‘When death comes close and shadows near,
We rise as one, we hold no fear.’
‘Through crimson storms and nights of dread,
Our strength endures, our blood is lead.’
‘In the darkest hours, with deviled eyes,
The sanguine heart never dies.’
The morning sun illuminated the landscape with its golden rays, the cold air blowing gently through the grassland, carrying with it the scent of impending death.
Despite it being morning, there were no sounds of birds chirping, no sight of small creatures stirring in the underbrush.
Even the familiar crow of roosters was absent. Though ever since The Fall, the once harmless images of animals in the minds of humans had long since been twisted beyond recognition. Instead, there was dead silence.
In the midst of this eerie scene stood an army.
The Blood Knights of the Sanguine waited, crimson-eyed, their hair the shade of fresh blood.
They were mounted on beasts that one wouldn’t have imagined existed. With little to no fur, they were twice the size of horses, with four heavily muscular arms and legs and throbbing veins snaking across their light green bodies.
Behind them stood a massive iron gate, flanked by towering walls that stretched endlessly in both directions.
The atmosphere was still as the army faced the horizon, where an intense cloud of darkness was forming over a deep pit, not far from the massive dome that encompassed their entire part of the planet.
Despite the eerie situation, the air amongst the ranks of the Sanguine army was rather lax. There were smiles on many of the warriors’ faces, with some cracking jokes.
To them, this had practically become routine.
Regardless, many of the warriors wore confused expressions as hushed whispers broke the still silence.
“Hey, isn’t he just 14? What the hell is he doing here?”
“Forget that. He failed to evolve, right? How is he supposed to fight those things?”
“The Blood Sovereign must have gotten tired and decided to send him to his death.”
“It was only a matter of time. Not being able to evolve despite being a direct descendant is a huge disgrace to the direct lineage.”
“Poor kid… he never stood a chance.”
The whispers were endless, and as each of them spoke, their attention was fixed on the figure of a boy situated at the front line of the army.
With blood-red eyes, an athletic build, and crimson hair tied back into a single ponytail, Malakai Von Sanguine sat calmly on his Gravethorn, his eyes forward.
He heard them. Every word.
But not once did his expression flicker.
‘We rise as one, we hold no fear.’
In his mind, the verses of the Sanguine creed sounded repeatedly.
Each verse sent adrenaline surging through his veins, sharpening his senses, steadying his breath.
To others, they were mere words.
To Malakai, they were everything.
As the darkness forming on the horizon started taking shape, a man seated on a Gravethorn, one a size bigger than the rest, suddenly turned slightly, his simple movement enough to silence the army.
Blood Champion Hamada Sanguine.
Hamada’s aura was overwhelming, covering the entire army like a heavy blanket.
He did not raise his voice, yet every warrior felt it press against their spine like iron.
“Form up.”
Disorder vanished. Warriors straightened. Hands gripped weapons with new intensity.
Hamada’s gaze flicked to Malakai, a flicker of approval in his crimson eyes.
‘He’s calm…’
A damn shame.
At fourteen, Malakai was a child among warriors in their late twenties. And as far as he knew, this would be the first time he was fighting in the Black Reach. Yet, his demeanor was calm and his posture unshaken.
If things had been different… if the boy had evolved…
‘He would have made a fine Sanguine.’
Hamada sighed, pity flashing through his gaze for an instant before vanishing.
“Stay sharp.” His voice was steel. “It’s starting.”
Malakai nodded. “I’m ready.”
Hamada nodded before diverting his gaze back to the horizon. There, the moment they had all been waiting for unfolded.
Darkness poured from the pit.
Like ink spilling across parchment, it spread in writhing tendrils, swallowing the land beneath it.
The ground withered to gray ash where it touched.
Then, movement.
Limbs sprouted from the darkness, thin, sinewy, glistening with sickly black ichor.
Some grew into massive, hulking beasts with twisted, gaping maws. Others slithered, leaving oily trails as they coiled forward.
Hollow, soulless eyes blinked open across warped faces, jagged teeth gleaming behind drooling lips.
Then, all at once, they screamed. A guttural, unnatural wail ripped through the silence.
The horde surged forward like a tsunami made of darkness.
For a second, even the battle-hardened warriors felt it. That small, primal chill that never quite faded, no matter how many times they faced this nightmare.
Hamada’s Gravethorn took a step forward.
He did not turn to face them, but his presence alone was enough.
His lips parted, and words that made the hearts of the Sanguine warriors pound spilled out.
“When death comes close and shadows near,
We rise as one, we hold no fear.”
His voice rolled across the field like thunder.
One by one, the warriors joined him, their voices rising into a war hymn.
“Through crimson storms and nights of dread,
Our strength endures, our blood is lead.”
“In the darkest hours, with deviled eyes,
The Sanguine heart never dies!”
They finished with a thunderous battle cry, the sound echoing across the desolate field.
Suddenly, Hamada raised his arm, and with a voice like rolling thunder, he roared,
“Charge!”
The Blood Knights poured forward in an intense rush, the earth quaking and trembling under their relentless charge.
Their Gravethorns trampled the ground, sending dust and stone flying everywhere, their voices merging into a single, earth-shaking battle cry that echoed across the field.
Despite the fact that it was his first battle at the Black Reach, Malakai did not hesitate. He was at the forefront.
He gripped the reins tight, his body leaning into the wind as it whipped through his hair.
Swiftly, his right hand swept to his side, grabbing the massive hammer strapped to his Gravethorn.
He hoisted it over his shoulder before sending a slight kick at his Gravethorn. Dust billowed in its wake as he surged forward with even more speed.
Hamada muttered one word.
[Bloodflow]
And in the next instant, every Sanguine warrior echoed it, the word rolling off their tongues like a battle hymn.
The air around the warriors shifted. They began to mutate.
A surge tore through their veins. Their muscles burned, their vision sharpened, and their blood ignited like a pulsing storm beneath their skin.
Malakai’s did not change. Yet, his focus never wavered.
The verses of the Sanguine Creed rang in his mind.
He felt no fear.
He was unstoppable.
He was invincible.
Then, the abyssal black tide collided with the crimson warriors.
The result was brutal.
The Gravethorns crashed into the shadowed creatures, their piercing horns tearing through blackened flesh.
The ground turned slick with ichor.
Blades flashed. Hooves crushed bone.
The Sanguine warriors moved like a well-honed machine, spreading out across the field in a sweeping arc, encircling pockets of darkness and eliminating them with ruthless precision.
Malakai moved with them, his hammer swinging down like meteors, each strike connecting with a force that shouldn’t belong to a 14-year-old.
Skulls splintered under its weight. Limbs snapped like dead branches.
In an instant, thousands of the darkness creatures were mowed down.
However, it was only the beginning.
More darkness spilled from the pit, spreading rapidly and coalescing into an unending swarm of creatures.
In an instant, their numbers multiplied, the rabid beasts charging the warriors with relentless fury.
The Sanguine army couldn’t hold its collective march, and chaos unfolded as the line splintered. It became every warrior for themselves, each Blood Knight fighting back the tide as best as they could.
Malakai, who was surrounded, launched himself from his Gravethorn just as the darkness creatures clawed and latched onto it.
He landed in a roll, sweeping his hammer to the side as he rose to his feet.
The creatures instantly turned towards him, lunging at him with ferocity. But Malakai was already moving.
His movements were precise, his whole form elite as he zipped past their ranks. His hammer came down in powerful arcs, smashing into skulls and shattering limbs with every swing.
In the next second, his entire figure was drenched in black ichor. But his gaze remained cold and focused, his movements never pausing.
Despite this impressive scene, he still couldn’t compare to the other warriors of the Sanguine clan.
Their every step caused the ground to split, every attack cutting down tens of creatures. Their movements appeared supernatural, streaks of red zipping past the ranks of the beasts, leaving behind carnage in their wake.
And yet, despite this scene, their gazes were focused on the young figure of the battling Malakai.
To them, it was utterly shocking. To think a 14-year-old, not only that, but one who hadn’t been able to evolve, could be this strong. It was inconceivable.
Malakai Von Sanguine, the 9th-born direct descendant of the new Sanguine clan generation, was worthless.
This had been everyone’s belief. But as they each saw the boy weave through the onslaught of beasts and crush the skulls of the creatures effortlessly, many of them felt their hearts pound.
However, their expressions soon changed to pity.
If only he had evolved.
Suddenly, the darkness spilling from the pit intensified, coalescing and merging into larger, monstrous forms that brimmed with raw power. Each creature let out a guttural roar that shook the battlefield.
Hamada’s gaze shifted from Malakai, his eyes narrowing at the new creatures.
‘Here they come.’
These new creatures were larger, stronger, and radiated a dark energy that dwarfed the beasts they’d been facing before.
“Prepare to clash!” Hamada’s voice snapped the Blood Knights from their reverie, and they gathered before charging as one.
The ground quaked as the colossal creatures barreled forward, trampling their own kind beneath their massive forms. The ground quaked again as crimson and darkness once again collided in a brutal impact.
But Hamada’s eyes suddenly widened as he saw one of the creatures breaking through their formation.
“Watch out!”
Malakai heard a scream, and as he turned, a colossal darkness creature was already upon him, its massive baboon-like fist splitting the air with intense momentum.
To everyone watching, it was truly a shame. He would’ve made a fine Sanguine. However, in this new world, failing to evolve, more often than not, meant certain death.
Malakai felt his heart pound as an intense danger surged through his body.
The sounds of the battlefield faded, Hamada’s shouts drowned in the silence that suddenly surrounded him. Time seemed to slow, and to Malakai, all he could see was the enormous fist barreling towards him.
But unfortunately, his body was too slow.
All he managed to do was raise his hammer to meet the blow before it struck him with the force of a wrecking ball.
The impact sent him flying, crashing across the grassland like a skipping stone before he tumbled, skidding through dirt and debris, a cloud of dust rising in his wake.
Malakai felt an intense pain grip him, his vision blurring. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his body grew cold.
‘N-not yet…’
The last thing he saw was the morning sun shining brightly above him before everything went dark.