Damien walked the length of the laboratory corridor, his boots echoing softly against polished metal floors as he moved toward a destination only he seemed to know. His expression never changed.
He knew about the students who had been talking earlier.
And he knew exactly what was going to happen to them.
Human nature, Damien thought bitterly. A disgusting thing.
Especially people like him.
They convinced themselves that because other factions and guilds were strong enough to rival the military, it somehow justified the atrocities they committed. As if a balance of power excused cruelty.
It didn't.
It never had.
Damien shook his head and continued forward. When he exited the lab and entered the discussion hall, the atmosphere shifted instantly. An enormous electric board dominated the room, projecting a rotating hologram of planets suspended in the air. Lines of light connected them, stretching outward in an ever-growing web.
Damien stopped.
"This is bad," he muttered under his breath.
They had already expanded beyond their original solar system. Not only that—they were pushing farther, creeping halfway toward another entirely. It was only a matter of time before their movements attracted the attention of the Force.
And if the Force discovered another race—one not under their control—it wouldn't end well.
Not for humans.
Right now, Damien calculated, the four factions and the military together could probably handle the higher-ups of the Force. Even some of the students could deal with the lower ranks.
But the moment it came down to the big man himself—
No one alive stood a chance.
"I need to divert them," Damien thought grimly. "Warn them off this path without blowing my cover."
The Harlow kids were already drawing attention as it was. Far too much attention.
Still… he couldn't afford to forget why he was really here.
Why his father had sent him here in the first place.
As those thoughts crossed his mind, the doors behind him slid open.
A man walked into the room.
He wore no top.
In a military base, that alone spoke volumes.
No one questioned him—what he wore, or what he didn't. Authority clung to him as surely as the air itself. His upper body was honed and disciplined, every muscle carved by years of combat and command. It was the kind of physique that made it clear he hadn't earned his position through words alone.
Short, dark silver hair sat neatly atop his head, cropped close and practical, streaked like steel under the cold lights of the hall. It framed a face that carried the weight of countless decisions—most of them final.
"Darrius."
Disgust was clear on Damien's face as he spoke Darrius's name.
"Damien."
Darrius chuckled as he turned, his expression relaxed, almost amused.
"It's been a little while. Where have you been?"
"I've been with… family," Damien replied. His eyes hardened as they flicked over the room. "Tell me—have you been doing this even while I was gone?"
"Yes, I have." Darrius's lips curled into a cocky smile. "What, got a problem with it? You never liked how I do things anyway."
Damien clenched his jaw.
"How many are you at now?"
Darrius tapped his chin, feigning thought.
"Hmm… maybe around a hundred."
"…A hundred?" Damien froze for half a second before the words slipped out. "How are you not dead yet?"
Darrius shrugged, already turning away.
"I don't know. Guess my body can handle a lot more than others."
He started walking, and Damien followed closely behind.
"You can't keep doing this," Damien snapped. "Parents are going to question it—especially when you repeat this every two years, even if you think you're being careful."
"You always hated it when I used my evolved ability," Darrius said casually. "God gave me this for a reason. I'm just enjoying my gift."
They entered another room. A single uniform shirt lay neatly folded on a metal table. Darrius grabbed it and began slipping it on without hesitation.
Damien, meanwhile, turned his attention to the wall.
Pinned across it were names and faces—students.
All of them Wallborn.
All of them academy-bound.
Three names stood out immediately.
Riven Harlow.
Jordan Harlow.
Joey Cross.
I still don't know how I convinced Darrius to step away from them, Damien thought grimly.
The two continued onward, passing through reinforced doors until they entered a massive chamber. Scientists filled the space, moving between consoles and glass tanks, voices overlapping in constant discussion.
At the center of the room stood six containment units.
Inside them rested six gemstones.
Each pulsed faintly, as if alive.
"Sir Darrius," a man approached, clipboard clutched tightly.
Darrius didn't look away from the gemstones.
"So? How's it going with them?"
The scientist swallowed. "We… don't quite know how to explain it, sir. They're incredible. They emit an energy unlike any beast gemstone we've ever recorded. Our current theory is that we may have discovered an entirely new classification."
Darrius's eyes gleamed.
"Amazing. When can we turn them into beast weapons?"
The man hesitated. "That's… one of the problems, sir. We can't melt them down. They're indestructible—and unpredictable."
"Unpredictable?" Damien asked sharply.
The scientist nodded and pointed.
"That one there—the black gemstone. It appeared completely inert at first, almost dead. Then, without warning, it turned blood red. Just like the others, it began pulsing with what we can only describe as life."
"So something changed," Darrius said. "Have you figured out what triggered it?"
"No, sir. And we don't believe we ever will. But there is something else."
The scientist hesitated again. "We believe these gemstones aren't at their full potential. It's as if something is restraining them… holding them back."
Darrius tilted his head.
"Have you named them?"
The scientist blinked. "Sir?"
"To keep track of them," Darrius clarified. "Other than just their colors."
After a brief pause, the scientist sighed and nodded.
"There are six in total. We've been using informal identifiers."
He gestured toward each containment unit.
"The gold one—Goldy.
The white one—Bleach.
The red one—Bloody.
The blue one—Bluey.
The black one—Inky.
The yellow one—Sunny."
Darrius slowly turned to face him, utterly unimpressed.
"…Some of those nicknames suck," he said flatly. "I'll think of better ones later."
"Y-Yes, sir."
The scientists scattered quickly, eager to escape the conversation.
Damien crossed his arms.
"How did you even find these?"
Darrius's tone shifted, more serious now.
"I decided we should push farther than our original solar system—see if anything truly unique existed out there. On six different planets… we found these."
He glanced back at the gemstones.
"You can tell they're different. Normal beast gemstones are numbered."
Damien nodded grimly.
Every known beast gemstone bore a Roman numeral engraved into its surface.
These had none.
"Listen," Darrius said, already turning away. "I'm holding a meeting with a few people I trust. One hour. I want you there, Damien."
With that, he left.
Damien remained where he stood, staring at the gemstones.
Fools, he thought.
They don't understand what they're holding.
A gemstone with no number… pulsing with enough energy to power a planet.
A myth.
And yet… it's real.
The only thing missing is its host.
But they should've already merged.
So where exactly are they…
Both Riven and Harkel sat in a tense waiting position beneath the blue dome, its faint glow casting soft light over the area. Beyond the barrier, jagged rock and barren desert stretched endlessly, a harsh reminder of the planet they were still trapped on.
They had managed to sell three beast weapons.
Luckily, a few factions and roaming adventurers were still stranded on the planet—desperate enough to buy from them. Even so, Riven could tell from Harkel's rigid posture that something was wrong.
"So… how much do we have?" Riven asked.
"We've got twenty-three thousand units," Harkel replied through gritted teeth.
Riven blinked. "Isn't that good?"
"No," Harkel snapped. "One of those groups was cheap. They conned us out of a weapon—three thousand units—and we just sat there and took it. No backbone."
His hands trembled as he spoke. The weight of everything pressed down on him, the thought of a member of his own family trying to kill him still lingering in the back of his mind.
"And then there's Luka," Harkel muttered.
That was enough.
"Look—you asked for this," Riven snapped, grabbing Harkel by the collar. "If this whole unit business and leadership pressure is too much for you, then say it. Because this was never going to be easy. It never was."
Harkel stiffened.
Riven paused when he noticed other teams nearby watching them closely. He released Harkel with a sharp exhale and stepped back.
"Think about it," Riven said more quietly. "Is all this stress really worth it? We could join another team. Help another Voss member become leader. So tell me—why do you want to lead?"
Harkel swallowed hard.
"I… I don't want the responsibility falling on someone else," he finally said. "I want my brothers to choose their own goals in life. I don't want them trapped by this family—or by the man who calls himself my father."
His voice shook.
"I'll carry the weight. I'll become leader so they can live freely. I'll bear it all if I have to."
A hand landed on his shoulder.
"That's all you needed to say," Riven said calmly.
Harkel looked up.
"If I'm going to keep following you," Riven continued, "I needed to know what your goal was. Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy." He shook his head. "But right now, that's not what we need to worry about."
Riven looked ahead.
From beyond the blue dome, a wolf sprinted across the rocky desert, moving at full speed. A motorbike followed close behind, its engine roaring as it tore across the uneven ground.
As the wolf approached, its form twisted and shifted, becoming more human. Draped across its back was a blanket-wrapped figure, limp and unmoving.
Leo.
He didn't slow down.
Leo burst through the dome without stopping to greet anyone. There was still sunlight filtering through the barrier, and without hesitation, he ran straight toward an open portal and vanished inside.
Jordan moved quickly, making sure no one was watching before storing the motorbike into his inventory.
"What's going on?" Riven asked.
"We'll explain inside," Joey said, already stepping through the portal.
The others followed.
When they emerged on the other side, the city was still shrouded in darkness.
"Crap," Riven muttered.
A wave of nausea hit him. He rushed toward a trash can and leaned over, gagging. "Sorry, man," he groaned, glancing to the side. "Those portals do a number on me. Guess they mess you up too, huh—"
He froze.
Beside him, another boy was vomiting. His hair was black, but nearly a quarter of it had turned deep red.
The boy slowly lifted his head.
Riven's eyes widened.
"Luka…?" he whispered. "Is that you?"
Luka's features were different—sharper, altered, as if something fundamental had changed beneath the surface.
A system message appeared.
[System: Congratulations.]
[You have acquired a Lesser Blood.]