Ancestor

"Pass the ball to me, Jake!" a fifteen-year-old boy with dark orange hair shouted, frustration lacing his voice. He watched his blue-eyed friend, Jake, standing with the ball at his feet. Jake attempted to make the pass but, inexplicably, the ball veered off course, missing its target completely. 

"How can you be so bad at soccer?" the orange-haired boy exclaimed, frustration bubbling over. Jake, ignoring his friend's jab, simply shrugged and replied, "I'll go get it."

Meanwhile, in a cave not to far away, a black drop of blood had finally completed the transformation of its vessel after siphoning the essence of countless blood path cultivators and Golden Order members. Sated with its newfound power, it coalesced, merging with Lucas's newly formed body granting it more ability's and increasing its durability.

Lucas's new form was a skeleton. with bone density far superior to any other. From its frame sprouted retractable black and red bones acting as armor. His striking blonde hair was tied back in a bun, framing one vibrant blue eye and another darker than the abyss. Sharp, black claws jutted from his hands and feet, while a vivid red sword-shaped tattoo ran along his spine. On the Inside of he's bones there was crimson runes that replaced his organs. he still had blood coursing through him—every drop of he's blood was now blood essence, hinting at an untold power. 

Instead of a traditional mouth, he had an eerie, mask-like design constructed entirely from the bones of his maxilla down, an unsettling reminder of his transformed state.

His consciousness remained dormant until an unexpected impact jolted him awake—an orange soccer ball struck him squarely in the head, pulling him from the void. As Lucas slowly regained awareness, he remembered what had happened to he's village and his little sister Audrey.

As he attempted to move, a torrent of fragmented memories rushed in, overwhelming his senses. But these memories, chaotic and foreign, were soon sealed away by his will. One fragment, however, stood out among the rest: dark red and pulsating, resembling the very drop of blood that had resurrected him. Lucas inexplicably recognized what ressurected him the blood of my ancestor?. Lucas had no clue if he was right but he was sure If he hadn't been the descendant of that ancestor, he would have been consumed by its power instead of revived. A wave of gratitude washed over him as he silently thanked his ancestor then tried stand up he attempted to regain control of his body, but his efforts were in vain. Frustrated, he surrendered to the confines of his own mind, diving into his sea of consciousness to uncover the "gift" left by his ancestor. 

As he delved deeper, he uncovered a single unsealed memories. He was suddenly drawn into one of his ancestor's final recollections. It unfolded like a dark nightmare—a fog-like creature infinite times bigger than the man who stood before him looming ominously, its gaping maw ready to devour an immensely tall warrior clad in black and red armor. The man, with flowing crimson hair and a shimmering red katana, fought valiantly against the all-consuming mist, his power flickering like a candle against an unforgiving storm. 

As soon as the beast shut its mouth it stared directly at lucas. The memory began to slowly fracture into countless fragments, splintering around Lucas. Just as he felt the weight of that stare crashing down upon him, he was violently ejected from the memory, consciousness fading into darkness once more.

Jake climbed up the small hill, then he quickly walked towards the cave where the ball had rolled. As he stepped inside, a chilling scene greeted him: a skeleton with a human face, its hair ther in bun, laying next to the ball he had came for on the bloodstained ground. It looked like the kind of crime scene you'd see in a horror movie, and Jake reacted the way any sensible teenager would as he screamed and rushed back down the hill.

As he raced to his friends, he breathlessly recounted his discovery. Unlike the typical horror movie characters who would venture into danger, his friends wisely chose to go straight to their parents. They knew Jake's dad was a third-circle mage, capable of handling any dark sorcery that could be involved with the corpse they had seen. The group quickly returned home, soon dismissing the incident as an odd memory.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the cave, Lucas was jolted awake by a scream. He regained awareness and looked at himself again then laughed a Laugh that ended up sounding like , a roar that echoed through the darkness—a far deeper sound than Jake's frantic scream. The aura he projected was a faint echo of his ancestor's power, so weak that the third-circle gravity mage outside failed to notice it.

Outside, Gary, the mage, fortified himself by exhausting all his mana to form blue protective and strengh enhancement and drinking a mana replenishment potion he tapped at the air a few times summoning his staff from the air with practiced ease, determined to confront whatever threat lay inside.

"What kind of storage technique is that?" Lucas asked from the shadows, his tone curiousity peaked.

Gary, feeling a surge of fear, recalled the teachings from the Church of the Goddess of Love and Wisdom: if an undead entity was intelligent, it's typically a rank 3 or 5 that posed a severe threat to Gary with he's low rank. Panic coursed through him as he thought, **I should have listened to my wife and stayed away from the beach.**

"Are you a cultivator or a mage?" Lucas asked forgeting that he currently looked like an skeleton.

"I'm a mage," Gary replied, tension tightening in his chest.

"How many circles have you formed?" Lucas pressed further. Gary hesitated, weighing the danger of revealing his rank to this formidable being. Finally, he answered, "I am a third-circle gravity mage." 

In that moment, Gary felt the weight of Lucas's aura, understanding that the creature stood at a level he couldn't comprehend, far surpassing mere demigods. 

Lucas remembered he's current appearance , realizing he had to find a way to get Gary to leave, felt the pressure of the situation. His current aura was deceptive, held together by the fleeting echo of his ancestor's power. If that faded, his own lack of strength would be revealed; he hadn't even fully achieved rank one in this form.

His essence and cultivation had deteriorated after glimpsing fragments of his ancestor's memories. He could hardly move now. If he told Gary to leave, it would only attract unwanted attention he would definitely report the situation in the cave . He needed a way to dismiss the mage without causing a stir—then a plan began to form.

"What is your name?" he asked, drawing on the tension of the moment to steer the conversation in a direction he hoped would help him escape. "What is your name, child?" Lucas asked, deliberately lowering his voice to create an air of authority. 

"My name is Gary," the mage replied, his heart pounding with uncertainty. 

"Do not be afraid of me," Lucas said, his tone reassuring yet firm. "I am no monster or undead. My appearance is simply a reflection of my thousand years of cultivation. You are the first human I have encountered since the beginning of my journey. Why not become my final disciple?"

Gary felt a surge of apprehension. He had only read one cultivation novel in his life and had no idea how to navigate this unexpected encounter. Driven by instinct and a desire to survive, he did what any protagonist in a novel might do—he bowed deeply and knocked his forehead against the ground. "The disciple greets his master!".

Tought Gary a fake cultivation technique that he had made up on the spot then sent Gary off lucas knew that the dumb excuse he mad for being here was not going to stop Gary from reporting what had gone on in this location. But that was the first and only idea that came to mind so Lucas just went with it so now he needed to leave.