By The Blood

For a moment, everything was still. The baby looked down at its chubby hands, confusion in its eyes. Then, a thin red line appeared, running from its face down to its stomach. The baby split in two, hitting the ground with a dull thud. No blood spilled, only black smoke rising from the corpse, which soon dissipated into nothingness, alongside the corpse.

The brilliant white light abruptly ceased, as if someone had pressed pause. So, she only wanted to kill the baby? Is she part of the Ministry? Exhausted and panting, Aurelian glanced at the painted woman. He was about to speak when a figure in black robes appeared beside her, hooded and holding a strange iron crown. Without a word, the figure glanced at the woman before walking out. She followed without hesitation. Is that the one she’s bonded to?

Aurelian took a few moments to gather himself, breathing heavily.

"You have killed a son of God!" a weak voice echoed through the room. Aurelian turned to see Windsor, still plastered against the wall. His body had shrunk, skin taut over his bones, and black cracks spread across his flesh, leaking a dark thick liquid. He looked like a pot slowly breaking apart. He’s breaking down! Aurelian realized. Enduring purification in his weakened state? That would be more than enough pain for anyone to endure.

Aurelian struggled to his feet, staggering toward Windsor’s crumbling form. He summoned his Mist Blade, mist swirling as it materialized. Leaning forward, he carefully avoided the dark liquid. He knew it was corruption—one touch, and he too would begin to break down like Windsor. He would end up feeling the pain the man was also feeling.

He locked eyes with Windsor, whose gaze was wild and frantic.

"What have you done?" Windsor rasped. "You killed the son of the goddess!" His fingers twitched as the cracks deepened across his body.

Aurelian raised his sword. "There is no goddess—only the Pure. And you? You’re just a heretic, killing nobles."

"Killing nobles? That—that’s why you killed a son of the goddess?" Windsor’s eyes widened. "We kill nobles? And what about you? Are you the holy ones? The kind ones? The pure ones? Hypocrites, all of you!"

Enough. Aurelian swung his blade. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a red line formed across Windsor’s body, and he split in two, collapsing with a final thud. I will not suffer life on the heretic, Aurelian affirmed, catching his breath.

After a brief pause, he pulled out a bone whistle and blew into it; it was given by the bishop for when he finished the mission and to do his reports. A strange black bird suddenly phased through the wall, its jeweled red eyes glinting in the dim light. It circled the room, inspecting the wreckage, before landing and fixing its gaze on Aurelian with unsettling coldness.

Too exhausted to care, Aurelian narrated what had transpired—the Sealed Sanguine, the figure with the crown, and the destruction of the child. The bird listened silently before flying through the wall and disappearing.

Aurelian’s body finally gave in, slumping to the floor with a heavy thud. His eyelids grew heavy, darkness closing in around him. Yet, as the world faded, a faint smile curled on his lips. I did it... I’ve started paying my penance for the Ministry.

______________

"I will not suffer the inhuman to live!" Dunn rode beside his Archon, his chain sword dripping blood as they charged forward, flanked by towering trees. Ahead, the inhuman swarmed—mindless carapace-covered bugs, surging like a tide. They snapped the trees in their path, rushing forward in the thousands. The air was thick with heat that seemed to radiate from the trees themselves, their leaves shimmering like pure gold. Blood-red rain fell as piercing white light cut through the canopy.

Dunn steadied his steed, wondering if today would be the day he died for honor. He preferred not to fall to mere carapace bugs, but honor could be claimed where it was found. The creatures ahead were oval-shaped, with hard shells and countless skittering legs, moving in a hive-like mass. Though they appeared menacing, Dunn knew they were the weakest. From his vantage point, he could already see what lurked behind the swarm: those cursed, one-eyed giants with their godforsaken bronze-like skin. They likely charged from behind the horde. Strong? Undoubtedly. Yet, as a devotee of the Warrior God, Dunn found beauty in the thunderous war cries that echoed through the forest.

This was the Western Domination. This was the Waning Forest. This was the War-Master Legion, and this was the Golden Dusk Crusade.

Dunn raised his chainsword high and roared, "For the Empire!"

_________

Night descended, bringing with it a thick mist that rolled in like a tide, cloaking the world in silence and damp whiteness.

Karl stood once again on a rooftop, but this time Fredrick was beside him, wearing a smile that looked comforting, but for some reason, did not feel like it.

"Are you afraid of the mist?" Fredrick asked, his voice soft but teasing.

"No," Karl replied, his gaze fixed on the pale, looming structures that faded in and out of the fog. They seemed ghostly and hollow, like forgotten buildings or ruins. Where are we going tonight? he wondered. Or will it be like before? Is Fredrick going to possess me like Anette did?

Fredrick glanced at him, his eyes glinting. "We’re going to see some creatures today," he said casually, as if it were a normal thing to say. "Since it’s forbidden to bring wild, untamed creatures into the city, the Ministry and other Sanguines prefer to evolve outside the city walls." He pointed into the distance. "That’s where we’re headed."

Karl froze. Creatures? The word swirled in his mind. He had expected to face this at some point, but not so soon. His thoughts raced as the idea settled. Sanguine creatures? This was what he decided to call creatures Sanguines could evolve into. Though in truth, he got the idea from Fredrick.

"But first," Fredrick continued, "I think it’s time we explore your powers."

Karl blinked. "What?" The word slipped out before he could stop it. Powers? Did he even have powers beyond his heightened senses? His mind flickered back to the strange rush he had felt after killing the task enforcer. Was that an indication?

"Anette wouldn’t notice these things," Fredrick explained, his voice amused. "She’s not a mother. But I can see the changes in your body clearly. I’m sure of it." He smiled, that same odd smile.

Karl’s heartbeat quickened. "So, what is it?"

Fredrick’s hands landed on Karl’s shoulders, and for a brief moment, Karl wondered if he was about to be possessed again. But then, a sudden force shoved him off the rooftop. Without warning, he plummeted through the mist, the fog wrapping around him like cold fingers as he cut through it.

What? Did Fredrick just push me? Confusion surged through Karl as the ground rushed up to meet him. But instead of the sharp, bone-breaking pain he expected, his body bounced lightly off the cobblestone. The impact was strange—rebounding—leaving him more dazed than hurt. He lay there for a moment, staring up into the swirling mist, bewilderment clouding his thoughts. It didn’t hurt that much. Was this the power Fredrick had been talking about? Was this why he’d pushed him? Even if it was, Karl hated the surprise of it all, the lack of warning.

"As I expected," Fredrick’s voice cut through the haze. He stepped out of the mist, standing over Karl with a look of calm satisfaction.

Expected? Karl’s mind raced. So you weren’t even sure?

He pulled himself to his feet, swiping mist from his face. His body felt strangely intact, despite the fall. Was this the power?

Fredrick's smile widened. "I suppose I should call it physical augmentation."

Karl frowned. "What does that even mean?" The explanation did little to clarify what the power was. He didn’t feel stronger—just... normal.

Fredrick motioned for him to follow as they started walking through the mist-cloaked streets. "Your body is on par with an advanced class," Fredrick said as if discussing the weather. "Or at least similar to creatures that have evolved physical strength. You’ve already unlocked something."

Karl’s thoughts churned. So what? I’m just stronger? He didn’t feel all that different.

The mist swirled around them, casting ghostly shadows on the stone buildings. If anyone saw them, Karl thought, they might mistake the two figures for ghosts moving silently through the fog. Are there even ghosts in this world? His thoughts trailed off, but Fredrick’s words flowed like the mist itself, snapping Karl’s focus back.

"I can’t say what kind of powers you’ll develop or how to unlock them. The Empress didn’t tell us how your memories would work," Fredrick mused, his tone light. "But you’ve become stronger since you left, that much is certain. So, what did you do?"

Karl hesitated. Do I need to answer? He mulled over his options. If something bad comes of this, I’d rather Fredrick handle it. "I killed a task enforcer in Thales Market," he finally said dryly.

Fredrick’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyes flicked toward Karl, amused. "Did anyone see you?"

"No," Karl lied. If anything he would prefer if nothing happened to the beastwoman. Though the lack of concern from Fredrick unnerved him. Did it really not matter that I killed someone?

"Then it’s fine," Fredrick said, dismissing the act. "Task enforcers are just mindless thugs the Sovereign uses to manage the beastmen. I wouldn’t want one of those brats running around either." He chuckled softly to himself.

Karl thought. But you keep that pigman around. By the way, where is it? Fredrick’s casual attitude towards the whole situation was unsettling. Was he expected to kill often? Only if it serves a purpose, he thought. But then again, in this world, his choices didn’t always feel like his own. However, Karl would try his best not to become a mindless murderer. Purpose is everything.

The mist thickened as they moved deeper into the city, and Karl began to wonder aloud, "Should we be walking around like this? Won’t the garrison or invigilators find us?"

Fredrick laughed lightly. "The garrison is mostly filled with guardsmen trained at the School of Commons. Some are from the Swordsmen Towers, but none are Sanguines—at least not of a dangerous class. Only the captains exceed the advanced class. Would you risk your life in a gang war between crazed Sanguines if you were that weak?" He turned a corner, the mist parting briefly around them. "The invigilators only move if they suspect blasphemy or an evil faction. As long as we stay discreet, we’re safe."

Eventually, Fredrick came to a stop, and Karl found himself staring at the massive city wall looming ahead of them, shrouded in the mist’s eerie glow.

"Now, jump," Fredrick commanded—or at least Karl felt he did.

Karl blinked. "What?" He glanced at Fredrick. Jump where?

"Your physical attributes are very strong," Fredrick said, his tone casual. "Not quite special class yet, but you're close. You can almost jump like Anette. Even if you fall, your body should be strong enough to endure." His eyes glinted as he looked up. "Probably."

"Probably?" Karl frowned. He was in no way comforted by that diagnosis.

Fredrick’s smile widened. "It's quite a height. If I fell, I wouldn’t die, but my bones would certainly shatter. But what kind of mother lets her child do something first?" He turned to face the towering city wall in the distance. "I'll go first."

With that, Fredrick bent his knees and shot into the air, disappearing into the mist without a sound. The fog swallowed him whole, and for a few moments, all was silent. The mist seemed to close in around Karl, pressing on all sides, as if trying to erase him from existence.

Fredrick's training is different from Anette's, Karl thought. Anette aimed to sharpen my skills, to open my eyes to certain truths. But Fredrick... He clenched his fists. Fredrick wants to push my body to its limits, no matter the cost. He sighed. I suppose that's good in its own way.

Karl took a deep breath. No one waits a thousand years for a weak savior. That much was clear. He bent his knees, looking up at the looming wall. It seemed impossibly high, a solid barrier between him and the outside world. If anyone saw me now, what would they think? Jumping over a fifty-foot wall? Insanity.