Biocores: The Legendary Weapon Designer-Chapter 77: Noble Bloodlines

The evaluation was set to take place in a Cradle Zone controlled by the Citadel, known as the Dominion Arena—a vast open region nestled between the Daewyth Fiefdom and the Shoxa Region. Towering mountain ranges enclosed the area, their jagged peaks forming a natural barrier. At the heart of it all stood the arena, carved from ancient stone, a breathtaking coliseum that had witnessed countless battles.

For security reasons, live biocores were strictly forbidden within the Citadel itself. Any research involving living organisms was conducted exclusively in the Dominion Arena, which housed biocores from rank F to S, harvested from ecosystems across the world. A zoo of biocores—the largest collection of its kind. Access to this region was tightly controlled, and its security measures were among the most stringent in existence.

Magnus sat in one of the lounge rooms, surrounded by hundreds of other Fourth-Year Seeds awaiting the evaluation. He twirled a ring between his fingers, his sharp gaze locked onto the display screens before him, scanning through the live feeds.

"Who are you looking for so intently?"

The interruption came from a familiar voice. He barely lifted his head before returning to his search.

"Why are you bothering me, Lithaa?" he muttered.

The woman beside him grinned, resting a massive war hammer across her lap. "I wasn’t aware the great Gold Family had a new Seed in the Citadel. So, who are you looking for?"

Magnus scoffed. "How is that any of your business, gorilla woman?"

Lithaa’s smirk widened as she ran a hand along the handle of her hammer. "If you can’t have a civil conversation, I don’t mind smashing your head into smithereens."

Magnus leaned back lazily, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You can try. But I’ll blow you to pieces before you even finish that thought."

"Always so violent!"

A smooth voice cut through the tension. Magnus turned to see a young man with tidy blue hair and an aristocratic air approaching.

"What else can you expect from such brutes?" came another voice, this time from a girl with teal hair, her expression cold with aristocratic disdain.

Lithaa rolled her eyes. "Even the ostriches are here. Now the gang’s all complete."

Magnus sighed. "Neil. Aquila. What the hell are you two doing here?"

Neil, the blue-haired man, folded his arms and smirked. "What, do you think the Dominion Arena belongs to your precious Gold Family? Do I need your permission to be here?"

Magnus’ fingers twitched, itching to set off an explosion. "I really want to blow you up."

Aquila scoffed. "Savages. No refinement, no grace. Always so uncouth."

"Shut up, Aquila."

Lithaa cracked her knuckles. "I have my brother in the New Seed round-up. What’s your excuse for being here?"

Neil’s smirk remained, unreadable. Aquila simply folded her arms, her gaze unreadable as well.

A compulsory silence settled over the four newly promoted Fourth-Years as they exchanged tense, challenging glances.

All of them had history—long, bitter history.

Born into Monarch bloodlines, they had spent their entire lives competing, each carrying the weight of an ancient legacy.

The Brimes, lords of the Shoxa Fiefdom, were known for their raw, overwhelming strength.

The Golds, rulers of Aspar, were tycoons of wealth and influence.

The Rivers, sovereigns of Xerath, built their empire upon underwater cities and naval supremacy.

The Aeros, masters of the Tree Houses of Stines, reigned over the skies with their unmatched aeronautical prowess.

Four families. Four dynasties. Four Monarch lineages, forever locked in a game of power.

Neil was the first to break the silence, his voice laced with amusement.

"You’ve grown a pair since you got those new weapons."

Lithaa snorted. "Yeah? Want me to show you what a real man looks like, sissy?" She cracked her knuckles. "Let me guess—you’re all here for the same reason."

"You mean the anomaly?" Magnus scoffed. His lip curled in disdain. "Tch. These fucking nobles and their puritan mindset."

Lithaa waved a dismissive hand. "You should all back off. He belongs to Conqueror Grimmes. Even if your ancestors themselves came forward, you still wouldn’t be able to touch him."

Aquila’s cold, aristocratic voice cut in. "Tradition is firm. According to the oath taken, any anomaly must be eliminated."

Lithaa rolled her eyes. "’Tradition, tradition...’ You nobles throw that word around just to justify your stupidity. That’s exactly why the Glev Lineage is all but finished."

Magnus narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn’t count on that."

Neil’s attention snapped toward him, his expression sharp. "You know something?"

Magnus smirked but didn’t elaborate. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Lithaa folded her arms. "Forget about killing or recruiting him. I’ve met the brat. You aren’t up to it."

Aquila changed the subject. "Who are the Conquerors supervising the evaluation?"

Lithaa’s response was instant. "The Abbot. The Witch. The Trigger."

Silence.

Even Magnus tensed at those names.

Conquerors were identified by their titles, not their birth names—titles that carried weight. Personal affiliations were stripped away, replaced by reputation and fear. And these three?

They were a walking disaster waiting to happen.

A sudden shriek pierced the arena as a massive bird descended, its wings casting a monstrous shadow over the gathering.

In an instant, three figures blurred from different corners of the arena, converging before the mount.

At the center stood a fair-skinned woman clad in provocative attire, her blood-red hair cascading over her shoulders. Her presence exuded a chilling, almost unnatural aura.

Beside her was a bald-headed man, dressed in golden robes, his posture serene yet commanding. A halo of light radiated above his head, making him appear almost divine.

Opposite them stood a middle-aged man with his hair slicked back, a cigar dangling from his lips, and a holster strapped to his side.

A wave of terrifying energy surged from the trio, pressing against the massive bird like an unseen force.

Then, the Witch spoke.

"Grimmes, you are breaching the rules. Dismiss your mount, or we will be forced to attack."

Unfazed, Grimmes scoffed. "You can get down now."

Nioh obeyed immediately, wasting no time. He leapt from the creature’s back with effortless grace, his form cutting through the air like a celestial being. His silver hair whipped in the wind, his cape billowed dramatically, and the onlookers watched in stunned silence.

Magnus let out a low chuckle. "This kid really knows how to make an entrance."

Lithaa smirked. "So you do know him." She turned to him, eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Seeing you ten suns makes even more sense now."