Chapter 17: Bloodline

"Too noisy. Silence, Kaltmans!"

Malcolm's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. He uttered an incantation in an unknown tongue, and in an instant, the entire room froze.

No one could move. No one could speak.

Malcolm's expression soured as he surveyed the paralyzed crowd. "Magic is the purest form of art. And art should be observed in silence."

A mechanical voice echoed in Huston's mind.

"Detected: magical restraint. Attempt to break free?"

"No. Stay still for now."

Huston gave the command without hesitation. Any attempt to break the spell now would surely draw Malcolm's attention. And that… would mean certain death.

"Hm… the blood is fully drained. Now for the next step."

The lifeless husk of Baron Buck crumpled to the floor—a grotesque heap of flesh and bone. No longer a man, just the remnants of one.

Malcolm reached into his robes and retrieved a slender glass vial, unsealing it with a practiced motion.

From within, a shadowy figure emerged.

Naked, contorted, and broken, the figure tumbled forth, collapsing onto the ground. Its hollow eyes locked onto the remains of Baron Buck, seething with an unquenchable hatred.

"So this is Lord Simon," Huston thought grimly.

Malcolm had claimed he had come willingly.

But Huston had his doubts.

Simon's soul was warped, barely human anymore. There were signs of unspeakable torment—his essence twisted and battered beyond recognition. He had sought the aid of a sorcerer, desperate for vengeance… and instead, he had become a prisoner of his own bargain.

Huston's heart grew heavy. Sorcerers… they are not saviors. They are executioners draped in illusion.

"AI chip, record everything."

"Recording…"

For years, Huston had sought a path into the world of magic. And now, before him stood a sorcerer, performing a ritual beyond comprehension.

And yet—he did not dare to interfere.

He longed to wield such power. But not at the cost of his soul.

To Malcolm, they were not people. They were ingredients.

"The final step…"

Malcolm poured Simon's soul into the waiting crystal sphere. The spectral form liquefied as it seeped into the glass, merging with Baron Buck's blood.

Two bitter enemies—now entwined in death, their very essences forced into a single existence.

Malcolm began to chant. His voice rose in fervor, weaving a spell of unholy origin.

The crystal ignited.

A blazing crimson flame erupted from its core, licking the air in an otherworldly dance.

Malcolm's eyes gleamed with madness. "Perfection! A masterpiece! This is the ultimate Bloodborne Curse!"

He turned to the frozen crowd, his grin widening. "Now, it begins. Every blood relative of Baron Buck, within three generations, will perish. There is no cure. No medicine will save them. Their deaths will come swiftly or slowly, dictated by their own strength."

He sighed, as if disappointed.

"A pity. I won't be around to study the results. Ships passing through the Carlson Continent are rare… I can't afford to linger."

With a casual snap of his fingers, a Thestral materialized from the shadows.

Malcolm mounted the creature in one smooth motion, then bowed mockingly to the silent audience.

"Thank you all for watching my performance. Until we meet again."

With a powerful beat of its wings, the Thestral soared into the sky, vanishing into the night.

And then—

The spell lifted.

Chaos erupted once more.

Screams of terror filled the air as the guests fled in a frenzied stampede. Some stumbled and fell, scrambling on all fours as they clawed toward the castle gates, desperate to escape.

On the high dais, two children began to wail.

Baron Buck's youngest sons, Carter and Jim, gripped their heads in agony. Crimson sigils spread across their bodies like creeping vines, carving into their flesh with an unseen force.

They tore at their skin, nails raking deep gashes into their own scalps, oblivious to the pain.

"Carter! Jim!"

Melissa's scream cut through the pandemonium as she rushed toward her brothers, pulling them into her arms.

"Sister… help… me…"

Their eyes met hers for a fleeting moment—before blood poured from their mouths, their noses, their ears.

Then, they went limp.

"No—NO!!"

Melissa clung to their lifeless bodies, her anguished cries echoing through the hall.

And then—one by one, the others began to fall.

Baron Buck's sister, youngest daughter, uncle—every last blood relative succumbed to the same fate.

Their veins darkened. Their bodies convulsed.

Then, they bled from every orifice—and died.

Melissa collapsed, her breath ragged, her hands trembling as she looked upon the sea of corpses around her.

Despair twisted her soul into something unrecognizable.

Why?

Why had it come to this?

She wanted to scream. To tear herself apart.

But instead—she could only stare.

A hollow void settled in her chest.

"Melissa!"

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.

Emil.

He held her tightly, as if trying to shield her from reality itself.

Huston stood behind them, his gaze sharp.

There was an anomaly.

Melissa—the eldest daughter of Baron Buck—remained untouched.

Not a single crimson sigil had appeared on her skin.

"Emil… I…!"

Melissa clung to Emil, sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of loss, grief, and confusion crashed over her like a relentless tide.

But then—her expression twisted in horror.

"Emil… you…!"

A creeping dread curled in her chest as she stared at him.

"What is it?" Emil asked, his voice laced with unease.

And then, he saw it.

Blood-red sigils began to surface across his skin—identical to those that had appeared on Baron Buck's dying kin.

"No… no!" Emil's breath hitched. He lifted trembling hands, staring at the cursed markings now etched into his flesh. Fear and confusion collided within him.

Huston was already at his side, his sharp eyes scanning the unnatural runes.

"Why do you bear the mark of the Bloodborne Curse?" His voice was edged with urgency. "Are you… within three generations of Baron Buck?"

His mind raced.

Melissa… she remains untouched.

Not a single sigil marred her skin.

Which meant—she and Baron Buck shared no blood.

But Emil… Emil bore the curse.

A chilling realization settled over them.

"Melissa is not Baron Buck's daughter. But you…" Huston's voice hardened. "You are."

Silence descended, suffocating and heavy.

Melissa and Emil locked eyes, their minds struggling to comprehend the truth unraveling before them.

"I was an orphan," Emil whispered, his voice distant. "Baron Buck found me… took me in."

But now, the pieces fell into place.

He had not been adopted.

He had been claimed.

The man he had called lord was his father all along.

And Melissa—Melissa was not his sister.

But then… who was she?

"Why…?" Melissa whispered, staring down at her still pale, untouched hands. She felt nothing. No pain, no curse. Just a hollow void where certainty once lived.

Had Baron Buck known?

Or had even he been deceived?

The truth was now buried with his bones.

"Noble bloodlines… what a wretched mess," Huston muttered, shaking his head.

A sudden cough wrenched their attention back to Emil.

"Cough—cough!"

He convulsed, doubling over as scarlet flooded his lips.

"Emil!"

Melissa's voice fractured with despair.

Huston's mind churned, searching—there had to be a way.

And then—a memory.

The pocket watch.

Nicolas' artifact. A sacred relic infused with healing magic. A spell strong enough to cleanse curses.

It was their only chance.

Huston snatched the watch from his belt, his grip tightening around the cool metal.

"AI chip, channel my magic into the watch!"

A mechanical whisper responded.

"Magic input: 1%... 10%..."

Nothing.

"23%..."

Still nothing.

A cold sweat formed on Huston's brow. If his entire magical reserve wasn't enough, then Emil—

"33%… 45%…"

And then—the watch pulsed.

A soft white glow flickered at its center, delicate yet powerful.

Melissa and Emil lifted their heads, eyes wide.

"That watch…"

From the shimmering light, a figure began to emerge.

A woman, her form ethereal, bathed in a soft, otherworldly radiance. Behind her, a pair of luminous white wings unfolded.

She gazed upon Emil with a sorrowful tenderness, then parted her lips.

A beam of pure white light spilled forth, weaving through the air like silk.

It coalesced into a mist, descending upon Emil, wrapping him in its embrace.

The cursed sigils on his body began to dissolve.

The deep crimson etchings faded, retreating from his skin like shadows banished by the dawn—until, at last—

They were gone.

The woman lingered for a fleeting moment, her celestial gaze locked upon Emil…

And then, like a whisper lost to the wind—

She vanished.

The watch fell silent.