Malakai’s eyes snapped open, his crimson gaze landing on the familiar ceiling above him.
He sat up abruptly, his breath uneven, fingers instinctively clutching his head. His heart pounded in his chest, and something warm streaked down his cheek.
Tears.
He was restless. And he was crying.
Malakai exhaled slowly, replaying the verses of the Sanguine Creed in his mind. With each passing second, his heart rate steadied, the tension in his body draining away.
“Not again.”
His fist clenched, the skin at his knuckles turning pale.
The nightmare never truly left him.
It didn’t happen every night, but when it did, it was always the same. The moment he lost everything. His parents. His future.
Malakai hated that dream. It reminded him of his weakest moment, the moment he was utterly powerless.
And yet…
He didn’t want it to stop.
He needed the reminder. The push. Every time he had that dream, the fire in his chest burned hotter.
Malakai swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, scanning his surroundings.
The moderately sized room was fitted with all the essentials, but the quality of the furnishings made it clear: this was meant for the upper class.
He rolled his shoulders, testing his body.
“I’m completely healed.”
Now that he had regained his senses, he recalled the last bits of the earlier battle.
The last thing he remembered was the crushing force of the darkness creature’s blow. In the old world, that kind of injury should have left him bedridden, crippled at best.
And yet, he currently didn’t feel a shred of soreness.
His gaze shifted to the device strapped to his left wrist. A bright green light pulsed on its screen.
Lifeguard.
A device every human in the dome was fitted at birth, constantly tracking their vitals, monitoring their condition.
Malakai turned toward the mirror in the corner of the room.
A tall, lean figure stared back at him. His compact muscles hinted at his strength far beyond his age. His crimson eyes burned cold, and his torso was covered in scars.
A knock sounded at the door.
Before he could respond, the figure entered.
She stepped inside silently, bowing her head.
“9th Vein.”
Malakai’s maid.
Like all Sanguine, she had crimson hair and pale skin, dressed in a formal maid’s uniform. She carried a tray in her hands, her gaze fixed downward.
Malakai’s voice was low, indifferent.
“How long was I out?”
“Eight hours and two minutes, 9th Vein.”
Her tone was measured, precise.
The title Vein was how the latest main descendants of the Sanguine Clan were addressed, the term marking their generation.
‘Eight hours?’
Malakai’s brows furrowed slightly. He knew he had been badly injured, but he hadn’t expected his body to take that long to recover.
“And the captain?” His voice remained flat. “Has he left already?”
“He’s been waiting for you to wake, 9th Vein. Shall I inform him?”
That made Malakai pause.
He had expected the captain to be long gone by now, using any excuse to abandon him in the Black Reach.
He was well aware of how they all saw him.
A failure. A disappointment. A direct descendant of the Sanguine Clan who couldn’t evolve.
And the captain was no exception. But he pushed the thought aside.
“Nyx, inform him I’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“As you wish.” Nyx bowed deeply, extending the tray.
Malakai took it with a nod, and she wordlessly left the room.
He examined the tray’s contents. A few pieces of dark, apple-shaped fruit.
He picked one up, biting into it.
A rush of energy surged through his body, then vanished within seconds.
Malakai stared at the fruit in his hand.
‘Still nothing.’
He tossed the remaining fruit onto the tray.
The Devil’s Fruit.
A product of the energy left behind by slain darkness creatures, Vita.
Vita was the source of humanity’s evolution. It strengthened the body, unlocked mutations, and fueled the abilities of those who could evolve.
For most youths, a single bite was enough to begin the evolution process.
For Malakai, it was just another bitter reminder.
Years of consuming them. And still, his body refused to change.
His teeth clenched.
He knew why.
Because of what his mother did that night. And yet, he had never blamed her. Not once.
Malakai’s gaze drifted back to his reflection.
The scars.
Because he couldn’t evolve, his entire life had been hell. He had endured endless trials, survived countless betrayals.
The pain meant nothing anymore. What mattered was his goal.
The one fire that had kept him alive through it all.
Revenge.
There had been a traitor within the Sanguine Clan that had betrayed his parents.
And the darkness had done the rest.
Malakai would hunt them down.
He would find them.
And he would erase every last one of them from the face of this planet.
A sharp spike of rage surged through his chest, his heart pounding. He quickly closed his eyes and repeated the Sanguine Creed in his head, forcing his breath to steady.
This had always been the thing that kept him going. A habit from his childhood. A song his mother had sung to him every night.
Soon enough, his pulse slowed. His mind cleared.
Malakai exhaled, then reached for his clothes.
He dressed quickly, fastening the clasps of his attire before heading for the door.
It was time to return to the Sanguine clan.