The shattered mask lay on the cold stone floor, its jagged edges glistening with fresh blood. Russ's grip tightened around it, his breathing still sharp from the battle. His shadow skills had drained nearly all his qi, and his veins still burned from the man's counterattack.
But the words echoed in his head.
"The first of you."
Russ's heartbeat pounded like a war drum. That wasn't just arrogance. It was a statement of fact.
---
The Search
Back at the Talen manor, Russ slammed the mask onto the great oak table of the bloodline archives. Dust swirled in the candlelight as he pulled open drawers and ancient scroll cases. The archives weren't open to outsiders—but Russ was no outsider. He was heir to the name.
Every scroll he touched seemed to whisper. History here wasn't written—it was sealed in blood.
Finally, he found it. A sealed crimson scroll, wax-marked with the First Sigil of Talen. He cut the seal with the tip of his scythe.
The parchment unfurled, and the words carved into it in deep scarlet sent a chill crawling up his spine:
---
> "In the Age Before the Shadows, there was born the First Fang—Ravien Talen. Bearer of the Pure Blood, Master of Blood Qi, Shadow Qi, and Soul Qi combined. He was banished, for his thirst for immortality and power rivaled the gods. His soul was never destroyed."
---
Russ's hands trembled. Ravien Talen wasn't a myth. He was the masked man.
---
The Realization
Russ remembered the fight—the way his blood turned against him, how the man's qi felt endless, how his wounds healed almost instantly. That wasn't mastery. That was something beyond mortality.
If Ravien had truly found a way to bind his soul to his own blood…
Russ's eyes narrowed. "That means killing him once won't matter. I'd have to destroy every drop of his blood."
And if what the scroll said was true, some of that blood might still be inside every Talen descendant.
---
The Warning
The candles flickered, and the air chilled. A shadow rose in the corner of the room, forming into the ghostly outline of an old Talen ancestor.
"Russ," the specter whispered, "you have awakened his attention. Ravien will come again. And next time, he will not test you. He will claim you."
Russ tightened his grip on his scythe. "Then I'll make sure next time… I'm ready to kill him for real."
The shadow's voice dropped lower. "You cannot kill what is eternal without the Bloodbane Seal. Find it… or join him."
The specter dissolved, leaving Russ alone with the mask—and the heavy knowledge that his next fight would be against an enemy who had already lived a thousand lifetimes.
---
Russ's Resolve
Russ picked up the broken mask, staring into the hollow eyeholes. The cracks reminded him of the moment his strike landed—proof that Ravien could be hurt.
He slipped the mask into his coat. "Fine. If you're the first Talen… I'll be the last one you ever see."
Outside, the night wind howled, carrying with it a faint scent of blood. Far away, in the ruins beyond the valley, crimson mist gathered, and a deep voice murmured into the darkness:
"The heir has teeth. Good… let him sharpen them."