It was mid afternoon, and the sun hung high in the sky. Malakai had been resting on the top floor in one of the rooms designed for important members of the Sanguine Clan who visited the fortress.
There were no elevators, as much of human technology had been lost after The Fall. And due to certain reasons, many developed technologies were no longer in use. Malakai had to take the stairs, ignoring the surprised looks from the warriors he passed.
Stepping outside, he found a line of armored warriors standing near massive evolved beasts, flanking an elaborate carriage.
“How the hell did he survive? That cockroach. I heard he got punched by a Grade 2 Enhancer,” one warrior muttered in disbelief.
“Did he at least finally evolve?” another asked, shaking his head.
“Doubt it. Even if he survived, it doesn’t change anything. He’s still useless without evolving.”
“I wonder what crazy things the Sovereign will have him do next…”
As the warriors conversed among themselves, a captain clad in deep red armor, unlike the dark grey of the Blood Knight lieutenants, frowned at their whispers.
He had an angular face, narrowed eyes, and a stiff posture filled with tension. His mouth pressed into a tight line, his aura heavy, a clear mark of his higher status among the others.
Varek Sanguine.
He was the captain of the unit.
The more he heard, the colder his aura became. He hated this.
He had thought, no, hoped, that he had finally gotten rid of Malakai. But when Nyx relayed the news of his survival, Varek had been shocked.
And now, watching Malakai walk out of the building, Varek’s fist clenched.
The boy had really survived.
Varek could already imagine the countless days he would waste on useless missions because of Malakai. As a main descendant, Malakai’s lack of evolution was something the Blood Sovereign refused to accept.
Because of this, Malakai had been sent on life threatening missions in an attempt to force his evolution.
And as a member of the Sovereign’s faction, the Redmourne, Varek had drawn the short end of the stick. He and his unit had been tasked with escorting Malakai on these missions.
It was a waste of time.
Because of this, Varek had missed countless chances to take on higher ranked missions, kill stronger Darkness creatures, and advance his own power.
His resentment was intense.
“Enough.”
Varek’s growl cut through the whispers, silencing the others.
As Malakai approached, Varek and his men bowed slightly.
“9th Vein.”
Varek’s tone was neutral, but there was not a shred of respect in it.
But Malakai didn’t acknowledge him.
He didn’t pause, nor did he even glance in his direction.
He walked straight past, his cold gaze fixed forward, while Nyx held the carriage door open.
Malakai stepped inside without a word and Nyx followed, closing the door behind them.
Silence hung in the air.
The lieutenants could practically feel their captain’s anger simmering beneath the surface.
Varek’s jaw clenched hard, his fingers tightening on the reins. His glare followed Malakai into the carriage.
‘That worthless…’
His icy stare stayed.
Babysitting this failure was nothing but a waste of his time, stolen from his own rise within the clan.
But Malakai was still a direct descendant.
And in the Sanguine Clan, there was a saying:
Only a direct descendant could touch a direct descendant. Or at most, one in relations with a direct descendent.
Anyone else who tried was seeking a brutal death.
“We’re leaving.”
The carriage Malakai had just entered was medieval in design but reinforced and durable.
At the front, four Equitaras, massive beasts with hardened muscles and broad wings, stomped their talons against the ground.
Their mutated forms were a result of Vita, the energy that had twisted and evolved animals beyond their original nature.
There were no vehicles or aircraft in this world anymore, and instead, Equitaras had become the primary means of transport for the Blood Knights and those of high status.
Varek hit the reins.
In an instant, the Equitaras launched into the sky, carrying the carriage into the skies.
High above the ground, Malakai stared down at the fortress of the Black Reach, his mind churning.
His fist clenched.
‘I failed again.’
When he had received this mission from the Blood Sovereign, he had felt both fear and hope.
It had been dangerous, he could have died.
But at the same time, it had been another chance.
Another chance to finally evolve.
Yet, once again, he had failed.
His gaze lingered on the fortress as it shrunk beneath them.
As they soared higher, Malakai’s gaze drifted beyond the fortress, tracing the vast land below.
One-third of Earth had been swallowed by the Dome. It spanned approximately 170 million square kilometers, more than twice the size of Asia.
The Dome encompassed parts of the Northern Hemisphere, stretching across North America, Europe, and Asia.
The Sanguine Clan ruled the western region, covering the Midwestern United States and parts of Eastern Europe.
After The Fall, the skyscrapers and cities that once filled these lands had long since turned to dust, replaced by sturdy, durable structures focused on survival over aesthetics.
Even so, much of the land remained uninhabited.
Despite its fertile soil and moderate climate, the western region had been transformed into the primary food supplier for the rest of the Dome.
Yet, the Sanguine Clan was far from a family of farmers.
They were warriors.
Cold, brutal, and ruthless.
So far, the ride back was uneventful.
Malakai’s gaze remained distant, his mind filled with different thoughts.
He had been surrounded by darkness creatures. He had bathed in Vita. He had fought, survived.
And yet, he still hadn’t evolved.
His fingers tightened on his armrest.
Would it ever happen?
For years, he had believed it was only a matter of time.
But now…
He wasn’t so sure anymore.
His eyes shifted to the horizon.
The sun had begun to set, dyeing the sky in streaks of orange and crimson.
The journey stretched longer than usual due to the weight of the carriage.
But by nightfall, they finally reached one of the western cities under Sanguine control.
Ironhold.
