Raindirk trudged through the dimly lit streets, his breath shallow, each step heavier than the last. The drizzle had soaked through his thin shirt, and every muscle in his body screamed for rest. Yet his eyes — fierce and determined — showed no sign of giving up.
He had been walking for nearly an hour. His legs trembled with fatigue, but he pressed forward, driven by a single thought.
I can't stop now. Not until I reach it.
At last, through the mist and faint glow of street lamps, a massive silhouette came into view — a circular structure that towered above the neighboring buildings, shaped like a giant stadium. Its walls pulsed faintly with blue runes, casting an eerie light on the wet pavement.
The Blood-Bound Ceremonial Grounds.
The sound of hundreds of footsteps echoed through the entrance plaza. Crowds of youths, most between eleven and eighteen, streamed toward the main gates — some nervous, others chatting excitedly.
Raindirk adjusted his torn cloak and slipped into the crowd, keeping his head down. His ragged appearance drew a few glances, but no one said anything. The guards near the entrance scanned the crowd without much care. As long as he didn't draw attention, they wouldn't stop him.
And so, without a single question asked, he passed through the gates and into the hall.
Inside, the space was enormous — a dome lined with silver pillars that reached up toward a ceiling filled with floating lights. The murmur of conversation filled the air.
"Hehe, this is my second time," a boy nearby boasted, puffing his chest. "I swear, I'll awaken for sure this year."
"Humph," another scoffed. "You already failed once, and you're confident? My family has awakened on the first try for generations. It's in our blood. You're trash compared to me."
"Keep boasting," the first boy sneered. "We'll see who's laughing in the end."
Raindirk ignored them. He had heard such talk every year. This would be his fourth attempt.
For most people, failing once was enough to crush their hope. But Raindirk didn't have the luxury of despair. He wasn't here for pride or family honor — he was here because awakening was the only path forward.
The only way to gain the power he needed.
Fraya… I swear, I won't face that helpless situation again.
A deep voice boomed through the hall, echoing off the walls.
"Attention, all participants of the Blood-Bound Ceremony. Please form lines before the ten doors at the front. Maintain order. Any disturbance will result in immediate expulsion and a one-year ban from participation."
The noise faded. Everyone began moving toward the glowing doors at the front of the hall.
Raindirk joined one of the lines, standing quietly among the crowd. The minutes dragged on, filled with nervous whispers and the hum of magical energy in the air.
When his turn finally came, a staff member gestured for him to enter through a white door.
The room beyond was stark white, perfectly clean, and silent. At its center floated a massive diamond-shaped crystal, suspended above a circular platform etched with ancient runes. The faint glow from the crystal reflected in Raindirk's brown eyes as he stepped closer.
The attendant stood nearby, holding a metal tablet.
"Name?" the man asked curtly.
"Raindirk."
"Family name?"
"I don't have one."
The attendant hesitated, a brief flicker of pity crossing his face. "Understood. Place your hand on the crystal."
Raindirk took a deep breath, then pressed his palm against the crystal's smooth surface.
Immediately, the air trembled.
A deep hum filled the room as crimson light surged from the crystal, wrapping around his arm like a living flame. His heart pounded violently as energy flooded through him. The glow intensified until the entire room was bathed in red.
Then — searing pain.
Raindirk gasped as a burning sensation etched itself into both his forearms. When the light finally faded, two dark red serpent symbols appeared there, coiling and biting their own tails.
He dropped to one knee, trembling — not from pain, but from disbelief.
"I… I succeeded…" His voice cracked as tears welled in his eyes. Years of failure, humiliation, and hopelessness — and finally, success.
The attendant's brows lifted slightly before he composed himself. "Congratulations, Sir Raindirk. You have awakened a Bloodline Type: Auxiliary, Tier 1. Please proceed to registration."
Raindirk froze.
Auxiliary… and Tier 1.
The lowest tier. The weakest classification.
His excitement faltered, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. I finally awaken… and it's this?
Still, he clenched his fists tightly. Even the weakest power was still power. And if this was all he was given, then he'd find a way to make it enough.
Types of Bloodline Abilities
There are four types of bloodline abilities:
Enhancers — abilities that enhance the awakeners' physical or mental strength, such as Herculean Strength, Bronze Body, or Mind Enhancement.Elementals — those who command natural elements as weapons, bending flame, water, wind, and more to their will. This type is among the most common, alongside the Enhancers.Auxiliaries — abilities used to aid or enhance others or oneself directly or indirectly, such as Master Forger, Magic Chef, or Alchemist. These are rarer than the first two but lack the same prestige or raw power.Mystics — rarest of all, their abilities defy the logic of the other types. Some Mystics wield terrifying powers like Clairvoyance, while others awaken strange or even useless ones like Instant Cleaning.
Upon awakening, only the type of ability is revealed publicly. The exact details of the ability are known only to the awakener.
During registration, participants may choose to reveal or conceal their abilities.
At the registration desk, Raindirk filled out the form silently. His hands still tingled faintly with warmth, the serpent marks pulsing under his sleeves.
The clerk looked up. "Do you wish to make your ability public?"
Raindirk hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak — but then, something unexpected happened.
A sharp chime echoed in his head.
Ding.
The sound was faint yet impossibly clear, as though it had resonated from within his very soul. His body stiffened. The world around him seemed to fade for a heartbeat.
What was that…?
No one else reacted. The attendant simply waited, unaware.
Raindirk's expression remained calm, but inside, his pulse raced. Whatever that sound was, it wasn't normal. Instinct screamed at him — hide it.
"I'll keep it private," he said finally. His tone was even, but his voice felt strange in his throat.
The clerk nodded and stamped his form without question.
Raindirk turned away, his heart pounding as he stepped back into the cool night air.
The drizzle had stopped. The city was quiet. The faint light from the moon bathed the street in silver. He walked a few steps forward before stopping, hand clutching his chest.
Then it came again — that same ethereal chime, echoing softly in his mind.
And with it, a calm, mechanical voice whispered words that made his blood run cold.
"Host awakens his bloodline… Type: Dual — Auxiliary and Mystic."