He slowly removed the desk from its place. Outside, he could feel the presence of ten or more people, and they were all powerful. After pulling the desk aside, he saw a hole. He was out of options. He went inside. It was narrow and rough, but he could crawl through it, inch by inch, the earth pressing against his shoulders.
After some time, he saw a faint light ahead. He crawled faster and finally came out on the other side, gasping for air. Looking back, he could still see the hut in the distance, half-hidden by mist. It was enough of a head start. Without thinking, he ran deeper into the jungle.
The trees looked alive under the red moon, their branches twisting like arms reaching for him. His breathing came sharp, qi trembling in his veins, still unstable from the earlier curse.
After some time waiting, the leader of the shadows said, "I don't sense him anymore. Check the hut."
One of the shadows slipped inside. A moment later, his voice echoed faintly, "The woman's dead. There's a hole leading deeper into the jungle."
"Let's go," the leader commanded. The rest followed the faint trail Omen left behind. Their footfalls made no sound, but even the forest seemed to recoil as they passed.
Returning to the present.
Omen, who was hiding in a thick bush high on a tree branch, was sweating profusely. If he got caught, there was only one outcome—death. His qi ran thin, barely under control, the curse scratching at the edges of his sanity.
Then—
[Ding!!]
Omen froze. The sound came so close that he almost jumped down.
[System Shop has been bound!!]
[System Shop is open. You can buy anything if you have gold.]
[Recommended: bloodline, trait, weapon…++++]
He blinked in confusion. His heartbeat thundered. What was that? Why was his mind speaking to itself?
A glass-like panel floated in front of him, transparent yet glowing faintly with runes of qi.
Omen could read, though not well, but the symbols were clear enough. The interface shimmered like something alive. He scrolled down to see if it ended—but the options seemed endless. He returned to the first few lines.
[Recommended: Bloodline, Trait, Weapon++]
He tapped on Recommended.
[Recommended: Free to buy. The system decides if the host needs it desperately, and the host can buy it for free in the Recommended section.]
[Pure Blood = Vampire (100%)—tap to buy for 0 gold]
[Pure Blood = Human (100%)—tap to buy for 0 gold]
[Full-body Healing = Deity Grade—tap to buy for 0 gold]
[Curse Cleansing = Intermediate Grade—tap to buy for 0 gold]
Omen stared, stunned. It knew everything—his bloodline, his injuries, and even his limp arm. He was half vampire, half human, broken, and cursed.
Outside, footsteps closed in. Someone was approaching his tree.
Desperate, he tapped the first option.
Without warning, his body shot upward, pulled into the sky. His whole form glowed red as energy surged around him. A cocoon of blood-qi formed, wrapping him inside.
"What… what is this!?" The leader of the eighteen shadows looked up in disbelief. His aura trembled.
[The host is now a pure-blooded vampire.]
The cocoon burst open with a sound like thunder.
Omen emerged, suspended in the air, his body reborn. He could feel it—the power, the hunger, the control. With a thought, black wings unfurled from his back, enormous and leathery.
"This… this is awesome," Omen whispered, his voice trembling with awe.
He flapped once, and the ground cracked beneath the force. His dull red eyes turned bright, glowing like molten rubies. His black hair lengthened, falling to his shoulders.
"P… Pure blood," the leader of the shadows stammered. His knees went weak. On Warlands, to be pure-blooded was to stand near godhood.
Omen hovered in the air, a faint smile curling at his lips. The glass panel shimmered again, showing only one remaining option—Healing.
He clicked it.
[Full-body healed.]
Energy surged through him. His body reshaped itself, bones stretching, muscles tightening, and old scars vanishing. His left arm tingled and came alive again. His once-thin frame grew into a tall, strong figure. His pale skin shone faintly under the red moon.
"Crazy…" the leader muttered, staring in disbelief.
Omen flexed his left arm. The rope binding it fell away and turned to dust. He looked at his reflection in the air, surprised. The system's light faded, and the panel vanished.
He landed softly on the ground. "It seems I've grown taller too," he murmured.
Now standing eight feet two inches tall, he was nearly a giant. The ground cracked slightly under his weight.
The leader of the shadows stood before him, a huge man himself with dull blue eyes. The two locked eyes. Omen cracked his neck and stepped forward.
The leader's mind spun. How can a being change blood? he thought, horror creeping up his spine. What the hell happened to this runt?
He swallowed hard. "C… Crazy bastard."
He could feel it now—the suffocating aura of a pure-blood. The pressure crushed his lungs and twisted his qi flow. No mixed-blood could fake that.
The leader stumbled back a step. One of his men caught him by the shoulder. "Ace11, Boss, are you okay?"
Ace11 didn't answer immediately. His mind drifted back to when he was ten years old—his mother, a giantess who sold her milk to survive—
Ahem!!
Anyway, one day he'd gotten his hands on a free copy of the Old Myth, a legendary book from the Warlands series. It spoke of a time when mixed-bloods could ascend, but only through blood and madness.
And now, in front of him, that myth was alive.