"Hello, are you my new roommate?"
The boy stood before Kael, a smile on his face. Kael couldn't deny his beauty; it was almost nauseating. He glanced at the extended hand before shaking it. The boy's smile widened.
"My name is Mousan. What's yours?"
"…Kael" he replied flatly.
"Welcome, Kael. Let's be friends. But it's strange—I don't sense any energy from you."
Kael looked at him briefly before heading to his bed. There were training clothes identical to Mousan's already laid out for him. Mousan continued to watch him, feeling a bit embarrassed. Kael, however, paid him no mind and began removing his elegant clothes until his chest was bare. Mousan blushed even more.
"I'll leave you to change," he said, rushing out.
Kael didn't respond out of rudeness but because he heard the voice of his bloodline—the voice he'd been hearing since childhood. He hadn't heard it in days, not since his encounter with the black blood. It was time to find some answers.
He glanced at the door, closed it, and quickly changed clothes, placing the others in his designated wardrobe space. It seemed Mousan had already allocated a section for him.
Lying on his bed, he spoke in his mind, "Hey, bloodline, how are you?"
There was a brief silence before the arrogant, sinister voice responded, "Huh? Who are you calling bloodline you fool? And who are you to address me, you germ?"
Kael smirked slightly, "I really missed you. But who are you calling a germ, you ugly voice?"
A hideous laugh echoed in his head, "Hahaha! This brat dares to talk back. Looks like you were about to die—what a pity. Ah, how am I? I've been enjoying myself lately. Wait, didn't I save your worthless life? You should worship me now."
Kael felt anger but calmed himself. He was usually composed, but this voice always tested his patience.
"I don't know who's the real fool here. Aren't you inside my body? That means my death is your death."
"Do you really think I care? I wish for your death; it's my only desire. But I'm greedy—why did I save you? That black blood really pissed me off. Who does he think he is? And he was delicious too."
There was a pause, followed by that dreadful laugh again, "Did you know that even after I absorbed him, he resisted me? He even begged me. Hahaha! That made him even tastier."
Kael didn't comment, "You know, when I reach the fourth stage, I'll face you. If I don't defeat you, you'll control me. But you know me well. Do you really think you can beat me?"
"Haha! You're just a weak child. Look at yourself—you know nothing about this world and think you're strong. Do you really believe living in prison is suffering? There are monsters in this world you can't even look at. You'll see one of them soon if you manage to reach that stage, which I doubt."
Kael didn't doubt his words, and even hesitated a bit. Still, he had to maintain his facade.
"You don't understand. Being born in prison isn't my strength. It's that I have nothing to lose in this life. I want to see the truths of the world, but in my own way. So when I face you, believe me, you won't take this body peacefully. Even after you take it, I'll ensure either my death or yours."
The voice didn't respond, and Kael smiled slightly, "So let's make a deal. When I reach the fourth stage, we'll do it the traditional way. If I lose, you have freedom over my body. If I win, you become mine. But until then, when I ask you something, you answer and help me. In return, I'll do whatever you want once a week."
The voice didn't reply, but Kael felt it smiling even in his head. After a while, it responded cheerfully, "Good, we have a deal, you brat."
Kael was happy but also angry, 'I should've included that word in the agreement.'
"No, definitely not. I won't give up that word, even if you give me yourself now. It represents you, after all. Hahaha!"
Kael forgot that even his thoughts could be heard. He shook his head to focus.
"Alright, how can I be sure you're not lying to me?"
"You brat, a bloodline can't lie to its host."
"Who says you're not lying now?"
The voice paused and laughed, "Ah, that's true. Very good. You're sharp, you brat. Let's say it's a fifty-fifty chance."
Kael sighed, "Anyway, tell me your name and your abilities."
The voice came out again, but this time it sounded different—more serious, more solemn.
"My name is Blood of the Shadows. I am the bloodline that should never have been possessed, the bloodline whose owner is forever forgotten, the cursed bloodline. The strongest of all bloods, the supreme lineage—there has never been one like me, and there never will be. I hold all other bloodlines under my grasp. As for my abilities… my very existence shakes the earth, the sky, and the bloodlines themselves—"
Kyle immediately cut him off, his anger flaring so much he almost shouted.
"Stop bragging, you damn fool, and answer me properly!"
"You really are a true brat… I want a different host. You're no fun," the voice grumbled.
Kyle spoke calmly, yet firmly, "Answer me."
"Alright, alright, why are you getting mad at me the great bloodline?. My name is Blood of the Shadows, one of the forbidden bloodlines. Because of my dangerous power, I sit atop the throne of both cursed and uncursed bloodlines."
"Aaaaaargh!" Kael screamed as an intense pain tore through his head—far worse than any injury he'd ever suffered.
"You little brat, what's happening to you? Has the corruption already started taking over your body?" the voice taunted.
At that moment, Kael genuinely wanted to cry. It was more than he could handle. His limits were breaking.
Suddenly, Mousan burst into the room, panting heavily. His clothes were torn, and his body was covered in dust and bruises.
"Kael! Are you alright?"
Kael looked at him, his eyes cold, his expression filled with quiet rage. He noticed Mousan's condition, climbed down from his bed, and immediately understood what had happened.
He needed somewhere to release his anger.
"Tell me who did this to you," he said flatly.
Mousan hesitated, lowering his head. But the look in Kael's eyes reminded him of those who scorned and tormented him daily. His body trembled, and without saying a word, he turned and walked out the door.
They went down to the first floor, to a door at the corner that didn't belong to any room. A staircase led underground. They descended together.
They found a large training area—sectioned off spaces, target boards, and dummies.
But in one of the sections, instead of wooden targets, there were children—Kael's age—being used as live punching bags by three older boys.
Kael's eyes narrowed. He could sense it—they were already in the second stage. He realized he couldn't fight them. Not yet.
He regretted coming down here.
But this was because of Mousan. Why didn't he tell him?
Kael shot him a glare.
Mousan lowered his head, still shaking. Kael turned to leave.
But one of the older boys noticed them.
"Look who's back—our favorite punching bag!" he sneered.
Mousan trembled harder.
"Huh? He brought someone with him? Never seen this one before. Hey, kid! Come over here," another called out.
Kael didn't answer. He kept walking toward the stairs.
Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind. One of the boys appeared in front of him—taller, broader than Kael, with an arrogant smirk on his face.
"Hey, target. Never seen you before. What floor are you from?"
Kael looked at him but said nothing, stepping forward to walk past him.
But a sudden punch came flying at his face—
Boom!
Kael caught the punch mid-air, gripping it tightly.
"What do you think you're doing?" he said calmly, holding the boy's fist like it was nothing.
Everyone froze.
Even Mousan, who had been trembling, now looked at Kael as if a new savior had arrived.