The name Bloodrune alone was enough to send shivers down the spine of any warrior.
A house built on pure swordsmanship and battle glory. A family whose bloodlines birthed the finest bladesmen the continent had ever known. Among them, the patriarch Somes Bloodrune stood above all. A man said to have never lost a single duel in his lifetime.
But within that house of legends was a disgrace.
A bastard and a failure.
A boy once hailed as a prodigy... now discarded as trash.
Ran Bloodrune stood in silence at the mansion's gate, carrying nothing but a bag of clothes and a body drained of strength. He didn't speak. Neither did the man watching him.
The butler, Mor Warith, gave him one final glance. He was cold and unreadable. There was no pity in his eyes.
"You are never to return."
Then the gates closed behind him. Just like that, 16 years of bloodline meant nothing.
Ran didn't look back. That chapter was over.
'If it weren't for this damn mana drain…'
The thought circled in his head as he stepped away from the estate.
Mana Drain, A cursed affliction that slowly eats away at the very life source of a mage or swordsman. It started subtly with an occasional sense of fatigue, slow recovery after training. But now, at sixteen, even performing the first form of the Bloodrune sword techniques felt like trying to lift a mountain.
Most people diagnosed with mana drain didn't live past five years.
Ran had two years to live.
No cure. No future. No family.
For now he needed food. He needed coin.
'A mercenary group will do for now. They offer pay and daily rations. That's enough.'
It wasn't about climbing ranks or seeking glory. He didn't have time for that. All he could do now was survive long enough to find something that might stop the slow decay inside him.
The Guild Hall at the edge of the estate buzzed with chatter, steel, and the stink of sweat. As Ran walked in, eyes turned to him.
The whispers started almost immediately.
"Isn't that him?"
"The rumored bastard from Bloodrune?"
"Why would someone like him show his face here?"
Ran ignored them and approached a group near the mission board—Moonwrath Mercenaries. They weren't high-ranking, but not bottom-feeders either. Enough to get by.
Their leader was a large man clad in thick steel armor, with an axe strapped to his back. Geld, they called him.
Ran stood before him.
"I want to join your group."
The chatter died for a moment.
Geld turned to face him. His expression was calm, polite, even respectful.
"If it isn't young master... why would someone like you want to join a small-time group like ours?"
"I was exiled."
Ran said plainly.
The room gasped. A ripple of gossip followed.
Geld looked at him a moment longer, then his expression shifted slightly. He lowered his voice.
"I heard... about your condition. Mana drain, right? Now that I look at you closely, it seems you indeed are suffering from it. We can't afford liabilities. Try one of the beginner guilds."
Ran didn't flinch. "Understood." he said and turned to leave.
But just then, a younger mercenary beside Geld leaned in and whispered something in his ear. His name was Kelt.
"We're short on bodies, brother. He can be a temporary fill-in. Drop him when we get better numbers."
Ran watched them silently whispering among themselves. He doesn't care whatever they are talking.
"If you don't want me, don't waste my time."
Geld raised a hand.
"Wait, I think you can be kept in temporarily."
Ran didn't need to think twice about it. An opportunity to join the guild in one go? Hell yeah! Ran extended his hand.
"Fine. I will take the offer."
'For now, this will do. The temporary food and coin is secured. Now all I need to do is try to cure this damn disease.'
The hound of Bloodrune wasn't dead yet.