Born in Blood



Eve watched from a spot beneath the stadium stalls, a small booth for the maids, butlers and other servants to rest momentarily.

At first, her heart was naturally strained with worry and fear for Liam. 

Cultivators were utter madmen compared to everyday people, and their fights were a testament to that.

They were dangerous, scary, untrustworthy people. She feared them.

But not her son! He was her protector, her guardian.

Though when Liam teleported on that stage with that demonic mask and black blades grasped tightly, she looked… shocked.

There was no protective air around him, replaced with a hellish atmosphere that caused a chill to ravage her bones.

Not long after, he won the match with one attack, maiming and shattering a noble's armor and pride.

Eve bit her tongue to suppress her fear, but when she saw how indifferent Liam was to his wounds and burns during the second bout, tears clouded her incredulous eyes.

Just what kind of life did her son live till now? Why was he so used to pain? Why was he so stubborn in attaining power?

'...He wants to escape,' she realized, holding her face to stop the flowing tears. 'Why didn't I see it? I'm the chain bounding him to this cursed family!'

Soon enough, a wry-faced maid came to whisper something in Eve's ear – something that made her gasp.

She lowered her head, a dark and pensive light in her eyes.

'I see. I can't let that happen.'

///

Meanwhile, Liam sat in his room cross-legged with a tense grimace.

'I don't think they'll punish me for that. Not now, at least.'

Before long, the giant stadium screen revealed his next and final opponent – the last before winning the tournament and receiving a Rank 4 tempering method.

It was Gerard Ursus, Erivol's young prodigy – he was of the earth element and had particularly devastating spells. 

Needless to say, Liam couldn't help but smile, but feel uneasy at the same time. 

He'd hidden all his martial art forms and most important spells… which almost guaranteed him a win.

'After I win the tournament, I'll focus on getting stronger under the Royce family… maybe even advancing all my centers of power. With that, I'll find a way to escape with Kirk's pill, perhaps after transporting Eve to another family. Robert might help in that regar—'

A single knock surfaced on his door, but it creaked open anyway.

It was his father, Adrian Royce – followed by four powerful guards that stood outside the room.

Liam suppressed a frown from appearing on his face. 

He narrowed his eyes and remained silent as Adrian waltzed into his space, browsing the cabinets as though they were his own.

"I'll keep this brief," Adrian deadpanned, staring at his son as though he was a speck of dust.

"Lose the tournament, or your mother dies."

Liam no longer held back the deathly scowl – the atmosphere in the room changed, bloodlust creeping in from the corners and tainting the air.

"There it is," Adrian pointed at Liam's face. He felt untouchable with his guards there. "You see? You could hide your hatred all you want, but I know who you are inside, boy."

Liam forced down the urge to murder his father then and there.

"Dad will get slightly mad I killed your mother, yes… but then what? A slap on the wrist is all I'll get," Adrian scoffed. "He is reckless… but not enough to kill his own son over a peasant's death."

Rage churned in the depths of Liam's soul, like a hot coal burning his insides. 

His hands practically itched to grab his blades and sever Adrian's neck from shoulder.

"This whole thing could've been avoided if you knew your place," Adrian scoffed again, turning around to leave. 

The pressure was getting too much for him to handle, but he didn't show it.

"Lose the next fight. It's an order."

When Adrian and his guards left, Liam cursed with every vile word he knew. 

He strained his mind to think of something. The waves of his sea of consciousness were raging, smashing against the golden walls for an idea.

'I can't quit this close to winning! Damn it! Think, Liam, think! Can they really kill her without suffering any backlash?'

Liam's mind tuned out the drumming and crowd chants from his ears.

'They can kill her here, while everyone's attention is on the fight… but I still have a solid five hours before they can make any move.'

'Do I escape with her? But what if she's already taken hostage? If I get caught, I can't defend myself properly with her there. Not to mention, guards cover every corner of this place.'

He looked at the clock on the wall, realizing an entire hour had passed.

Two knocks abruptly tapped on Liam's door, bringing him out of his stupor. 

Liam couldn't sense who it was.

He opened the door to find Samuel staring at him with an apologetic look, avoiding his piercing glare.

"...Come with me, lad."

A bad feeling rose in Liam's chest.

Samuel led Liam down multiple hallways. The two walked in tense silence.

Somewhere up ahead, there was a commotion, servants and guards looked unnerved and fearful.

As they watched Liam approach, they didn't meet his assessing gaze.

Samuel heaved a soft sigh and opened the door. The surrounding men and women promptly excused themselves. 

Within the room, Eve lay limp on the carpet, cold and without any aura – a tight rope hung from the ceiling light – which explained the purple bruise around her neck.

Liam's chest sank, his eyes widening with unbelieving shock.

"One of the maids… found her hanging from the light. By the time she was lowered... she had already passed," Samuel explained with a lowered head. A frigid pressure grew from Liam's body that only he could handle. "There was a letter in the room, but I made sure no one opened it."

Samuel uttered under his breath, putting a letter in Liam's loose hand.

"Leave me be," Liam said icily, his expression unequivocally dark.

Samuel gave a respectful nod before leaving, shaking his head in pity.

Liam entered the room and shut the door behind him.