Chapter 99: The Bloodline Awakening

After speaking with Rosalind, Daemon walked through the streets around WHA headquarters.

The conversation still sat heavy in his mind, but the next step was clear. He would take a cab to Roxanna’s old apartment, wait until she finished speaking with her ex-husband, and pick her up once that part of her past was finally closed. Then they would return to the Hale estate together.

That was the plan. Simple, practical, clean.

The evening air felt cool against his face as he passed glass storefronts and slow-moving traffic. Office workers headed home with tired expressions and half-finished conversations.

Hunters in casual clothes crossed the sidewalk in pairs, while street vendors packed away their trays. For a moment, everything felt almost normal. He was just another man finishing work and heading out to meet someone important.

Then he spotted a bakery.

Warm light spilled through its windows and onto the pavement. People wandered in and out carrying paper bags and coffee cups.

A few sat at outdoor tables with friends and family, talking over fresh bread and sweet drinks. Near the counter, a child laughed and pointed excitedly at the cake display.

It was almost seven in the evening, and the streetlights had already settled into their soft nighttime glow.

Daemon slowed.

Calista.

He remembered what he had promised her earlier: ice cream, chocolate, and something sweet when he came home.

The same girl who had once stood over him with a knife while he slept. "The same girl he somehow trusted not to hurt him or his family." 𝚏𝗋ℯⅇ

He still couldn’t explain that trust. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe there was something deeper behind the strange pull he felt whenever she was nearby.

Whatever the reason, both he and Victoria had grown fond of her.

Victoria, especially.

She already spoiled Calista like a daughter, though she probably hadn’t noticed how naturally she did it.

She bought the girl snacks, kept an eye on her, scolded her when she misbehaved, and then softened almost immediately afterward.

Daemon let out a quiet laugh.

"I really am getting soft."

He stepped inside the bakery. The smell of sugar and warm cream greeted him, and the glass shelves shone beneath the lights.

"He planned to buy just a few things, but ended up buying much more than he expected."

One pack of chocolate became two. He picked three flavors of ice cream, then added a box of small cakes. After that, he spotted another tray of pastries and decided Calista might like those, too.

By the time he paid, his arms were full.

So much for buying just a little.

He glanced down at the bags and shook his head, amused by his own behavior. He could have stored everything in his storage ring, of course, but carrying the bags felt oddly satisfying. It was a small, ordinary thing, and he wanted to enjoy it.

His family would grow in the future. There would be more children, more birthdays, and more little moments he didn’t want to miss.

He wanted to be the sort of father who remembered what his children liked, who came home with treats, and who could make them smile without needing to defeat a monster or show off some powerful ability.

He wanted to walk through the front door with something sweet in his hands and hear someone welcome him home.

The thought warmed him more than he expected.

Once outside, Daemon adjusted the bags in his hands and remembered that he still needed to contact Roxanna. He wanted to let her know he was coming and would wait outside her old apartment.

"System," he murmured, "communicate with Roxanna."

Nothing happened.

Daemon glanced inward and tried again.

Still nothing.

He stopped near the edge of the sidewalk. Perhaps the System had lagged. It had happened before, though never at a time like this. He focused harder, trying to bring up the interface.

A faint pressure pulsed behind his eyes.

Then the System finally responded—but the message was nothing like what he expected.

[Warning.]

[System functions temporarily overtaken by bloodline force.]

[Host must stabilize and control the bloodline power from outside interference.]

[Until control is restored, System skills and functions will not respond.]

Daemon’s expression tightened.

"Bloodline force?"

He tried opening the interface again. No response. He attempted to call another function, but the System remained silent.

A cold pressure rose beneath his skin. It came from somewhere deep inside him, as though a seal had cracked and something powerful was pushing its way through.

His breathing grew shallow. The edges of his vision flickered, and the bags in his hands suddenly felt heavier, though nothing about them had changed.

"Not now," he muttered.

The pressure swelled.

Heat and cold moved through him at once. His heartbeat thudded against his chest, faster with every passing second.

The street sounds seemed to stretch and fade, as if the world around him were being pulled farther away.

Daemon tried to steady his breathing, but the pain struck before he could gather himself.

He screamed.

His knees buckled, and he crashed onto the street. His whole body convulsed, his shoulders and legs shaking violently. Black thunder burst from him in jagged arcs, striking the pavement and snapping through the air with an unnatural crack.

Sparks skittered across the asphalt. Street signs rattled, and a parked scooter scraped sideways beneath the force. The windows of the nearest storefront trembled in their frames.

People shouted and stumbled away.

Daemon’s eyes turned completely black.

The bags slipped from his hands and burst open across the road. Chocolate bars rolled beneath a parked car. Pastries scattered over the concrete, and the ice cream packs landed among them.

One split open, spilling its contents across the pavement. The treats he had bought for Calista were ruined in seconds, lost beneath dust, paper wrappers, and the violent waves of black energy.

The peaceful evening had become a scene of panic.

A man in the crowd pointed at Daemon.

"I know him! That’s Demon—the guy who punched that S-Rank hunter, Julian!"

"No, his name is Daemon," another person corrected him.

"What’s the difference?" a third muttered. "They sound almost the same."

An old woman standing nearby turned on them, furious.

"What are you doing? Someone has collapsed in front of you, and none of you is even trying to help!"

The first man raised both hands and took another step back.

"Help him? What if he hits me, too? I’m not getting involved."

Instead of approaching, he pulled out his phone and began recording.

"Look at this," he whispered, angling the camera toward Daemon. "This is going to blow up."

The old woman stared at him in disgust.

"People are the worst," she muttered. "The Hale family helps protect this city from monsters and dungeons, and this is how people repay them?"

She didn’t waste another second arguing. Taking out her own phone, she called the police and an ambulance, explaining what had happened as calmly as she could despite the black flashes lighting up the street.

More people raised their phones. Some filmed from behind parked cars, while others leaned out from the bakery entrance to get a better view. A few brave souls tried to move closer, but the thunder around Daemon was too strong. The pressure pushed them back before they could reach him.

One young man stretched out a hand, only to be thrown two steps away by a sudden burst of black lightning.

A woman covered her mouth and hurried behind a car. Someone shouted for everyone to stay back, but another person kept recording, determined not to miss a second.

No one could reach Daemon.

He lay on the road, his body trembling as black lightning crawled across his skin like living chains. Each pulse made the air shudder.

The force seemed to come from inside him, but he had no way to stop it. The System had gone silent, and he couldn’t even understand what was happening to his own body.

His thoughts began to break apart.

Roxanna.

Victoria.

Calista.

The sweets scattered across the road.

He tried to hold on to them, but the images slipped away one by one. He couldn’t tell whether he was still screaming or whether the sound had vanished with everything else.

His consciousness sank into darkness.

When Daemon opened his inner eyes, the street was gone.

There was no bakery, no crowd, no night sky, and no sound of traffic. The distant sirens had disappeared, too.

He found himself in a space of endless black, with neither ground beneath his feet nor sky above his head.

He couldn’t tell whether he was standing or floating. There was nothing to look at, nothing to touch, and no direction in which to move.

Yet the darkness didn’t feel empty.

It felt aware.

Something was watching him. Waiting for him.

Daemon tried to speak, but his voice seemed swallowed before it could leave him. He turned toward what he thought was a sound, though there was no sound at all—only a faint sense that he wasn’t alone.

Then a voice emerged from the dark.