Ariella
Enoch Mansion
Thornhill, Vankar Island
Northern Isles Region
Kingdom of Ashtarium
December 5th 6414
Mary Avrams—Lilith's relative—stood near the center of the room, her expression tight as she relayed the warnings her mother had sent her to deliver. Her voice was clipped, formal, as if she wanted this over with as quickly as possible. Ben sat quietly in the corner, listening with arms crossed, while Lilith shot venomous glares at Mary with every word spoken.
I hadn't seen Lil since I brought her back from the Dungeon and helped Sanders administer the elixir that stabilized her Vampiric transition. She'd been unconscious for days, her body in flux, hovering between life and something far darker.
During that time, I'd spent most of my hours talking to Eduardo, trying to piece together what we'd all been dragged into. But now that Lil was awake—truly awake—it was clear something had shifted.
No... not shifted. Returned.
She looked more like the wild, feral girl I had met when I was eight years old—the one who could scare off adult Vampires with a gleam in her eye. That same wildness had crept back into her now, only deeper... colder.
The darkness in her eyes wasn't just grief—it was raw, unfiltered, and suffocating. Even her very presence felt altered, laced with a chilling aura that seemed to drain the warmth from the air around her. Whether she realized it or not, Lilith was embracing what it meant to be a Vampire. Or perhaps it was embracing her.
I didn't know yet.
I'd have to speak to her soon—ask how she was coping with Jen and Neil's deaths. Two losses, back-to-back. It had to be eating away at her. But right now, we have a bigger problem. The Royal Executioners had been dispatched, and they were coming for me.
"How did R.E.T.U. find our location?" Eduardo asked, tension clear in his voice.
"Our location?" Lilith scoffed, her voice sharp with disdain. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Lil," I said gently, trying to diffuse the brewing storm between them.
Sanders stepped in before it escalated. "It was likely due to blood resonance," he said, turning his gaze toward me. "Based on what you told me about your encounter in the Dungeon—specifically your battle with the Echo entity—the Princess finally manifested her Sin. That awakening would've triggered a resonance between her and the head of the Ashtarmel bloodline."
He paused.
"Which means," he continued gravely, "King Nehemiah knows you're alive."
The room went still.
Sin.Otherwise known as the Sin Factor—the unique bloodline ability that marked every Vampire House.
Other races referred to it simply as an Ability Factor, a natural expression of their lineage or affinity. But to Vampires, it was more than power—it was heritage. Identity. Curse and crown alike.
The Ashtarmel family was renowned for their ancestral Sin: the Sin of Radiance. A fearsome, sacred ability tied to the power of the Sun itself—blinding, purifying, and unrelenting. It was the very antithesis of shadow. And now that it had awakened in me, there was no hiding.
Not from the Royal Family. Not from Nehemiah. Not from the executioners sent to erase loose ends.
"So… now what?" I asked, my voice low but urgent.
"There's not enough time," Sanders replied, eyes narrowing. "I wanted to explain everything here and now—but it seems we've run out of that luxury. So here's what we'll do."
He looked directly at Lilith and Eduardo. "You two are going to take the Princess—and find Jack Kuria."
"Who?" Lilith asked, frowning.
I gasped, the name hitting me like a thunderclap. Jack Kuria. A legend. A myth. A name etched into every history scroll from the Long War.
"You've heard of him," I said, turning to Lil, trying to draw out the memory. "Come on—you remember the stories Father used to tell us. About the Long War?"
Her expression didn't change, but I pressed on.
"Jack Edward Kuria. One of the Radiant Five—heroes chosen by the government, each powerful enough to turn the tide of war alone. He was the one who held the Eastern Front when the invading coalitions tried to steal our leyline resources. Before Ashtarium even officially entered the war, he was already fighting for us."
"That Jack Kuria," Sanders confirmed. "He's still alive. Still fighting—now as a member of the Paragon."
Even Eduardo's eyes widened slightly at that.
The Paragon.An elite council made up of the most powerful cultivators from each of the ten Manaborn races. Guardians of the world's metaphysical balance. Their authority surpasses even national authority in certain matters.
And Jack Kuria was one of them.
"But how are we supposed to find him?" I asked. "No one's seen Jack Kuria in years. I doubt even my father kept in contact with him."
"He did," Sanders said. "Jack's been aware of the situation from the start. He's the one who arranged our fake identities, the funds, even the elixir that stabilized Lilith's Vampiric transition."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a key—sleek, metallic, and humming with potent mana.
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "That's an enchanted item. Mythical grade, maybe?"
"Good eye," Sanders said with a nod. "Jack crafted it himself. It's keyed to his personal coordinates. With it, you can teleport directly to him—or to one of his trusted associates."
He turned to Lilith, offering her the key. "I want you to take it. Your Codex isn't just a mage's tool—it's an artificial Dungeon, capable of moving through spatial pathways. With the key, you'll be able to reach Jack."
Lilith raised her hand, and the key floated into her palm with a simple pull of mental energy. It was subtle—but precise. Her command of Ascendant techniques was growing fast.
"What about you and Hector?" I asked, catching on to the implication that I was leaving alone without him or Hector.
"We'll stay behind," Sanders said calmly. "If the Royal Executioners come, we'll delay them."
"That's suicide," I protested. "You're a Master Realm expert, yes, but Hector's still Warrior realm—and human. They won't be enough against trained Ascendant killers."
Sanders held firm. "This is our duty, Princess. Yours is to survive—and reclaim your legacy. Your Sin Factor is awakening. Lilith's power is rising. Our mission in Thornhill is complete. The next step is clear: gather the strength to take back the throne."
He looked between us. "And Jack Kuria is key to that step."
"Oh well, if you're staying, then so be it," Lilith said with a shrug. "But I still don't like the idea of traveling with this douchebag—but whatever." She shot a look at Eduardo, then turned toward Ben, who had been quietly observing from the corner, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Looks like this is goodbye, Ben. Goodbye to you... and Thornhill."
"No," Ben said, rising to his feet. His voice was calm, but resolute. "I'm coming with you."
I blinked, surprised. Since we'd returned from the Dungeon, I'd barely spoken to Ben. Not because of distance, but because of guilt—crippling, gnawing guilt. Guilt that maybe... just maybe, Neil's death had been my fault. Neil had been his best friend, his partner, before the two of them ever teamed up with me and Lil. I hadn't even dared to break the news to Neil's family. I left that to Ben. Yes, I had been a coward. And still, he wanted to come with us.
"Why would you want to come, Ben Navajo?" Sanders asked, his tone measured but firm. "You're a gifted Manaborn. With the right path, you could become a licensed Dungeon raider, maybe even join a guild. You have a future. Following the Princess means throwing that away."
Ben looked directly at him, eyes unwavering. "Because Ella is part of my pack. I've already done the Omega thing. It sucks. Neil's gone, and I'm not going back to being that guy again. I don't care if she's a Vampire. I'll risk my life for my pack."
There was silence for a beat. I felt a lump catch in my throat.
Lycans and Vampires had a complicated past—centuries of bloodshed and betrayal. But in the New World, things had changed. Thanks to my father, King Rafael, our two races had begun mending the wounds of the past. We weren't allies, not yet—not like the bond between Wytches and Vampires—but we were no longer enemies.
Sanders nodded. "Very well. I see no issue with you accompanying the Princess."
Lilith grinned. "Looks like you're stuck with us, huh, Benny?"
As she said it, a small silver cube shimmered into existence beside her—Aeternum, the Codex that had bonded with her. Its polished surface pulsed softly, and in a moment, a gentle suction force activated.
Before I could say anything, Aeternum drew us in—Ben, Eduardo, and me—pulling us into its internal pocket space, leaving behind the quiet sanctuary of the Enoch Mansion reading room.
_
Royal Palace
Pandemonium City,
Hudsonia Region
Kingdom of Ashtarium
April 12th, 6412
"Adjust your mana flow, Princess. Let the aura accelerate your movement," Sanders called out across the marble-paved training hall, his voice firm but instructive. The chamber—reserved for the royal family's elite warrior training—echoed with the rhythmic clash of practice blades and the hum of circulating mana.
Ariella moved with practiced grace, wielding a slender crimson-forged blade as she danced through the forms of the Heavenly Crimson Flash Style, the signature sword art of House Ashtarmel. Though her primary path was that of an archer, her tutors insisted she master the sword to defend herself in close combat, especially after the traumatic events of her kidnapping two years prior.
Since that day, Ariella had thrown herself into cultivation with relentless discipline. Now, at the cusp of breaking into the final tier of the Acolyte Realm, her Body Cultivation had begun to show true promise.
Unlike Magic Cultivation, which channels mana outward through spells, Body Cultivation turns the body itself into a conduit for mana expression. This path gives rise to Mana Arts—techniques that refine the physical form and push it beyond mortal limits.
Mana Arts are classified into four principal types: Reinforcement Arts – bolster physical attributes like strength, speed, and durability. Aura Arts – externalize mana as an aura to enhance perception, intimidation, or spatial control. Burst Arts – compress and explosively release mana for instantaneous power surges. Resonance Arts – synchronize mana with weapons, terrain, or allies to create harmony-based effects.
Just like their magic-wielding counterparts, Mana Artists must master the Four Methods of Mana Control—Flow control, Reverse flow control, Release control, and Output control—and master the Nine Levels of Mana Application. However, their approach is grounded in somatic focus rather than incantation or spellcasting.
At the Reinforcement level of Mana application, Ariella had begun refining her Reinforcement Arts, techniques specifically used for: Movement techniques, accelerating bodily motion through controlled mana flow. Power technique: concentrating mana into muscles to amplify striking force. Reaction technique: heightening reflexes and sensory acuity through micro-adjusted mana surges.
With each breath, she adjusted her mana output, fine-tuning the pulse that flowed from her core to her limbs. Crimson light flickered along the edge of her blade as she vanished and reappeared in a flicker-step, reemerging behind a training dummy with her blade stopped just an inch from its throat.
Sanders gave a nod of approval. "Good. You're beginning to understand the rhythm of your mana. Sword or bow—it makes no difference when your body is a weapon."
Ariella didn't respond. Her gaze was steady, her breathing calm, and her aura—now faintly visible—pulsed with focused determination.
With the Crimson Flash Sword Style, combining Reinforcement Techniques with the footwork embedded in the sword art significantly amplified both power and precision. Ariella was steadily mastering two key techniques: the speed-focused Rapid Step, and the reflexive Reaction Art known as Full Guard, which allowed her to intercept and counter attacks with instinctive precision.
These were considered basic Mana Arts, accessible to most practitioners in the Novice Realm of body cultivation. Like many foundational techniques, they served as entry points into the larger world of Reinforcement Arts—offering consistency, reliability, and structure.
However, true mastery lay beyond mere replication.
Only upon reaching the Master Realm could a cultivator begin to customize and evolve these techniques, shaping them to reflect their combat philosophy and unique mana flow. At that stage, Rapid Step might become a teleportive blur, and Full Guard could transform into an instinctive counterstrike field.
For now, Ariella focused on refining the fundamentals—drilling movement and reaction until they became second nature. She understood that mastery wasn't just about power. It was about harmony between the body, the art, and the mana flowing through her veins.
As Ariella continued her practice, the chamber doors slid open with a soft hiss. Lilith stepped inside, dressed in her official Royal Guard uniform—a crimson military coat reinforced with sleek, lightweight armor. The plating, forged from enchanted alloys, shimmered faintly with embedded runes, offering both mobility and protection.
Though only sixteen, Lilith had grown strikingly elegant. Her midnight-black hair now carried a refined luster, and her burning orange eyes, once untamed, held a flicker of control, like wildfire leashed by discipline. Her rich brown skin gleamed under the overhead lights, and a recent growth spurt had transformed her presence.
Now standing at five feet nine inches, Lilith towered over Ariella's more petite five-foot-four frame. Her height, paired with her polished bearing and the aura of mana-infused discipline she carried, made her presence immediately commanding, like a lioness surveying her pride.
Lilith crossed the chamber with measured steps, the faint clink of her armored boots echoing off the polished stone. She stopped near the training circle, folding her arms as she watched Ariella complete the final movement of her form—a high arc slash that ended with a flare of crimson light trailing behind her blade.
A brief silence passed before Lilith spoke, her voice calm but edged with approval. "Your footwork's cleaner than last week. You're syncing the Rapid Step flow with your sword forms now… that's not easy."
Ariella exhaled, lowering her blade.
"Still not fast enough," she muttered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Sweat clung to her brow, but her eyes burned with focus.
Lilith smirked, a subtle glint of pride flashing in her gaze. "Fast enough to cut the throat of a lesser vampire before they blink. You don't need to be perfect—you need to be lethal. And trust me, you're getting there."
"But when am I going to fight a real opponent?" Ariella asked, lowering her blade with a sigh. She turned toward Lilith—only to freeze mid-motion.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest, rising unbidden to her cheeks. She could feel the blush threatening to show, but she quickly called upon her Mental Force—the mind's cultivated energy—to suppress the reaction and steady her face.
Controlling external expressions was one of the more subtle uses of Mental Force, but Ariella had honed it with surprising discipline, particularly when it came to Lilith.
Emotions were never her strong suit. She wasn't skilled at hiding frustration, sadness, or joy. But this—this fluttering, weightless feeling that stirred in her stomach whenever Lilith was near—was the one emotion she had learned to mask with precision.
And no one—not even Lilith—could tell.
It was a shame, really. Over the years, Lilith had become just as skilled at hiding her emotions. Perhaps too skilled.
Time had changed them both. As Ariella matured, her beauty had deepened into something otherworldly—silvery-white hair that shimmered in the light, piercing blue eyes that carried quiet defiance, and a porcelain complexion that made her seem almost ethereal. She had yet to awaken her bloodline or physique attributes, but even now, the signs were there.
According to the Royal Physician, once Ariella's Vampirism fully manifested, she would become the most beautiful Ashtarmel in recorded history.
Lilith didn't doubt it for a moment.
Still, she was quietly relieved by the physician's prediction: ten more years before the full manifestation. Ten more years before that transformation would begin. Ten more years where things could remain… simpler.
Or at least, pretend to be.
"I take it your little side assignment is finally over," Sanders remarked, his tone neutral but laced with that familiar undercurrent of disapproval.
Lilith stifled a yawn as she regarded him. The tension between them hadn't softened with time. Their relationship remained strained—more professional cold war than working partnership. And now that Lilith had reached the strength of a Master Realm Ascendant, she no longer placed much weight on Sanders' opinion. Still, protocol demanded a certain decorum, and she played her role accordingly.
"Yes," she replied coolly. "I just returned from King's Crown City."
Ariella wrinkled her nose. "King's Crown City? What were you doing in that dumpster fire of a place?"
Lilith and Sanders exchanged a glance.
Ever since Ariella's kidnapping, Lilith had launched her investigation off the books. While the Royal Guard's official inquiry produced little beyond empty leads, Lilith pursued a different path, one carved through the shadows of memory and intuition. Using her unique ability, she had extracted fragmented recollections from Zohan Amadi, one of the known accomplices involved. The memories led her to a mysterious figure referred to only as the Broker.
But finding the Broker meant first identifying the city where Zohan had met him.
Doing that while fulfilling her duties as Ariella's protector had proven challenging. The Royal Guard's official search had gone cold, and no evidence pointed to the true orchestrator of the kidnapping.
Eventually, Lilith had been forced to do something she'd sworn to avoid—ask Sanders for help.
He hadn't taken it well. Fury had laced every word of their exchange. But to Lilith's surprise, the King himself had intervened, impressed by her initiative and relentless pursuit. He overrode Sanders and granted her access to high-tier resources, primarily Dome surveillance archives from the Hudsonia Region.
And now, after six long months of cross-referencing architectural details from her memory with classified aerial dome scans, Lilith had finally located the city from Zohan's past.
It was real.
She had found the Broker's trail again.
"So, did you find what you were looking for in the city?" Sanders asked, arms still crossed, his voice as curt as ever.
Lilith shook her head. "No. The trail's gone cold—for now." Her expression didn't waver. "But it doesn't matter. I'll pick it back up once I've rested."
Ariella listened quietly, not entirely sure what the two were discussing. She knew Lilith had been working on something important-something unofficial-but details were scarce, and Lilith rarely shared them. Still, with training done for the day, Ariella's mind was already elsewhere.
The Royal Institute of Academia had just acquired a new historical artifact, rumored to be from the early Accord era period. She'd been dying to see it ever since she heard the news. And with a free afternoon, there was no better time.
"Hey," she said, sliding her sword into its sheath. "I'm going to wash up. Meet you later for our appointment?"
Lilith gave a small nod. "Sure."
Ariella smiled and turned toward the washroom at the far end of the chamber, already thinking about ancient glyphs and forgotten dynasties.