According to what Ares knew of this world, no one had ever recorded a bloodline above S-rank. No elder had ever even mentioned anything like a Divine classification before.
Yet here it was, glowing before him, unshakable. And beneath it, the first ability listed under his new power:
[Ability: Primordial Nemesis.]
Ares frowned. Normally, bloodline abilities came with a detailed description. Evolution paths. Potential growth. But this? There was nothing. No information. Just the name standing alone, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
For the first time since the ceremony began, uncertainty flickered in Ares' heart.
Why did it feel like he had stepped into something much bigger than himself?
As the cheers of the villagers filled the air, one thought echoed louder than all the noise, drowning everything else out.
'What the hell did I just awaken?'
What's more, of all the names it could have possibly had, it just had to be this...
Ares gazed at the name of his bloodline, a cold smile curling his lips for the first time in years.
"How fitting," he murmured.
_____
The ceremony was over, and chaos erupted.
Teenagers burst from the village square like water through a broken dam. Some ran with fists pumped high, laughter spilling from their lips as they raced to share their good fortune. Others stumbled away with hollow eyes, the weight of disappointment crushing their shoulders.
A few simply stood frozen, staring at nothing.
Ares watched it all with quiet acceptance, understanding the emotions swirling around him even if he didn't share their intensity.
'Expected,' he thought, his expression calm and observant. 'Joy and disappointment. Always the same pattern.'
"Ares! Congratulations, Teacher Ares!"
The voice belonged to Mrs. Kellen, the baker's wife. Her flour-dusted apron bounced as she hurried toward him, beaming with genuine happiness for his success.
Ares turned toward her with a small, measured nod, a bit surprised the news had already reached her. "Thank you, Mrs. Kellen. I appreciate your kindness."
His tone was warm enough to acknowledge her gesture, but carried the quiet restraint that had always marked his interactions. Polite. Grateful. But not effusive.
"We're so proud of you, Teacher Ares!" Another villager chimed in, practically vibrating with excitement.
Ares replied with the same gentle composure. More villagers gathered, each offering their congratulations with increasing enthusiasm. They seemed to expect a bigger reaction—perhaps tears of joy or overwhelming emotion.
Instead, they found someone who received their words with genuine appreciation but unshakeable calm.
"Make us proud, Teacher Ares!"
"S-rank! Can you believe it? Our little Ares!"
A slight smile touched his lips—barely there, but real. "It's... unexpected."
If only they knew...
Mrs. Kellen stepped closer, her eyes soft with maternal warmth. "Your parents would have been so proud, dear."
For the first time, something deeper flickered in Ares's steel-gray eyes. Not pain, exactly, but a quiet acknowledgment of loss.
"I believe they would have been," he said softly.
The simple response carried more weight than dramatic declarations. Several villagers sighed, understanding passing between them.
He began walking toward his cottage, but not abruptly. The pace was natural, unhurried, and he nodded to each well-wisher as he passed.
Behind him, the villagers watched with a mixture of fondness and mild puzzlement.
"He's always been a quiet one," someone murmured.
"Thoughtful boy. Doesn't waste words."
"Still waters run deep with that one."
Ares heard the comments but didn't react. They weren't wrong, he had always been this way. Calm. Measured. Present but somehow separate from the emotional currents that swept others along.
The walk to his cottage provided welcome quiet. Each step took him further from the well-meaning attention, allowing his thoughts to settle into their natural patterns.
Galley nestled against the Sanga Mountains like a content cat in a sunny windowsill. The village had always been peaceful, the kind of place where people knew each other's business and cared about each other's welfare.
It was a good place to grow up, even if it felt increasingly small.
'I'm outgrowing this,' Ares thought, studying the familiar streets with calm acceptance. 'Not the people or the place itself. Just... the scope of what's possible here.'
It wasn't dissatisfaction, exactly. More like a plant that had grown too large for its pot.
His cottage stood exactly as he'd left it—modest, weathered, but comfortable. The kind of home that asked for nothing and provided exactly what was needed.
He pushed open the door and paused.
A blue crystal sat in the center of his main room, glowing with soft inner light. Around it, someone had arranged wildflowers with obvious care. Beside the crystal lay a folded white robe of remarkable quality.
Ares studied the arrangement with quiet appreciation.
'They knew I wouldn't accept this directly,' he realized, a faint smile touching his lips. 'Thoughtful.'
He picked up the crystal, feeling its weight and the subtle energy thrumming within. A stat enhancement crystal was significantly valuable and practical. The kind of gift that showed real consideration for his future needs.
The gesture warmed something in his chest, even if the feeling remained muted compared to what others might experience.
This wasn't just any crystal, this was a stat enhancement crystal, something that could permanently increase his physical abilities.
Crystals like this were loot dropped by magical beasts, condensed from the energy inside their bodies.
When someone absorbed one, their attributes would increase—but only if the crystal was stronger than their current stats. If the crystal's value was lower, it wouldn't increase anything, just replenish their energy.
For example, if someone had 7 Strength and absorbed a 9-strength crystal, their Strength would jump straight to 9. But if they absorbed a 6-strength crystal, nothing would change except a slight energy boost. In short, the stronger you were, the harder it was to keep improving.
He summoned his Origin Scroll with a thought. The golden parchment materialized, displaying his current status in precise detail.
[Name: Ares Solovar (14 years)]
[Evolution Stage: Mortal]
[Bloodline: Absolute Fusion (Divine)]
[Bloodline Tree: Absolute Fusion (No Evolution Path)]
[Strength: 5]
[Speed: 4]
[Constitution: 5]
[Energy: 2]
[Spirit Skill(s): None]
[Spirit Companions: None]
The numbers were low, but that was expected at his age and stage. What concerned him was the persistent mystery of his bloodline's lack of evolution path.
'Divine rank with no progression,' he mused, his brow furrowing slightly. 'That suggests either a dead end or something beyond normal classification.'
Given the strange experience during his awakening—the void, the ancient voice, the word that had burned itself into his consciousness—he suspected the latter.
He focused on the crystal and willed his Origin Scroll to absorb it.
Warmth flooded his body in gentle waves. His muscles strengthened, his bones grew denser, and power settled into his frame with quiet efficiency. The sensation was pleasant rather than overwhelming.
When the process finished, his Strength had doubled from 5 to 10! That was double! He was now twice as strong as before!
A slow, confident smile spread across his face.
He was one step closer. One step closer to power. One step closer to revenge.
Because one day, he would stand at the top of this world. And when that day came, the Primordials—those untouchable, god-like beings who ruled over everything—would burn.
Ares flexed his hand experimentally, feeling the difference. He was definitely significantly stronger than before, though the change felt natural rather than shocking.
'Good,' he noted with quiet satisfaction.
Physical strength was important, but it was only one factor among many. Intelligence, strategy, understanding—these mattered just as much in the long term.
Still, being twice as strong as he'd been that morning couldn't hurt.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The EagleBeak Squad. Real training. Perhaps answers to some of the questions that had been accumulating.
Tonight, he would rest and prepare.
But first, he should probably thank whoever had left the gifts.
-----
The Next Morning – Village Entrance.
Dawn painted the sky in soft pastels as every teenager in Galley gathered at the village entrance. Nervous energy filled the air like humidity before a storm. Whispered conversations mixed with the sounds of final farewells.
For most of them, this would be their first time leaving home. The end of childhood and the beginning of something entirely unknown.
Ares arrived precisely on time, his belongings packed efficiently and the white robe fitting him perfectly. Unlike his peers, he had no family drama to navigate, but he took the time to nod respectfully to several villagers who had gathered to see them off.
Mrs. Kellen pressed a small wrapped package into his hands. "Some travel biscuits," she explained quietly. "They'll keep well."
"Thank you," he replied, meaning it. "That's very thoughtful."
Old Henrik clapped him on the shoulder again. "Remember where you came from, boy. But don't let it hold you back."
Ares met his eyes steadily. "I'll remember both parts of that advice."
The older man grinned and stepped back, satisfied. He and the rest of the old ones stood to the side as they waited for their esteemed guests.
But alas, an hour passed unceremoniously. The excited buzz of conversation slowly turned into impatient grumbling.
"Where are they?" someone complained.
"Did they forget about us?"
"Maybe they left without us!"
The excitement was beginning to fray around the edges. Ares observed his future companions as they dealt with uncertainty and delay.
Some paced nervously. Others checked their belongings repeatedly. A few had started voicing concerns about being forgotten.
'Young,' he thought without judgment. 'They'll learn patience, or the world will teach it to them.'
Suddenly—
"They're here!" someone shouted, pointing skyward. "Look!"
Every head turned upward in unison.
A shadow fell across the village, growing larger by the second. Through the morning clouds, something magnificent descended—sleek, impossible, and utterly beyond anything Ares had ever seen.
The skyship was a work of art disguised as transportation. Its hull gleamed like polished silver, covered in intricate runes that pulsed with soft blue light. The very air around it seemed to hum with contained power.
Ares studied it with the same calm attention he gave everything else, though he couldn't deny being impressed by the craftsmanship.
'Remarkable engineering,' he thought. 'This represents resources and knowledge far beyond what I expected.'
The ship settled into a steady hover just above the ground. With a barely audible hiss, a ramp extended downward with mechanical precision.
A figure appeared at the top—a middle-aged man with broad shoulders and a mustache that somehow managed to look both dignified and slightly ridiculous. His uniform was military crisp, but his bearing was relaxed.
Almost friendly.
Sharp eyes scanned the group of teenagers with obvious assessment. He seemed to be cataloging each face, measuring their potential with practiced efficiency.
After a moment that felt longer than it was, he smiled.
"Well?" he called out, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "Are you planning to stand there all day, or would you like to see the world?"
The teenagers exchanged glances, sudden uncertainty replacing their earlier excitement.
"Come on," the man added with a chuckle. "The ship won't bite. Though I can't make the same promise about some of the things we'll be teaching you to fight. Move it!"