Zane floated.
There was no fire, no mist, no sand, no blades in his hands. Just stillness, heavy and absolute. For the first time since the dungeon had swallowed them, his body wasn't screaming in pain. He wasn't bleeding. He wasn't exhausted. He wasn't anything at all.
But when he forced his eyes open, the world wasn't the dungeon.
It was somewhere else.
He lay bundled in cloth, soft and smothering, his vision blurred like glass fogged by breath. The air felt too warm, too clean. His chest rose in tiny, fragile pulls, his arms pressed against him like they weren't his own. He tried to move to sit up, to reach for his swords, but his body didn't obey. His limbs flailed uselessly, weak, uncoordinated.
Panic clawed at him. His body wasn't his. It was small. Fragile. Powerless.
A horrible realization crept over him like cold water down his spine.
This… this is probably me. When I was an infant.
Am I in a dream, a memory, or maybe a vision?
His pulse hammered in his ears, but the body wouldn't answer him. His throat wouldn't form words. He couldn't even cry. He was trapped inside his own skin, weaker than he'd ever been.
And then he saw them.
Two figures stood before him. They weren't flesh and blood, not anything human. Their forms were woven from light itself, radiant and shifting, too vast to fit inside his sight. Each time he looked, they changed, one moment crowned with wings, the next a blaze of stars, the next something so vast he couldn't even name it.
Yet he understood them.
One was male. The other female.
Their voices carried through the space like thunder draped in silk.
"It is about to awaken," the male said, his tone resonant and vast, shaking something deep inside Zane's chest.
The female's light dimmed, softer, though no less powerful. "Then preparations must be made. If it rises without chains, the universe will not hold. Not again."
Chains. Awakening. Words he didn't understand, but they lodged themselves inside him like hooks.
The male's form brightened, fierce and unyielding. "Then we fight it. As we always have."
Their voices pressed down on him, heavy enough to crush mountains, yet somehow… somehow Zane didn't feel fear. His infant body was weak, useless, but in their presence, he felt the opposite of danger. He felt safe. Protected.
Then, slowly, their gazes turned.
They looked at him.
For the first time, their light bent downward, transforming into something beautiful he couldn't name, focusing wholly on him, not as a monster, not as prey, but as something infinitely precious.
The weight of their eyes didn't crush him. It warmed him. For a fleeting second, he felt cradled by their very existence, as if the whole universe leaned in to shield him from the dark.
The female's voice softened, trembling with something that might have been sorrow. "My…"
The word hung there, unfinished.
And the space shattered.
—
Zane's eyes snapped open. Air rushed into his lungs, ragged and desperate.
Stone. Fire. Wood. The dungeon. He was back.
The flames of a small campfire flickered weakly, painting the cavern walls in shifting orange light. The mist was gone. The oppressive weight of the monsters was gone. Silence pressed in on all sides, but it wasn't hostile. Just still.
Across from him, Adrian sat rigid, sparks flickering faintly over his hands. His eyes locked on Zane the instant he moved, as if he'd been waiting for hours.
"You're awake," Adrian said quietly. His voice carried relief, but also something sharper. Wary. Like he wasn't sure what version of Zane had opened its eyes.
Zane turned his head.
Relief hit him so hard it nearly broke him.
Lyra lay beside him, sleeping soundly. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Her face was calm, peaceful. Both of her arms were whole, unscarred. No blood. No ruin.
She was healed. Perfectly healed.
Adrian, too, looked better. The jagged cuts, the gashes, the exhaustion that had nearly killed him gone. Their bodies were as if untouched by the nightmare they'd survived.
But Zane's own chest was still tight, trembling with the memory of the dream.
The two beings of light. Their words. Their eyes when they turned to him.
And the one word that refused to leave his head.
My
---
Zane didn't answer Adrian. He didn't even look at him.
The fire's glow felt distant, almost unreal, his breath echoing too loud in his own ears. That dream, if it had even been a dream, clung to him like frost on glass, impossible to scrape away.
Two beings of light. Their voices like creation itself. And the way they had looked at him… not like a stranger, not like a mistake, but something else. Something theirs.
My…
The word echoed again, looping endlessly.
Were they connected to him? To his transmigration? Were they the reason Ethan had been torn out of his world and forced into Zane Blessborne's body? Or… had they been watching him long before that?
His throat tightened. Maybe they weren't just strangers. Maybe they were the cause of everything.
And then there was the bloodline. His body still remembered the searing flood of power, the wings tearing free, the weight of the crown. It had been no simple surge of strength. It had been a transformation. An awakening.
The dream, the beings, their words. Awakening. Chains. Fight it.
It wasn't a coincidence. Couldn't be.
His thoughts circled back to the same, inescapable conclusion. Whatever that dream had been, it wasn't separate from his bloodline. It was tied to it. Maybe even the source of it.
Slowly, with a thought, he called up the glowing runes only he could see.
Zane's breath caught when his gaze dropped lower on the Status Window.
For the first time, the blurred text in the bloodline slot had resolved.
[Bloodline: Heir's Inheritance - Partially Awakened]
The words shimmered faintly, each rune heavy with meaning, and beneath them three new entries glowed.
Bloodline Abilities (Locked / Partially Accessible):
Heir's Ascension
Effect: Temporarily surges all attributes by +100, forcibly raising the bearer's Rank by one for a limited duration. After activation, it leaves the body in a weakened state until balance is restored.[Warning: Excessive use in incomplete form may destabilize soul integrity.]
Crystalline Wings of Aegis
Effect: Conjures wings of luminous crystal-light capable of absolute defense. Within the same Rank and even one Rank above, no force can shatter them. Wings may also be used for limited flight/glide.
[Warning: In partial form, usage severely drains mana reserves.]
Crown of the Archon
Effect: A crown of radiant light manifests, symbolizing sovereignty over the flow of mana. Grants complete dominance over ambient mana within a set radius, with affinity priority toward Time and Space. Enemies' spells and abilities may be suppressed, redirected, or unraveled.
[Warning: Current activation threshold too high. Requires further awakening.]
—
The sight of it made his chest feel hollow.
Heir's Inheritance.
The name alone carried weight, like it had been carved into him long before he'd ever drawn breath in this world. These weren't random abilities. This wasn't luck. This was something that had always been waiting.
And yet… they weren't his. Not fully. Not yet.
He could still feel the phantom echo of the wings on his back, the searing burn of the crown on his head. The power hadn't been a dream. It was real. But incomplete. A taste of something far greater.
His hand twitched, curling into a fist against the stone at his side.
Those beings of light. That dream. The word "awakening." It has to be tied to this. They must have been speaking of this bloodline. Of me.
But if this was the Heir's Inheritance… then what exactly was he the heir of?
And what was he expected to inherit?
Zane let the glowing panel fade from his vision, though the words still burned into his mind. Heir's Inheritance. The name alone carried weight, but the abilities… they were monstrous. The kind of powers that didn't belong to someone still clawing their way through the lower ranks.
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts down. For now, what mattered was surviving.
But on the bright side, his mastery over the Twin Fangs Style had reached 100%, which meant that if they were able to leave the dungeon alive, he would get his five-star sword art.
A voice cut through the crackle of the fire."You're awake."
Adrian sat across from him, eyes sharp, no trace of his usual smirk. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the flickering flames throwing deep shadows across his face.
"There are things we need to discuss," he said, low but firm.
Zane held his gaze, something in his chest tightening. Adrian wasn't talking about the dungeon. He wasn't even talking about the monsters. This was about him.
Before he could answer, the blankets rustled. Lyra stirred, her lashes fluttering before her eyes opened.
"Zane…?" she whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.
Her gaze found him, lingering on his face.
Three of them alive, whole, but bound together by questions none of them were ready to face.