Helixj

What if the balance of the world depended on a single awakening?

In the ancient land of Bathalumea, a once-mighty civilization now fractured by time and turmoil, whispers of a forgotten power begin to stir. Haraya, the fabled ability to shape reality itself, was long thought to be a myth, buried alongside the sovereign bloodlines that once wielded it. But Haraya was never truly gone—it only waited.

Now, as a new age dawns, the power begins to resurface. Across the sacred grounds of Bathalan, through the storm-laden waves of the Bagyuna Ocean, and into the shadowed ruins of Gintara, the resurgence of Haraya sends ripples through a divided world. The balance between order and chaos begins to tip, drawing the attention of powerful factions who see in it the key to domination—or destruction.

Among them, a descendant of the lost power emerges. Haunted by tragedy and driven by the dream of rebuilding what was lost, they find themselves entwined with Haraya’s awakening. But as the forces of greed, fear, and ambition converge, they must decide: will they wield Haraya to heal a broken world, or will it unravel under the weight of those who seek to claim it?

From the volcanic heights of Kaluyara to the enchanted forests of Aralyon, and into the unfathomable depths of the Diwang Abyss, Bloodline: Sovereign’s Awakening weaves a tale of hope, sacrifice, and reckoning. As ancient powers clash and the threads of fate tighten, one truth becomes clear: the return of Haraya may save the world—or destroy it forever.

"Bloodline: Sovereign’s Awakening" is a tale of reckoning and renewal, where a power lost to time could unite a fractured world—or be extinguished forever, leaving its promise unfulfilled.

Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening

The unspoken war in the halls of nobility.

Judio never cared for such things. He was born in the dust of a fallen village, raised in the harsh light of struggles for survival, and hardened by the echoes of screams that once filled the air.

Bloodline meant nothing when monsters tore through the land, when hunger clawed at your ribs, when death loomed over your shoulder like a silent specter.

But here, within the polished halls of the Union Academy of Sandigsal, blood was everything.

And the whispers spread like a plague.

Polished oak surrounded him. Thick tomes stacked around his table blurred before his eyes as he truly listened.

Between the rustling of pages and the scribbling of quills, the voices slithered through the air.

"No, no—one of them might have noble blood, but the other? A bastard, through and through."

Threads of Scorn