Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 97: Crimson Awakening. Blood Primogenitor.

Trevor and the others arrived just in time to see Ethan encased in a crimson cocoon, pulsating faintly like a beating heart. The sight was unsettling, with faint tendrils of bloody mist escaping the cocoon’s surface, dissipating into the air. Ethan lay unconscious inside, his face peaceful yet unnervingly pale. Carmen, the most powerful among the group, instinctively stepped forward, her concern outweighing her hesitation.

"We need to get him to the cultivation area," she said firmly, determination laced in her voice as she reached for the cocoon.

Before her hand could make contact, Trevor stepped between her and Ethan, his expression grim and voice sharp. "Don’t," he commanded, holding her wrist just inches from her intended target. "He’s going through his first awakening as a Blood Primogenitor. He’s dangerous right now—lethally dangerous."

Carmen frowned, confused. "Dangerous? He’s unconscious—"

"He’s dangerous because he’s unconscious," Trevor interrupted, his voice calm but laced with authority. "You are not his subordinate yet. If you touch him, he will drain every drop of blood from your body, whether he means to or not." His serious tone made her pause, but his next words shocked her even more.

"He’s even dangerous to his subordinates," Trevor added, his crimson eyes locking on hers, "except me. I’m the same as him."

As those words left his mouth, an unsettling shift in the atmosphere occurred. Trevor’s aura surged, becoming heavy and oppressive, saturated with a nefarious, metallic tang that clung to the air. His eyes glowed a blood-red hue, and the scent of blood became almost tangible, as if the room itself was bleeding. The others instinctively took a step back, their expressions a mix of awe and fear.

Carmen gasped as she watched Trevor undergo a transformation before her eyes. His white hair grew longer, cascading down his back until it reached his waist. His eyes became sharper, almost beast-like, with a predatory glint that sent chills down their spines. His ears, already slightly pointed, grew more angular and sharp, giving him an inhuman, almost eldritch appearance. His height increased, towering over them at 6.5 feet, his posture exuding a terrifying elegance. His face, already striking, became devilishly handsome, with an edge of predatory beauty that demanded submission. When he opened his mouth, fangs gleamed under the dim light, their sharpness undeniable.

The room was silent except for the oppressive hum of Trevor’s energy. Even Carmen, powerful as she was, felt dwarfed by the primal, bloody aura radiating from him. The others exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to speak.

Trevor turned toward the cocoon, his long hair swaying slightly with the movement. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his aura steady and unwavering. His movements were graceful yet filled with purpose, each step a declaration of his dominance. Bending slightly, he slipped his arms under the cocoon, lifting it effortlessly despite the pulsating resistance emanating from it.

"Stay back," he ordered, his voice resonating with a commanding timbre. He turned and began walking toward the cultivation area, the cocoon cradled in his arms. The others could only watch in stunned silence as he disappeared down the corridor, the faint scent of blood lingering in his wake.

---

When Ethan opened his eyes, he was greeted by an alien landscape that twisted his sense of reality. The sky above churned like a living organism, deep crimson clouds swirling as if blood itself filled the heavens. The ground beneath his feet was sticky and viscous, each step creating a squelching noise that made his skin crawl. The trees around him weren’t trees at all but grotesque, vein-like structures that pulsed faintly, as though pumping some vital essence. Everywhere he looked, the world was made of blood—liquid, coagulated, or something in between. Even the faint rustling in the air seemed alive, carrying with it a metallic tang that burned his nostrils.

Ethan took a hesitant step forward, feeling both dread and curiosity. His body felt heavy, as though he were moving through water. He instinctively tried to summon his usual powers, reaching for the energies he had always relied on, but there was nothing—no familiar connection to his abilities. Panic set in momentarily, but then he felt it: a faint, unfamiliar warmth within his chest.

"Blood magic," he whispered to himself, the realization settling in. It was the only power he could feel, raw and untamed. It pulsed faintly, like an ember waiting to ignite.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled. A low growl echoed from somewhere ahead, and before he could react, a massive beast lunged out from the shadows. The creature was grotesque, its form an amalgamation of sinew, bone, and pulsing blood. Its body shifted unnaturally, as if it were both solid and liquid. Sharp, bone-like protrusions jutted out of its limbs, glistening with a crimson sheen.

Ethan’s instincts screamed at him to move, and he barely managed to dive to the side as the beast’s claws slashed through the ground, sending a spray of coagulated blood into the air. Scrambling to his feet, he clenched his fists, trying to summon his blood magic. At first, nothing happened—his inexperience showing. The beast roared again, charging at him, and this time, desperation fueled him. He focused on the warmth in his chest, willing it to manifest.

A sharp pain shot through his palm as a small dagger of hardened blood formed in his hand. It was crude and unstable, but it was enough. As the beast lunged again, he slashed at its side, the blade cutting through its shifting form. The creature let out a guttural roar, its body twisting unnaturally as it retaliated with a swipe of its claw. The blow sent Ethan flying, his back hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

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Blood trickled from his mouth, and for a moment, he felt utterly defeated. But then he saw it—the small gash on the beast’s side. The fact that he could wound it at all ignited a spark of determination. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, focusing again on the warmth in his chest. This time, the pain was sharper, but the blood dagger in his hand grew more defined, its edge glistening.

The battle was grueling. Ethan dodged and countered, learning on the fly. He realized that his blood magic wasn’t just about offense—it was versatile. When the beast lunged at him again, he instinctively thrust his hands forward, creating a thin shield of hardened blood. The claws scraped against it, shattering the barrier, but it bought him enough time to roll away and strike back.

Each clash taught him something new. He discovered how to manipulate the blood to extend the reach of his attacks, forming whips that lashed out at the beast’s shifting form. He learned to pull blood from his surroundings, though it was slow and taxing. Every successful strike, every near-miss, pushed him closer to his limits, but it also pushed him closer to understanding.

Finally, with a desperate roar of his own, Ethan formed a spear of blood, pouring every ounce of his strength into it. The weapon felt heavier than anything he had wielded before, but it was solid, stable. As the beast charged one last time, he leapt forward, driving the spear straight into its chest. The creature let out a deafening roar, its body convulsing before collapsing into a pool of blood that was quickly absorbed into the ground.

Ethan fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body ached, his reserves drained, but he felt a strange sense of triumph. The blood magic within him burned hotter now, more responsive. He had taken a step forward, though he knew the journey was far from over.

---

Ethan pressed on, his steps slower now, his body weary but his resolve firm. The pull guiding him grew stronger, more insistent, like a silent voice calling his name. The landscape around him grew darker, the crimson hues deepening to an almost blackened red. Shadows twisted and danced around him, and with every step, he felt more eyes watching him from the blood-soaked terrain.

The next beast appeared without warning. It was smaller than the first but faster, its lithe body darting through the air like a crimson blur. Ethan barely had time to react as claws raked across his arm, drawing blood. He hissed in pain, summoning another blood dagger, but the creature was relentless. Its speed forced him to adapt, and he quickly learned to use his surroundings. He hardened patches of blood on the ground into spikes, luring the creature into a trap. When it finally impaled itself on one of the spikes, Ethan seized the opportunity, finishing it with a precise strike.

As the beast dissolved into the ground, Ethan felt a strange sensation—a rush of energy. It was as though the blood from the creature was being absorbed into him, fueling his magic. He realized then that every battle not only pushed him to his limits but also strengthened him, his control over blood magic growing sharper with each encounter.

The challenges grew harder. Some beasts were towering, lumbering giants that required precision and strategy to take down. Others attacked in packs, their coordinated strikes forcing him to think on his feet. At one point, Ethan found himself surrounded, his blood reserves nearly depleted. In a moment of desperation, he discovered a new ability: the power to siphon blood from the environment, drawing strength from the pulsing trees and even the ground itself. The process was painful, like tearing something from deep within him, but it gave him the edge he needed to survive.

Hours—or perhaps days—passed in this relentless gauntlet. Time had no meaning in this strange world. Ethan’s body bore countless wounds, but his eyes burned with determination. His crude, clumsy use of blood magic had transformed into something refined. He could form weapons with ease, manipulate blood into intricate shapes, and even heal minor wounds by directing blood flow. Each victory brought him closer to understanding his newfound power, but also closer to the source of the call.

---

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Finally, Ethan stumbled into a clearing unlike any he had seen before. The trees here were massive, their branches stretching impossibly high into the crimson sky. In the center of the clearing stood a towering figure, its form cloaked in a shifting, liquid-like shroud of blood. The air around it was suffocating, its aura so intense that Ethan dropped to one knee, his body trembling under the weight of its presence.

The being turned to face him, its glowing eyes piercing through the blood-soaked haze. It spoke, its voice echoing like a chorus of ancient whispers.

"You have answered my call, Blood Primogenitor," it intoned, its tone both commanding and otherworldly. "Now prove yourself worthy of the power you seek."

Ethan’s jaw tightened as the being raised a massive hand, summoning an overwhelming surge of energy. He gripped the hilt of his blood-forged blade, his heart pounding in his chest. The real battle was about to begin.