Chapter 92: The Blood Demon
The question was a perfectly crafted hook. It offered Daemon not just survival, but a path to even greater glory.
It allowed him to frame this surrender not as a defeat, but as a wise, strategic choice for the betterment of his people and his lineage.
"We will need assurances," Daemon said, his voice firming, stepping back into the role of a negotiating prince.
"Contracts. Oaths. The roles of each family must be clearly defined. We will not be your slaves."
"I have no interest in slaves," Rhys replied, his tone flat. "Slaves are inefficient. I will provide you with a Master Contract, outlining the structure of the Conglomerate and the duties and benefits of each department. Your families will review it. You have one month to sign. After that, I will consider the positions vacant and find other candidates."
He turned back to his blueprints, the dismissal clear. The audience was over.
Aiden looked like he wanted to roar, to fight, to do anything other than accept this humiliation. But he held his tongue, his mind reeling with the wide possibilities this man had just opened for them.
A part of him, the part that craved true power above all else, even wanted to kneel and prostrate himself. He took a half step forward, but a sudden chill ran down his spine.
He looked over and saw the little girl staring at him, her pitch-black eyes holding a cold, hungry look, as if she was deciding which part of him to eat first. Aiden shivered and silently took a step back.
One by one, they turned.
They summoned their spiritual beasts and flew away from the impossible city in the sky, their minds a chaotic storm of fear, ambition, and disbelief.
They had come here expecting a confrontation with a powerful abandoned heir. They left as the newly appointed department heads of an empire that did not yet exist, serving a man who saw their entire world as a mere stepping stone.
Rhys watched them go, his expression unreadable.
’The gears are beginning to turn,’ he thought. He looked down at his hands, not at the blueprints, but at the faint, lingering energy of his own power. The conversation had been a necessary step, but his true focus was already elsewhere.
’System, begin the analysis. Use Joric’s speech patterns, his energy fluctuations, and the residual data from Kaelen’s blood. I want to know how a single body can house two consciousnesses, one in the mind, and one in the blood. More importantly, I want to know how to replicate the properties of that blood.’
[Analysis initiated. This will require a significant expenditure of processing power and lifespan for simulations.]
’Do it.’
This was the true prize.
The loyalty of the heirs was a matter of convenience. The creation of his empire was a long-term project. But the secret hidden within Joric Ashton... that was the key to unlocking the next stage of his own power.
If he could understand how Kaelen’s consciousness was imprinted on his bloodline, he could potentially find a way to grant his Ashen Marionettes a semblance of life, a way for them to evolve, to think, to ascend.
He would not just be a master of the dead. He would be a creator of a new form of life, a race of living puppets bound completely to his will.
’Like a god...’
The thought was intoxicating. It was a power that even the gods of the legends he had read about would envy.
Sera tugged on his cloak, pulling him from his thoughts. "Papa, the noisy people are finally gone."
Rhys looked down, the cold ambition in his eyes softening as he met her gaze. He scooped her up.
"Yes, they’re gone."
"Good," she huffed, resting her head on his shoulder. "They were boring. Can we go see Stony build things now?"
A genuine smile touched Rhys’s lips. "Yes," he said, his gaze drifting over his burgeoning capital.
"Let’s go see what our family is building."
*
* *
The flight back was heavy with a silence that none of the heirs dared to break. They flew together for hours, each lost in the overwhelming implications of what they had just agreed to.
Finally, as they neared the point where their paths would diverge towards their respective territories, Daemon broke the quiet.
He looked over at the silent figure of Joric Ashton.
"I never expected you to agree this quickly... Joric." Daemon studied him, a frown on his face. Joric had been the first to accept.
It was strange, since he was the only heir among them without any solid backing in his family.
Joric Ashton did not speak, just as always. His eyes remained fixed ahead.
Daemon shook his head. He internally cursed. Why was every disciple from the Ashton clan so weird?
Aiden Thorne let out a scoff. "What did you expect? The Ashtons are a fallen family. Their strongest, that lunatic Kaelen, is dead. They have nothing left. He’s probably just scared, latching onto the first powerful figure who offers him a lifeline."
Every pair of eyes looked at Aiden strangely.
"Well... not considering that man..."
"I don’t think it’s that simple," Anya Sterling said, her voice thoughtful.
"The position of heir was forced upon him after the Labyrinth. We heard rumours that many of the Ashton elders were dissatisfied, that they didn’t believe he was strong enough to lead.
Perhaps he sees this as his only way to secure his position and prevent the clan from collapsing into civil war."
"Or perhaps he is simply wise," Lysander Crestfall added, his tone even. "He sees the futility of resistance and the logic in Lord Rhys’s plan.
A unified province is stronger than a divided one. It is the most principled path forward."
They all offered their speculations, their theories about Joric’s motives, but the man himself remained a silent enigma.
He moved with them until they reached the great fork in the sky-lanes. Without a word of farewell, he banked his flying beast, a large griffon, and turned in the opposite direction.
He was not heading towards the Ashton clan’s capital. He was flying towards the dark expanse of the Whisperwood.
"Where is that fool going?" Aiden muttered, watching Joric’s retreating figure.
"Let him be," Daemon said, shaking his head. "He is probably overwhelmed. Let’s return to our own territories. We have a contract to present to our families."
The other heirs shrugged and turned their beasts, leaving Joric to his solitary journey.
Joric flew for hours, pushing his griffon to its limits. He flew deeper and deeper into the Whisperwood, to a place where the trees grew thick and the light of the sun barely penetrated the canopy. He finally stopped above a large rock.
He froze there for a moment, his body rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. A low growl began to rumble in his chest. His face, which had been a calm mask, began to contort.
The muscles in his jaw twitched violently.
Then, his control shattered.
His right arm suddenly split open. It was not a cut; the flesh simply tore apart, and from the gruesome wound, a thick tendril of pure, crimson blood lashed out.
It moved like a striking snake, piercing the head of his loyal griffon. The majestic beast let out a single, choked cry and fell to the ground, dead.
The momentum sent Joric tumbling from the sky. He slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch, creating a deep pit in the forest floor.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a hand clawed its way out of the pit.
Joric climbed out.
His clothes were torn, and his body was bruised, but he was healing at a visible rate. An eerie, manic grin was stretched across his face. But his eyes... his eyes were filled with a pure, undiluted terror.
A voice came out, panicked and weak. It was Joric. "Y-young master...."
Another voice followed. It was an eerie, overlapping whisper that seemed to come not from his mouth, but from the drops of blood that were scattered on the ground around him. It started as an obsessive chant.
"Kaelen... Kaelen... Kaelen..."
Then, slowly, the name began to change. The obsession found a new target. The scattered drops of blood vibrated, the whisper turning into a low hiss.
"Rhys... Rhys... Rhys..."
*
* *
Above the floating city of Eon Emporium, held steady in the colossal hands of the Ashen Titan, a young man suddenly stopped in his tracks.
[System analysis completed. Pathway for new profession confirmed.]
[Burning a considerable amount of lifespan to create a new life skill...]
[Burning a considerable amount of lifespan to evolve an ordinary empty core into Tyrant grade...]
[Upgrade complete. Making the life skill into a profession...]
[You have gained a new profession.]
[Blood Demon.]
[About: A unique and powerful profession that allows the Host to act as a source of power for others. By infusing a target with a measure of his own blood, the Host can temporarily grant them a diluted version of his Ashen Sovereign bloodline abilities.
This could allow an ally to command the dead on a small scale or wield a faint echo of the Voidheart Flame. However, this ability comes at a great personal cost.
The Host’s own blood is finite, and each infusion is a sacrifice of his own vitality. Therefore, this power must be used with careful strategic thought, as overuse could leave the Host severely weakened on the battlefield.]