A wooden flat ship streaked across the sky, corpses littering the deck. Only sixteen people remained standing, all wounded and exhausted.
The hunt was a disaster. Fourteen dead. And the Blood Monarch still roamed free."
They reached an underground fortified city where heavily armed soldiers welcomed them and took them into custody. The corpses, still radiating power even in death, were disinfected from any plague or disease before being sent to a mortuary.
Among the fallen was a woman with long red hair and smooth skin, wearing crimson armor. She had been one of the valiant heroes who faced the Blood Monarch, but now lay dead. Her body was impaled in multiple locations, venomous blood having wreaked havoc within her, bringing her to an untimely death.
She was placed in a bag like the others, then transferred to the freezer. The doctors walked away, viewing them as a valuable specimen. The body of a Phase 3 Talent user was extremely hard to come by.
The room fell silent. Then, unseen, a force gripped the compartment where the woman lay and slid it open.
The dead woman walked out, her eyes cold, skin hard as stone and cold as ice.
Her hands went to her chest and ripped it open. Gently, she pulled out an emaciated baby. Cough! He breathed hard, his stump limbs moving slightly.
In a low, hoarse tone, he whispered, "Take me to safety."
Like a marionette, she closed her chest, carried the baby outside, donned a doctor's attire, and snuck out of the facility.
She ran at high speed, carrying the precious baby to a different part of the city closer to the surface. Avoiding all eyes and surveillance, she reached a building from which the cries of babies and shouts of women could be heard.
She punched the gate, bending the metal, and a man ran out with a glowing fist. "Who's there?"
There was no one. The steel gate bore the depression of a fist, and on the ground lay a fabric wrapped around something wriggling.
"For goodness' sake, not another forsaken child!" the man groaned. "People are heartless. If you can't take care of a baby, don't make one!"
He reached for the fabric and opened it but recoiled. "What an ugly baby!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you, little lad?"
The man carried him inside, holding his nose. "You stink. Are you fresh from the womb? Argh. Mama Thorne will be furious!" He laughed nervously.
He walked inside, and several minutes later, an angry shout silenced the entire bustling house.
***
Eiran recovered quickly. Each day brought changes to his body. First, his wrinkled skin smoothed out. Then his sunken eyes returned to normal.
His lips became rosy, and hair as white as snow grew on his head. His once-ugly features were replaced with smooth, exotic, lovely ones.
The nannies who had initially hated to care for him now competed for the privilege. If not for his missing hands and legs, he would have been perfect for display to those seeking children to adopt.
He hadn't spoken or shown his intelligence. He didn't need to—he was asleep all this while. His tiny mouth curling into smiles, a reflex born of comfort—not consciousness.
Until a shiver ran through his spine. He woke up and took a deep breath, memories of the past six months flooding back. He loved every moment of it.
'Why am I afraid?' His blood trembled inside him. Someone dangerous was nearby.
Mama Thorne, as they called her, the head of orphanage, aggressive, hard on everyone but always tender to young ones. She always went crazy when one of them was harmed.
She picked him up to go outside. From his memory, he recalled this occurrence happening when someone came searching for a child to adopt—or more precisely, to buy, though Eiran didn't care about the distinction.
He embraced his infant persona and unleashed a cry. "Waaa! Waaa! Waaa!"
"Hush, little one. This is a good chance for you to have a family," she soothed, but his wails only intensified.
"Mama Thorne, you know that means he doesn't want to go out!" A young nanny came and took him from the older woman.
"Hey, the guest asked for him specifically," Mama Thorne spoke softly. "Just keep him quiet."
The young nanny frowned, her soothing talent not working on him. This wasn't the first time Eiran had cried when he didn't want to meet a visitor. It was as if he could sense them somehow.
"Please, Mama Thorne. He'll only cry more!"
"Waaa! Waaa!"
His voice rose, limbs thrashing, tears streaming down his face. The old woman sighed and left.
Eiran quickly calmed as he was placed on his bed. The nanny gave him milk, which he drank eagerly. That brief crying spell had weakened him.
Suddenly, he sensed the danger close by, but as his eyes grew heavy, he pretended to sleep.
Mama Thorne and a man stood behind the nanny, silently watching the baby as they spoke. The nanny oblivious to their presence.
"This is the baby?" he asked in a deep voice.
"Yes, sir. His recovery is miraculous, and the strangest thing is he's awakened. Though I don't know what talent he possesses," Mama Thorne said.
"That's not unusual. But this isn't the one I'm looking for." He turned and walked away.
"Oh. I see." They left, and Eiran sighed with relief before truly falling asleep, leaving his conscious guard behind.
***
Eiran woke up again with a jolt. He was leaving the house for the first time. From his memories, he understood why—he was being sent to a hospital. Not to heal, but to heal others.
Mama Thorne had lied to that man. She knew of Eiran's healing abilities but hadn't revealed them. Now she was sending him to a distant nephew who would make use of his talents.
The journey was long, crossing empty caverns and vast underground halls. Nanny Linda finally reached their destination: a place at the center of a vast underground desert, where numerous roads converged.
Their journey was fast but the more they got closer to the destination the more Nanny Linda felt sad getting part with the exotic baby but truth be told, Mama Thorne was right, it's better for him to be where he will be protected.
The moment they arrived, a man took the baby without saying a word. He smiled knowingly—he had sensed the healing power.
Nanny Linda rested only briefly before departing. She has to go back and erase her traces so that no one will know where he was.
Eiran was inside an observation room, Doctor Karl performing multiple tests. He confirmed that based on the baby's genes and body, he was indeed just over six months old and was already awakened—uncommon but not unheard of.
That wasn't the doctor's concern; his job was simply to deliver the child to the head doctor. Just as he was thinking this, the leader of the entire establishment entered.
"Report!" he demanded, his voice deep and authoritative.
"Head Doctor, the boy is indeed a baby and already Awakened. His healing power is remarkably strong—at minimum, an S-rank talent!"
The Head Doctor leaned toward the baby, who was erratically moving and looking around. He nodded, satisfied. "Prepare the pod. Place him inside."
The pod was a glass tube where patients were placed for rapid healing or if they were in a deep coma. It contained a liquid that maintained bodily functions, with nutritious fluids attached to the occupant.
But it served another purpose: those with talents could be used, channeling their abilities through a series of relic devices for the establishment's benefit.
Eiran was placed inside one. As his body rejected injection through the veins, they spent an entire day setting everything up through his mouth with the use of a mask that covered his whole face.
The pod hummed with activation. From his office, the Head Doctor used the relic on a patient near him, who immediately began to improve.
"Interesting. It is indeed powerful!"
He proceeded to conduct more tests, assisting him was Doctor Kael. Within a week, they came to understand.
"I can't believe he's Alterborne!" Doctor Kael said. He was Mama Thorne's distant nephew.
"No, it makes sense. The Alterborne are born with their talents, but they usually remain dormant until they reach fourteen and awaken," the Head Doctor explained with a smile.
"Don't reveal this to anyone. And when we have more patients, increase his nutritional feeding." The Head Doctor ordered before walking away.
"Yes, sir," Doctor Kael replied.
They had also discovered that the more they harnessed his healing ability, the more he needed to be fed.
Eiran's eyes opened as he observed them. Lines of veins rose on his tender skin as his feeding increased, meaning more healing power was being extracted from him.
His body trembled, and had anyone been watching closely, they would have seen his eyes glow.
'Finally. I've reached the edge on what I've been sensing!'
His intelligence flared as he focused inward. Natural information about himself, provided by his talent, came to him:
SSS Rank Potential
Talent: Celestial Blood
Borne Trait: Essence Vessels
Eiran stared, expecting to see something additional, but there was nothing more. He had hoped to see the refined Celestial Blood Essence his Borne Trait had created.
He closed his eyes and reviewed everything he knew from the moment of his birth until now. To survive in this dying world, he needed to understand himself completely.