Korval did not move… but one of his soldiers did.
Just a single step.
"Sir, by what right do they negotiate with us? Should we submit to them, or should we crush them? They wiped out one of our cities. They could be spies. Look at that giant thing there—pure monstrosity. And that boy acts strong, but is he truly worthy of it? Forgive my lack of respect, but are they really fit for this alliance or to be part of your great army?"
Korval didn't answer. He didn't object or agree. He simply thought that testing the other side's reaction would be useful.
The soldier, seeing the king silent and not stopping him, thought:
"This might be my chance… If I act well, the king may raise my rank. And if things go badly, everyone here is with me—nothing will happen."
He stepped forward.
Only one step.
The murderous intent ignited.
And that was enough to wake the city.
A pulse.
The ground shook beneath everyone's feet, not a normal tremor… but a heartbeat.
As if something massive buried below was breathing for the first time.
Pebbles rattled.
The square cracked.
And the dried blood on the stones began to tremble like infected skin preparing to split open.
The soldier who stepped forward was the first to feel the disaster.
He froze—not from fear, but because the ground grabbed his feet.
From the cracks, thin red threads rose—shaking like nerves pulled from a corpse.
They moved…
Wrapped…
Twisted…
And slowly climbed toward his body.
Korval inhaled sharply without sound.
His fingers moved toward his sword, but he knew it was useless here.
Ashen did not turn.
As if he expected this… or caused it.
Behind him, the abomination shuddered. Its deformed muscles pulsed and swelled while broken laughter leaked from its mouths—laughter of the hundred souls that formed it.
Voices of men, women, children…
Crying, screaming, moaning with hunger for blood.
All mixed until they became impossible to separate.
Birth of the Blood
The soldier tried to retreat.
But the red threads thickened around him… merging… forming something.
Korval opened his eyes wider.
He didn't understand at first.
Then he saw it.
On the ground beneath the soldier, a child's face formed.
A child's face with no eyes… no mouth… a small head rising from the dried blood, then melting, then replaced by another.
Twisted bodies—short, soft, like unfinished fetuses—crawled and climbed, surrounding the soldier slowly, as if savoring his fear before the feast.
One of them lifted its head toward him.
It had no mouth, but a whisper came through its skin:
"Return…"
The soldier screamed.
A scream that tore through the silence.
Korval felt the air grow heavier, like breathing inside a sealed tomb.
A power not from this world
Ashen finally moved his head.
Not toward the soldier…
Not toward Korval…
But as if looking at the city itself.
His eyes were dark, empty, without emotion or desire.
A human shell walking… with something inside that could not be understood.
At that moment, Korval understood one thing:
Ashen was not a user of power.
He was a window.
A window into something older than humans… older than cities…
A law from the first blood.
The abomination looked at Korval, its cracked mouth stretching into a wide smile full of exposed bone:
"Do you see that? Look closely.
Desire is good… but… but… if you do not have the strength to devour… to prey… a strength that matches your hunger… then your hunger will devour you."
The souls inside whispered:
"Power
Power
Power
Hunger
Hunger
Prey
Devour"
The soldier was swallowed by the blood swarm.
He didn't leave a corpse.
He wasn't eaten.
He simply vanished—melted—
As if he fell into the mouth of a living city.
Korval didn't move.
His throat dried, his heart beat faster, but he didn't step back.
Retreating now—before Ashen—meant he was weaker.
And the weak… die.
Ashen finally raised his eyes toward him.
A look without interest, without evaluation—
As if Korval was just a shadow on a wall.
And yet…
Korval felt that this single look could tear apart a weaker king.
The abomination tilted its head, its many eyes shining in different ways:
"You… seek strength.
I can smell your desire from here."
Korval didn't smile, but he didn't deny it.
He said quietly:
"And what of it?
The world belongs only to the strongest."
The abomination laughed.
The souls laughed.
The blood laughed.
Even the air seemed to laugh.
The moment of truth
The city suddenly went quiet.
The red threads collapsed like dead skin.
The deformed children melted back into the blood.
Silence fell.
Not a natural silence…
But the silence of a gate opening inside the heart.
Korval thought—without fear or hesitation:
This is not a man to kill.
This is a man to claim.
Or ally with.
Or die.
Only three options.
He raised his voice slightly:
"The alliance between us… if it happens… will set the continent on fire."
Ashen did not answer.
The abomination shifted, as if waiting for a signal to feed.
But Korval saw the truth:
The silence… was not rejection.
The silence…
Was the first sign of acceptance.
As Korval watched the shadows of the child-creatures dissolve, something changed inside him.
He understood:
This is not the power of Blood Sorcerers.
This is a force worthy of worship… or extinction.
There is no third choice.
He smiled slowly—
The smile of a man who has found the perfect fire to burn the world.
And he thought:
"This alliance will set the continent on fire."