Chapter 81: Dark Sister’s Rage [1]

The first thing Craig noticed the moment his soul fully anchored into the Initial-stage of the Sword Runner class was the drastic shift in his body weight.

He was strikingly light.

It felt as though gravity itself had loosened its grip upon his physical frame, allowing his boots to rest upon the scorched soil with phantom delicacy.

Yet, beneath this newfound weightlessness lay an explosive, terrifying density of muscle and mana.

He knew intuitively that despite feeling lighter than air, a single baseline punch from his bare fist now carried enough kinetic force to shatter steel plates and cave in stone fortifications.

His draconic senses had undergone an equally radical evolution.

Before his ascension, his perception—even when stretched to its maximum limits through his bloodline—could only clearly read targets and terrain up to a hundred meters away.

Now, his sight and hearing expanded across a full mile radius.

He could hear the faint, rhythmic flutter of night-moth wings beyond the burning perimeter of the forest.

He could count the individual drops of sap bubbling out of the charred ironwood bark three hundred yards away, and he could feel the subtle, ambient vibrations of mana pulsing beneath the deep earth.

His comprehension of environmental mana had shifted from a crude, forced channeling into a seamless, instinctual language.

Yet, amidst all these sensory breakthroughs, the aspect that astounded him the most was the notification humming at the edge of his consciousness regarding his newly awakened talent.

Unique-Grade Talent: Blood Manipulation.

From the structured information fed directly into his mind by the system, Craig had instantly grasped the terrifying versatility of this new authority.

It was far more than a simple telepathic tug on crimson fluid.

He could freely manipulate, solidify, and project blood—both his own and that of his enemies—into lethal constructs.

Should he bleed in combat, a single drop of his draconic blood could be crystallized and launched like a high-velocity, armor-piercing projectile.

He could forge razor-sharp blades out of ambient gore or construct impenetrable defensive barriers from a fallen foe’s spilt veins.

When he had executed Code 289 just moments prior, Craig had intentionally used the absolute bare minimum of this talent’s capability.

He had simply exerted a invisible, suppressive lock over the assassin’s internal bloodstream, freezing the blood in his heart and brain to paralyze him completely before taking his head with a standard sword arc.

He had consciously chosen not to project or shape Code 289’s blood into crimson spears or floating daggers.

To unleash such flamboyant, unnatural blood magic in front of Ser Hughway and Ser Damian would instantly expose the terrifying reality that he commanded multiple top-grade talents simultaneously.

In a world where superhumans were bound by strict soul-awakening limits, an Awakened commanding multiple distinct talents—alongside a system—was an anomaly that the world would not tolerate.

If word ever reached the imperial core or the other Darkstar Successors that the Seventh possessed such a terrifying anomaly, his rival siblings and their political factions would abandon their internal squabbles and unite to erase him from existence.

Powerful, legendary Rankers from across neighboring continents would hunt him down to dissect his soul.

To survive, the absolute secrecy of his system and his true number of talents was a boundary that could never be crossed.

Craig exhaled a long, measured sigh, letting the hot vapor escape his lips as he stepped over the headless corpse of Code 289.

The assassin’s body lay collapsed in a widening, dark pool of its own blood, completely motionless.

Tightening his grip on his arming sword, Craig locked his glowing golden eyes onto the solitary, ghost-masked Sword Sage leader standing across the clearing.

Ser Damian immediately stepped up to Craig’s left, his heavy broadsword lowered in a protective guard, his stance radiating absolute, unshakeable loyalty.

He was prepared to throw his life into the void without a second thought to shield his Lord.

To Craig’s right, Ser Hughway stood like a towering iron pillar, his heavy longsword raised to completely block the assassin’s only path of escape or assault.

Craig stared at the masked leader, his expression cool and unbothered.

“Who sent you?” Craig’s voice cut through the crackling heat of the forest. “Tell me who ordered this strike, and I will grant you a swift, merciful death.”

The Sword Sage leader stood amidst the bodies of his four fallen subordinates.

Yet, despite being completely cornered and facing a veteran Sword Master, a lethal Sword Runner, and a newly ascended Viscount, he showed no signs of fear.

A low, raspy chuckle escaped from behind his bone-white ghost mask.

Within seconds, the chuckle evolved into a loud, mocking laugh that echoed sinisterly throughout the burning grove.

“A merciful death?” the leader sneered, his cold eyes burning with twisted amusement behind the hollow mask. “Do you truly believe today was the peak of your trials, little Seventh? You survived a 2nd-Tier beast and a handful of runners… and you think yourself untouchable?”

The leader raised his dark katana, pointing the tip directly at Craig’s chest.

“Even if I fail to take your head today, your path is already soaked in absolute ruin. Those who come for you next… the true shadows sent by the Syndicate and the grand lords… will make this ambush look like a child’s playmate fight.

They will tear your flesh from your bones and burn your little Viscounty to ash!”

The assassin leaned forward, his voice dripping with venomous mockery.

“If you possess an ounce of true wisdom, Viscount Darkstar… you would take that sword in your hand and slit your own throat right now. It would be infinitely more merciful than what awaits you.”

Craig stared at the laughing assassin for a quiet second.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t flare his aura in anger.

He simply let out a quiet breath and turned his back on the ghost-masked leader.

He had heard enough.

“Ser Hughway,” Craig commanded smoothly, his tone devoid of any emotion as he began walking away. “Clean up this trash. Once he is dead, return to Heaven’s Net Castle immediately.”

“By your command, my Lord!” Ser Hughway bellowed, his Sword Master pressure exploding outward like a tidal wave as he lunged forward to crush the leader.

Craig then shifted his golden eyes toward the First Dragonknight. “Damian. You return with me.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Damian answered instantly, falling into step right behind his sovereign.

As Craig walked toward the open clearing, the dark, draconic mark imprinted deep upon the side of his neck began to flicker with a brilliant, blood-red luminescence.

The pulse vibrated through his soul, connecting his consciousness across the forest canopy to his bound companion.

Craig parted his lips, uttering two sharp words in High Darkstarian:

“Inkido, Dark Sister!”

(Come, Dark Sister!)

The command rippled through the skies.

ROOOOOAAAR!!

A mere three seconds later, a deafening, earth-shattering roar tore through the heavens, splitting the clouds above the Jeju Forest.

The ambient moonlight was suddenly eclipsed as a colossal, dark shadow swept over the entire grove.

Trees buckled and snapped under massive atmospheric pressure as Dark Sister descended like a catastrophic storm.

BOOM!

The giant 4th-Tier Dragon crashed onto the earth directly in front of Craig, her massive, armored talons carving deep trenches into the soil.

Her long, serpent-like tail thrashed against the ground, uprooting burning trunks with casual ease.

Craig stopped walking, looking up at the majestic dragon with a warm, genuine smile.

“Good girl.”

Dark Sister lowered her massive head, her slitted golden eyes locking onto Craig.

However, the moment her hyper-sensitive nostrils caught the thick scent of blood soaking her rider’s clothes, her pupils dilated into razor-thin lines of pure, rage-filled fury.

GRRRRRR…!

A terrifying, low rumble vibrated deep within her chest.

Dark Sister raised her head back toward the sky and unleashed a deafening, demonic roar that shook the very foundations of the forest floor!

ROAAAAAAAAR!

Her colossal, bat-like wings spread outward to their full width, flapping violently and kicking up a hurricane of ash, fire, and shattered stone.

Violet and crimson flames flickered wildly within the depth of her maw, her instincts screaming to incinerate every single living soul within ten miles.

Ready to burn the entire world to ash, with the sole, absolute exception of the rider standing before her.