Morca couldn't be blamed for questioning the very fabric of his identity. It was common, foundational knowledge across the world that children inherently inherit their parents' genetic DNA from birth—the immutable stamp that registers them as familial relations.
That rigid law applied to every single living soul on Evoslon, all descendants of the first man and woman from the dawn of creation.
Morca knew this rule inside and out. It was a universal doctrine drilled into the populace by almost every religious institution, educational system, and academic circle. Just as it was statistically impossible for two parents possessing an AA blood genotype to naturally conceive an SS genotype child, the same absolute genetic boundaries applied to familial lineages.
From what little Morca truly understood of his father, Claudius Sherman, possessed all three distinct Lineage Orders of the Sherman bloodline—a terrifying anomaly that made him unique within the entire household. As for his mother, Allina, Morca strongly suspected she originated from an ancient family of equal standing and aristocratic prestige.
Following the violent catastrophes of a year ago, Morca had slowly pieced together a fractured understanding of the science behind lineage awakenings.
As a direct descendant of any major noble lineage in Evoslon, undergoing the Sin Purging Ceremony upon turning fifteen was treated as a sacred, mandatory rite of passage.
That single awakening determined a youth's entire future—dictating whether they would rise as exalted prodigies of the clan, or be discarded as useless trash waiting to be disposed of... or worse, preserved as raw biological treasures to be harvested for the main family's growth.
Failing to awaken during that exact physiological window made it exceedingly difficult, almost impossible, to trigger a bloodline flaw later in life.
In the rarest historical anomalies, those who managed a delayed awakening inevitably fell hopelessly behind the prodigies who had stabilized their cores early. Each individual was granted only one single chance to survive the Sin Purging Ceremony. Beyond that window, anyone who failed to awaken would experience a biological breakdown, suffering from an incurable wasting illness until death claimed them. Some unfortunates even lost their sanity entirely, violently ending their own lives to escape the neural torture.
Furthermore, the privilege of awakening a lineage flaw to become an active, extraordinary Pathbearer was not a birthright granted to the masses.
In reality, out of one hundred percent of Evoslon's total population, only a selective fifteen percent of youth ever met the strict genetic prerequisites required to even step into the Sin Purging Ceremony. Worse still, it was fundamentally impossible to awaken a lineage flaw that existed outside one's own biological family tree.
That was why Pathbearers were so exceptionally rare in number; securing even a single active awakener within a sub-clan drastically elevated the entire family's political and physical strength.
This was precisely what left Morca feeling thoroughly terrified. If this glitched screen officially identified him as an Nihility descendant, then his structural existence was anything but simple.
Could this be the true reason Father interrupted my ceremony? Morca mused, his mind racing as he tried to calculate why Claudius had shattered his awakening a year ago. Because he knew what was hiding in my DNA all along? However, his logic quickly rejected the hypothesis.
No... that can't be it. There has to be a different, valid reason. No parent would be cold-blooded enough to systematically execute the future of their own kin simply because the child possessed a genetic variance other than their own... right? Unless... I'm not actually their blood at all.
Morca forcefully cut that train of thought off, a wave of guilt washing over him. There was absolutely no way that could be the case, judging by the profound, unconditional care he had received from his mother throughout this entire isolation. Her gentle, protective expressions, the deep, agonizing love mothers display only for their true kin, the silent panic buried in her eyes whenever his trauma triggered—those were not synthetic emotions a random stranger could fake for just anyone.
During the dark hours of the night, Morca had frequently heard her muffled, broken cries echoing through the walls of their quiet home.
I have to ask Mother for the absolute details regarding why Father sabotaged my ceremony the second I step through the front door tonight, Morca resolved, his jaw tightening. She is the only person left who might hold the missing keys. Besides, I have the absolute right to know the truth now, since I am going to die sooner or later anyway. I will also openly tell her about this Infinity Nihility.
Reaching down, Morca pressed his palm flat against his torn, wounded chest. Though the crimson claw marks were currently just superficial scratches, they were still deep enough to bleed continuously.
He stared down at his exposed flesh under the hued moonlight, letting out a sharp, forced chuckle. "It's genuinely absurd that I'm still breathing, considering my blood has completely turned to ink-black. A horrific sight like this would have driven the old me insane with fear."
A mocking, bitter smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He stretched his hands out in front of his face, inspecting the deep, dried cracks fracturing his skin—a constant, visceral reminder of how rapidly he was kicking the bucket.
"Even with the baseline physical conditioning I've managed to build over a year of brutal exercise, and the divine elixirs Mother forces me to bathe in every single night, my flesh still refuses to heal. Maybe those expensive medicines are just a temporary bandage, keeping me breathing for an extended period just to delay the inevitable."
His lone crimson eye snapped back to the glowing panel floating in the air. "...And now, a taboo interface manifests from nothingness to name me a descendant of absolute nothingness."
Suddenly, massive waves of analytical realization slammed into his brain as his focus locked entirely onto the final, flashing line of the black display.
"Prior prerequisites...?" he muttered, his voice dipping into an intense, curious whisper. "Huh... have I been completely overlooking a massive variable this entire time? What if I actually manage to fulfill these prerequisites? What happens to me? Is this thing my chance to survive? And what could the conditions possibly be?"
He rapidly traced back through every anomalous event that had transpired today. A sudden hunch gripped his instincts: none of this was a coincidence.
First, it was that familiar, terrifying scene of those babies creatures and of the mental state that he could no longer dismiss as a basic nightmare. It wasn't a normal dream. It wasn't a standard hallucination. Nor could he logically believe it to be a collection of possible ordinary past memories. And now, this glitching, static-draped interface hanging in the void.
"So, if the first state wasn't a dream... then what the hell was it?" he murmured, questioning the physics of reality more than his own sanity. Deep confusion clouded his thoughts.
"Staring at the sky in confusion won't solve the equation. Let me piece the puzzle together, like I always do," he muttered, forcing his academic discipline to override his panic.
"A dream that was fundamentally not a dream... I shall classify it as 'The Tri-fragmented Dream,' because it behaves exactly like a psychological hallucination whose true meaning refuses to surface. Since there are exactly three separate shards, I will catalog them accordingly. The first shall be 'The Vast Genetic Sphere Fragment'; the second, 'The Bloody Doom Fragment'; and the final one, 'The Nine Moons Fragment.'"
The exact moment those names left his lips, a sudden, profound sense of structural clarity washed through his mind, relieving the pressure in his skull. It felt incredibly right.
It's as if my consciousness named them dangerously close to what they actually are in reality.
"Now, let me officially name this hovering entity," Morca continued, his razor-sharp eye locking onto the static-laden display. "Since it manifested out of the void to recognize my identity as a nothingness descendant, and operates exactly like those high-utility systems written in the web stories of the Astro, I shall call it the 'Infinity Nihility System.'"
Chime!
The exact millisecond he finished speaking, the black screen—the Infinity Nihility System—pulsed with a violent, blinding silver light. The rigid glyphs warped across the interface, rapidly updating the text into clear, readable parameters:
[NIHILITY DESCENDANT… 15% SYNCHRONISATION COMPLETION]
[AWAITING FUTURE SYNCHRONISATION]
[PRIOR PREREQUISITES MET: 1 / 3]
[NOTICE: Descendant has successfully acknowledged his primordial root and named the system 'Infinity Nihility', triggering the synchronization code. 15% completion achieved. Fulfill the remaining prerequisites to achieve full synchronization and completely awaken your lineage flaws.]
[CLUE 2 / 3: Bound by fate. Bound with fate. To scatter fate.]
[STATUS: Unmet]
"Huh?"
Morca stared blankly at the flashing system notification, his sharp brows lifting as he failed to mask his profound shock.
A sudden breath escaped his throat as realization snapped into place. "So... simply naming the system triggered the synchronization sequence to fifteen percent. And to push it further, it seems I am required to complete two more hidden prerequisites..."
He paused, his heart rate spiking violently as he locked onto the most critical piece of the puzzle.
"Then... if I can somehow achieve one hundred percent synchronization, does that mean I can finally awaken a lineage flaw and officially step onto the path as a Pathbearer?"