Evolution of the Ruined Heir

Vitaemora, the City of Blood

It was the capital of the West. The base of one of the Overlords of the Dome.

As expected, despite their blood-red hair, they were still motioned to stop for inspection. Multiple warriors, all at varying evolution stages, mounted on their Equiladors and flew up to meet them.

But then, they paused.

Two things made every single one of the warriors freeze.

The first was the Bloom who gazed at them coldly.

'The Red Eclipse!' their thoughts screamed in unison.

And the second was the one seated right behind her.

Malakai Von Sanguine.

At this point, there was no one in the City of Blood who didn't recognize the faces of the direct descendants. Especially the infamous Ninth Vein.

But what followed next was not what anyone would have expected, considering his past.

"Ninth Vein!"

They all bowed on top of their Equiladors, greeting him with utmost respect.

'Looks like word reached them,' Malakai thought calmly.

Not even a full day had passed since he reached Ironhold, and yet even the guards at the gate had already heard about his evolution.

Malakai gave them a slight nod. Then he tapped Nyx. "Let's go."

Nyx responded with a nod and immediately pressed forward, taking them through the gates unhindered, headed straight for the clan grounds at the heart of the city.

It was still quite a distance, considering the city's vast size, but with their mounts, they covered it in no time.

Fortunately, only Blood Knights, Guardians, and direct descendants were permitted to use Equiladors within the city. Their ride was smooth, swift, and uninterrupted.

But during the journey, Malakai felt it.

Eyes.

Numerous probing eyes falling on him like needles. And for those auras to reach him so clearly, he had no doubt, they were powerful.

'Just confirms my suspicions.'

If it hadn't been obvious before, it was now.

Everyone had heard about his evolution.

While Malakai had expected this, he was still shocked by how quickly the news had spread.

Without him saying a word, Nyx took it upon herself to block the prying auras, using her own to shield the both of them in a smooth, invisible dome.

Malakai didn't say anything. And in silence, they finally arrived at the heart of the city.

The Sanguine clan base was known as the Crimson Hold.

Though the city itself was a fortress, stretching across hundreds to thousands of kilometers, the base of the Sanguine clan was a fortress within a fortress.

It looked detached from the rest of the city despite being in its middle. The space just before its walls was eerily empty, devoid of people.

Deep, empty moats surrounded the base, lined with steel spikes at the bottom, and a drawbridge served as the only entry point.

Blacked walls, even sturdier than the ones that encased the entire city, rose high and wide around the base.

Artillery lined the walls, and guards stood atop them, alert, ready, unmoving. But what stood out the most was the imposing main building at the center of the base, a structure so massive and towering that anyone in the city could spot it, no matter where they stood.

The group went through the same process they had gone through at the city gates and were quickly granted access.

Moments later, they landed just beyond the gate, right before a paved pathway that led straight toward the main building.

Regardless of one's status, flying within the Crimson Hold was forbidden. Only the Sovereign could override that law.

As the group landed, Malakai stepped down, and his eyes narrowed.

'They were waiting.'

His gaze sharpened, locking onto several figures clad in radiant crimson armor in the distance. They weren't just standing there by chance. They looked like they had been expecting them.

Nyx silently stood behind Malakai as the group approached with swift, silent steps. In the next moment, they stood in front of the trio, and it felt as though the gravity in the area intensified by manifolds.

"Blood flows where you walk. May your blood burn brighter than the sun."

They echoed in unison, then—

Bam!

The sound of fists slamming into armor rang out as each one of them struck their chest with force before bowing deeply.

'Blood flows… burn brighter… what the hell is that?' Valentine's confused voice echoed in Malakai's head, but he ignored it completely. His focus remained fixed on the people bowing before him.

The Sanguine Blades.

They were Blood Guardians, but these weren't the same as the ones who policed the West.

The Sanguine Blades were an elite force.

Deadly and elegant. Blood in their veins, blades in their hands.

They served as the personal guard to the Blood Sovereign. They answered to no one else. If they were here… then it meant the Sovereign had sent them himself.

Malakai's gaze stopped at the man bowing at the forefront, the one leading them.

Unlike most of the other Sanguine who possessed slender physiques, this man was broad. His muscles gleamed despite the armor that encased them.

But that wasn't what made him stand out. It was his aura. It dwarfed the presence of everyone around… everyone except Nyx. One could say the two of them stood on equal footing.

A Bloom.

'Caelum Sanguine,' Malakai identified. Or, as he was more commonly known,

The Iron Saint.

Leader of the Sanguine Blades.

Even Malakai, who'd remained unevolved until recently, had heard of the impossible exploits of the Iron Saint.

He cleared his head the next second, responding to their greeting.

"As it should."

"Ninth Vein!"

The warriors struck their chests once more with a thunderous thud, lowering into another bow.

What they had said:

Blood flows where you walk. May your blood burn brighter than the sun…

…was the traditional greeting from any non-direct descendant to those of direct blood or higher standing within the clan.

Malakai had long grown tired of it. He'd stopped Nyx from doing it. The same went for Varek and Hamada back in Blackreach.

But this was different. This was the first time he was meeting the Iron Saint himself.

With the greeting done, Caelum rose from his bow, revealing his face.

He looked to be in his forties, sporting a clean-shaven beard. His expression was stoic. Unmoved. The kind of man who looked like he would tolerate no wrong.

"Ninth Vein," he spoke again, his voice like gravel scraping metal. "The Sovereign awaits your presence in the main hall."

The words might've sounded neutral at best, but it was clear.

This wasn't a request.

There was no room for refusal.