The bloodBorn System

Seconds after the doors shut, Seth remained firmly rooted on a spot, thinking about just how hopelessly screwed he was. Mesok's warm smile and charisma numbed his mind and clouded his judgment.

The knight made the situation feel less dire than it actually was. Looking over the problem again, he had to admit that there was almost no way he'd succeed. He was a young, green borderlander, with almost no experience fighting rogue mages above the neophyte and apprentice levels. He was sure he stood no chance against a Greater Mage like Ranok, someone at Mesok level.

His opponent had near-perfect control over blood, darkness wind, and sound, and he was capable of breathless chanting. He could've decimated him with a single spell if he wanted to. He clearly went easy on him the first time they battled.

Even with his an elite squad of intermediate knights, it'd be a miracle if could manage to somehow defeat the mage and rescue his sister. It was simply an impossible task.

The information passed along by Mesok made matters worse. With him injured and his Mana core severely depleted, he stood at an even bigger disadvantage.

"Uvu's beard," he screamed out loud in frustration and kicked the table at the corner of his room. It exploded upon impact, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. His eyes widened as he watched the dried inkwell, and book fall to the floor.

"Was I always that strong?" He looked at his gaunt limbs and featureless chest. "Did something happen to me when that blood mage tried to take over my body?

With his sudden increase in strength, he wondered how his injuries affected his magic. He hoped the healer and the knight were wrong.

"Holy magic: sphere." Nothing came out from his outstretched hands. He furrowed his eyebrows. "This is not right." He barely felt a connection to the holy magic conduit, residing in his mana core. He felt like it was different, somehow sick, warped.

Like most people, he only had a single mana conduit in his core. Whenever he chanted a spell and visualized it, he always roused mana from his core and used his conduit to convert it into holy magic as the spell left his body. Without a conduit, he had no way of effectively discharging mana and influencing the world around him.

"What is happening to me?" he muttered. His heartbeat quickened, he started to panic, but he quickly calmed himself. He remembered what the great knight said. "It will come back with time." He decided to reach into his core and see what he had to work with. He was going to need magic if he was going to fail his impossible quest.

He closed his eyes, and he focused on his mana core. He was shocked by what he found. His core was rich deep red instead of orange. It was several shades darker than any red core he'd ever cut from a magic beast.

Determined not to panic just yet, he searched for the holy conduit that had nested at the edge of his core since he was ten years old, right in front of his mana pool.

He found his holy conduit, but it wasn't the shade he was used to. It no longer shone with a star-white brilliance. It had shriveled up and was several times smaller. It was grey, cold, and shifting like a flame.

In addition to his wisp-sized light conduit, he also spotted two other conduits, a bit larger than his grey one at opposite edges of his core. The first was a burning swathe or darkness that swirled and danced, and the second was a bloody pulsating floating ball of blood. It was the biggest of the three conduits. It felt more like a core than just a way to transmute pure mana.

He opened his eyes, and knitted his brow, clearly confused by these new elements, "what...what is going on?" His mind filled with questions. "Where did these magic elements come from? I'm sure I didn't study them. How did I acquire new magical elements? What tainted my holy element while I was asleep?" None of this was caused by ordinary battle wounds.

He woke up totally healed from his wounds even though they were life-threatening. It didn't make sense; healing magic was not that advanced.

He also developed strength only Lesser mages, or intermediate knights had, and he had new elements. Those could not be explained away by healing potions or spells. Creating your own connection with an element could take years. And physically and magically reinforcing yourself to gain this much strength could take at least half a decade.

'What the heck was going on?' His palms grew sweaty, he almost whispered as he spoke, "Was it, was it him?"

Ranok's grinning bloody face flashed before his eyes, and a sudden pain washed over his mind. He felt like his head was about to explode, he opened his mouth to scream, but he lost consciousness before sound escaped his lips. He saw a magical floating wall full of inscriptions as his consciousness drifted.

It read, "Welcome to the Bloodborn System."

Name: Seth Ryall

Level: 1

Bp: 0/ 500

Pp: 0

Race: Higher Human (level up to evolve race)

HP: 500/500

MP: 5/100

Strength: 20

Speed: 15

Stamina: 12

Intelligence: 5

Sense: 5

Magical affinities: Darkness, corrupted light, Blood

Skills: Blood siphon Lv 1, Blood absorption Lv 1, Basic swordsmanship Lv 5, Basic Dagger arts Lv5, Basic Archery Lv 5, Basic Spearmanship Lv5.

"The gods have mercy. What just happened?" Seth roused from slumber and was greeted by floating inscriptions hovering above his face as he laid on the cold stone floor of his room. He shot up to his feet, clearly startled by the strange inscriptions, and jumped backward. His head hit the ceiling and crashed hard into the wooden swords at the corner of his room.

Although he made a fool of himself, he'd hoped that would be gain him enough distance from the strange inscriptions. He'd never quite something like this spell before. He massaged his bruised head and looked up only to see the screen still floating in front of him, he almost panicked.

He slowly inched backward until he touched the wall and got up to his feet. The screen followed still. The floating screen didn't seem dangerous, but he was trapped in a corner, with his back against the wall. He needed a more secure place to begin to even assess the true nature of his opponent. He needed a clear path of escape just in case the floating screen changed its mind.

He ran towards the door half-sprinting across the room, summoned his estoc and turned around, and balanced into a fighting stance. The screen was still floating in front of his face, with the same stats screen, mocking him.

A bloody-red mist leaked from it. It reminded him of the blood mage that tried to steal his body and destroy his mind. He shuddered. He quickly slashed through the window, the blade passed through.

"What are you?"

[The bloodborn system is a comprehensive virtual database and evolution system that guides newly awakened higher humans destined to be blood mages, messengers of the blood king forged from blood. It provides information about certain events, and plots the safest and fastest route to evolution by assigning missions, tasks, and quantifies growth through numerical power scales.]

"What! Blood mage, higher human. No. No. I'm Seth Ryall, I'm human," he declared. "I'm human, right?" he sounded less certain as he spoke. He shook his head, "No, this is all nonsense. The mage spell failed. I am still me. I am still me?" he asked himself. His estoc vanished into his dimensional ring, and he sat down on the edge of his bed and crossed his fingers. His mind feverishly processed the information he just received. A slow dread spread across his face. 'Oh, Uvu have mercy. The blood mage spell partially succeeded. That explains my added strength and the blood in my core, but what about my holy magic? The floating screen said higher human, so that means I am still human? It also said I'm destined to become a blood mage. Oh gods, oh gods, no. This cannot be happening. why me?' He buried his face in his palm.

To say that the system and his loss of holy magic complicated things would be an understatement. He just lost ten years of cultivation and elemental superiority over darkness magic and blood mages in general. After half an hour of pining and begging the earth god to swallow him, he finally looked at the floating values.

The screen seemed simple enough. It quantified its abilities in numbers and values. Even his skills are there. He agreed with everything except-"What? Five intelligence preposterous," he huffed. "These numbers can be accurate. There must be-" He stopped himself and laughed a shallow joyless laugh. He was arguing a floating screen. He wondered how this system existed, what were the rules? Could anybody else see it? Was it a complex spell? Or a simple mental construct or some remnant of the mage he inadvertently absorbed? He looked at the screen and waited for answers, but nothing came. He let out a tired sigh, walked over to his wardrobe, and scanned its content.

He didn't have the time or luxury to bother with questions with no answers. There was nothing inside aside from a few clothes he was sure would not fit him anymore. "I need to get supplies."

He turned to the door. There was no real choice, he had to attempt the impossible. He had new magic conduits to replace his old ones and enough strength to strangle a spirit bear. It was not what he wanted. It went against everything he believed in, and it spat in the face of centuries of tradition and lore, but he was stuck with this system. So, he had to make the best of it.

No one could ever find out about his abilities, and the origins of his power. He planned to exploit his newfound strength, but he had to swear off magic for now, not until he fixed his holy magic.

Even with the right team, he knew he had very little chance at success, but he had to try. He had to save his sister. She was the last Ryall powerful, talented, and smart enough to restore his house to its former glory. He could worry about the origin of the system, his blood abilities, and what they mean later. To put his plan in motion, he needed a team, and going to Alpheus was the fastest and safest way to get one. He had to ask the pigeon's ass for help.

***

He walked out of his room, out of the tower and into the city. The starling city of Brightmont welcomed him. He currently lived in the middle ring. Most of the buildings there hewn from greystones or quarts. They were large, elegant, and separated by stone paths large enough for carriages to pass through. Shops, inns, alehouses, and living towers made up most structures of the middle rings. There was only one castle in all of the lower ring- the Knight's castle Alpheus.

It was arguably the most guarded structures in the city of Brightmont and is rumored to be even more secure than the Emperor's palace. It had nigh impregnable magic arrays constantly shielding it and countless advanced elemental golems patrolling its grounds, not to mention Balda Acheron, the most powerful holy grand magic knight, lived in the castle.

Seth navigated the streets almost on instinct as he practiced his speech and prepared to confront Baston. He knew the orders came from above, and Baston was but a simple, intermediate knight, but he hoped he could squeeze a couple of knights out of him. His charm and mind games never worked on Baston in the past, and he suspected it would be just as ineffective now, but he needed to get used to attempting the impossible.

He planned to either beg or guilt the man to send some of the knights to escort him. If he failed, he was not above hiring mercenary mages from the lower ring, but hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. He scaled the stone stairs of the castle and was waved in by golems and patrolling junior knights.

The grand hall of Alpheus was just as eminent as he remembered. Grand murals with animated glyphs told stories of the fall of the blood king and the defeat of the other prominent races, adorned the walls and ceilings of the central hall. There were sections dedicated to vampires, dragonkin, and beast kings. The walls told tales of righteous retribution against the forces of darkness and Mormon's military might.

Large marble statues that dwarfed even sentry golems stood in the halls. It took several thousand steps to arrive at Baston's office. It was still the same oval bare stone room with scant decorations and polished armor.

He spoke tersely as he delivered orders to junior mages. Seth was waved in, and he pried open the door and stood in the corner of his office as he spoke at length. It took fifteen good minutes for him to deliver the last of his complexly detailed orders to his junior mages, after which they trailed off.

"What can I do for you today, Ryall." His voice was emotionless and flat, his eyes traveled the parchment he furiously scratched with his pen.

"I just awoke three days after the battle at the academy to some truly disturbing news," his voice slightly trembled. "I found out my sister was kidnapped by one of the blood mages we battled, and you led the charge to free her."

He didn't look up from his table and continued without a shift in posture. Seth was a little bit surprised that he didn't get more of a reaction out of him, but he didn't quite give up. Channeling his inner thespian, he summoned tears, and strained his already shaky voice further, capitalizing on his sickly appearance.

"What news do you have of her," he asked.

"We lost her in the forest near Grechit, Black Wershe, I believe it's called. We lost four squads to the beasts and the mage. An order came down the pipeline asking us to retreat till further notice." His voice was still and unwavering—no shift in tone, no emotion.

"You just left her there? She could be dead, when do you plan to return?" his tone grew moderately aggressive, his act slowly failing.

"I can't disobey a direct order, you know this." His fingers still scribbled away at the paper.

"But she is your best student, Sir, and she's my sister. Surely we can't just abandon her?"

The scratching stopped. "What would you have me do?" Baston folded his hands. "Leave my post with my top junior mages, burn down the forest with tier-three fire spells while I hunt for Tessa and the vermin that abducted her?" His eyes shot open, his brows were furious, and his face stoic.

He carefully thought about his next words. "Yes?" he nervously answered. Baston exploded and drove his fist into the edge of his brown polished Elderwood table, splintering it. "I'm sure you would like that, wouldn't you. How dare you say I abandoned her? I would be in that forest if I could, but orders are orders. Besides, you engaged her after receiving specific orders not to.

"I molded her into the knight she is today. I trained her tirelessly while you were away, killing riff-raffs and garden pets for five years at the edge of the Empire. Don't you dare question my dedication." He glowered.

Seth sweated buckets. He was not prepared for the torrent of emotions that rained down from him, especially from someone as monotone as Baston. At most, he expected a grumble, not a challenge to his person. He wanted to apologize and cut his losses, but uncharacteristically, he pressed on.

Seth managed to get under Baston's skin. and he planned to see how much this man was willing to bend. "Then don't break the rules," he suggested. "All I am asking for is some leave to further hone my spellcraft, conduits, and blade work," he continued. "You could send a small team of knights with me, preferably a team with a competent ranger, to help me train at different knight training fields. The first could be at Grechit, near the forest of Wershe."

Baston eyed Seth with utter disgust. He roared, "how dare you suggest a knight of Mormon endorse something so blatantly dishonest. You should be glad that I won't report you.

"Instead, I will make sure your request for training leave is denied. You will get sworn in like every other knight and serve guard duty at the cathedral for half a year."

"We will rescue your sister when the Empire deems it appropriate. Now leave my office." He scowled. Baston easily saw through Seth's crude attempts at manipulating him, and he chose to shut him down and teach him a lesson he'd not forget.

Seth's courage left him, he shuddered and could only nod before he turned to leave the office. When he was in the halls, far enough from Baston's ears, he cursed, "Pigeon's arsehole" and grumbled.