Ancestral Lineage

Chapter 98 Crimson Awakening. The Mirror of Weakness.

If anyone should ask Ethan what he was feeling now, all he would say was DREAD! The most potent form of dread he had ever felt in his whole 18 years of life. Even the gargoyle elders, the most powerful beings he has ever faced so far didn't produce this much dread. The being was dread personified!

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But despite all the dread, he felt a familiarity with the being, like a long-lost friend. He had an idea of who that being might be, but he dared not voice it out. He couldn't see anything on the being except for its blood body and the ominous, glowing red eyes which unnerved him anytime he looked at them. Once again, this was dread personified.

Ethan stood frozen as the towering figure radiated an overwhelming presence of power and dread. The air around it seemed alive, pulsating with a rhythm that matched his own racing heartbeat. The words of the being echoed in his mind, heavy and oppressive.

"Prove to me that you are worthy of my power. Pass the Trial of Blood!"

Before Ethan could react, a torrent of crimson energy surged from the being's outstretched hand, striking him squarely in the chest. The impact wasn't painful but chilling. His vision blurred as his body felt weightless, his surroundings shifting in an instant. Then, in a horrifying moment of clarity, he saw his own body turn to ash, disintegrating before his eyes.

Panic gripped him. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He glanced down at his hands and arms. They were not his own—or at least, they didn't look like the body he knew. His skin had turned ghostly pale, intricate crimson markings tracing his arms like veins. His surroundings resolved into focus, revealing a vast, circular arena.

The arena was unsettlingly alien, its ground made of a solid, glassy crimson substance that reflected distorted images of the sky above—a churning ocean of blood and shadows. The air was stifling, heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and the faint sound of distant whispers echoed in his ears. Each word was incomprehensible yet felt deeply personal, as though they spoke directly to his soul.

The figure loomed over him, still cloaked in its shifting veil of blood. Its voice was cold and commanding.

"To wield the power of the Blood Primogenitor, you must be forged anew. Blood is the essence of life, death, and power. You must understand its weight, its cost, and its purpose. Fail, and you will cease to exist. Succeed, and you will rise as one of us."

Ethan barely had time to process these words before the ground beneath him shifted. Crimson veins spread out like cracks in glass, glowing faintly before shattering. He fell through the floor, descending into an endless void.

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Ethan's head spun as he regained consciousness, his vision adjusting to the dim light around him. The air was cold and dense, pressing against his skin like a heavy weight. He blinked several times, his surroundings coming into focus. He stood in an enormous hall of mirrors. The glass stretched endlessly in all directions, reflecting not just his image but countless distorted versions of himself. Some mirrors shimmered faintly, their surfaces rippling like water; others were cracked, their shards gleaming with a dangerous edge.

Instinctively, Ethan reached for his power, feeling the familiar thrum of blood magic beneath his skin. The sensation was comforting, but something about this place unsettled him. Each step he took echoed unnaturally, the sound bouncing endlessly around the chamber.

"This is no ordinary trial," he muttered, scanning the area.

A cold laugh answered him, low and mocking.

"Ordinary trials are for ordinary people," a voice sneered, identical to his own. Ethan turned sharply toward the source, but it wasn't coming from any single direction. Instead, every reflection of him in the mirrors moved of its own accord, their faces twisted with disdain.

"Who's there?" Ethan demanded, his voice firm despite the unease creeping into his chest.

"You're a fraud."

"They only follow you because they don't know the truth."

'Why is this shit getting to me?! It's like I'm being manipulated, like my own power is being used in different ways against me. None of this shit is true but it looks true.'

The doppelgänger struck again; its movements unnervingly fluid. Ethan barely dodged, rolling to the side as the impact of the blow splintered another mirror. His blood magic surged in response, but it felt sluggish, as though his own doubt was weighing it down.

"You feel it, don't you?" the doppelgänger said, grinning. "The more you doubt, the weaker you become. You can't win, Ethan. Not against me."

'I'm not doubting you idiot!'

Ethan wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing. He couldn't deny the truth in the doppelgänger's words. Every failure, every moment of hesitation—it was all there, staring him in the face but in a different form. If he hadn't been betrothed to Carmen, how would he have gotten to awaken? Would he have even gotten the system along with all its perks?

But then he remembered something else: Clara's steady encouragement, Emily's quick wit, Trevor's unwavering loyalty. They had all stood by him, not because he was perfect, but because they believed in him even when he didn't. They loved him.

"I won't deny my failures," Ethan said, his voice steady. The doppelgänger paused, its smirk faltering. "I've made mistakes. I've doubted myself. But that's not all I am. I'm more than my weaknesses."

He stood tall, his blood magic flaring brighter, more controlled. The air around him crackled as he drew on both his psychic and magical abilities, the two forces intertwining in a display of power.

"You want to see who I really am?" Ethan asked, his voice resonating with newfound confidence. "Then let me show you."

The next exchange was explosive. Ethan moved with precision; his strikes no longer fueled by frustration but by purpose. Blood magic and psychic energy danced around him; each attack a calculated step toward victory.

The doppelgänger fought back fiercely, its attacks wild and desperate. It tried to exploit Ethan's weaknesses, aiming for his doubt, but Ethan didn't falter.

In a final, decisive move, Ethan unleashed a psychic lance, the energy glowing a deep crimson as it pierced through the doppelgänger's chest. The figure screamed, its form splintering into shards of light.

The chamber quaked as the mirrors shattered one by one, their pieces dissolving into nothingness. Ethan stood alone, breathing heavily, his reflection now clear and unbroken in the few remaining fragments.

A deep voice echoed through the chamber.

"Strength lies not in perfection but in the courage to face your flaws. You have passed the first trial. Proceed."

Ethan exhaled, a mixture of relief and determination flooding him. He clenched his fists, his power humming steadily beneath his skin.

"This is just the beginning," he said, stepping forward into the unknown.