Chapter 11 – The Reversal Mark
The crimson ritual circle glowed beneath the third soldier's body. Patrick was kneeling, chanting the Blood Ritual Art slowly — each syllable soaked in ancient power. This time, everything felt… different. Unstable.
The air became heavier. Not with power, but pressure.
The moment Patrick added his Blood Laser technique into the circle — a line of searing red light etched into the center — the glow turned black-red. Flickering. Shaky.
Then, without warning, the man opened his eyes mid-ritual — pitch black, with glowing silver veins stretching from his pupils to his temples.
> "No—he's awake!?" Patrick muttered, stepping back.
The soldier's body arched violently as the blood circle cracked. A surge of black mist exploded from his chest, blasting the glowing sigils apart. Patrick was thrown backward, crashing into a stone pillar.
From within the mist, the man rose. Floating.
Something inhuman had been awakened.
> "You… awakened me," the man growled, his voice layered — one human, the other demonic.
Patrick stood up, barely steady.
> "That injection… what the hell did they put in you?"
The man smiled. "A gift from the Alliance. An experiment meant to hijack forbidden rituals."
He stretched his arms. His veins pulsed not red — but black. The original Blood Ritual seal had twisted, now shaped like a reverse crescent with fangs turned inward.
> "You tried to make me your puppet," the man said. "But instead…"
He clutched his chest, and red mist poured out of the seal.
> "…you've become mine."
Chains of corrupted blood energy shot from the broken ritual circle toward Patrick. He blocked them with a wall of Blood Flame, but they cut through it like water.
Patrick gritted his teeth. "I'm the Blood Moon. I don't bow to fakes."
He summoned his own aura — blood-red and surging — but his energy was fluctuating. He had just performed two rituals, and this one was tearing at the rules of the art itself.
Suddenly, Corven leapt in — his eyes glowing — slashing his blood-infused blade at the corrupted man. The clash echoed like steel on steel, but the corrupted one held his hand out and sent Corven flying without touching him.
Patrick took the chance and roared, releasing a telekinetic burst, yanking one of his blood swords from the ground and hurling it toward the seal on the man's chest.
Direct hit.
The corrupted man screamed, staggering back. The black mist started to fade… but not for long.
> "You delayed me…" he growled. "But I'm not done yet. This body… this power… I will reshape the Blood Ritual in my name."
And with that, he vanished into the mist, leaving a scorched mark in the circle.
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Patrick collapsed to one knee, his chest heaving.
> "That wasn't a puppet…" he whispered. "That was a… reversal."
The first known Reverse Puppet — a being who could resist and override the Blood Ritual.
A new threat was born.