House of Blood

The spectral mist of the Ancestral Plain did not simply fade; it fractured like blown glass, dropping Valerian back into the cavernous, blood-scented silence of the Deep Sanctum.

The air here was thick, cool, and heavy with the smell of old stone and ancient marrow. Valerian stood still for a breath, his boots anchored firmly to the cold obsidian floor. Behind his newly tied dark silk blindfold, his eyes burned with a tranquil, terrifying clarity. His Blood Dragon Core thrummed—a deep, slow, abyssal pulse that vibrated through his freshly forged bones.

’Valerian...’

The voice in his mind wasn’t a whisper.

It was an explosion.

Before he could even process the shift in spatial pressure, the soul-bond inside his chest flared with blinding, furious heat. Wren’s consciousness violently detached itself from his inner sea, forcing her way out into the physical world.

BOOOOOOM!

The spatial boundary of the sanctum tore open. A wave of pitch-black dragon-fire and dark spatial static blasted outward, throwing dust and loose gravel into the air.

She didn’t manifest as a small, ethereal spirit.

Driven by the accumulated helplessness of watching Valerian repeatedly break his own body, bleed himself half to death, and finally plunge into the Primordial Wellspring, Wren unleashed her true, unrestricted form.

A colossal, four-winged Sovereign Dragon materialized in the tight cavern.

Her majestic scales were the same absolute obsidian black they had always been, coated in swirling, liquid-like black flames that licked the cavern air and dissolved the stone walls on contact.

Her slitted, dark crimson eyes locked onto the deepest shadow of the cave, burning with a mixture of ancient heartbreak and furious, unadulterated rage.

She didn’t attack Valerian.

She bypassed him completely.

’YOU ABSOLUTE, TRAITOROUS BASTARD!’

Her roar vibrated through the stone, shattering the stalactites overhead.

Wren’s massive, black-flame-engulfed claws cut through the air like falling siege hammers, aimed straight for a swirling vortex of dark mist in the corner.

It was a lethal, unreserved strike carrying centuries of pent-up resentment.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

”Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, princess! Is that any way to greet your ex?!”

A voice echoed from the dark.

The voice was smooth, boyish, and laced with a terrifyingly playful, unhinged cheerfulness.

A massive form erupted from the gloom to block her claws.

It was a magnificent Western dragon.

Four powerful legs slammed against the obsidian floor as a pair of enormous wings unfurled behind him, nearly filling the cavern. His body was composed of dense, shadow-black scales threaded with veins of crimson light, while dark mist constantly leaked from between his scales like smoke escaping from a dying flame.

His armored tail whipped behind him, obliterating a three-ton boulder with casual force.

Wren’s black liquid flames washed over the shadow dragon, but he merely laughed—a musical, delighted, slightly psychotic sound that echoed throughout the cavern.

”You left me!” Wren shrieked, her massive tail sweeping around and threatening to collapse the ceiling as her black flames raged out of control.

”You sealed yourself in this damned sanctum and left me stranded for centuries! Do you have any idea what I went through?!”

”Aww, but look how gorgeous you look when you’re violently throwing a tantrum!”

The Blood Shadow Dragon’s voice was filled with sweet, playful delirium.

”I missed those razor-sharp claws digging into my throat! Honestly, hit me harder, darling. I almost forgot how sweet your wrath feels!”

’I WILL TEAR YOUR CORE OUT AND EAT IT!’

Wren roared, opening her jaws to unleash a torrent of liquid black fire.

”Enough, Wren.”

Valerian stepped directly into the path of the black liquid fire.

Wren’s eyes widened.

She immediately redirected the attack at the last possible instant, sending the torrent screaming past Valerian and into the cavern wall.

BOOOOM!

The stone evaporated.

Valerian didn’t even flinch.

He walked straight up to Wren’s massive, black-flamed snout and placed his pale hand against her dark scales.

”I don’t know what happened between you two, or how you guys know each other,” Valerian said softly, his voice calm, pleasant, and completely unbothered, ”but now he’s my guardian beast. And without him, I can’t leave here.”

Wren let out a long, trembling hiss.

The black liquid flames coating her body slowly subsided.

She wanted to keep tearing the cave apart. She wanted to burn the shadow dragon into ash for abandoning her.

But the quiet, unshakeable warmth in Valerian’s touch cut through her rage.

Her massive wings slowly folded back.

Her crimson eyes narrowed into bitter, tearful slits as she glared at the shadow dragon.

’I hate him,’ she grumbled in Valerian’s mind, her voice laced with a watery, childish bite.

’I truly, deeply hate him.’

”I know.”

Valerian smiled faintly.

He turned toward the shadow dragon.

”Now... pull yourself together, Nox.”

The newly forged authority within Valerian’s Blood Dragon Core pulsed once.

The command carried weight.

Not the weight of coercion.

The weight of a Sovereign speaking to a guardian who had accepted his authority.

”Ah, the new Sovereign!”

Nox’s crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.

”So stern. So serious.”

His grin widened.

”I love it!”

The Blood Shadow Dragon didn’t argue.

Instead, his massive Western dragon body dissolved into an ocean of dark, liquid shadow that surged across the sanctum floor, pooling beneath Wren’s feet.

WOOOSH!

Dense, abyssal blood-marrow rose from the liquid shadow, wrapping around Wren’s massive dragon form like a cocoon of dark crimson silk.

The shadow dragon was intentionally appeasing her, using a portion of his own origin energy to construct what she had lacked for centuries.

Wren let out a startled gasp as the ancient magic pulled her spirit inward, condensing her massive scale-bound form and molding the raw energy into a permanent physical vessel.

The golden light flared violently.

Then contracted.

When the light faded, the enormous black dragon was gone.

Standing on the stone floor was a breathtakingly elegant young woman.

She had long, cascading platinum-gold hair that reached her waist, pale alabaster skin, and piercing golden eyes that burned with dragon-fire.

She wore a dark crimson and black combat dress embroidered with subtle dragon scales.

Wren looked down at her small, delicate hands, flexing her fingers in shock.

”A physical shell...” she whispered.

Her voice no longer echoed as a spectral spirit.

It rang out in a crisp, sharp, human tone.

”Forged from Abyssal Dragon Marrow...”

”Consider it an apology gift, my sweet little nightmare.”

Nox’s voice sang out playfully.

The ocean of liquid shadow on the floor pulled inward, rising into a tall, dense pillar of dark magic.

The shadows condensed, hardening into solid, intricate plates of jet-black dragon-chitin armor.

The armor was imposing and sharp, covered in subtle blood-red runes that hummed with absolute lethality.

Then, with a soft, sliding hiss, the black armor began to dissolve.

The helmet melted away into wisps of dark smoke, sinking directly into the figure’s skin like liquid ink.

The heavy armor followed.

Pauldrons.

Collar.

Chest plate.

Every piece dissolved into shadow until nothing remained except a sleek, dark leather combat uniform.

The face of the Blood Shadow Dragon was revealed.

He stood at an imposing six-foot-three, broad-shouldered and lean.

He had flawless, pale marble skin, a sharp, razor-defined jawline, and long, messy raven-black hair that fell loosely around his neck.

His eyes were deep, slitted pools of luminous crimson that carried centuries of battle-tested lethality.

Yet his expression wore a bright, disturbingly sweet, psychotic smirk.

It was a face of absolute, breathtaking perfection—a classic dark-fantasy noble visual.

Valerian subtly raised an eyebrow behind his blindfold, observing the man’s features.

The sharp symmetry.

The dangerous grace.

The effortless aristocratic air.

’Ridiculous,’ Valerian thought to himself, his mind briefly flashing back to Wren’s loud, dramatically emotional outbursts.

’To think an ancient, explosive dragon entity like Wren was once paired with someone who looks like a picture-perfect shadow knight... and possesses the personality of a sweet, unhinged delinquent.’

’The contrast is absurd.’

”Nox’Aethel at your service, Boss!”

Nox chirped cheerfully, skipping forward with a dangerous, chaotic glint in his crimson eyes.

He gave a dramatic, exaggerated bow, his sweet smile twisting into something delightfully psychotic.

”If you ever need anyone’s limbs torn off, or a city turned inside out, just say the word!”

He straightened.

”I do love a good bloodbath!”

”Just keep your instincts sharp and your mouth under control,” Valerian said smoothly, a quiet, satisfied smile appearing on his face.

The ancient trials of the plain were complete.

The Blood Dragon Core was forged.

But Valerian knew the true war lay far beyond these cavern walls.

The empire was not his enemy.

His father and the Emperor were bound by an unbreakable, lifelong brotherhood, standing together as the twin pillars of humanity.

The true rot was hidden far deeper.

Deep within human society, parading as nobles, merchants, and heroes, lived the followers of the Ten Demon Lords.

They pulled the strings of the world in secret, seeking to activate the Ten Demonic Altars through massive human sacrifices to summon the Demon King and unleash the eldritch horrors that viewed humanity as nothing more than livestock.

Valerian’s true mission was to hunt them from the shadows.

One by one.

WOOOSH.

In the center of the sanctum, the ancient spatial gateway to the Ancestral Plain flared into life, a swirling vortex of deep crimson and black light linking the deep trial grounds back to the grand hall of the Prim Sanguis Citadel.

”Let’s go,” Valerian murmured softly.

He took a step toward the portal.

But the moment his boots crossed the threshold, the sheer, staggering toll of the trials slammed into him like an absolute mountain.

He had snapped his own arm, absorbed imperial suppressors, integrated the Primordial Wellspring, and completely rewritten his bloodline in a matter of hours.

The adrenaline that had kept his frame standing evaporated in an instant.

The black-scarlet fire in his core quieted down, and his vision behind his blindfold blurred into overwhelming darkness.

STEP.

Valerian stumbled out of the spatial portal, stepping back into the vast, cold stone hall of the Sanguis Citadel.

His knees completely gave way.

The black chitin staff slipped from his numb fingers, clattering against the polished floor.

His body keeled forward, slipping into total unconsciousness.

He didn’t hit the cold floor.

A pair of soft, warm arms caught him before he fell.

A familiar, intoxicating scent of night-blooming roses and dark crimson magic wrapped around his senses, washing away the bitter stench of the trial’s blood and stone.

”My precious, foolish boy...”

A voice whispered—rich, velvet-soft, and trembling with fierce, maternal warmth.

Vesperia Prim Sanguis, the feared Shadow Empress and matriarch of the clan, knelt on the cold stone floor of the grand hall.

She gathered her young son tightly into her arms, pulling his battered, exhausted body against her chest.

She paid no mind to the dark dragon-blood staining her immaculate dark silk dress.

She simply rested his head gently against her chest, her slender, pale fingers gliding through his messy, dark silk hair, gently caressing his head as if he were still a child sleeping in her quarters.

”You pushed yourself too far again,” Vesperia murmured softly.

She leaned down to press a tender, loving kiss against his temple while her sharp, deadly eyes swept over the newly manifested forms of Wren and Nox exiting the portal behind him.

Her maternal aura expanded—possessive, fiercely protective, and absolute.

”Rest now, Valerian,” she whispered into his hair, gently stroking his head as her youngest son finally surrendered to deep, peaceful darkness in his mother’s arms.

”Mother is here.”