Beneath the Ashes, a Heart Still Burns
There were cities once—towers that touched the sky, bridges of light connecting continents, and machines that answered every whim. But that was before the Cataclysm, before bloodlines rose from the ashes of science and claimed the Earth as their inheritance.
Now, the world was divided—not just by power, but by blood.
In Sector 9, where the air stung of rust and forgotten dreams, Jace moved like a shadow beneath the skeletal ruins of what was once a mall. Its shattered ceiling let the moonlight pour down like a spotlight onto the grime-streaked tiles, illuminating the boy in patched scavenger gear and boots that had seen more death than daylight.
"Five more kilos of scrap and maybe we can eat tonight," he muttered, tying a strip of rebar to his haul sled. His voice cracked mid-sentence—puberty still tugging at his throat, even at sixteen. Not that age meant anything here. You were either strong or you starved.
He yanked the sled forward, muscles aching. Around his neck hung a pendant—a simple black cord wrapped around a dull metal plate. A trinket from his mother, long dead. Its weight comforted him, grounding him in a world where everything else had been taken.
Most kids in the slums didn't survive past fifteen. But Jace was… stubborn. Not blessed, not awakened. Just too damn angry to die.
As he climbed over a collapsed support beam, his boot slipped, and the floor groaned. Dust spilled into a widening crack. He cursed, scrambling to regain balance—
CRACK.
The floor gave out.
He fell with it.
The world went black.
---
Jace hit the ground hard, air shoved from his lungs. Darkness swallowed him, but something else was here—older than time, colder than death.
A faint red glow pulsed in the distance.
He groaned and sat up, blood dripping from his elbow. The drop wasn't far, maybe a floor or two down, but the pain reminded him he was still alive. His flashlight flickered uselessly, then died completely.
"Of course…"
Drawn toward the pulsing light, he limped forward. The corridor was lined with carvings—fanged beasts, winged shadows, and symbols etched in a language that whispered in his bones. Every step echoed, unnaturally loud in the silence.
At the end of the hall, a door waited. Or rather, a seal. A massive stone slab with a blood-red sigil. As he approached, the metal plate around his neck grew warm. Then hot.
Jace winced and grabbed at it, but it refused to come off.
The seal responded.
A sound like a thousand locks unclicking echoed in the chamber, and the slab cracked down the middle. Red mist billowed out.
"Nope," Jace whispered. "Absolutely not."
But something pulled him forward—not physically, not by force. It was a hunger inside him, an instinct buried too deep to deny.
The slab opened.
---
The chamber beyond was circular, its walls covered in ancient runes that shimmered like embers. In the center, a stone coffin rested atop a dais of jagged black rock. Red chains wrapped around it, pulsing with restrained fury.
Jace approached slowly.
An inscription ran across the dais:
"Only the forsaken may inherit what gods feared to touch."
He snorted. "That's not ominous at all."
The moment he touched the edge of the coffin, the air snapped.
The red chains shattered.
A shockwave knocked Jace back, and a howling wind spiraled out of the tomb, lifting him into the air. Symbols blazed in the air around him—red, silver, black—forming a pattern that seared into his mind.
Then the pain came.
It wasn't fire. It wasn't ice.
It was everything.
Every cell in his body screamed. Blood burned in his veins. His vision dimmed to black, then burst into crimson. A voice roared in his skull—not words, but a command.
Survive.
Jace screamed as his body convulsed.
The last thing he saw was a face—carved into the inside of the coffin lid. A vampire king in war-torn armor. Its eyes were open.
---
When he woke, the chamber was still. The runes were dead. The coffin empty.
His clothes were soaked in sweat, but his body… felt different.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Like something had been added to him.
A system screen shimmered faintly in the air—visible only to him:
> [Bloodbound Codex – Initialization Complete]
User: Jace Thorn
Status: Incomplete Awakening
Abilities: Locked
Crystals: 0
Codex Store: Available (Access requires Beast Crystals)
Warning: System unstable without further integration. Future exposure to blood essence required.
Jace blinked. "What the hell…"
The screen faded.
He stood up, shaky but alive. Somehow, he had survived the tomb. But it wasn't a blessing. Not yet.
Outside this place, no one could know what he carried now.
Not until he was strong enough to fight back.
Not until the gates opened.
"Even the Forgotten Leave Footprints in Blood"
By the time Jace climbed out of the collapsed ruin, the sun had begun to rise—casting a grim orange glow over the broken buildings of Sector 9. His body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together with fire. Every breath came sharp, but he could move. And more than that—he could feel.
There was something alive beneath his skin now. A pulse. A presence.
The pendant around his neck had cooled, but it was no longer just metal. If he looked closely, red veins of some mineral now pulsed along its surface, dim and steady, like a second heartbeat.
Jace kept to the shadows as he crossed back into the slums. He didn't know what he was anymore—and he wasn't about to let someone else find out before he did.
---
The market streets of Sector 9 were already filling with noise. Scavengers haggled over scraps. Vendors cooked greasy meat over burning barrels. Smoke, oil, and desperation clung to every breath.
Jace passed a woman selling synthfruit. Her one good eye narrowed at him.
"Didn't think you'd come back from the ruins, Thorn."
"Disappointed?"
She spat near his boots. "Just thought we'd be rid of another mouth."
He didn't reply. What was the point? In this place, no one hoped. No one dreamed.
Except him.
He reached the makeshift alley hut where he and his only real friend lived. The tarp was drawn tight, the rusted steel door chained from the inside. He tapped twice.
A small window slid open. A pair of nervous brown eyes peered out.
"Jace?"
"Who else, Kade?"
The door unlocked with a groan.
Inside, the hut was barely wider than a closet—just enough room for two cots and a rickety heater. Kade looked him over with disbelief.
"Man, I thought you were dead. That collapse wasn't small. You—" He stopped. "You look… different."
Jace dropped the scrap he'd managed to haul in. "Long story. Not one I want to tell yet."
Kade was used to Jace's secrets. He just nodded and tossed a ration bar his way.
"Oh, and while you were out tempting death," Kade said, "the Academy dropped the announcement."
Jace raised an eyebrow. "The entrance exam?"
Kade nodded grimly. "The Gate Trial. It's official. One week from today."
Jace froze. His hand stopped mid-bite.
"That soon?"
"They're changing the format. Fewer spots, more risk. They say the top ten scorers get personal cultivation vaults and elite gear. Everyone else… scraps."
Of course.
The nobility wanted to keep the bloodlines pure. Every year, fewer slum kids got through. Every year, more 'accidents' happened in the trial.
This was their way of filtering out the weak. Or worse—anyone unexpected.
Jace clenched his jaw. If I want to survive, I need to rank in that top ten.
He felt it again—the pulse of the Codex. As if it agreed.
---
Later that day, the two of them gathered with dozens of other lowborn teens in front of the Sector 9 education office. A rusted billboard above the entrance now displayed the trial announcement:
> ACADEMY ENTRANCE GATE TRIAL – 7 DAYS REMAINING
Location: Gate Zone E
Objective: Collect Beast Crystals from monsters in an alternate world. Survive and return through the gate before time runs out.
Rewards: Top 10 scorers receive priority cultivation packages and noble-class gear.
Behind Jace, the usual mocking voice rang out.
"Well, well. The garbage crawled out of the sewer."
A hush fell.
Jace turned.
Striding through the crowd in a red Academy jacket was Callen Drake—son of a minor noble house and full-time walking punchline. His father owned a quarter of Sector 9's black market, and his goons followed him like trained dogs.
"Back from the ruins, Thorn? Should've stayed buried."
Jace stared. "Didn't know you cared, Drake."
"I don't. But I'm going to enjoy watching you bleed in that Gate."
Kade stepped between them, fists clenched.
Callen laughed. "Oh? Going to protect your pet mutt again?"
The crowd stirred. Jace stepped forward and placed a hand on Kade's shoulder. "Let it go."
"No," Kade hissed. "He's pushed too far—"
Before Jace could stop him, Kade swung.
It connected.
Callen stumbled, blinking in disbelief—then rage twisted his face.
"You'll regret that."
He snapped his fingers. One of his goons stepped forward—twice Kade's size, aura already awakened.
Jace's eyes narrowed.
Don't do it, Kade.
But Kade braced himself. "Come on, bastard."
The enforcer lunged.
Jace moved.
Before the man's fist could reach Kade, Jace stepped between them—and caught it.
There was a sound like cracking ice.
Everyone went still.
The enforcer howled and stumbled back, clutching his wrist.
Jace hadn't just blocked it. He'd broken it.
Even he looked at his own hand in surprise.
He hadn't felt any power activate. No aura. No ability.
Just instinct. And strength.
The Bloodbound Codex didn't flash. No system prompt. But in that moment, Jace knew:
It's begun.
Callen's expression changed.
"You…"
Jace stepped closer. "Seven days, Drake. We'll see who bleeds."
---
That night, as the slums fell quiet and smoke curled into the sky, Jace sat alone atop a broken tower.
The moon watched silently.
He opened his hand.
Nothing visible. No glow. No fancy trick.
But the air shimmered slightly.
The Codex was inside him now. Not just a tool. A part of his being.
He'd seen the store. Seen the names of powers locked behind crystal prices.
He needed to prepare.
And more than that—he needed power.
Seven days.
"The Blood Remembers What the Mind Forgets"
The training grounds in Sector 9 weren't much—just a stretch of cracked asphalt behind the education office, half-covered in old steel plates and rusted frames meant to mimic obstacles. But at dawn, with mist curling over the ground and cold air still clinging to the skin, it became something else.
A place where desperation sharpened into purpose.
Jace stood at the edge of the lot, his body already aching from the tension of the past day. The punch he'd blocked shouldn't have broken bone—yet it had. No ability registered. No aura signature flared. Just raw, unnatural force.
Whatever the Bloodbound Codex had done to him in that tomb… it wasn't finished.
Not even close.
"I need to know what I can do," he muttered to himself.
He clenched his fists and focused inward.
No interface appeared.
No flashy system screen.
Only a whisper—a presence sleeping in the blood, watching with ancient patience.
He exhaled.
"Alright then. We'll do it the old way."
---
He began his regimen with basic form drills—shadow strikes, stance shifting, footwork. He'd never trained in a formal martial school, but scavengers like him picked things up where they could—watching gang enforcers fight, imitating bounty hunters who passed through Sector 9, even studying outdated tutorial vids from the old web.
But today, everything felt... cleaner.
Faster.
His balance was sharper. His reaction time—faster. His muscles coiled and uncoiled like living wire.
It didn't make sense.
No one awakened abilities without being tested. No one improved overnight like this. Yet his body moved like it had absorbed every fight he'd ever seen and distilled it into instinct.
Halfway through his second round of training, someone whistled low behind him.
"You look like a damn panther out there."
Jace turned.
It was Myla.
Of all the people in the slums, she was the only one besides Kade who ever treated him like he mattered. Tall, wiry, with streaks of silver in her short black hair—not from age, but from exposure to forbidden tech when she was young. Her left eye was mechanical, always humming softly.
She leaned against the fence, arms crossed.
"You finally awaken, Thorn?"
Jace hesitated. "…Not exactly."
Her gaze sharpened. "That a lie or a half-truth?"
"Does it matter?"
Myla shrugged. "Not to me. But the nobles will care. Especially if you do something stupid in the Gate Trial."
Jace walked over, wiping sweat from his brow. "You hear anything about the trial zone?"
"Rumors," she said. "Apparently, this Gate is tied to an older realm. Not one of the standard hunting grounds. They say something got unsealed a while back. Some kind of—"
She paused.
"—some kind of monster they haven't identified yet."
Jace narrowed his eyes. "A beast?"
"Not just any beast. One of the Forgotten Types."
He froze.
Forgotten Types were creatures that didn't fit into the normal classification system. Born from ancient magic, failed experiments, or things left behind by the First War. Every now and then, a Gate connected to one of those realms opened—and when it did, entire trial squads vanished.
Myla continued. "They say the higher-ups are using this Gate to weed out anyone too dangerous from the slums before they ever reach the main academy. You… should be careful."
Jace didn't answer immediately.
He thought about the Bloodbound Codex. About the beast crystal requirement. About the locked powers behind that shimmering screen.
What if the Forgotten Beast… held more than just danger?
What if it held blood essence strong enough to push the Codex further?
"I need to get stronger," he said. "No matter what."
Myla sighed. "You always were suicidal."
"Not suicidal. Just tired of being prey."
She didn't smile, but her mechanical eye flickered slightly. Approval, maybe.
"I'll see what I can dig up on the beast," she said, turning to leave. "Don't die, Thorn."
---
That night, Jace sat in their hut across from Kade, a worn city map spread between them. His finger tapped the Gate Zone marked in red ink.
"Here. They'll open it at dawn on the seventh day."
Kade frowned. "Even if you survive, how are we supposed to compete with the nobles? They've got awakened abilities, weapons, even teams."
Jace didn't look up. "We don't need to compete. Just survive longer. Kill smarter."
Kade swallowed. "You really think you can make top ten?"
Jace leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling.
"I don't just think I can," he said. "I have to."
---
That night, the dreams returned.
But this time, they weren't vague.
Jace stood in a crimson field, the sky above black and swirling. A towering throne made of bones loomed before him, and seated on it was the vampire king from the coffin.
Only now, the king looked down at him.
"You carry my mark," the voice rumbled like thunder. "But power must be earned."
Jace stared up, fists clenched. "Then tell me how."
The king extended a gauntlet-clad hand. In it, a glowing crimson blade formed—pulsing with sigils that matched the ones that seared into Jace's mind in the tomb.
"Kill the Forgotten Beast," the king said. "Claim its crystal. Let blood awaken blood."
Jace reached out.
The sword vanished before he could touch it.
And he woke up gasping, the pendant around his neck glowing faint red.
---
In the dark, the system finally flickered into his view again:
> [Codex Notification]
Forgotten Beast Detected in Upcoming Trial
Crystal Type: Unique / Unbound Bloodline
Reward: Unknown
Integration Chance: 71%
Warning: Survival Probability Below 8%
Suggestion: Proceed Only With Extreme Caution
Jace grinned to himself.
"Then it's exactly what I need."