By The Blood

"The mutation can manifest in different ways. Sometimes, it starts with them being able to see things others can’t, but in more severe cases, it can cause physical changes, like a mouth growing on their neck or a third eye." Fredrick glanced at Ludwig. "Although they seem to be disappearing faster than they’re appearing, I suppose the invigilators are doing their job efficiently." He smiled again and fell silent.

Is that all he knows? That mutants can develop deformities and are hunted by the invigilators? Karl sighed inwardly. That’s not much to go on, but then again, he did just awaken two years ago.

After a few minutes, they arrived at a deep section of the slums. The air was thick with the stench of filth and death, causing Karl, with his heightened senses, to grimace.

The area was dark and almost deserted, with barely any movement visible on the streets. Towering five-meter buildings loomed over them, casting long shadows. The sound of iron clashing echoed through the air, causing the very ground to vibrate in a steady rhythm.

Mist swirled in the air, though it was thinner here due to a certain heat that seemed to permeate the surroundings, causing the environment to be more wet than misty.

Glancing to his left, Karl noticed a tall, dark building resembling a spire. Black smoke billowed from its top, and soot rained down like the red dustfalls he’d seen during the day.

The forge factories, Karl noted, shifting his gaze back to the building he was soon to own.

The Mason Hotel's soot-covered walls were mostly black, though faint patches of whiteness hinted at what they had once been.

Under the dim moonlight, Karl could just make out potted plants placed in the corners of the building. However, the plants were long dead, their leaves and stems now a dark, ashen color. The flat, tiled roof suggested the building might once have belonged to the nobility or at least a wealthy tycoon.

The hotel was a two-story building with a single balcony in the center of the second floor. Surrounding it were signs of abandoned shops, with carts covered in black tarps—now deserted and empty. Karl, escorted by Ludwig, entered the building, passing through an outer walkway supported by pillars.

The first thing Karl noticed was the red and black stains covering the once-white walls. Lifelike statues lined both sides of the entrance, though most were cracked or broken in some way.

Round chairs were arranged in specific areas, and ahead was a counter with a staircase off to the side. Above the counter, a signboard hung from the ceiling with the words, written in simple Canenese: "The Sovereign was once a man."

Is this blasphemy? Karl wondered, momentarily stunned. Why would they write something like that? Is it a provocation against the Sovereign or the ministries that appointed him?

He felt uneasy staring at the sign. The people who wrote this are clearly disillusioned with their ruler, but they lack the power to resist, so they do this. It’s like a desperate plea for freedom or survival. But why antagonize someone who could easily kill you?

The room was empty except for the counter, where a bloated woman sat. She had dark skin, round eyes, and thick dreadlocks that cascaded down her back. Dressed in a simple white dress with a brown apron, she looked almost out of place.

A Maw person? With dark skin? Karl had never seen anyone with her complexion before. Perhaps her skin color came from some evolved or inherited components.

"In Canen, hotels aren’t something people associate with comfort," Fredrick’s voice broke the silence. It was low, but Karl’s enhanced hearing caught it easily.

"For the Canenese, entering a hotel is akin to entering a brothel, though they view brothels more favorably.To them, brothels allow beastmen or other creatures to repay their debt for being born almost human. But hotels? They’re seen as places for secrecy, and secrecy goes against the teachings of the Pure White. They dislike anything hidden, son of the fallen."

What does that have to do with now? Karl wondered, confused. Maybe there’s a reason behind it. He tried to make sense of the information but quickly realized Fredrick was likely just sharing random facts.

The woman eyed them, her gaze sharp, as though she had already made up her mind about something. Karl was curious about her thoughts.

They reached the counter, and Ludwig took the initiative to speak. "Uh, this is the new owner of the Mason Hotel."

The woman strained her neck to look down at the boy, snorted, and said, "Uh, didn’t even last two weeks. That Harrison took it from another man, but at least he was strong. And now you bring me a kid? Or did you mean the strange man behind him?"

Ludwig shook his head, panic creeping into his expression. "No! He’s the one. I don’t know the other man. Maybe they’re partners, but this one did it."

"Uh, is that so?" The woman clicked her tongue. "Well, I don’t want to hand over the Mason Hotel to a kid. No, let Heinrich tell me in the morning."

She’s refusing? Why? Is she a sanguine? Or is this Heinrich’s plan to stall me from getting to Harrison’s room? Karl studied the bloated woman; every move she made caused her clothes to cling even more to her sweat-soaked body. She looked like a pig—one of the specially fattened ones back at Tobias's farm. Karl frowned, recalling the sensation of his blade cutting through such an animal. Do I have to kill her too? he wondered, feeling a pang of the repetition of his life now. It was see, kill, repeat.

He felt the urge to sigh but held it back.

Reaching behind him, he prepared to draw his sickle, but Fredrick, who had been silent until now, suddenly intervened. "I don’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to my master."

Master? Karl thought, glancing between Fredrick and the woman. Slowly, he released his grip on the sickle but kept his guard up. There was always a chance someone could burst in, and he didn’t want to be caught off guard.

"The boy’s your master? What are you, his bodyguard?" the woman chuckled, her neck wobbling like wrapped cloth.

Fredrick remained quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as a strange, motherly smile spread across his lips. Leaning closer to the counter, he said, "I can make you slimmer."

The woman froze. "What did you just say? Are you calling me fat?"

"A mother knows these things," Fredrick said, waving his hand. "And she should not be afraid to stir his children with her words."

Her and his, Karl noted Fredrick’s deliberate word choice.

"Are you Antigonus? Do you really want to provoke the person who holds all the cards?"

Karl frowned. This is the second time I’ve heard the name Antigonus used as an insult. Last time, I didn’t ask Fredrick, but maybe there’s something important about why the supposedly former royal family’s name is treated with such disdain.

Fredrick's eyes twitched, and his smile slowly faded into a cold, piercing stare. For a brief moment, Karl thought he saw Fredrick's eyes flicker with a blood-red glow.

The hypnosis? It didn’t take Karl long to connect the dots. The only unusual thing that had happened before entering the forest was Fredrick’s eyes flashing red. Although Karl knew there might be other ways to activate such power, he was sure this was it.

He reined in his thoughts, glancing at the bloated woman. His eyes froze.

The woman’s gaze was vacant, saliva trickled from her mouth, and her head lolled slightly upward. She looked like someone who had suddenly lost all awareness.

Did he hypnotize her? Karl wondered, envious of such power.

"She's dreaming of being slim," Fredrick said with a smile. "Now we can continue."

Ludwig glanced between the two men but said nothing. He simply lowered his head and pointed toward the staircase in the corner.

Fredrick smiled and followed, as did Karl. However, before moving on, Karl took a quick glance at one of the statues in the room, noticing that its head was partially broken. A faint scar ran across its eye. Was that a statue of a Task-Enforcer? he thought before continuing.

"This is it," Ludwig said, pointing at a door.

A dark-gray door stood in the center of the hallway. Karl had counted twelve similar doors along the way, leading him to estimate the hotel had around 14 to 16 rooms in total. The walls inside were cleaner than the exterior, though red and black stains, along with smudges of filth in the corners, were still visible. He remained silent, watching Fredrick’s next move. This wasn’t out of reverence for the man, but more out of the respect a student gives a teacher. To Karl, at least until the night was over, Fredrick was like a trainer, and as an apprentice, it was his role to observe and learn.

Karl was never one to be prideful.

"From here on," Fredrick said, reaching for the doorknob, "you go in. This is where your journey continues. A mother knows when to let her child take their first steps."

Karl looked at him and nodded. Just then, Fredrick grabbed his own finger and, with a crack, tore it off. Blood streamed down, yet he didn't flinch, keeping that same smile on his face.

The severed finger bled, but the hand from which it came began to writhe, as if a thousand insects crawled beneath the skin. Within seconds, the flesh repaired itself, and a new finger grew in its place.

Karl stared, amazed. This is Fredrick’s power—the power of a vampire. He found himself smiling, perhaps intrigued by the thought of having such abilities.

Momentarily stunned, Fredrick soon said, "This is a way to contact me—or more accurately, summon me. You just need to bite it, and depending on the situation, I will either be summoned to you, or you summoned to me."

"What?!" Karl blurted out.

"I apologize, but it’s the only method," Fredrick replied with his ever-present smile.

Karl stayed quiet for a moment. I don’t want to do it, but for emergencies, it could be necessary. He hoped no situation would arise where he’d need to bite another man’s finger, but if it came down to survival, he was willing to do whatever was necessary.

He reached out and took the finger. Strangely, it had stopped bleeding and felt warm, almost alive. Should I just put it in my pocket? His pockets were already crowded with items: a syringe, a sickle, a gun, and now a severed finger. He wanted to sigh.

"Now, another measure of insurance. A mother can never be too careful," Fredrick said, taking out a small black stone with a bluish sheen to it.

Voicestone! Karl realized.

"This is yours," Fredrick took out another. "This is mine." He handed the other to Karl, who examined it curiously. "Now drip your blood on it," Fredrick said.

My blood? Is that how it works? For activating it or establishing a connection? From his lessons with Fredrick, Karl learned it had a deeper meaning beyond evolution. There was a bond in it. As for what it meant, Karl could only theorize that it referred to the literal establishment of a link between him and the voicestone.

Karl complied. Using the sickle, he made a small prick in his second finger. The pain was nothing compared to what he had experienced before. The blood dripped onto the stone, causing it to emit a buzzing noise as it quivered slightly.

It soon settled, appearing no different from before. Just then, Karl felt a strange itch at the back of his neck—or was it his head? It was as though something was moving there, but at the same time, it felt familiar—a strange connection sprang from his heart to the stone. It felt like another limb.

So it forms a connection with me. Through the blood? Karl made sure not to show any facial signs of the change he felt. Now what? he thought.

Fredrick leaned closer, bringing his stone close to Karl's. He touched the stone with his, causing both of them to buzz in unison. Karl felt the strange connection again, but this time, it was more subtle, though still present.

"Now you just have to hold the stone and think of me," Fredrick seemed to blush. "Then, my own stone will also buzz, allowing me to talk to you."