Blood Resonance

Chapter 5 – The Fall of Thalor Virein

The news came at dawn.

Thalor Virein—Rank 7. The Sword Without Equal. The living wall that had held rival families at bay for over a decade—

Was broken.

He returned on a stretcher reinforced with stabilizing runes, his chest soaked in blood, his aura dimming like a star suffocating in its own gravity. The eastern gates closed without fanfare. No alarms. No sirens.

Only the quiet pulse of dread.

Only the core bloodline was informed. Shadow Knights were sworn to silence. The world would not know—not yet. Not until the Vireins decided what the world was allowed to fear.

Lucien stood in the courtyard as the stretcher passed, hands folded behind his back, eyes unreadable. Seraphina whispered something cold and sharp to one of the advisors and followed after the healers. Elaris wept.

Caelus, at first, looked impassive.

Then, slowly—almost mechanically—his face shifted into worry, eyebrows tightening, lips parting just enough to mimic human concern.

A mask. Convincing. Practiced.

His Shadow Knight, Dravin, reported quietly: it had been an aberrant—an intelligent one. It laid a trap. Thalor killed it, but not before it landed a venom-laced blow deep into his side. A wound that wouldn't heal. Not even with the Virein family's blood-linked regenerative gift.

The estate changed overnight. Patrols doubled. Eyes narrowed. Routine gave way to tension.

Caelus remained the picture of a composed son.

But when midnight struck—

He hunted.

The forest behind the Virein estate was sealed in silence.

Dozens of suppression layers, runic fields, and containment glyphs cloaked it from the world. A place used for trial executions, forbidden testing, and quiet slaughter.

Perfect.

Caelus stood over a twitching beast corpse, his blade resting against his shoulder. The creature—a Rank 0 hornback—gurgled a final breath before going limp.

His eyes were sharp. Focused.

Then—he smiled.

Not out of cruelty.

But out of glee. Pure, quiet glee. A glimmer of joy carved from chaos. A flash of madness curling beneath his otherwise dead expression.

But it didn’t last.

He looked at the blood pooling under his boots and felt the hollowness return.

A familiar ache.

Like a cup filled with ash.

His fingers flexed around the hilt.

“It’s not enough.”

Two more beasts crept from the underbrush, drawn by the smell of death. Caelus turned to face them, blank again—but already moving.

He struck first.

The first fell without time to scream, its spine severed mid-pounce. The second lunged wildly. Caelus didn’t dodge.

He stepped into the strike and drove his blade up through the beast’s jaw, cracking bone, piercing skull. Blood splattered across his chest.

Three bodies now.

He stood in the center.

And smiled again.

Smaller. Sharper.

Satisfied—but only just.

His jaw twitched. His grip trembled ever so slightly.

“Still not enough… It’s getting harder to act normal.”

His voice was a whisper, lost to the trees.

“I need more. But any more and they'll start watching me.”

Not enough to silence it.
Not enough to feel whole.

He wiped the blade clean in a single motion and disappeared into the dark.

Morning.

The estate moved in quiet ritual.

Servants whispered. Guards rotated on new schedules. No one trained in public. No one laughed.

Caelus entered the medical wing alone.

Thalor lay beneath three layers of spell-treated cloth, breathing shallowly through carved mana-tubes sunk into the floor. Diagnostic glyphs pulsed slowly across his body.

He didn’t look like a Rank 7.

He looked like wreckage.

Seraphina sat beside him, skin pale beneath her cheekbones. Lucien stood just behind her, hands clasped in silence.

Nobody spoke.

An advisor approached Lucien, voice barely audible.

“Now… they’ll come.”

Caelus’s gaze flicked from Thalor’s shattered frame to the stone floor… to his own hands.

Then he smiled.

Just a little.

Not the practiced smile. Not the polite one.

A sharp one.

“Good,” he whispered, low enough to vanish into the air. “Then I’ll finally be satisfied.”

Behind him, Thalor’s eyes opened briefly—just a crack. He stared at Caelus’s back.

And then shut them again.

That night, the war hall glowed with deep crimson sigils, the floor projecting territories and mana lines across the Virein dominion. Lucien stood by the map table, arms crossed. Seraphina beside him.

The weight of the air was different.

Caelus entered.

No knock. No hesitation.

“Prepare the awakening chamber,” he said.

Lucien didn’t answer at first. He looked to Seraphina.

She met her son’s gaze.

And for just a moment, the smile on her lips almost faltered. Almost.

“Alright,” she said gently. “But, honey… don’t push yourself too hard.”

Lucien gave a slow exhale. No words—just a single nod.

Caelus turned and walked away.