Bloodline

The following days slipped by in a haze. Riven was returned to the same room where he had first entered for the third trial, confined within its walls as the skill book download continued. Throughout it all, Sana remained at his side, unmoving, her watchful gaze never straying. For three days, she stood vigilant, ensuring he remained under constant surveillance - a level of dedication that, despite the circumstances, Riven couldn't help but find impressive.

[[ Congratulations! ]]

[[ You have learned a new skill: Puppeteer of the Undead! ]]

The room trembled, a low rumble reverberating through the air as the atmosphere grew heavy and dark. Shadows flinched and twisted, slithering across the floor like living tendrils before lashing out toward Rivens still-levitating form. They coiled around his limbs, tightening their grip almost desperately. Then at last, they engulfed him completely, ensnaring him in a cocoon of pure, impenetrable darkness.

As the shadows began to embed themselves into his skin, Riven felt something snap deep within his soul. It was as if a door - one that had been locked for centuries - had finally been forced open. The weight of it sent a shudder through his body, and for a moment, his mind was not his own.

The room, the academy, even Sana's watchful presence—all of it faded away.

—x—

He stood atop a battlefield drenched in blood. The sky burned a deep crimson, and the air was thick with the stench of death. Around him, massive armies clashed - knights in gleaming gold against legions of the undead. Towering Deathbound Knights cut through soldiers like paper, skeletal war beasts and wraiths trampled the living beneath their feet.

And at the heart of it all, a man stood alone.

No—not a man.

A king.

Draped in obsidian-black armor, his silver hair whipping wildly in the wind, his glowing violet eyes surveyed the battlefield with an expression that was neither rage nor desperation. It was calculated. Every fallen knight, every slain soldier—he raised them back within seconds, their screams twisting into silence as they bent to his will.

'System, who is that man?' Riven asked but he was met with silence.

The battlefield wavered, the crimson sky bleeding into darkness, and for a moment, Riven felt like he was falling. Then the world around him shifted…

The corpses. The undead. The silver-haired man in black armor.

Everything was gone.

Instead, he stood before a towering obsidian throne, carved from something that pulsed with eerie, unnatural energy. Shadows coiled around its base like living tendrils, shifting and writhing with no clear source. The entire chamber radiated power—ancient, overwhelming, familiar.

And then, from the darkness, a figure emerged.

Tall. Cloaked in a long, midnight-black robe, its edges embroidered with blood red runes that seemed to move when Riven tried to focus on them. The hood was drawn low, obscuring the figure's face, but glowing violet eyes burned from beneath it.

A chill crawled up Riven's spine.

This wasn't some illusion.

This thing—whoever or whatever it was—was real.

"You're finally here."

The voice was deep. Resonant. Riven didn't just hear it - it echoed inside his mind.

Riven took a cautious step back. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure didn't move. Didn't breathe. The shadows around it pulsed, shifting closer.

"I have been known by many names," it said, its voice unreadable. "But none that would mean anything to you."

Okay. That wasn't ominous at all.

"What do you want?" Riven asked cautiously.

A low chuckle.

"It is not about what I want. It is about what you are - who you are."

Riven narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The air grew heavy. The shadows tightened and then all of a sudden erupted. They shot out like a gigantic claw, wrapping around Riven so tightly that he felt the air escape his lungs.

The cloaked figure pulled back his hood, revealing long silver hair and violet eyes - just like the man in the battlefield. His hand stretched out in front of him as the shadows warped. A dark red magic circle began to appear in front of his palm and from it shot hundreds of obsidian needles. They embedded themselves into Rivens entire body and Riven let out a bloodcurdling cry, helpless to fight back in the shadows clutches.

The man's violet eyes began to glow as he tipped his head back and raised his arms.

And then it began.

Droplets of blood began to gather on his porcelain skin and then one by one shoot towards Riven, absorbing into the needles. It's started with a few drops of blood but then it turned into a downpour.

[[ Forceful Bloodline Awakening Detected. ]]

[[ Commencing Awakening ]]

Pain.

Agonising, all-consuming pain.

Rivens body convulsed as the blood continued to force its way into him, searing through his veins like molten fire. Every drop felt like it was reshaping him, rewriting something fundamental within his very being. His bones ached, his muscles burned and something deep within his mana heart began to stir.

The figure before him watched on in silence as his blood continued to pour. But there was something in his glowing violet gaze that was unreadable. Satisfaction? Expectation?

Or something more sinister?

The obsidian needles embedded in Rivens flesh pulsed, continuously pumping the strange man's blood into Rivens body, fusing with his own. His vision blurred, warping between the throne room and flashes of memories that weren't his.

A kingdom shrouded in shadows.

A throne room filled with kneeling figures clad in dark armour.

A king with violet eyes and a face… Rivens face.

Riven gasped, his back arching as the pain reached its peak.

Then… silence.

[[ Congratulations! Your bloodline has now been awakened! ]]

[[ Bloodline: Descendant of the Demon King. (Rank: ???) ]]

The shadows around him collapsed, withdrawing into his skin and the obsidian needles vanished as if they had never been there. He hit the cold stone floor with a thud, his body shaking, breath ragged.

The heavy air in the chamber seemed to settle.

Riven clenched his fists, expecting pain to erupt through his body - but instead…

He felt stronger.

No, not just stronger. He felt complete - as if something inside of him had been missing since entering this world and now it had finally been returned to him. His body no longer felt foreign, no longer felt like something he simply existed in.

He slowly pushed himself up to his knees, glancing down at his hands. His nails had darkened to an obsidian hue, faint violet runes now etched along his skin. His breath was steadier, his vision sharper and beneath his skin he felt powerful.

The strange man who caused all of this lowered his arms, his breathing ragged as he fell to his knees in front of Riven.

"It is done." The man voice was hoarse and ragged, his skin turning ashen and Riven noticed tiny flakes beginning to float away from the man's body. 

Riven watched in stunned silence as the man before him began to crumble. Tiny fragments of his body, like burning embers, drifting away into the darkness, dissipating as if they had never existed.

The violet glow in the man's eyes flickered, dimming slightly, yet his gaze remained locked onto Riven with unwavering intensity. Despite his deteriorating state, there was no fear. No pain.

Only certainty.

"You are the last," the man murmured, his voice rasping as his form continued to unravel. "The last of our blood. The last true king."

Riven's breath hitched. The words weighed down on him like chains, the reality of what had just happened settling into his bones.

His bloodline… the Demon King…

It wasn't just some cryptic title. It wasn't just history.

It was who he was.

"…Why?" Riven forced out, his voice rough. His fingers curled into fists, still trembling from the remnants of pain and power surging through him. "Why show me this? Why give me this now?"

Riven thought of the previous owner of the body he was in - all those years he spent powerless and tortured. His life would have been so different if he had this power back then.

The man exhaled, shadows curling from his mouth like smoke. His body was falling apart faster now—cracks splintering along his skin, his robes fraying into nothingness.

"Because one of my skills had finally found you my child," he whispered. "I have waited for you for a very long time."

A pause. Then, his lips curled into a faint, almost knowing smile.

"Reclaim what is rightfully yours."

Riven's heart pounded.

The man reached forward with his remaining strength, pressing a cold, decaying hand to Riven's chest. Immediately, a burning sensation spread through his body, like an ember igniting deep within his core.

"Remember this," the man rasped, his voice barely above a whisper now. "The throne was never theirs to take."

And with that final declaration, the last remnants of his form crumbled away, dissolving into swirling tendrils of darkness that coiled around Riven, absorbing into his skin - into his very soul.

The chamber trembled, the obsidian throne behind him cracking as the magic holding it together fractured. Shadows whirled violently around the space, pulled toward Riven like a vortex, until…

Silence.

And then the world shattered.

—x—

Riven gasped awake.

The familiar room of the trial chamber swam into focus, the weight of reality crashing back onto him.

But everything was different.

The air around him felt heavier, as if the very mana in the room recognized what had just happened. The torches flickered erratically, their flames dimming as if bowing in submission. The shadows clung to him, curling at his fingertips, moving when he willed them to move.

He exhaled sharply, pushing himself upright.

And that's when he saw her.

Sana stood a few feet away, a sleek staff now in her hands poised towards him, her usual calm expression shattered by something that looked eerily close to fear.

Then, he focused his gaze on her, the shadows in the room beginning to press down on her.

Sana's grip on her staff tightened.

"Did I pass?" Riven smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of head as his innocent mask slipped perfectly over his face.

Sana flinched, shock and confusion settled over her features as the intimidation that had been radiating from Riven disappeared in an instant.

"What?" She asked, her body trembling slightly.

"The third trial," Riven asked feigning confusion. "I learnt the skill - so, did I pass?"

"Oh…" Sana cleared her throat and pulled back her staff. "Yes my child, you did excellent."

She waved a shaky hand and the gateway he had entered through reappeared again. "Make your way back to the courtyard where the other students are waiting and Elder Thorne will announce the results."

"Thank you, Sana." He smiled brightly and she bent her head nervously. He smirked to himself as he walked through the gate.

Now, it was time to put his acting skills to the test.