Everblood Ascendant

Chapter 1: The Fall Before the Rise

The wind howled across the jagged cliffs of the Blackthorn Ridge, tearing through the broken remnants of what had once been a proud young man. Blood stained the stones below Caelan Virelith, heir of the Virelith Clan—at least, he had been, until the betrayal.

His vision blurred, each blink a struggle. Pain throbbed through his shattered body, but it was nothing compared to the ache of betrayal that twisted in his chest. His brother, his clanmates... those he had once trusted with his life, had turned against him. Not for justice. Not for honor. But for power.

Caelan's breathing slowed. His body lay still near the edge of the cliff, barely clinging to life. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Yet even now, his eyes burned with something that refused to die: **will**.

*"This... isn't how it ends... Not like this..."*

His thoughts swirled like storm clouds. *"I won't be erased. I won't be another forgotten name in a shallow grave. I was born for more than this."*

> **\[System Notification]**

> *Soul Resonance Detected...*

> *Willpower Evaluation: Passed.*

> *Aspirant's conviction has resonated with the Everblood Pantheon.*

A wave of energy surged through the void, as Caelan's consciousness faded. His heartbeat slowed... then stopped.

Darkness swallowed him.

---

When he opened his eyes again, he was nowhere.

Suspended in a realm between life and death, stars shimmered in a sky with no horizon. Before him stood a man—or something shaped like one. Clad in flowing crimson robes woven from cosmic threads, with golden veins glowing faintly beneath his pale skin, the being emanated an impossible pressure. His eyes were ancient and ageless all at once.

"Caelan Virelith," the figure spoke, his voice layered with echoes from forgotten eras. "Your defiance has reached us. I am the Concept of Everblood."

Caelan tried to speak, but the weight of the realm pressed upon him. The Concept raised a hand, and reality softened.

"You have been heard. Your will, unbroken even in death, is worthy. But power must be earned. If you would rise... drink."

He raised his palm, and floating above it was a single drop of shimmering golden blood. It pulsed with life—with eternity.

Caelan stared, and something inside him stirred. A hunger. Not for vengeance, but for the power to decide his own fate.

He reached forward, and the drop floated to him, resting above his heart. He did not hesitate.

He accepted it.

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