The forest north of Blackiron Keep was old.
Ancient.
Trees rose like silent sentinels, trunks thick enough to swallow a house whole. Their branches sagged beneath the weight of fresh snow, muting sound until even footsteps felt blasphemous. Sunlight filtered through in pale, fractured shafts, turning the air into drifting crystal dust.
No roads.
No smoke.
Only the tracks of deer… and the wide, deliberate prints of direwolves.
Orion moved through it all in silence.
He limped—but he did not slow.
Each step sent a dull, grinding throb through his crippled leg. The awakening had stabilized the vessel, flooded it with stolen vitality—but it had not fixed what years of neglect had broken. Bones still sat wrong. Tendons pulled at bad angles.
He could force the leg to obey.
And he paid for it with constant pain.
Orion welcomed the sensation.
Pain kept the mind sharp.
Ren followed a few paces behind, breath misting in short, nervous bursts. His eyes flicked at every rustle, every shifting shadow between the trunks. He hadn't spoken since they vanished into darkness beneath the gatehouse.
Shock.
Fear.
Or both.
Orion didn't push him.
Silence was safer.
They had been walking for nearly three hours when—
—CHIME—
The system spoke again, soft and restrained.
[Status Update]
Name: Orion Voss
Rank: Awakened (Initial)
Bloodline: Fallen Fragment
(Partially Awakened — 12%)
Strength: 11
Vitality: 12.8 → 11.4 (Sustained exertion detected)
Affinity: 6
Shadow: 0 (Dormant)
Skills:
• Blood Draw (Lv.2)
• Blood Echo (Lv.1)
• Blood Sense (Lv.1)
Title: Executioner of Valthor
A new line appeared beneath.
[Optional Quest Available: Name Your Blade]
Objective: Christen your first weapon with worthy blood
Reward: Weapon Bond · Minor Skill Evolution
Orion dismissed the panel with a thought.
Weapon.
The ironwood spear still rested across his back, tied there with a strip torn from his cloak. Cheap. Crude. But serviceable—until something better was earned.
He stopped at a narrow stream slicing through the snow, black stone visible beneath clear, running water.
"Drink," Orion said without turning. "And fill whatever you can."
Ren dropped to his knees immediately, scooping water with shaking hands. He had no container—slave rags had no pockets—but he drank greedily anyway.
Orion knelt more carefully, favoring his good leg.
He washed blood from his hands.
From his face.
The cold burned deep, biting through skin to bone.
It felt clean.
In the stream's surface, a reflection stared back at him.
Too thin.
Too pale.
Sharp cheekbones. Hollowed eyes. Dark hair hanging in filthy strands.
The irises caught the light—brown threaded faintly with crimson.
A corpse that had learned how to walk.
Ren sat back on his heels, watching him. "You're… really him. The cripple from the cells."
Orion didn't look away from the water. "Was."
Ren hesitated. "What happens now?"
"We keep moving." Orion rose. "Blackiron will send riders by midday. Trackers. Maybe a mage."
"And then?"
"Then we decide how many make it back."
Ren went quiet.
Orion tested his leg. The pain had dulled into a steady ache—manageable.
He scanned the forest.
Blood Sense whispered to him.
Small animals scattered in the brush. A direwolf pack far to the east. Something colder—larger—deeper north.
Good land.
Dangerous land.
"You know this place," Orion said as he started walking again. "Tell me what lies ahead."
Ren swallowed, then spoke.
"North is the Frostpine March. Wild territory. No real ruler, but Valthor claims it. Villages pay tribute so they don't get burned. Beyond that… the Shattered Vale."
Orion's pace slowed slightly.
"They say a Fallen God died there," Ren continued. "Rifts open sometimes. Monsters come out. And… Trials. Old ones. From before the kingdoms."
Orion nodded.
Trials.
Places where remnants lingered.
Where power waited.
Perfect.
They angled northwest, avoiding obvious paths.
After another hour, Orion stopped beneath a massive pine and leaned against its trunk.
"Rest. Ten minutes."
Ren collapsed gratefully into the snow.
Orion stayed standing, eyes half-lidded.
Listening.
Ren's heartbeat—fast, anxious.
His own—steady.
Far behind… faint echoes. Horses. Maybe ten riders, just leaving the keep.
Too far.
Not yet a problem.
Closer—
Something else.
A single human presence.
Parallel movement.
Not pursuing.
Observing.
Orion's eyes opened.
"Company," he murmured.
Ren stiffened. "Soldiers?"
"No." Orion pushed off the tree. "One person. Skilled."
"Tracker?"
"Or hunter."
Orion turned.
"Stay here. Don't move unless I call."
He vanished into the trees.
Despite the limp, his movement was unnaturally quiet. Shadows clung to his ragged cloak, dulling his outline. Blood Draw coiled at the edge of his thoughts, ready.
He circled wide.
The presence sharpened.
Female.
Heart rate elevated—controlled.
Blood rich. Cold. Dense.
Awakened.
Mid-rank at least.
He found her perched in the fork of an ancient oak.
Leather armor dyed white. Short silver hair tied back. Bow across her lap, arrow already nocked. Eyes sharp, sweeping the trail Orion and Ren had taken.
She hadn't seen him.
Yet.
Orion stepped deliberately into her line of sight.
Twenty paces.
Instant reaction—bow raised, arrow aimed at his chest.
Then—
She froze.
Her gaze swept over him: the twisted leg, the bloodstained spear, the faint crimson glow in his eyes.
"You," she breathed.
Orion tilted his head. "Me."
So the story had spread.
"They're saying a blood demon killed Lord Cassian," she said slowly. "Drained him dry. Left a rose of frozen blood."
Orion waited.
She studied him. "You don't look like a demon."
"Disappointed?"
A flicker of a smile. Gone instantly.
"I'm disappointed you left survivors. Sloppy."
Orion's eyebrow rose.
Interesting.
"You wanted him dead?"
"I want many people dead." She lowered the bow, though the arrow stayed ready. "Cassian was on the list."
"Name," Orion said.
"Lira. Freelance. Sometimes monsters. Sometimes men."
Her blood sang to him—ice-laced, potent.
Profitable.
But she wasn't attacking.
"Why warn me?" Orion asked.
"Because the riders coming aren't just Valthor." Her voice hardened. "There's an Inquisitor with them. Silver mask."
Orion filed it away.
Inquisitors hunted forbidden blood.
They would know things.
And their blood would be strong.
"I'm offering a deal," Lira said, dropping lightly from the tree. "Take me with you. I know the March. I know where the nearest Trial is. When you kill the Inquisitor, I take his signet."
Silence.
Then Orion spoke.
"If you betray me, I'll drink you slow enough to regret it."
Lira smiled—sharp and amused.
"Fair."
She started walking toward Ren without waiting.
Orion followed.
Ren stared at her suspiciously.
The system chimed.
[Temporary Party Formed]
Member Added: Lira — Awakened (Ice Affinity)
Member Added: Ren — Mortal
Orion dismissed it.
The riders were closer now. He could feel their blood—hot, disciplined.
Time to move.
He glanced at the spear in his hand.
An unnamed weapon.
An unanswered quest.
The forest was full of worthy blood.
Orion smiled faintly.
"Let's go hunting."