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Supreme Bloodline Genes In The Apocalypse

Going shopping when the world was about to be hit by an apocalypse might not be the smartest thing but how else was he supposed to prepare for the said apocalypse? And that was how Lucas was transmigrated into another world, far different from Earth. A world where the Bloodline of your ancestors will determine your standing. They are called the Rashakas. Fortunately for him, he got lucky here but when the flood of memories of the new body came, Lucas wasn't so sure. Because he was now in the body of a coward Rashaka. If he wants to survive, he must build his reputation, save himself and his new mother from the schemes of the Elders, and most importantly of all build a new reputation for himself. To do all this he must apply for one of the most brutal places in the new world, 'The Academy' a place where the Scion of the Great Clans come together to shed blood without consequences. And the reward for the Academy? It just might be the glorious honor of bringing the apocalypse to Earth. Follow Lucas ( now Kyrexiel) as he tries to save a broken Great Clan and build a new thing for himself.

DukeWriter · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
108 Chs

Marked cell

Immediately after he said those words, two of the Ometra members gripped them and dragged their screaming bodies to the front of the cells with angry beasts on the other side.

"Wa...it. S...stop!" Urlk's voice was weak. His silver eyes were dull and they turned wildly in their socket. He saw Kyrexiel standing there and focused on him. "Do something! Please!"

Kyrexiel shook his head. 'What can I do? This is not some movie type of shit that some hero will come at the last minute to save everyone!'

They threw the two Scuridae inside and closed the metal bars.

The beasts were a cross between a gorilla and a lion, a thing of fang, claws, and raw muscles. The Scuridaes stood no chance as they fell on them and started to tear them apart.

Kyrexiel looked away because the beasts had started to eat before even killing them. They just started tearing into them from the torso to eat.

Urlk whimpered on the ground as the cries of his clan members became weaker and weaker. Fortunately, the monsters were heavy eaters and soon even there was no blood on the floor of their cell.

Orso nodded in satisfaction. "It takes a lot of meat to keep those things well-fed and healthy. Only healthy ones will be useful for me in the pit ring after all."

Orso then looked at Urlk. "Take that one and put him into the normal cells. Make sure you put the collar on him before you do that."

Then his eyes swung to Kyrexiel as they dragged the whimpering body of Urlk away. "You are too weak to get me what I truly wanted. How can you be a tier one, rank one, and fight like that?" He waved. "Not my business. But I have to raise your tier."

He walked in front of Kyrexiel, speaking as if he were nothing more than a horse for a gambling race. "The tale of the Reaper blood underdog will spread and I'm sure they will be there to see you the next time. But you are useless to me this weak."

"That's it. Take him to the marked cell and let him await a turn. I'll see if his luck will stay strong. It'll benefit me either way." Orso grunted and strolled away, Kyrexiel forgotten as he picked up his bucket and started feeding his beasts.

"This way." One of the guards said and started walking away, trusting that Kyrexiel would follow. And he did. What other choice did he have?

They led him to a different part of the prison, this one with fewer cells and Kyrexiel began to wonder what 'marked cell' meant. 'It won't be anything good with all that Orso was mumbling on about gambling'

The marked cell was at the far corner, the metal bars rusted but still strong enough to hold its prisoners. They opened the creaking thing and shoved Kyrexiel inside, slamming the clacking metal shut.

He fell to the floor, touching something slimy and cold that made him recoiled fast. A low mocking laughter followed. "You see that number two? This number three doesn't seem to like this place!"

Then laughter that ended with a wet cough. "See how he's shying away!"

Kyrexiel looked around, trying to locate the voice in the darkness. He saw beds pushed against the wall, most of it empty but two were occupied.

The man who was speaking to him was sitting on his bed, rocking back and forth, smiling like a lunatic at him. The man was thin and his smile dirty. "I am number One. You are the new number Three."

Kyrexiel nodded dumbly. Everything was going fast. Too fast, since he entered this body that he didn't even had time to process everything as he should. How did he go from a human to a Rashaka and then to a prince now downgraded to a slave in hours?

He shook his head. "Why are you not wearing a collar?" He asked. All the slaves he saw on his way here wore one but this one was not wearing any.

Number One pointed to the other bed with another person lying on it. "We in this cell are even lower than slaves. We don't deserve collars. But we can get one, if we can survive the dark room."

'Darkroom?' Kyrexiel almost rolled his eyes. 'So original', but out loud he asked. "The dark room?"

Number One nodded, rocking faster as his eyes widened and lips trembled. "It's a special room, designed with tricks that will change a Rashaka."

Kyrexiel sat up, repressing a shudder as he tried not to think about whatever he was currently sitting on. "And that's where we are going?"

"Yes! Orso said it'll make us stronger but," the man paused and then glanced outside as if if there might be someone there listening to him. "Only one person ever survived it. A previous number Eight. Everyone else died!"

"Being sent to the dark room is a death sentence!" Then the man laughed, a broken twisted thing. "But I say it beat fighting in the pits or fighting beasts."

Number One said that but he was trembling hard, his hands and legs shaking. He closed his eyes and rocked faster.

'This one won't say anything more' Kyrexiel thought. Sending them to the dark room. Was that what Orso meant by saying a gamble? And what did he mean by tricks supposed to make them stronger?

Kyrexiel shook his head. His headache was back and harder too, making his head throb in time with his heartbeat. He stood up and chose a bed.

It smelled of piss and things that he didn't want to put a name to but still, he crawled atop it. 'Change of plans again. Get the hell out here by whatever method, to return to the castle. Orso said something about the palace earlier. I have to get more information about it.....'

Even with the cold in the cell and the horrible smell, Kyrexiel found himself sleeping before he knew it.