Rising god
Chapter 68: Unexpected

Chapter 68: Unexpected

For ten grueling days, the building had trembled with an unrelenting vibration, its stone walls groaning as if alive with some hidden force.

The tremors had grown progressively more intense, reaching a crescendo in the past forty-eight hours that left the surrounding village on edge.

The leader of the tourist attraction, Gavrik with a greedy glint in his eye, had watched the phenomenon with a mixture of awe and avarice. Whatever lay within that crumbling structure, be it treasure, artifact, or power, he was determined to claim it for himself.

He couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, not when the potential profits could elevate his modest enterprise to new heights.

He had stationed guards around the perimeter, bribed informants in the village, and prepared his men for the moment the vibrations ceased.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze.

Gavrik’s heart pounded with anticipation. "Come with me," he barked, his voice sharp with command as he motioned to his subordinates.

They followed him toward the building, their boots crunching on the gravel path leading to the weathered gate.

As they approached, one of the men gasped, "It opened." The heavy wooden door, previously sealed shut by some unseen force, now hung ajar, revealing a dark maw within.

"Be careful," Gavrik warned, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. "I don’t know what happened, but I want to know everything. Spread out." With weapons drawn, the group entered the structure, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they ventured into the new surrounding.

The air inside was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the faint hum of residual energy of the previous happenings.

...

Meanwhile, deep within the building, Baines’ eyes fluttered open, his senses assaulted by a strange, pulsing warmth coursing through his veins.

The first thing he noticed,

’Shit, I have blood energy,’ he thought, his mind racing. The realization was both a shock and a burden. After the recent incident with the blood deplorable, anything associated with blood energy had become synonymous with evil in the eyes of the world.

Yet the method they had used on him was different, the Path of the Crimson Sovereign.

Unlike the unstae blood orb, this involved devouring blood to construct an internal ’Blood Palace,’ it was a separate reservoir of power distinct from his core energy.

He ran his hands over his body, probing the unfamiliar sensation, before reluctantly accepting it. In his story, he wasn’t the the herk or angel. He wouldn’t mind using a demon’s power to achieve his goals.

As he rose to his feet, distant voices reached his ears, growing louder with each passing moment.

’Huh? People are here,’ he realized, his instincts sharpening. His gaze fell upon two objects lying nearby.

The first was the demon blade Roesha, which had always been engraved within his skin as a dagger. Now, it lay detached, transformed into a full sword. Its hilt was a deep, obsidian black, and its blade glowed with a menacing red hue, thin and elongated, exuding an aura of otherwordly power.

The second object was a weathered book, its leather cover cracked and stained with age. It was the book he had stabbed on that altar behind the throne.

As he reached for the sword, it trembled violently before sinking back into his arm, merging with his flesh once more.

He pulled his tattered cloak tighter around himself, concealing his body, and grabbed the book.

Before he could process the implications of grabbing the book, the sound of heavy boots thundered through the stairs.

Twenty men stormed onto the top floor, led by Gavrik, their weapons glinting in the dim light, ready to fight. However, they were met with an empty room, no throne, no pillar s, not even the long gash Baines had carved into the floor during his battle.

The throne room had vanished, replaced by a barren expanse of stone.

"Shit, are you telling me everything is gone?" Gavrik screeched, his face contorting with rage, veins bulging on his forehead.

’Gone?’ Baines, hidden in the shadows, only now surveyed the space.

The evidence of his fight had been erased, as if the Blood Rebirth had rewritten the room itself.

Gavrik’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Search everywhere. Put men around the village. Ask the people who entered. Someone must’ve seen something." His orders were barked with desperate intensity.

As they hurried away to carry his order, he muttered under his breath, "Whoever you are, I’ll find you and take my birthright." With that, he stormed out, following his men.

Baines didn’t linger to ponder Gavrik’s cryptic words. Slipping out of the mansion under the cover of the dark sky, he moved swiftly toward Dawnless.

The night cloaked him, the cracked earth beneath his feet a silent witness to his escape.

...

Miles away, Sir Dolik paced the cramped motel room, his frustration boiling over.

For ten days, he had been confined to this miserable outpost, forced to stay two rooms away from Baines under the pretense of "protection."

The nobleman, accustomed to the opulence of his family estate, found the experience intolerable, especially during what should have been a relaxing holiday.

He had expected Baines to make some reckless move, to leave his room and stir trouble, but the man had remained holed up, engaging only in the mundane tasks of eating and meditating.

’You could’ve stayed with your family and just skipped the tournament,’ Dolik thought bitterly. ’Why waste your holiday like this?’

Unbeknownst to him, he had been watching a clone of Baines. Who knew how he would react if someone told him? It would have driven him to madness if revealed.

...

The empire’s various powers had began to converge on Darkan, drawn by the promise of the upcoming tournament.

House Titanos arrived first, a family renowned for their body techniques that made their warriors nearly invincible. With two suns to their name, they rivaled Darkan’s Dragon Knights. Their skin bore a faint reddish tint, a result of infusing fire into their bodies, and those who bore redder skins wore them as a mark of their resilience.

Next came the Church of the Five Suns, the empire’s dominant religion, offering free healing to injured participants while bringing their younger generation to compete. Their white robes and golden symbols gleamed in the sunlight.

The Lindell family followed, an anomaly in an empire of fire. This was a family of talented water users who had earned an impressive three suns in their entire history. Their presence and rank was a testament to their skill, it was also these reason, they were able to give missions to Darkan.

Another were the Ironborns, another three-sun family and the empire’s official blacksmiths. Their rank earned through their creations of past legendary weapons. Their craftsmanship was a cornerstone of the empire’s dominance.

Various one-sun families also descended, eager to boost their reputations through the tournament.

But the arrival that silenced the murmurs and drew the heads of all sun-ranked families to greet was the most unexpected: the Malakar family.

With four of the five suns, an unprecedented feat, they were a legend in the empire.

Every generation in that family produced an Imperial Commander, and their history stretched back before the empire’s rise. They are known as masters of perception, illusion, memory, and sealed truths, they were said to hold fragments of the world’s hidden knowledge.

When children played games of riddles and reached the question, "Those who cannot be truly known?" the answer was always "Malakar," not "Anonymous."

Their leader spoke with a voice that carried an otherworldly resonance. "We are curious about the person who has been using our name lately." The statement sent a ripple through the gathered crowd. It was clear Baines had no connection to the Malakar, yet their presence suggested a judgment.

Whether his use of their name was a blasphemy to be punished or a curiosity to be explored. The weight of their gaze fell upon Darkan, and the tournament took on a new, unpredictable dimension.