Chapter 78: Blood Tyrant
"Watch."
Raising his entire body into the air, Ethan came crashing down like a falling mountain, the edge of his blade striking directly against Servos’s guard, the impact ringing out through the chamber and rattling loose dust from the walls above.
Across these twelve days, Ethan had been pushed to his absolute limit, every ache and every torn muscle proof of an old saying he’d only ever half believed until now.
Pain really was the best teacher.
He’d never fully believed that old saying until now, dismissing it as the kind of thing older warriors said to justify whatever they’d suffered through in their own training.
And Ethan carried the bruises and cuts across his body to prove it, layer upon layer of them, some fresh, some already fading into the pale scars that had begun collecting across his arms.
"20"
The strike shook Servos down to his core as Ethan shifted mid-motion, breaking apart into a swirling cloud of bats before reforming instantly to strike again, this time directly against Servos’s exposed back.
"21"
Ethan didn’t pause, not even for a second, his mind moving continuously as though he’d slipped into something closer to a trance, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next without conscious hesitation, thought and motion collapsing into a single unbroken rhythm.
If anyone had asked, even members of the very family the class originated from, they would have struggled to explain the sheer impossibility of what Ethan was accomplishing. His growth defied every reasonable expectation attached to this training.
Some talented individuals within that lineage never reached this level of mastery across years of dedicated practice, and Ethan had somehow closed that gap in a mere twelve days, an accomplishment that would have sounded fabricated if anyone had described it secondhand.
"42"
The number kept climbing steadily, each strike landing cleanly, impossible for the aging Demi-human to dodge entirely no matter how desperately he tried. Finally, after a long, grueling exchange that had stretched well past what either of them expected, Ethan heard it.
[Congratulations, you have unlocked a special class]
[Blood Tyrant Blade: Because of a special mixture of blood from the Blood Serpent Clan, your physical strength and constitution are exceptionally strong. Combined with the power of tribulation might, you have created a unique class built from the fear of death and the fear of absolute power.]
The words hung in his vision for a long moment, strange and unfamiliar in a way that pulled his focus entirely away from the fight for the first time in twelve days.
The moment the notification settled into place, Ethan reacted instantly, driving a kick into Servos’s face and creating instant distance between them.
"Blood Tyrant?"
Ethan frowned deeply, working through the notification without fully understanding what had just unfolded.
"Hmm. Sir Davos was right. You do carry the scent of the Blood Serpent God Clan. But you’re definitely not a Demi-human."
He could remember the scene of the old man analyzing Ethen, there was a hint of fear in his gaze, the blood serpent clan could do that to you.
Forgetting the difference in strength, there was no crueler clan in this world than those sets of serpents, being afraid of them to many had been engraved as a form survival instinct.
He could remember the scene clearly, replaying it in his mind even now.
The old man analyzing Ethan, that unmistakable hint of fear flickering briefly across his gaze before he’d managed to smooth it back beneath the surface. It hadn’t lasted long, barely a breath, but it had been there.
The Blood Serpent Clan could do that to anyone, regardless of how composed they normally carried themselves.
Setting aside the difference in raw strength entirely, there was no crueler clan anywhere in this world than that particular line of serpents. Their reputation had been built over generations, soaked into stories passed down through every corner of the continent, each one darker than the last.
Being afraid of them wasn’t a choice most people consciously made.
For many, that fear had been engraved deep into instinct itself, something closer to survival than caution, passed down through bloodlines the same way certain clans passed down their talents or their curses.
Servos wiped away the imprint Ethan’s foot had left across his face, his gaze drifting curiously toward the wall.
"Strange."
"You lot might be training something that will eventually kill you."
He added it with a faint smile, clearly attempting to plant seeds of doubt wherever he could.
But the voice that answered from behind him silenced that attempt almost instantly.
"Blood Serpent Clansmen can indeed latch onto humans and take them over. But you’re missing a crucial detail."
The voice belonged to a man who had somehow entered the room entirely undetected, slipping past every layer of security in the chamber, including both Banshee and Ghost’s awareness, his presence registering only once he chose to speak.
Inside the dungeon, Servos frowned, mentally running through every voice he’d encountered across the past several days. This one belonged to none of them. Something entirely unfamiliar, carrying a weight that made him instinctively want to straighten his posture despite the chains.
"When a Blood Serpent Clansman latches onto a human host, they take root inside the mind almost immediately, splitting the person into two distinct personalities. The process usually takes anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to fully complete."
"This isn’t that. And in the absence of that specific process, there’s really only one reasonable conclusion left."
The old man smiled, letting the silence stretch a moment longer before continuing.
"He killed a Blood Serpent God Clansman carrying an exceptionally pure bloodline, and took its life blood as a trophy afterward."
He let those words settle in the air for a long moment before finally straightening from where he’d been leaning, his gaze drifting toward Ethan with open, unhidden curiosity.
"You’re just speculating."
Servos sneered the words out, though he clearly understood, deep down, that the speculation was probably accurate. He’d seen enough marked hosts over the years to know what the early signs looked like, and Ethan carried none of them.
Yes, the old man had likely landed on the correct explanation. If Ethan had genuinely been possessed by a member of that clan, the telltale signs would already be showing by now.
"Speculation is my whole thing!! I am the fortune maker, after all."
The old man’s smile widened as he leaned casually toward Arian, his presence radiating an easy, unhurried confidence that seemed entirely out of place given how quietly he’d arrived, a deck of worn cards visible now, tucked loosely between two fingers.
This man was the Grand Regent of White Tower.
Mister Mysteries, the Fortune Maker of White Tower.
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