Chapter 8: Blood Test
The sky darkened earlier than usual.
Min had left the fortress, heading toward a ruined Bloodmoon temple deep in the north. Patrick remained behind, training, his body wrapped in faint red aura as he practiced the Blood Sword Art, carving the air with slashes that crackled with qi.
The walls trembled suddenly. A sharp gust swept in through the hall, bringing with it… footsteps.
Not Min's.
Patrick froze. His instincts screamed danger. He grabbed his blade and turned.
Three men emerged from the shadows — clad in armor marked with the seal of the United Alliance. Each one reeked of bloodlust.
The leader stepped forward. He had slick silver hair and dark eyes, holding a jagged syringe in one hand and a long curved blade in the other.
"Patrick," he said, grinning. "You've grown. Good. Our employer was hoping you'd put up a fight."
"Who sent you?"
The man chuckled. "Does it matter? Call me Krane. These are my brothers — Corven and Jax. And you're tonight's experiment."
Patrick raised his blade. "Big mistake."
---
The battle exploded.
Jax, the burly one, charged first — fists engulfed in metal gauntlets glowing with green energy. Patrick dodged a crushing blow, feeling the shockwave rattle his bones.
Corven came next, swift as a shadow, dual daggers coated in poison slicing through the air. Patrick twisted midair, blood energy pulsing from his core, and blocked with his sword — sparks flew.
Krane didn't attack. He simply watched, twirling the syringe in his hand.
Patrick gritted his teeth. Two-on-one was tough, but his training under Min had been brutal for years.
He spun his sword and whispered, "Blood Flame: Rising Cut."
A red arc of fire burst from his blade, searing across the room. Jax was forced to leap back, armor scorched. Corven flipped out of reach, barely dodging.
Patrick wasn't done.
He dashed forward, his aura blazing. Corven tried to parry — but Patrick twisted behind him and drove a blood-charged elbow into his spine.
Corven gasped, dropped his daggers, and collapsed.
Then it happened.
Krane blurred forward.
Patrick barely saw the motion — just a glint of silver.
Shhk.
The syringe pierced Patrick's neck.
Pain exploded through his veins — ice and fire surged together. Patrick screamed, his blood aura collapsing momentarily.
Krane stepped back, smirking.
"That's my custom serum. Took us years to make. It disrupts Bloodmoon qi for exactly three minutes… more than enough."
Patrick fell to one knee, vision blurring.
Jax moved in again, fist raised — this time with killing intent.
Patrick clenched his jaw. He reached out.
The Blood Sword flew to him.
His arm lit up — not orange this time, but deep crimson. Telekinesis surged again, stronger, more refined.
He caught the sword mid-air — and let go of everything.
His scream echoed like thunder.
Blood Laser. Blood Flame. Sword Arts. Telekinesis. They all combined into a frenzy. He struck Jax's arm, breaking it in one blow. With a spin, he sent Corven flying into a pillar. Krane tried to inject again, but Patrick teleported behind him in a red flicker and punched him into the wall.
Three bodies lay on the ground, barely breathing.
Patrick, panting, dropped to his knees.
The serum was fading — his qi flowing again. But something inside him… had changed.
His blood was reacting violently — not to pain, but to the essence of those three.
They had the perfect structure for a Blood Ritual.
He now understood.
Their bloodlines were normal — but adaptable.
He stood slowly, looking at the defeated soldiers. Not with hate.
With opportunity.
---
Min returned that night, finding Patrick silent in the hall, standing over the unconscious bodies.
"Trouble?" Min asked, mildly amused.
Patrick didn't look at him. He simply said:
"I think… I found my test subjects."
Min's expression darkened.
"…You found that scroll, didn't you?"
Patrick turned to him, red eyes glowing faintly.
"This world made monsters. Now I'll make mine."