DARK_KING75

Centuries ago, the Bloodmoon Clan reigned as protectors of balance — feared for their unmatched power and cursed bloodline. But power breeds enemies. Betrayed by those they once defended, the clan was wiped out in a single night… or so the world believed.

Now, in the year 3000, war looms again. Kingdoms rise and fall, hunting the last echo of Bloodmoon’s power — a hidden heir with a blade forged in ancient blood. Hunted by kings, haunted by his past, and unsure of his destiny, one boy must awaken the blood within… or watch the world burn without him.

But the Bloodmoon does not rise without a cost.
And this time… it won’t set without vengeance.

BLOOD MOON : THE LAST LINEAGE

The moon hung like a bleeding eye in the sky — full, red, and watching.

Patrick stood at the center of a quiet courtyard, surrounded by unconscious bodies. The first of them — Corven, the agile dagger-wielder — lay in the middle of a large ritual circle, its lines drawn in Patrick's own blood, as described in the glowing scroll.

The symbols etched around Corven pulsed in sync with Patrick's heartbeat.

He unrolled the scroll again. The words glowed, reacting to his bloodline.

> "Let the impure blood be broken,

And let it be rebuilt by the lineage of the Moon.

I offer flesh. I offer blood. I offer will…"

Patrick stepped forward, his blood-red eyes glowing brighter. Then, with fierce focus, he extended his right hand — summoning his Blood Sword.

It flickered into existence, vibrating with power.

> "I will not create weaklings," he muttered. "You will rise with my strength."

He raised the sword high and plunged it into the ritual circle, not into Corven, but beside him — a sacrifice of power, not life.

The sigils responded violently. The circle erupted in a vertical column of red energy. The sword shattered, scattering blood-like particles into the air, which merged with Corven's body.

Corven floated, suspended, his body twitching.

Suddenly, from Patrick's back, a phantom red hand emerged and pressed into Corven's chest — a key part of the ritual.

> "Inherit what I forged in blood. Let your soul carry my flame."

The ritual finished with a blinding light and a shockwave that knocked Patrick backward.

Corven collapsed, breathing raggedly. His fingers twitched — and in one of them, a newly-formed, unstable miniature version of the Blood Sword blinked in and out of reality.

Corven's eyes opened briefly — crimson, feral — and then shut again.

"You gave him part of your own technique?" he asked, almost impressed.

Patrick, panting, nodded. "What's the point of creating a soldier… if they can't fight for me?"

Min smirked. "That… was dangerous. You could've lost more than your weapon."

Patrick looked down at his shaking hand. "I did lose something."

He stood up. "But he gained something."

In the corner of the courtyard, the glowing scroll whispered again as if reacting to the completed ritual:

Patrick looked at the other two bodies.

The first Ritual