The Transcendent Godslayer-Chapter 33: Bloodline ritual

It was well past midnight, and the grand festivities had long since concluded. Now, in an undisclosed part of the Crimson estate, members of the Crimson family; those of true Crimson blood, the direct lineage of the family, had gathered.

The setting was a vast, dome-shaped underground hall, with sturdy pillars so robust, they stood like an unbending spine of the world, bearing the weight of the cosmos.

At the very center of the hall stood a massive pool of crimson liquid, its surface unnaturally still, its walls raised slightly above the ground as if it were an altar.

Suspended above it by an unseen force was a shimmering crimson bead. Although it was called a bead, it was far too large, nearly three times the size of a soccer ball. The luminous sphere pulsed, its deep red glow the only source of light, casting long shadows across the hall and bathing everything in a haunting, almost sacred radiance.

The Bloodline Pool.

Kallen had been here once before as a fresh off the womb infant, before his soul had awakened to this world. So to him it was his first time being here.

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The expressions of the Crimsons were solemn, and it was easy to notice that, even the Saints were present.

Saints.

Their appearances were rare, their presence alone enough to shift the very atmosphere. Yet, no one seemed overly surprised. Any time a Crimson performed the bloodline activation ritual, it was almost tradition; those Saints who resided within the estate or were close enough would always make an appearance.

They had been there when Garth performed his ritual years ago. When Genevieve stood before the crimson pool. When Alita, Williams, Atticus, Elyon, and Eliot each took their turn.

And now, they were here for Kallen.

The Crimson family was divided into three known bloodline branches: War, Devour, and Morph.

The first ancestor of the Crimson family had not awakened any branch bloodline but had three children, who became the foundation of these three branches.

Since his time, the Crimson family had existed for only four generations. Sirius, the eldest child of the ancestor, founded the Devour branch and became the first Patriarch. The position of Patriarch had remained within this branch ever since.

Despite their naming disparity, no bloodline branch was inherently more powerful than the others; each possessed its own unique strengths. Sirius had likely become the first Patriarch simply because he was the eldest among his siblings.

What truly mattered was an individual's bloodline potency, which was determined during the bloodline activation ritual. This ritual not only measured one's potential but also awakened their specific bloodline branch.

The higher one's bloodline potency, the greater the power they could draw from the Crimson lineage.

---

Kallen stood at the edge of the crimson pool, wearing only a sash tied around his waist. The air was thick with anticipation, every gaze fixed on him.

"Step into the pool," Azarel commanded from behind him.

Dressed in ceremonial white robes, his long unkempt beard and hair, giving him the appearance of a homeless sage. He leaned on a cane he was holding, using it to slightly support his weight. He was still recovering from the injuries he had sustained at Kallen's birth.

Truthfully, he felt a twinge of apprehension at the thought of Kallen stepping into the pool. If anything went wrong, the consequences would be catastrophic. The memory of Kallen's birth was haunting, causing his expression to darken. Because, it was in this very pool, he had sealed the destructive energy Kallen was emitting as a child.

Kallen stepped forward, his feet sinking into the viscous crimson liquid.

Above, the massive sphere of glowing red trembled.

Azarel's breath hitched. His fingers tightened around his cane as he began chanting under his breath, ready to intervene if necessary.

The sphere quivered again, its glow intensifying. Then it turned silent.

Ten seconds. Thirty. A minute. Two.

Nothing was happening.

The sphere remained alight with an intense brilliance, but the pool remained still.

"What's going on?"

Hushed murmurs of the gathered family members broke through the silence, confusion thick in the air.

The Saints however, kept their total concentration on the pool and the boy within it, not even daring to blink. Their expressions darkening and worsening every passing second.

"This has never happened before."

"Could it be... he can't awaken a bloodline branch?"

"If that's the case, he's a total waste. Announcing him as heir was a mistake."

"Waste? The first ancestor didn't awaken a branch either. Are you calling him a waste?"

RUMBLE

The pool shuddered with the force of an earthquake, and the crimson sphere pulsed violently.

Azarel's pupils shrank. A sharp pain stabbed through his head, momentarily knocking his senses out of focus.

ROAR.

Kallen's mouth opened wide without his own volution, and from within him erupted a guttural, bestial roar.

Azarel immediately cursed under his breath.

Thankfully, he wasn't the only Saint present.

"Blood Barrier," Selene—another Saint of the Crimsons, intoned, her voice calm but firm. A translucent red shield materialized in an instant, sealing Kallen off from the rest of the hall.

The ground shuddered. Once. Twice.

"What the hell is happening?"

"What kind of child is this boy?"

The gathered Crimsons whispered amongst themselves, some instinctively shifting to shield their children, ready for anything.

"Huh?".

They noticed the tremors, suddenly ceased, and the Saints who had been prepared for catastrophe, stood frozen, their gazes locked onto the pool.

A moment later, the rest followed their line of sight.

And their eyes widened in surprise.

"Eighty percent bloodline resonance?"

The once-brimming pool had nearly dried up.

Ninety percent.

One hundred.

Not a single drop remained.

The crimson sphere trembled violently, and the hall quaked in response. Then, as if answering some unseen force, a single drop of blood-red liquid fell from the orb, instantly refilling the pool.

But not for long.

The moment the pool was restored, it began draining once more.

"Impossible!"

Ninety percent.

One hundred.

Again.

The cycle repeated—this time, the sphere itself dimmed, its radiance flickering as if struggling to sustain itself.

Some of the onlookers stumbled backward, nearly falling on their butts.

Twenty percent.

Thirty.

Fifty.

The draining slowed.

Sixty. Seventy.

Eighty.

Finally, it stopped.

The hall fell into stunned silence. Even the Saints, the supposed paragons of wisdom and understanding, exchanged bewildered looks.

No one had an answer.

And so, as if drawn by some unseen force, every gaze turned back to the one person who might explain.

Kallen.

Standing in the center of the pool.

And then—he collapsed.