The air grew heavier as Lucian and Selene delved deeper into the manor's bowels. It was no longer the cold of stone or winter that greeted them, but a damp, stifling heat, thick with the scent of iron and ozone. The walls were lined with copper plates engraved with runes, vibrating with a low hum, as if the building itself had a nervous system.
Lucian could feel his own blood pounding in his temples, resonating violently with the machinery below. Selene walked in his shadow, her silver wings folded rigidly, betraying her disgust. To her, this place was nothing but a profanation, a cruel repetition of Valérius's laboratories—but with intent that was personal, deliberate, merciless.
— The blood you carry, Creator… it screams, Selene murmured. The echoes rising from below are not of a divine ritual. It is theft. A dissection of the soul.
— I know, replied Lucian, his voice a low, menacing rumble. My father never knew how to create. All he knows is taking.
They finally emerged into a massive circular chamber, an inverted cathedral carved into the bedrock. At the center, a dome of glass and steel housed two inclined operating tables. Hundreds of glass tubes filled with glowing fluid connected the tables to a massive alchemical engine suspended from the ceiling.
Patriarch Alaric Blackwood stood before the consoles. His imposing silhouette cast a disproportionate shadow across the stone floor. He wore supple leather armor, his forearms wrapped in mana conductors. On one of the tables, Alistair was strapped down, pale, his veins flickering with unstable blue light. The other table awaited its prey.
Alaric did not turn as the doors exploded from Lucian's aura.
— You're late for the party, Lucian, he said, dry and professor-like. But I see you've brought your own catalyst. An angel… Valérius did not lie about your ultimate usefulness.
— Valérius is dead, Father. And his laboratory is nothing but ashes, Lucian spat, stepping forward.
Alaric finally turned. His steel-gray eyes scanned Lucian like a tool rediscovered in a forgotten drawer.
— Valérius had limited ambitions. He sought to create hybrids. I seek to restore purity. Look at your brother, Lucian. He has talent, discipline… but he lacks the foundation. The ancient blood you carry… that blood you do not deserve.
— Father… help me… Alistair whimpered. It burns… I can feel my mana unraveling…
— Silence, Alistair, Alaric snapped. Ascension requires sacrifice. You will be the first Blackwood of S-Rank in five generations. And your brother… will be the foundation on which you build your empire.
Lucian let out a dark, inhuman laugh.
— You still speak of me as an object. As a battery. Have you learned nothing? Do you not see what I have become?
— I see a boy who makes pacts with a blood-sucker and flaunts a broken angel, Alaric replied, raising a hand. You are powerful, yes—but that power is borrowed. I will reclaim it.
With a swift motion, Alaric pulled a lever. The runes on the floor glowed blood-red. A force field sprang up, isolating Lucian from the tables. Traps in the walls released a dozen elite Blackwood guards, their bodies enhanced with mana-infused crystal grafts.
— Selene, deal with the guards, Lucian ordered. Don't kill them yet. I want them to see their master fall.
— At your command, Creator.
Selene launched forward, a silver explosion of light felling the first two guards before they could lift their spears. Each beat of her wings sent blades of pure energy slicing through steel and flesh.
Lucian focused on the dome. The [Chains of Blood] anchored him as he felt Alaric's mana—cold, calculated, oppressive—like an invisible cage.
— [Titan's Crushing] ! Alaric commanded.
Gravity multiplied tenfold. The tiles under Lucian's feet cracked. His bones creaked, but he stood firm. Blood trickled from his nose, yet he activated [Primordial Blood]. His veins turned black, incandescent, incinerating the oppressive gravity around him.
— My place… is wherever I decide to stand! Lucian roared.
Each step shattered stone, his will overpowering his father's dominion over his body.
— Impossible… Alaric murmured. No human can resist this spell.
— It's not because I am human, Father. You killed the son who loved you. What has returned… is your end.
Lucian extended his hand. The blood seeping from his pores coalesced into a black blade, corrupted with mana. He struck the force field.
KRA-KOOM!
The dome shattered, sending Alaric crashing into the consoles. Alchemical tubes exploded, spilling toxic luminescent fluid across the floor.
Alistair screamed as the interrupted transfer sent energy violently back into his body.
— Stop! Father! I'm dying!
Alaric, eyes fixed on Lucian, whispered with greed:
— This power… it's not ordinary mana. It's the Origin. If I take it… I will be immortal.
He drew a sword forged from a meteorite fragment and lunged at Lucian. The ensuing duel was a chaos of metal and blood. Alaric manipulated gravity to deflect attacks, while Lucian wielded the [Chains of Blood] like whips, tearing his father's armor millimeter by millimeter.
— You are weak! Alaric shouted. True power requires no hatred!
— Then witness the result of your upbringing! Lucian roared.
Feigning a high attack, he used [Shadow's Call] to vanish behind Alaric. But the Patriarch anticipated the move, his meteorite blade piercing Lucian's shoulder. Lucian did not flinch. He pressed further, seizing Alaric's arm.
— Got you, he murmured, bloodied smile on his lips.
— What?
[SKILL ACTIVATED: BLOOD DOMINATION]
Through the wound, Lucian injected his own blood into Alaric's circulatory system. The Primordial Blood began consuming the A-Rank Patriarch's mana from within.
— W-what… you've done? My mana… it's… fading…
— I am not killing you, Father. I reclaim what belongs to my lineage. I restore you to your true nature: an empty man.
Alaric collapsed, his muscles atrophying, a gaunt old man trembling on the stone floor.
Selene finished with the guards and approached the table where Alistair writhed.
— Creator, what do we do with the other?
— You laughed when he cut my wrist, Alistair. You laughed when you left me in the mud.
Lucian placed his hand on Alistair's forehead. The system offered to turn him into a servant, but Lucian refused. He stabilized the implosion, permanently destroying Alistair's magical circuits. He would survive, but as a "Zero," doomed to live in shame's shadow.
The manor trembled. Aria's fire had reached the unstable mana reserves.
— Aria!
— Finally, Master! I've finished with the guests. Shizuka has evacuated the girl.
Lucian cast one last glance at his father's body.
— Farewell, Alaric. Next time, I will write this family's history.
They ascended to the surface. The Blackwood Manor, symbol of centuries of oppression, collapsed in a plume of violet flames.
Outside, Aria leapt onto Lucian, intoxicated by the scent of an era's end. Shizuka, exhausted but respectful, observed the ruins.
— The Council of Nobles will go mad. An entire house in one night.
— I didn't destroy it, Lucian said. I purged it. Let's vanish. We have an academy to conquer and allies to find.
Surrounded by his three guardians, Lucian climbed into the carriage. Season One of his ascent had ended, but the war against the Church and all the forces controlling this world had only just begun.