The courtyard had gone deathly still.
Drip.
Drip.
The last drops of blood fell from the air, striking snow with a wet, obscene finality.
At the bottom of the pit lay what remained of the direhound—skin shriveled tight against exposed bone, eyes sunken and glassy. A creature that had once weighed hundreds of pounds now resembled nothing more than a discarded hide.
Torches flickered in the cold wind.
Every guard had a hand on steel.
No one breathed.
Lord Cassian's goblet slipped from his fingers.
CRASH.
Glass shattered across the stone platform, wine splashing like diluted blood.
Orion stood at the pit's edge.
The ankle chain trailed behind him, half-buried in snow like forgotten jewelry. His ragged fur cloak hung open, exposing a frame that looked one meal away from collapse—sharp ribs, pale skin crisscrossed with scars. His crippled leg was still twisted, still wrong…
Yet he stood on it.
Unafraid.
Thin rivulets of crimson crawled across his palm before sinking into his skin, veins briefly glowing beneath the surface before fading away.
He looked fragile.
Breakable.
And yet—
No one moved.
Ren stared up from the pit floor, forgotten. The remaining direhounds had retreated to the far corner, bodies low, whining softly like chastised animals.
Orion tilted his head toward the nearest guard—the young one who had kicked the slop bowl hours earlier.
The man's face was chalk-white. His sword trembled halfway out of its sheath.
"Whose blood next?" Orion asked again.
His voice was soft.
Almost curious.
The guard took an involuntary step back.
Lord Cassian found his voice at last—too shrill, too late.
"Seize him! The slave is awakened—kill him before—"
He never finished.
Orion raised his free hand.
The snow at his feet stirred.
WHRRR—
Red mist spiraled upward, condensing into a single needle-thin thread of blood.
It vanished—
—and reappeared through the bearded guard's throat.
No dramatic spray.
Just a clean hole.
The man's eyes widened. He gurgled once, dropped his prod, and fell to his knees.
Blood pumped from his neck in perfect rhythm.
Each pulse was pulled—drawn through the air into Orion's waiting palm.
Strength: 7 → 9
Vitality: 8.7 → 10.2
The corpse hit the snow, empty.
Chaos exploded.
"FORM UP—!"
"ALARMS! RING THE ALARMS!"
Guards shouted, scrambling into a broken ring of spears. Two minor nobles fled toward the keep doors. Somewhere, a bell began to ring—
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Orion didn't wait.
He turned toward the pit.
Ren was still kneeling, staring at him like he was seeing a god—or a nightmare.
Orion extended his blood-slick hand.
"Come."
Ren hesitated for only a heartbeat before grabbing it.
Orion pulled.
The boy weighed almost nothing now. Ren scrambled over the pit wall and landed beside him, gasping.
"Stay behind me," Orion said quietly. "Don't run unless I tell you."
Ren swallowed. "What… what are you?"
Orion's gaze never left the guards.
"Not what they thought."
The first spear lunged.
A veteran. Mail shirt. Proper stance.
Orion stepped into the thrust.
The spear punched clean through his side.
Ren cried out.
Orion didn't flinch.
He seized the shaft with both hands and pulled himself closer until he was face-to-face with the guard.
The man's pupils shrank.
Orion smiled—small, tired, almost apologetic.
Then he exhaled.
The guard's body convulsed.
Blood erupted from his nose, eyes, ears—every orifice pouring outward, drawn like filings to a magnet. The spear clattered free as the corpse collapsed.
Orion's wound sealed itself with a wet, sucking sound.
Vitality: 10.2 → 12.8
New Trait Absorbed: Minor Spear Proficiency (Passive)
Orion pulled the spear free and tested its balance.
Light. Cheap ironwood.
Better than nothing.
Seven guards remained.
They spread out, wary now.
Lord Cassian was screaming from the platform, voice cracking.
"Where are the mages?!"
Two robed figures forced their way through the crowd—low-rank house mages in plain gray robes. One traced runes, frost gathering at his fingertips. The other raised a short wand of bone.
Orion noted them.
Prioritize.
He flicked the spear.
It buried itself in a guard's thigh.
The man screamed as blood blasted from the wound in a pressurized jet—straight into Orion's mouth.
He swallowed once.
Strength: 9 → 11
The guard collapsed, twitching.
The formation broke.
Two guards bolted for the gatehouse.
Orion let them run.
Witnesses were useful.
The frost mage finished his spell.
SHRRRKK—!
A lance of ice screamed across the courtyard.
Orion raised his hand.
The blood mist condensed into a crimson shield.
KRRSSHH—!
Ice shattered like glass, fragments hissing into steam where they struck blood.
The mage stared, stunned.
Orion took a step.
Then another.
The crippled leg dragged slightly, pain distant beneath the rush of stolen vitality.
The second mage raised his wand.
Too slow.
Orion pointed.
A hair-thin thread of blood pierced the mage's eye.
The body dropped without a sound.
The frost mage turned to flee.
Orion let him take ten steps.
Then drew.
The mage's body arched as blood poured from his back, forming a perfect floating sphere that drifted into Orion's palm.
Affinity: 1 → 3
Skill Evolution: Blood Draw (Lv.1 → Lv.2)
Range increased. Multi-target enabled.
Lord Cassian stood alone now.
His face was purple with rage—and terror.
"You— you're a blood demon! The Inquisition will—"
Orion looked up at him.
"Lord Cassian Valthor," he said, voice carrying across the silent courtyard.
"For crimes of slavery, torture, and feeding innocents to beasts…"
He paused.
"I sentence you."
The shattered wine at Cassian's feet began to tremble.
Droplets lifted, darkening, thickening.
Cassian looked down.
Confused.
Then horrified.
Blood seeped through his skin—pores opening across his arms, face, neck. Crimson beads rolled upward against gravity, forming a swirling cloud above his head.
He tried to scream.
No sound came.
His throat was already empty.
The cloud condensed into a perfect sphere the size of a fist.
Cassian's withered body toppled backward off the platform.
The sphere drifted gently into Orion's hand.
He absorbed it without ceremony.
Title Gained: Executioner of Valthor
Affinity: 3 → 6
New Skill Unlocked: Blood Echo (Lv.1)
Briefly mimic absorbed abilities.
The courtyard gates burst open.
Twenty soldiers poured in, crossbows raised, led by a knight in black plate.
Orion glanced at the sky.
Dawn was breaking.
Time to leave.
He turned to Ren, who stood frozen amid the carnage.
"Still want to run left?"
Ren shook his head.
"Good."
Orion knelt and twisted the ankle chain.
CRACK.
Iron snapped like dry twigs.
He scooped a handful of blood-soaked snow and shaped it absently into a crimson rose, veins pulsing faintly within the ice.
A message.
He placed it gently on Lord Cassian's empty robes.
Let the Inquisition come.
The system chimed softly.
[Hidden Quest Complete: Survive the Cleansing]
[Reward: First Blood Awakening — Stabilized]
[Bonus Objective: Instill Fear — Reputation Spreading]
[New Quest Generated: Escape Blackiron Reach]
Optional: Leave no witnesses / Leave many witnesses
Orion chose.
Many witnesses.
He looked at Ren.
"You can come with me," Orion said calmly,
"or stay and tell them what you saw."
Ren swallowed, eyes flicking to the advancing soldiers.
"I'm with you."
Orion nodded once.
He stepped toward the shadows beneath the gatehouse.
The darkness rose to meet him, wrapping around both boys like a living cloak.
Crossbow bolts thudded into empty air.
When the soldiers reached the spot, only melting snow—
—and a single crimson rose—remained.
Far beyond the walls, in the pre-dawn forest, two figures emerged from the treeline.
Orion stumbled as the rush faded, dropping to one knee.
Pain returned—sharp in his leg, dull everywhere else.
Ren caught him. "You're bleeding again."
Orion glanced down at the reopened wound.
"Not fatal," he muttered. "But I'll need stronger blood soon."
Ren paled.
"Not yours," Orion added dryly.
They stood.
Bells rang faintly behind them.
Ahead lay forbidden zones. Trials. Power.
And answers about the Fallen Blood burning in Orion's veins.
He turned north.
Limping.
Unstoppable.
Behind them, the first sunlight touched the crimson rose on Cassian's robes.
It hadn't melted.