Beneath the Calm, the World Bleeds
The world outside the Siegfried sanctum knew only silence. Birds returned to the trees. The trembling of earth had stopped. The wind no longer carried the scent of scorched essence. Yet, for those attuned to the deeper layers of power—for those who lived in the Immortal and Ascendant Realms—something had changed irreversibly.
Somewhere, far beyond the Vulcan Empire, the Supreme of Blood opened his eyes.
Romeros Valentine.
He sat atop a citadel carved from crimson stone, surrounded by rivers of living blood. A chalice hovered beside him, suspended by threads of essence. The blood within it trembled.
His smile was slow, indulgent, cruel.
> "Laurifer's line... still lives."
His fingers closed, and a nearby servant's body exploded in a spray of gore. The blood rejoined the river before the corpse hit the ground.
"Dispatch the Wraith Envoys. Tell Eugeo that the game has begun again."
He stood, a dark ripple spreading beneath his feet. "The Tyrant's Heir breathes. Let's see how long he survives."
---
Back in Vulcan, Cain stood before a full-length mirror inside Azreal's private estate.
His reflection stared back—no longer that of a desperate fugitive, nor even a gifted warrior.
His skin shimmered faintly with divine threads—veins of darkness, lightning, and flame that moved beneath his flesh like slow, sentient rivers. His once-black hair now carried streaks of deep violet and ember-red, subtle but undeniable. And his eyes—gods, his eyes—no longer mortal.
They shifted.
When calm, they were pure black. But when even a flicker of will surged, they became rings—three, layered atop each other—one crimson, one gold, one shadowy grey. Each representing his affinities. Each pulsing with the power of a Supreme.
Cain touched his chest where the Trinity Core now beat steadily, deep within.
There was no longer a heartbeat.
There was rhythm.
Essence throbbed like an ancient war drum.
> "You're still you," Laurifer's voice spoke within. "But you've stepped into the war you were born to end."
Cain exhaled slowly, letting the flickering storm inside him settle.
There was no more time to hide.
---
The doors opened behind him.
Aurora Siegfried stepped in, her eyes still filled with a mix of wonder and apprehension. She paused when she saw him, visibly shaken—not from fear, but awe.
"You really did it," she whispered. "You crossed into the Saint Realm. In one day."
Cain gave her a brief glance. "It wasn't a choice."
She stepped closer, hesitated, then placed her hand on his. "You need to be careful. Word is spreading. Even the palace's highest seals can't fully suppress a Saint's birth. Especially one… like yours."
Cain nodded. "Good."
Aurora frowned. "Good?"
He turned, facing her fully. "If the Supremes don't hear my name, then none of this matters. They need to know I'm alive. That I remember everything."
Aurora's fingers tightened slightly. "That means the Blood Sovereign will move."
Cain nodded.
"And the Shadow Devourer."
Another nod.
"And Eve Cardaux..." Aurora's voice lowered, uncertain. "Even she fears your mother's name."
Cain's voice was cold. "She should."
---
Elsewhere in Drimos, deep beneath the Pangaea Empire's sacred lake, a temple of ice and mist stirred. Frozen statues wept water. Sealed vaults trembled. And in its deepest chamber, a woman awoke.
Eve Cardaux, the Supreme of Water.
Her expression was blank as she emerged from her meditation, long hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. The watery mirrors that surrounded her flickered.
One by one, they showed fragments—an obsidian-eyed youth. Runes of fire. Lightning crashing through shadows. A Trinity Core.
Her jaw clenched.
> "Azula's heir... has stepped into the world."
The lake above her churned violently as thousands of merfolk and sea-beasts scattered in panic.
Eve stared into the mirror. "Then the Tyrant has returned."
---
Back at Mystic Falls Academy, Cain stood before the school gates once again—this time cloaked in a simple black uniform, his blade strapped to his back. His aura was hidden, tightly compressed by a suppression ring Azreal personally forged. Without it, even glancing at him might drive weak cultivators mad.
Beatrix Oriana trailed behind him.
She hadn't spoken much since the contract reversal. Something had changed in her—whether it was guilt, fear, or something else, he wasn't sure. But she was there, dutiful and silent.
Students who had once mocked him now looked away when he passed.
Some sensed the change. Most just felt fear.
His presence made their instincts recoil.
Cain said nothing.
Let them squirm.
---
Class was underway when Instructor Ilvaria—a lean woman with silver eyes and metal limbs—paused mid-lecture. Her brow furrowed, and her gaze shifted subtly toward Cain.
> "Interesting," she said aloud. "Something's changed about our new student."
The others followed her gaze. Cain didn't flinch.
Ilvaria smiled faintly, then tapped a glyph in the air. A transparent scroll appeared, revealing this week's schedule.
> "Combat evaluation. Group match. Today."
The class groaned.
Cain's expression remained flat.
But Ilvaria's eyes twinkled. "Cain Siegfried… you'll be matched against the Dueling Star. Miss Yara Krane."
A murmur spread instantly.
Yara Krane.
A mid-Immortal cultivator. Metal affinity. Second-year prodigy.
Beatrix, standing beside Cain, tensed. "She's from my clan. She won't go easy."
Cain flexed his fingers once.
"Good."
---
Thirty minutes later, Cain stood in the dueling arena, a circular platform suspended by glyphs and surrounded by hundreds of spectators. News of a mysterious new student fighting the Krane heir had spread like wildfire.
Yara Krane entered, long silver hair braided tightly, her twin blades sheathed at her hips.
She bowed respectfully. "No grudges. Let the duel be clean."
Cain nodded.
But the moment the barrier sealed, her stance shifted.
Swords unsheathed. Metal Essence surged.
Cain didn't move.
> "Begin!"
Yara moved like lightning—her first blade slicing down in a brutal arc, the second spinning toward his ribs.
Cain didn't dodge.
Instead, the moment before impact, his katana appeared in his hand—drawn faster than the eye could follow.
Clang!
Sparks erupted.
Then came the backlash.
A pulse of essence exploded from Cain's body.
Yara flew back fifteen feet, skidding across the platform.
The audience gasped.
Cain hadn't moved a step.
---
Yara gritted her teeth, golden essence surging as she summoned her clan technique: Steel Bloom, a whirling storm of bladed petals that filled the air, rotating like miniature death wheels.
Cain watched them calmly.
Then his eyes changed—triple rings igniting.
Shadow flared at his feet.
The arena dimmed.
And suddenly—everything stopped.
Yara froze mid-step.
So did her petals.
So did the wind.
Cain had activated his Internal Domain—a reality of his making, where he controlled time and force within a limited space.
He stepped forward slowly.
She saw him—wide-eyed, mouth opening—but she couldn't move.
Cain touched her blade gently with his own.
It shattered.
Then time resumed.
The petals fell.
The arena fell silent.
Ilvaria stood slowly from her chair. Her metal limbs trembled faintly.
"…match over."
---
Back in his chamber that night, Cain sat cross-legged as Laurifer's voice echoed within.
> "You used the Domain well. Controlled. Ruthless. Azula would've been proud."
Cain didn't reply.
Instead, he opened his status window.
---
[SYSTEM STATUS]
Name: Cain Azaroth
Realm: Low Saint Realm (Immortal Stage)
Constitution: Chaotic Tyrant's Frame
Core: Trinity Core (Fire, Lightning, Darkness)
New Trait Unlocked: Internal Domain – Tyrant's Sanctum
New Passive: Supreme Will – Tier I
Skill Progression: [Soulbrand Resonance – 4%]
Reputation: Whispers of the Tyrant spreading across Vulcan, Falmouth, and Aegon Empires
Alert: Multiple surveillance spells intercepted
Warning: Supreme Entities are watching
---
Cain's eyes narrowed.
So the game had begun.
The Supremes knew.
The spies were moving.
And Drimos… was waking up.
Not to peace.
But to war.