Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 301: Stirring in the Depths. The Beasts Awaken

He descended inward — not with force, but with the practiced breath of stillness, like a diver slipping beneath the surface of memory and meaning.

The inner world greeted him.

A vast sea of light and silence, where threads of his affinities glowed in slow constellations. Here, the layers of his soul stretched like a dreamscape — ordered, contained.

Until now.

There — at the deepest edge — something pulsed.

Five pulses.

Old. Familiar. But stirred.

Ethan approached them. Slowly. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Each beat held weight.

Galeno was first — the Divine Tortoise — his vast presence like a mountain beneath the ocean, unmoving but suddenly restless. Cracks of golden light rippled across the inner realm floor as his shell shifted.

He was awakening.

Malverick came next, suspended above an alchemical circle etched in ever-morphing sigils. His gargoyle-like form curled like a statue half-broken, half-born — grey skin twitching, fingers grasping for the substance of a realm that no longer restrained him.

He, too, stirred.

Then, a growl.

Low. Endless.

Stygian, the three-headed Cerberus, loomed in the shadows — his manes of violet fire flickering in uneven rhythm. One head slept, one snarled, the third… watched. Watching Ethan. Eyes glowing like twin moons in a dead sky.

He remembered pain. War. Death.

And yet he reached toward his master.

Onyx did not move.

The curse-bound entity was shapeless, formless — but present. A silhouette of nothing, stitched to the cracks of space. Yet even in stillness, Ethan could feel it reaching, bleeding a cold that whispered truths best left untouched.

Something in Onyx had seen too much.

And finally — a tremor, high above.

Sage.

The dark-blue drake coiled across invisible skies, his body blending into sound itself. Wings didn't flap; they resonated. Tones formed from his breath — notes of question, alertness, even caution.

He was listening.

To Ethan.

To the world.

To something else.

Ethan stood among them — not as a tamer or summoner, but as one bound by deeper pact. They were his. He was theirs.

"I thought you were still dormant," Ethan murmured, within.

The answer did not come in words.

It came in pressure.

A wave rolled outward from the center of the beasts' convergence. Not hostile. Not aggressive. But urgent.

Each beast pulsed again — their colors flaring briefly: gold, grey, violet, black, and blue — syncing in staggered rhythm, like hearts trying to find the same beat.

They weren't just waking.

They were responding.

To him.

To the Saint Path.

To the mirror that shattered.

The forging of the new rune — the reflection of Ethan's concept — had not been a solitary experience. They had felt it. Had been part of it. And now, they were shifting to match.

Evolving.

But that evolution came with risk. Imbalance. Misfire. Recoil.

And Ethan realized—

That was the flicker.

Not danger.

Resonance.

His path forward in Saint Realm cultivation wasn't just solitary. It would ripple into them. Into everything bound to his soul.

And that meant—

He had to steady himself.

For their sake.

Before any technique. Before any power.

He knelt within his inner world, placing his hand on the ethereal floor that connected them.

"Together," he whispered. "Let's find our balance first."

Above, Sage exhaled — a soft chime like a bell drifting in mist.

Below, Galeno rumbled deep and slow, the sound of stone realigning.

Malverick cracked his neck and settled again into stillness.

Stygian's middle head growled once, then silenced.

And Onyx… dissolved again into quiet shadow.

The storm passed.

Not gone — but understood.

For now.

Within his soulscape, the ripple subsided — leaving behind a delicate stillness.

Ethan stood amidst the spectral echoes of his bonded beasts, each settled once more into their respective spheres. The resonance between them was not yet harmonious — not fully. But it had quieted into something manageable. Like mismatched chords slowly tuning toward a symphony.

He drew a breath.

And let it spiral inward.

Not to gather power — but to refine it.

His Saint Realm was still in flux. The core of his being had expanded, grown luminous with new depth — but that depth needed structure. Flow. Intent.

He lowered himself into a meditative stance within the inner plane, hands resting on invisible knees, and allowed the natural circulation of Saint energy to begin.

Slowly. Thoughtfully.

Earth. Alchemy. Necromancy. Curse. Sound.

Each affinity flickered through him like colors in a prism. Not in chaos, but not in unity either. There was pushback. Faint discord. Their individual natures were too unique — too proud — to easily coalesce.

Galeno's earth affinity was steady but immovable, demanding patience and resolve.Malverick's alchemy danced and shifted, a web of dynamic reactions.Stygian's necromantic pulse was cold and deep, echoing with the hunger of endings.Onyx's cursed presence was sharp and invasive, barely cooperating at all.Sage's sound affinity hummed in complex waves, its vibration touching everything and yet slipping through control.

He stabilized his breathing again.

One thread at a time.

He began with Earth — anchoring himself. Letting Galeno's essence root his Saint core in calm. It slowed the fluctuations, softened the edge of each internal current.

Then came Alchemy — which he guided, not controlled. Letting it mix just enough with Earth, coaxing transmutation without destabilization.

Necromancy next — Stygian's power folded cold into the mix. It resisted at first, then curled into the flow, giving form to the alchemy, shape to the earth.

Curse followed, more difficult.

Onyx's energy bit him as he approached it, even within. A thousand shadow-needles, testing resolve. But Ethan did not repel it — he absorbed the pressure, wore it like a cloak, and allowed the cursed energy to settle on the outer layer, like a shield rather than a weapon.

Finally, Sound.

Sage's resonance played above it all — dissonant at first. But Ethan listened. Aligned his pulse with it. Found its rhythm. And for a moment — brief and brilliant — all five sang together within him.

The harmonization wasn't perfect.

But it held.

His Saint core stabilized.

Light spilled from his form in the real world — subtle and silent — moonlight passing through a prism unseen. The garden's breeze slowed, as if the world recognized the moment.

He opened his eyes.

And exhaled.

The Grimoire of Order drifted closer. "You've done it."

"No," Ethan said quietly, wiping a faint sheen of sweat from his brow. "I've started."

The Grimoire tilted slightly. "Five affinities. No Psychic."

Ethan nodded, gaze distant now. "The soul synchronization exists… but the affinity matrix is incomplete. And the longer I progress without Psychic's balance—"

"—the greater the eventual instability," the Grimoire finished. "Yes."

He stood slowly, stretching his fingers.

It wasn't urgent.

Not yet.

But he knew.

One piece was missing.

And that meant he would need to find it.

Or forge it.

Because without it, the harmony of the five would always be precarious — like a wheel missing its final spoke.

And his Saint path would remain... unfinished.