The jeers felt like stones against Kael Ardyn's ribs, each one a dull, familiar ache. At fifteen, he was a wraith in his own village, a boy with downcast eyes and shoulders permanently hunched against the next blow, be it a fist or a word. Today, it was words, and they were sharper than any blade.
"Look, the trash soul returns!" Eryndor Vale's voice, slick with the arrogance of his station as the Sect Master's son, cut through the clamor of the training grounds. His cronies echoed the sentiment with cruel laughter.
Kael kept his gaze fixed on the dirt path, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white. Three days had passed since the Awakening Ceremony, the day that sealed his fate. While others had manifested divine souls of radiant power—Bronze-tier Fire Lions and Silver-grade Storm Falcons—Kael's had been a mockery. A thin, wispy Shadow Serpent, barely visible in the morning light, had materialized behind him. The Awakening Elder had taken one look, sighed, and declared it a Grey-tier soul. Trash.
In a world where a cultivator's very essence was tied to the rank of their soul, a Grey-tier was a death sentence to mediocrity. It meant a lifetime of being stuck at the mortal stage, his Qi forever a stagnant puddle while his peers cultivated vast rivers.
He ignored Eryndor, slipping away toward the dilapidated shack at the edge of the village that he and his uncle called home. Each step felt heavy, the weight of his uselessness a physical burden. He was a stain on the Ardyn name, a name that, according to his uncle Darius, once held some small measure of respect.
Inside, the single room was dim and smelled of cheap wine and old wood. Darius was out again, likely searching for whatever family relic he was so obsessed with finding. That was his uncle's curse—chasing a ghost from the past. Kael's was far more present.
Slumping onto his straw-stuffed mattress, Kael closed his eyes and willed himself away. He focused inward, descending into the one place he had any control: his divine soul space.
It was a desolate landscape, a murky, grey expanse that perfectly mirrored his soul's rank. In the center of this void floated his Shadow Serpent. It was a pathetic creature, no thicker than his thumb and barely a foot long, its scales a dull, lifeless grey. It coiled listlessly, a perfect representation of his own broken spirit.
But today, something was different.
Near the serpent, where there had only ever been emptiness, were two new objects. One was a small, exquisitely crafted bottle made of a substance like polished obsidian. It was no bigger than his palm, cool and smooth to his spiritual touch. The other object sent a tremor of primal fear through him. It was a book, pitch-black and bound by what looked like ethereal, silvery chains that pulsed with a faint, malevolent light. The book seemed to radiate an ancient cold, a hunger that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.
Kael hesitated. This was his soul space; nothing could enter without his will. Yet here they were. Intrigued and more than a little afraid, his spiritual sense drifted toward the bottle. It felt… alluring. A deep, instinctual thirst rose within him, a craving he had never known.
Drink, a voice whispered from the depths of his being. It was not a thought, but a command woven from pure instinct.
Heeding the call, his spiritual form reached out and uncorked the obsidian bottle. A single drop of liquid, thick and crimson like fresh blood, welled at the lip. He brought it to his mouth.
The moment the liquid touched his spiritual tongue, his world exploded.
An agonizing fire erupted in his soul, a pain so profound it felt as if his very existence was being unwritten and rewritten in searing agony. He felt a phantom tearing in his veins, his bones, his marrow. His real body, lying on the mattress, arched violently, a silent scream trapped in his throat as every muscle seized.
In his soul space, the crimson drop became a raging torrent, flooding every corner of the grey void. The little Shadow Serpent thrashed, its grey scales burning away to reveal something new underneath—something darker, sleeker, and infinitely more predatory.
And then, Kael felt it. A new power, ancient and ravenous, awakening in the core of his being. It was a hunger, a deep, gnawing void that demanded to be filled. The chains on the black book began to rattle violently, the silvery light flaring with each pulse of his newfound power. A single, archaic word burned itself into his mind:
Devour.
His senses, once dull, sharpened to a razor's edge. Lying in his shack, he could suddenly hear the scuttling of a spider in the thatch roof, smell the distant scent of pine from the forest, feel the subtle shift of the wind against the wooden walls. His body, once frail and weak, now felt coiled with a latent strength, a dormant predator stirring from a slumber of millennia.
He sat up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain was receding, replaced by a dizzying sense of empowerment. He looked at his hands. They were the same hands, yet they felt different, capable of tearing down the world that had mocked him.
His gaze drifted to the corner of the room where a mouse, drawn by a fallen crumb, was twitching its nose. The hunger within him surged, a primal, overwhelming command. He focused on the tiny creature, and the new power in his bloodline responded.
From his palm, a tendril of inky shadow, far darker and more substantial than anything his serpent soul had ever produced, snaked across the floor. It moved with unnatural speed, a silent predator. The mouse froze, its beady eyes wide with terror, but it was too late. The shadow enveloped it.
There was no sound, no struggle. The mouse simply… vanished. And in its place, a minuscule thread of warm energy flowed back through the shadow tendril and into Kael's body. It was a tiny morsel, barely a whisper of power, but it was real. He had felt its life essence, its Qi, however minuscule, become his own.
He had devoured it.
A slow, cold smile spread across Kael Ardyn's face for the first time in years. It was a predator's smile. Eryndor Vale had called him trash. The world had deemed him worthless. They had no idea what kind of monster they had just unleashed. His path was no longer one of weakness. It was a path of consumption, and he was starving.
OOC – End of Chapter 1
MC Name: Kael Ardyn
Cultivation Realm: Mortal Stage (Initial)
Divine Soul Rank: Grey-tier (Trash) - Shadow Serpent Soul
Bloodline: Ancient Devouring Bloodline (Awakened)
Known Techniques: Devour Essence (Initial awakening)
Items: Black Book of the Devourer (soul-bound)
Lifespan: 80 Years (Standard Human)
Notable Changes: Bloodline awakened. Senses dramatically enhanced. First use of Devour Essence on a living creature. A significant shift in mindset from victim to predator has begun.