Karl followed Fredrick in silence, taking the seat in the middle, directly facing the desk. What should I ask?

"My name is Anette," she began, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I’m part of the first and only squad of the Pale Sisters, created by Bernadette, the last Empress of the Fallen Empire."

"I am," Fredrick chimed in, "the last member of the Abraham family—one of the twelve noble families of the Fallen Empire, known for wielding the strongest beast branch ever created." He smiled broadly as he spoke.

Fallen Empire? Karl frowned. He knew of only two empires: the Tau Dynasty and the Empire of Humanity. What were they talking about?

"The Fallen Empire was the empire that came before the current one," Fredrick explained, glancing at Anette to continue.

"The Andronicus family, who now rule as the Sovereign, usurped the throne," Anette said. "But before the empire fell, the Empress sent her child into hiding, hoping one day to restore the true royal family—the Antigonus line. So, master, your full name is Karl Antigonus."

Karl’s frown deepened. "That’s impossible," he muttered without realizing it.

Startled, Anette quickly asked, "Why? Don’t you believe us? Don’t you remember?" She glanced at Fredrick, a rare expression of anxiety and confusion crossing her face.

Since he had already spoken, Karl decided to continue. "I don’t know much about history...but the current empire has existed for almost—or maybe even more than—a thousand years. So if there really was a Fallen Empire..." He trailed off, allowing them to grasp his meaning.

Realization dawned on Fredrick’s face, and he smiled. "So you don’t know. I suppose that was always bound to happen." He sighed. "Think of it this way—nothing is truly impossible, son of the Fallen Empire." He lowered his gaze. "The Empress paid a price, and that’s why you’ve lived for a thousand years. At least, that’s what we believe."

"And you?" Karl asked, finding their explanation somewhat hard to believe. But then again, this was a different world.

"Yes, we’re that old as well. But there’s a difference," Fredrick said. "We only awoke about two years ago and have been searching for you ever since."

Two years? Karl recalled. Two years ago, I was sold to the manor as a slave. Were they the ones responsible for that? He had faint memories of being in a barred carriage.

"Yes," Anette said as if sensing his thoughts. "We ensured you ended up at the manor because it was the safest place for you. Initially, we wanted Tobias to adopt you, but that became impossible. Still, you found a way to survive. You began living as a beastman, adapting to their ways. Watching from afar, we could only observe." She looked genuinely saddened.

It wasn’t me... it was my friend, Karl thought silently.

Fredrick continued, "However, our presence was discovered, and we had to relocate you, which blew our cover. Now, the Sovereign ruler undoubtedly knows you exist.