For a moment, Leo truly thought Liam was going to die right there on the pale floor of his domain. The convulsions didn't stop—his limbs thrashing as though something were trying to claw its way out of him. His mouth opened in a strangled cry that never fully left his throat.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the fit subsided. Liam's body went still, save for the ragged heaving of his chest.
Slowly, trembling as though he had survived drowning, he pushed himself upright on unsteady legs. His skin had drained to a bloodless pallor. Veins stood out along his neck and forearms in stark relief, pulsing faintly with a dark, glimmering thread of power. And amid his sweat-soaked hair, a single lock had turned bone-white, catching the shifting light of the domain.
Leo studied him in silence, recognition tightening in his chest. This was exactly what had happened when he himself was transformed—that same pallor, that same coiling power under the skin. He narrowed his eyes, considering.
'Are you telling me that anyone who pledges to me…will become this new kind of half-vampire?'
It was a troubling thought. And there was no more time to reflect—outside, even with time slowed here, Liam's opponent would be nearly upon him.
Leo knew that he had to say something. His voice when he spoke, was calm but resonant, layered with something deeper that carried authority.
"I have given you all the power you can endure for now. In time, you will grow stronger—and you will be able to bear more of my blessing."
He let the truth settle between them for a heartbeat, his gaze steady on Liam's eyes — eyes that had changed. They were still the same shade of blue, but now deeper, sharper, and bolder, as if something had awakened behind them.
"But remember: your path is always your own. What you do with this power is in your hands alone."
He spoke those final words deliberately—to make clear that the choice, and the consequences, were no longer his to guide.
Liam's pale face lifted. He swallowed once and then bowed low, the movement controlled despite the faint tremor still in his limbs.
"Thank you," he whispered, voice raw but certain.
With a small gesture of Leo's hand, the white space rippled—and Liam vanished, returned to the mortal world.
…
In the real world, everything transpired in the space of a few heartbeats. Julien stood poised over Liam, his rapier angled to pierce straight through the young man's chest. But before the blade could fall, an unseen force erupted from Liam's body—a sudden, crushing wave of mana that blasted outward in every direction.
The pressure struck Julien like a physical blow, forcing him back several steps. He barely managed to keep his footing as the air itself seemed to twist around the other man.
Liam, who had been sagging on his knees only a moment before, rose slowly to his feet. His head lifted, and his eyes fixed on Julien with a new, unearthly intensity.
Even across the distance, Julien felt a coldness crawl up his spine. Liam's skin was ashen, drained of all healthy color. A single lock of hair, now bone-white, fell across his forehead. Black-veined channels pulsed visibly beneath his skin, as though carrying not blood but something darker. And his eyes…
They glowed, luminous and fathomless, filled with an oppressive, suffocating mana.
Julien's throat bobbed. "What the hell—?"
But before he could find another word, Liam moved. It was no longer the desperate lunge of an overmatched boy. One moment he stood where he was—the next, he blurred forward, crossing the space between them in a single, impossible step.
Julien's reflexes snapped into place. He jerked his rapier up to deflect the oncoming strike. Their blades collided with a metallic scream—but the sheer force behind Liam's swing blasted him backwards like a rag doll.
He hit the ground in a low crouch, boots skidding over stone as he fought to steady his breathing. His arms felt numb from the impact.
'He's faster. Stronger. What—what did he do?'
But before he could reorient, Liam raised his free hand, palm open, and began to chant.
A cold dread settled in Julien's gut. The air shimmered—and then split apart beside Liam, forming a ragged oval of darkness. From that portal, two massive eyes stared out into the arena.
The pupils contracted, fixing directly on Julien. A shiver raked through him so violently he almost dropped his weapon.
He had the sudden, terrible certainty that whatever was watching him from the other side of that rift was old and wholly beyond his power to fight.
…
Liam felt raw energy flooding his body. It wasn't just strength—it was as if every sense had been turned up to an unbearable volume. His heart hammered. His hands trembled slightly when he raised one and started reciting the summoning incantation. Before, whenever he'd tried to reach a higher creature, he'd felt nothing but cold indifference. Now, he could tell something on the other side was aware of him. Watching.
As he spoke the final words, the air all around him seemed to tighten. Pressure built up inside his skull, and a chorus of voices filled his head. They spoke in dozens of different languages, overlapping into a wall of sound he couldn't understand. The noise scraped against his thoughts like claws. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on one thing, the creature that was coming closer. He ignored everything else and pushed the voices out by sheer will.
The stone floor next to him cracked in a wide circle, and a black rift tore open in the air. Heat rushed out of it in a hot gust, carrying the smell of dry fur and something older, like burned iron. A huge shape moved in the darkness beyond. A moment later, the head of a lion emerged—three times the size of an ordinary animal. It had a mane that looked like coarse gold threads, tangled and heavy. Its eyes glowed a deep yellow, and the pupils were thin, vertical slits.
The lion stepped forward with slow, deliberate movements. Its claws scraped loud against the stone. Two curved horns rose from the top of its skull, sweeping back over its mane. Each one was dark, almost black, and textured like old wood. Its hide looked thicker than any natural creature's, rough and patterned with faint ridges. A tail as thick as a small tree trunk dragged behind it, ending in a heavy knot of bone.
Liam swallowed, feeling the difference in scale. He barely reached the height of the beast's shoulder. He recognized it from old texts, one of the Four Kings of Beasts. A creature people said only archmages or A rank summoners could even hope to contract. Even now, it wasn't giving him its full power—he could sense how much of its strength was held back, almost sealed away. But the fact it had come at all meant that he was a completely different person now
The lion moved its head slowly to look around the arena. It didn't appear alarmed or threatened. It looked more like it was evaluating the place and the people in it. When its gaze finally landed on Julien, it stopped.
Julien had frozen for several seconds, staring in disbelief. His face had gone pale, but he pulled himself together and forced a crooked smile.
"You think I'm afraid of some overgrown pet?" he yelled, though his voice broke slightly. His rapier lifted, and currents of wind gathered around the blade, spiraling up in a visible sheath. He shifted his stance and sprinted forward, crossing the distance in a few seconds. He leaped into the air, aiming to drive the weapon straight into the lion's head.
The lion didn't move. It opened its jaws and let out a roar. The sound was physically painful, a vibrating pressure wave that cracked stones across the arena floor. Julien was slammed backward midair as if he'd been punched by an invisible wall. He hit the ground hard, rolling several times before he managed to stop.
As Julien struggled to get up, the lion's mane began to emit a bright golden light. It looked almost like each hair was a glowing filament. The light swept out across the space and covered Liam in a single smooth wave of heat and force. He felt the power settle into him, strengthening his muscles and sharpening his focus. He looked down and saw his sword was glowing gold, the edges bright as a heated blade.
This was the sign. The lion wasn't going to fight for him—it was lending him power to see if he could prove himself. Liam took a steadying breath, then walked forward without hurrying.
Julien finally managed to stand up fully, clutching his rapier. His jaw was clenched, his face red with anger.
"You think you can finish this yourself?" he spat. "Fine. You've wasted your chance."
He raised his weapon straight up. Wind gathered again, but faster this time. In seconds, the rapier was swallowed by a mass of swirling air that grew in size until it formed a blade almost as tall as Julien himself. He tightened his grip, then sprinted toward Liam, screaming as he charged.
Liam didn't wait. He leaned forward and broke into a run. When Julien came into reach, he swung his sword in a wide arc.
The two weapons collided in a loud impact that sent out a blast of compressed air. The ground under their feet split in a spiderweb of cracks, and dust billowed out in every direction.
For several seconds, the arena was nothing but noise and haze. When it cleared, Julien's body was still standing. His head, however, lay several paces away on the ground. Blood was already spreading under it.
Liam let out a slow breath, lowering his sword. The veins that had been bulging across his arms and neck gradually settled back to normal. He turned to look at the lion, which still watched him in silence.
"Am I worthy now?" he asked, voice level.
The creature studied him for a long moment without blinking. Finally, it lowered its massive head in a short, deliberate bow. The golden glow around it faded, and in the next instant, it vanished as if it had never been there.
Liam stood in the silence, feeling the last echoes of power leaving his body. A faint, tired smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. This was only the beginning, but for the first time, he truly believed he had a future.
While Liam stood there, his thoughts consumed by the future he was now bound to and the god he had pledged his loyalty to, his father, accompanied by three of his brothers, approached him. After his summoning, he caught a glance at them. Their expressions were a mix of disbelief and seething hatred, the tension between them palpable, as if the air itself had thickened with their disdain.
His father walked forward, his smile stretched wide, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well done, my son. I'm proud of you. You may have heard some rumors about this tournament, but it's not what they say. We hold this to give our families a chance to prove themselves, just as you did today."
Steve's face contorted in open disgust, his eyes narrowing with a burning fury as he listened to his father's praise. The hatred in his gaze was so intense it almost radiated off of him.
Liam as well, felt the anger welling up inside him, but he pushed it down. He knew what his father was doing—he was lying, weaving a story to mask the true intent of this charade. The tournament had never been about proving strength; it had been a carefully calculated attempt to rid themselves of him, to see him dead before he could even stand a chance. But Liam had survived. He'd won.
He met his father's gaze, the smile on his face completely at odds with the disgust boiling inside him. He knew this wasn't a moment of celebration. His father had only sent him into that arena to die, and now, after his unexpected victory, he wanted to use it as a show of power, to flaunt it in front of the other noble families.
Liam's smile never faltered, though the fake warmth behind it could've melted a thousand glaciers. "Of course, Father," he replied, his voice smooth, betraying none of the contempt swirling beneath his calm exterior.
His father gave a satisfied nod, utterly unaware of the disdain that ran so deeply in Liam's veins. "Now, let's return to the mansion and celebrate your victory."
Liam's stomach twisted. His father's words were nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to make him an accessory in his quest for more power and prestige. He had no intention of celebrating anything. This wasn't about family. It was all about using Liam as a pawn to make their name shine brighter in the eyes of the kingdom. But Liam knew better now. He could feel the strings being pulled and the puppetmaster behind them.
This was just the beginning. His father had no idea what was coming.
Liam walked beside them, his body relaxed, but his mind raced. Every step he took towards their mansion felt like a step closer to the revenge he would soon take. He could already imagine it—his family, one by one, brought down by his hands.
As they walked, Liam could feel the eyes of his brothers burning into his back. The venomous look his brothers gave him only fueled the fire inside Liam, making his smile widen ever so slightly. He had done it. He had survived. And now, the game had changed.