Kael sensed it before he fully woke.
The forest felt different.
Not quieter. Not louder.
Organized.
He lay still beneath the twisted roots where he had collapsed, eyes half-open, breathing shallow. The warmth inside him had settled into a steady rhythm, no longer surging unpredictably, yet far from dormant.
Something else was here.
Not Ironclaw Sect.
Not beasts.
The blood signatures around him were faint, restrained to the point of near invisibility. Whoever they were, they knew how to hide.
Kael did not move.
Footsteps approached without sound.
A figure stepped into the clearing, dressed in plain dark robes with no visible insignia. The person crouched near where one of the bodies had been the night before, fingers brushing lightly over the disturbed soil.
Another figure appeared moments later.
Then a third.
Three again.
But different.
Their blood was strange. Not refined like cultivators. Not wild like beasts. It felt thinned, diluted, yet layered with something cold and sharp.
Weapons.
These people were living blades.
"They were killed here," one murmured.
Kael's fingers tightened slightly against the ground.
"Obviously," another replied. "The question is how."
The third stood still, gaze slowly sweeping the clearing. His eyes paused for a fraction of a second in Kael's direction.
Kael's heart skipped.
The man frowned faintly.
Then looked away.
"They were drained," the first said quietly. "No residual blood."
"Devil technique?"
"Possibly."
Silence followed.
Kael forced himself to remain calm.
The warmth stirred, reacting to the word.
Devil.
The third figure straightened.
"Report to the upper ring," he said. "This is not Ironclaw's problem anymore."
The others nodded.
They worked quickly.
Symbols were carved into the ground with short, efficient movements. Powder was scattered. Energy flared briefly, then vanished.
The clearing changed.
The blood traces disappeared completely.
Even Kael's senses struggled to find what had once been there.
Cleaners.
That was the word that surfaced unbidden.
These people did not hunt.
They erased.
When they finally left, the forest did not immediately return to normal.
Kael waited long after their blood signatures faded.
Only then did he rise.
His body felt heavier than before. Not sluggish, but grounded, as if the power inside him had settled deeper into his bones.
Blood Awakening.
He could feel it clearly now.
His heart beat slower than it once had, each pulse sending strength through him with deliberate force. His senses reached farther, sharper, yet more controlled.
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
The warmth responded instantly, no longer whispering blindly, but waiting for instruction.
That scared him.
He moved cautiously through the forest, avoiding the clearing entirely.
Something had changed overnight.
Not just within him.
In the world.
Ironclaw Sect was no longer the greatest threat. They were visible. Predictable.
The ones who came after were neither.
Kael followed a narrow ridge deeper into the ancient graveground until the blood signatures thinned enough for him to breathe freely.
Only then did he stop.
His stomach twisted painfully.
True hunger.
He had fed heavily the night before, yet the hunger returned faster than expected. Not a demand. A reminder.
Power required fuel.
Kael leaned against a stone outcropping and slid down to sit.
"This is not sustainable," he muttered.
The warmth pulsed faintly.
Agreement.
The dream came earlier than usual.
The black stone plain stretched endlessly now, the horizon sharp and defined. The shadows stood in ordered rows, their forms no longer fractured.
The presence awaited him.
"You noticed them," it said.
"They were not cultivators," Kael replied.
"No."
"What were they?"
The presence tilted its head. "Janitors."
Kael frowned. "That is not an answer."
"It is," the presence said calmly. "When gods make mistakes, someone must erase the evidence."
Kael's chest tightened. "They work for heaven."
"Yes."
"How long have they known about me?"
The presence considered. "They know now."
Kael exhaled slowly. "So I am no longer hidden."
"No," it replied. "You are categorized."
The word felt heavier than it should have.
Kael woke with tension coiled through his body.
The forest was still. Too still.
He sensed movement moments later.
Different again.
One blood signature.
Singular.
Approaching openly.
Kael rose slowly and stepped into view.
A woman emerged from between the trees.
She wore light armor, worn and scarred. A long spear rested easily in her hand. Her hair was tied back tightly, her gaze sharp and unafraid.
Her blood burned differently.
Not hidden.
Not diluted.
Condensed.
Dangerous.
She stopped several paces away.
"I was wondering when you would stop hiding," she said.
Kael did not answer.
She smiled faintly. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, you would not feel me coming."
Kael believed her.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Someone who does not like janitors," she replied. "And someone who is very interested in a child who drains cultivators dry."
Kael's warmth surged.
Consume.
He held it back.
"I am not your enemy," the woman said, reading his stance easily. "At least not today."
She planted her spear into the ground.
"They are going to close the forest," she continued. "Seal it. Burn it. Whatever is easiest."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "When?"
"Soon."
Silence stretched.
"Why tell me?" Kael asked.
The woman shrugged. "Because chaos benefits me. And because you are not ready to face them yet."
Kael studied her carefully.
Her blood did not lie.
She was not lying.
But she was not telling everything.
"What do you want?" he asked.
The woman's smile widened slightly.
"To watch," she said. "And maybe to bet."
"On what?"
"On whether you become a disaster," she replied calmly, "or something far worse."
Kael felt the weight of her gaze settle on him.
He did not look away.
They parted without another word.
Kael moved immediately.
The forest was no longer a refuge.
It was a trap waiting to be closed.
He traveled fast, guided by instinct and the warmth, pushing his body harder than before. The ground fell away into rocky terrain, the ancient blood thinning.
By nightfall, he reached the edge of the graveground.
Beyond it lay unfamiliar land.
Ruins.
Stone structures half-buried beneath earth and moss, old beyond memory.
Kael stepped into them cautiously.
The air here felt different.
Neutral.
Safe.
For now.
Far above, golden light pulsed in tight, controlled waves.
"The cleaners confirmed it," a voice said.
"Yes," the Heavenly Sovereign replied. "Blood Awakening confirmed."
"And the woman?"
The Sovereign's gaze hardened.
"She is interfering again."
"Shall we remove her?"
"Not yet," he said. "Let them collide."
His fingers tightened slowly.
"Pressure reveals nature."
Kael stood among the ruins, unaware of the conversation far above, yet feeling the weight of unseen eyes all the same.
He clenched his fists.
"If this world insists on hunting me," he whispered, "then I will force it to adapt."
The warmth answered.
Steady.
Patient.
Hungry.