Without breaking eye contact with the horrified crowd, Erwin drew a small dagger from his belt. He pressed the tip against his index finger, slicing the skin just enough to draw a thick bead of dark red blood. He held his hand over the black steel, letting the droplet fall directly onto the faded markings.
The moment the blood struck the metal, it didn't smear. It was instantly sucked into the grooves like water into parched earth.
The black steel suddenly shuddered, the markings flaring with a violent, crimson light. A sudden, oppressive wave of mana erupted from the steel, bursting outward through the entire hall. The temperature in the Guild plummeted, and the bright orange flames of the torches and chandeliers violently swayed and flickered, threatening to go out as a heavy, suffocating darkness seemed to bleed into the air.
Several low ranking adventurers fell to their knees, clutching their chests under the sheer weight of the aura.
