The courtyard of the Imperial Heaven Sect was restless that morning. Since the attack of the Nine Shadow Sect, the new heirs had slowly begun to settle. But instead of harmony, the group divided itself into factions...as expected. Like the Elder mentioned before....they were weapons. It wasn't officially announced. It happened naturally, born from pride, strength, and fear.
The strongest gathered under Rauthen of the Black Dragon Clan and Tharos, a brute from the Stone Giants' bloodline. Together, they called themselves the Faction of Strength. Their followers admired raw power. They laughed louder, fought harder, and crushed anyone who resisted them.
Another group grew more cautious. Kaelen, the thoughtful heir from the Green Dragon Clan, stood beside Veyra Nightveil, daughter of the Vampire Clan, and Seliora, the Phoenix Clan's shining figure. They did not believe strength alone ruled the path. Balance, cooperation, and steady growth were their ideals. They became known as the Faction of Balance.
And then, in the darker corners, shadows gathered. Drexar, with his cruel smile, and Lyra, cold and sharp, built their influence in silence. They whispered, schemed, and picked off weaker disciples. They didn't trust power. They trusted fear. Their followers became the Faction of Shadows.
Between them all was one figure who refused to belong anywhere.
Jace.
The Red Dragon Clan Prince — though nobody called him that now. He kept to himself, trained alone, and rarely spoke. Some whispered that he was arrogant. Others said he was afraid. But most simply felt uneasy. A lone wolf was harder to predict than a barking dog.
And so, the factions watched him. Some hated him. Some respected him. None understood him.
---
Three days later, news broke through the sect.
The Red Dragon Clan, after endless searching, had given up. Messengers arrived, their robes torn, their faces grim. Before the gathered heirs, one of them read the decree:
"The Second Prince of the Red Dragon Clan, Jace Blade, is no more. His body lost, his flame extinguished. The clan grieves his fall."
Whispers broke out instantly. Some gasped. Others smirked.
Rauthen crossed his arms, his deep voice carrying mockery. "So the mighty Red Dragon has burned out? Hah! Fitting. Perhaps he wasn't worth much after all." His followers laughed.
Kaelen frowned. "Show respect, Rauthen. Dead or not, he was still an heir."
"Respect?" Rauthen sneered. "For a coward who doesn't even stand with his own people? Don't be naive."
Drexar chuckled from the shadows. "Dead or alive, it changes little. A missing piece in this game is just another opportunity. The real question is… who benefits?" His eyes glinted dangerously.
The Balance faction stiffened at his tone, but no one answered.
Amid the noise, Jace stood apart, his hood covering his face. His fists tightened so hard his nails dugged deep into his palm that blood came out.
Dead?
Declared dead by his own clan?
A storm raged in his chest. Anger, disbelief, betrayal. The very blood in his veins screamed against it. He wanted to roar, to shatter the words with fire and fury.
But he didn't.
But he also knew that it wasn't their fault....he wanted to stay hidden and grow....so this was an opportunity.
Despite that he wasn't happy....
He stood still, the hood shadowing his expression. Slowly, his rage cooled. A calm colder than flame settled over him. If they had abandoned him, so be it. If they believed him dead, then he would show them how dangerous the dead could be.
He turned away without a word.
---
Cultivation Resources
That evening, the sect elders summoned the heirs to the Grand Hall of Resources. Long shelves lined the chamber, filled with pouches of spirit stones, vials of rare herbs, and shelves of manuals.
An elder spoke, his voice stern.
"You are now disciples of the Imperial Heaven Sect. Each of you will receive resources to strengthen your cultivation. Choose wisely, for your path depends on it. You may also select a single cultivation manual from this hall. Again, choose with care."
The factions moved quickly. The Faction of Strength seized spirit stones and body-forging manuals without hesitation. Rauthen grabbed a technique that enhanced his claws, bragging loudly.
The Faction of Balance was more thoughtful. Kaelen browsed carefully, seeking something adaptable. Seliora of the Phoenix chose a flame-dancing art. Veyra, calm and sharp-eyed, lingered at the blood-arts shelf.
The Faction of Shadows moved like snakes, picking strange and dangerous techniques. Drexar smirked as he pocketed a scroll hidden deep in the shelf.
And Jace?
He walked alone, his steps quiet. He collected his pouch of resources, then drifted toward the manuals. His heart beat steadily. He needed something sharp, fast, decisive. Something that cut like the rage inside him.
At last, he stopped before a black-bound scroll.
"Scarlet Fang Sword Art." seems like the system made the right choice for him.
Cause the one given by the system was complete....but he would like to study this.
A technique designed for swift, ruthless strikes. It did not rely on brute force, but precision and speed. Its final move, Blood Fang Reversal, was said to turn an enemy's strength back upon them.
A smile flickered beneath his hood. This… suited him.
---
As he reached for the scroll, another hand brushed the shelf. A pale hand, slender and cool.
Jace glanced sideways. Veyra Nightveil stood there, her crimson eyes watching him.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The noise of other disciples faded.
"You," she said softly. "You chose a sword."
Jace lowered his hood just enough to meet her gaze. "And you chose blood arts."
Her lips curved faintly. "It fits my bloodline."
He nodded. "And mine… demands a blade."
There was no mockery in her tone, no suspicion in her eyes. Just quiet acknowledgment. She, too, had felt the sting of isolation. As a vampire among dragons and beasts, she was no stranger to being watched with caution.
"You don't belong to any faction," she said.
"Neither do you, not truly," Jace replied. "You follow Balance, but you walk your own path."
Her eyes softened. "Perhaps. And you?"
"I walk alone." His voice was low, steady. "But that doesn't mean I'll be weak."
For a heartbeat, they simply looked at one another — two outsiders in different ways. Then she gave the smallest of nods.
"Then prove it."
And with that, she turned, leaving him with the Scarlet Fang Sword Art in his hand.
---
By the next day, the factions had already begun to clash.
In the training fields, Rauthen and his followers mocked Kaelen's group. "Balance? That's just weakness in disguise." He shoved a disciple to the ground.
Kaelen stood firm. "Strength without control leads to ruin. You'll see."
Seliora spread her fiery wings in warning, while Veyra's crimson gaze froze the laughter on their lips.
Meanwhile, Drexar's shadowy group whispered from the edges, fanning the fire. "Fight them. Break them. Let the strong destroy the foolish, and we will reap what's left."
And all the while, Jace trained alone at the edge of the field. His blade sang through the air, scarlet light flashing. His strikes grew faster, sharper, deadlier.
The others watched from afar. Some dismissed him. Some feared him. But none could deny the chill of his presence.
He was a wolf without a pack.
And wolves without packs were the most dangerous of all.