Whispers of the Blood Bridge

The night draped Salzahar in a heavy, suffocating silence. 

Renji tossed in his ornate but suffocating bed, tangled in sheets that smelled too sweet, too foreign. The golden silk felt like chains around his limbs. His breathing grew shallow. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum.

Then the dream took him.

He stood on an ancient bridge — endless, crumbling, suspended over a bottomless pit that breathed blood-red mist. The air was thick, metallic, tasting of iron and forgotten sorrow.

Before him, a figure.

A woman, yet something more.

Dressed in a flowing crimson kimono, embroidered with swirling black vines and ancient sigils he couldn't read. Her face hidden behind a white mask, marked with intricate crimson patterns that danced like flames when the mist licked them.

In her hands — a katana. Long, elegant, and deathly still.

At her feet — a boy. No older than five. Fragile. Shivering. Eyes wide with terror.

The masked samurai raised her blade.

A gust of wind tore through the bridge, carrying voices—pleading, screaming, chanting his name—and yet he was frozen, paralyzed, chained by something deep inside.

The blade swung down.

"No—!"

Renji jolted awake.

His body slick with sweat. His hands trembling. His throat raw as if he'd been screaming for hours.

Moonlight trickled through the heavy velvet curtains. His pulse hammered against his skin. The room was eerily silent, but the image of the masked woman burned behind his eyes, as vivid as if she had been there—waiting.

Breathing heavily, Renji ran a hand through his hair. 

Who was she? And why did it feel like she knew him?

Somewhere, deep inside, a voice echoed softly in his soul, barely a whisper:

"Find me."

The mansion behind him breathed extravagance, but Renji needed air that didn't reek of gold and sin.

He slipped out quietly—no Zach, no Mira, no Seraphina. Just him and the moonlight, casting fractured shadows on the cobblestone paths of Salzahar's upper district. The city, even in the dead of night, shimmered like a mirage… but tonight, it was oddly silent.

He wandered, boots echoing softly on stone, until he reached it.

A secluded pond tucked between temple ruins and overgrown trees—untouched, still, almost too perfect.

He knelt at the edge, staring into his reflection.

His face… looked older somehow. Tired. There was pain behind those eyes. The dream had rattled him, dug deep into a part of him he didn't understand.

He dipped his fingers into the pond—cold, pure, like liquid silence.

Then—

[ EXILE SYSTEM: Priority Notification - Level Ω ]

A chime echoed inside his skull, followed by glowing crimson letters that shimmered over the pond's surface like ripples:

[ "You have glimpsed the Blood Bridge." ]

[ "Sequence One of the Trial of Awakening has begun." ] 

[ "Key Objectives: Seek the Masked One. Claim the Katana of Mourning." ]

[ "Caution: Dreamscape Events now affect Reality." ]

Renji blinked.

The text faded, but the pond remained disturbed, rippling long after his fingers left the water.

He stood up slowly, the message replaying in his head.

"Trial of Awakening… Masked One… Dreamscape is real now?"

He stared into the trees. The shadows seemed thicker.

And somewhere behind them, the world felt like it just took a deep breath—waiting for him to take a step forward.

The ripples on the pond had long calmed, but Renji's mind hadn't.

He took a step back, then sat cross-legged beneath the twisted willow nearby. The night was too quiet—it buzzed with tension, like the world knew something was coming. He closed his eyes.

"Seraphina," he whispered softly, not calling for power this time… but for comfort.

Nothing.

He tried again.

This time, her voice came—not from above, not from the system, but from within him. Gentle. Ethereal. Saddened.

"You've seen the first vision of the Bridge. It's begun faster than I hoped."

"Why am I not strong enough yet? I've done everything—"

"Because the system still doesn't see you as the heir.", her voice was calm but heavy with truth.

"Your soul is split, Renji. The exile system your parents forged can only grant its full blessing to the one who reunites its pieces. Until then… you'll only taste glimpses of what you're meant to be."

Renji clenched his fists. "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait around until I have some chosen one moment?"

"No," she replied, more firmly this time. "You fight. You bleed. You pass the trials of the Grand Order—the bridges, the dreams, the echoes of your bloodline."

A faint pulse of warmth coursed through his body.

"And when the time is right, you will face the dark mage clan... the ones who stole the awakened Nightmare Mode. They wield a corrupted fragment of what should be yours."

Renji exhaled, opening his eyes.

The stars above him blinked coldly, like ancient witnesses.

"I'll take it back," he muttered. "All of it."

And in the faintest breeze that rustled the willows, Seraphina's voice smiled:

"Good. Because your next trial begins at dawn."

=======================================

Renji stepped back into the grand halls of the mansion, the cold silence slowly giving way to something else. Muffled. Rhythmic.

The low, unmistakable sounds of pleasure echoed from behind a towering gilded door.

Velahza's chambers.

His brows furrowed, but his feet betrayed him. He stood still. Listening.

A masculine laugh. King Caelion's unmistakable voice—booming, pleased, full of royal pride.

And her… Velahza. The queen. Her moans wer soft but deliberate, like she wanted to be heard.

Renji clenched his jaw and turned away, shaking his head.

But as he reached the end of the corridor, he heard footsteps.

Click.

Click.

Click.

"Leaving so soon?" came her voice—lazy, amused, and dripping with seduction.

He turned.

Velahza stood there in a robe of silk so thin it might as well have been mist. Golden embroidery danced across her skin, jewelry hung from her neck and wrists like shackles from heaven itself. Her hair flowed like ink and moonlight, her eyes alight with cruel intrigue.

"Enjoyed the concert?" she teased, stepping closer.

"I wasn't—" Renji began, but stopped. There was no point.

She grinned, the tip of her tongue brushing her lip. "Don't look so tense. That was just a transaction. Caelion has appetites. I have obligations."

Renji blinked. "Obligations?"

She twirled a chain around her finger, the golden thread of her robe pulling just a little tighter across her curves.

"My parents sold me in a divine pact. To elevate themselves to the heavens, they gave their daughter to a king. A beautifully wrapped gift of war and pleasure."

Renji didn't know what to say. The way she said it wasn't bitter—just cold. Detached.

"Yet for all my power… all my strength…" she said, stepping closer now, her breath brushing his ear, "…I'm still just a concubine in a cage of gold."

She turned away then, walking slowly—but with a sway that left a fire in his chest.

Just before she vanished down the corridor, she glanced back.

"Unless, of course… someone stronger were to break the chains."

And just like that, Renji felt something stir deep within him—something that wasn't just lust…

…but purpose.