CHAPTER FOUR — BLOODBORN SOVEREIGN
The eastern horizon bled red.
Not from fire.
Not from sunrise.
But from the rivers of monster blood that now ran through the fields like a second, twisted waterway.
Steam rose in curling tendrils from torn flesh and cracked bone. The battlefield was a carpet of monstrous corpses as far as any human eye could see—wolves the size of horses, scaled abominations, six-eyed fiends, crawling horrors, and mutated beasts with limbs contorted into unnatural shapes.
The walls of Valtarus dripped crimson.
Alistair stood among the soldiers, chest heaving, blade trembling in his grip. His breathing was ragged, his armor dented, his left pauldron missing entirely. Rowan leaned against the battlements beside him, barely conscious, blood staining half his face.
Both men stared silently at the figure standing atop the collapsed Titan corpse.
Arcturus.
The crimson light of the Blood Moon washed over him, illuminating shadowy tendrils leaking from his skin, swirling around him like living smoke.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He simply stood there—calm, still, unshaken by the carnage below.
Then the first drop of Titan blood rose.
A single crimson bead lifted from the monster's broken skull, defying gravity, floating toward Arcturus.
Then another.
Then another.
Then a hundred.
A thousand.
Ten thousand.
The entire battlefield vibrated.
Soldiers froze, watching with terror and awe as every drop of monster blood—from every fallen beast across miles—began sliding and rolling across the ground toward Arcturus like rivers answering a divine summons.
Liquid gore slithered across broken earth.
Fountains of blood erupted upward.
Mists of crimson rose into spiraling columns.
All of it converged upon Arcturus.
Rowan swallowed hard.
"…W-What is happening to him…?"
Alistair's voice cracked.
"Something terrifying."
The blood began wrapping around Arcturus in swirling bands of liquid power—tightening, spiraling, fusing, igniting. It coated him completely, forming a cocoon of molten red.
The air shook.
The ground trembled.
The Blood Moon pulsed, almost nervously, in the sky.
And then—
BOOM.
A shockwave of pure pressure exploded outward, knocking soldiers onto their backs. The battlements cracked. The Titan's corpse crumbled.
Rowan shielded his face with a trembling arm.
Alistair's eyes widened.
The cocoon burst.
And Arcturus stepped forward.
His eyes, once luminous red, now bore three concentric rings, burning like eclipsed suns. His hair, black as void, flowed behind him in an unnatural wind. His skin radiated with a faint crimson glow, runes flickering beneath the surface like molten veins.
The night bowed to him.
Soldiers stared with parted lips and stunned silence.
One whispered:
"…He looks like a god."
Another muttered:
"No… a demon king…"
A third said what all feared to admit:
"That's… not human."
Arcturus exhaled softly.
A wave of crimson fog drifted out with his breath.
Every soldier within thirty meters felt their heartbeat stutter, their blood trying to answer him.
He raised his hand experimentally.
Shadow and blood blended along his fingers like coiled serpents.
He felt everything.
The moon.
The soil.
The corpses.
The fear of soldiers.
The dying heartbeat of monsters beyond the horizon.
The residual life force clinging to every droplet of blood in the air.
He closed his hand.
The blood snapped inward like a lash.
Alistair swallowed audibly.
"Brother…?"
Arcturus blinked, and the glow dimmed slightly.
"Still me," he said. "Just… more."
Rowan coughed and managed a shaky smirk.
"Y-Yeah… more terrifying."
A faint smile touched Arcturus's lips.
But as he stepped off the Titan's corpse, something else happened.
Screams echoed from the plains beyond. More monsters—hundreds—rushed out of the crimson fog, drawn by the Titan's death.
Alistair's face tightened.
"We can't hold—"
Arcturus raised a hand.
"Leave it to me."
He spread his fingers.
Shadow flared.
"Bloodborn Legion."
Blood erupted from the ground.
Shadow coiled upward.
And dozens—then hundreds—of Arcturus clones materialized around him, each identical in appearance, aura, and strength. Not weaker copies. Not illusions.
True duplicates.
Each clone stood tall, eyes glowing with the same triple-ringed crimson power.
Rowan stared, pale.
"H-How many…?"
Alistair whispered:
"All of them… look exactly as strong as him."
Arcturus didn't turn.
"One hundred clones," he said calmly. "The first wave."
Rowan made a choking sound.
One of the clones spoke without turning.
"We will handle the field."
Arcturus nodded.
"Go."
And the clones moved.
They descended upon the monster horde with silent efficiency, their movements identical, their strikes lethal. Monsters were cut down before they could scream, torn apart before their claws reached the ground.
They moved like a coordinated army of shadows—like a tide of death.
Blood sprayed.
Bones shattered.
Roars were silenced.
The battlefield became a slaughterhouse under the Blood Moon.
A soldier whispered:
"It looks like he's… everywhere…"
Another murmured:
"He's… fighting an army by himself…"
Arcturus stepped forward again.
He walked calmly off the battlefield, letting his clones continue the massacre.
A titan-class roar sounded behind him.
The soldiers screamed warnings.
But an Arcturus clone was already there.
It crushed the monster's skull with one hand.
Then another clone decapitated a charging beast.
Then another clone ripped apart a two-headed wolf.
And another blocked a spray of acidic breath.
The real Arcturus walked through the carnage as if strolling through a garden.
He did not need to look.
He simply was.
The clones slaughtered everything around him.
Blood drifted to him like petals in a breeze.
By the time he reached the opposite end of the battlefield, over 70,000 monsters had died.
His power swelled.
He turned toward the horizon.
More cities were under attack.
His clones sensed it too.
Alistair shouted:
"ARCTURUS! MORE TOWNS ARE SENDING SIGNALS!"
Rowan staggered forward.
"We can't send reinforcements… the capital is barely standing…"
Arcturus nodded.
"I'll handle it."
His wings of shadow unfurled from his back—vast, sweeping, ethereal.
Soldiers gasped.
Alistair breathed:
"Brother… your wings—"
Arcturus crouched slightly.
"Take care of the capital," he said quietly. "Protect Father. Protect each other."
Then he launched upward.
BOOM.
The shockwave flattened nearby corpses, cracked stone, and sent gales ripping across the battlements.
Rowan grabbed the wall to stay upright.
Alistair shielded his eyes.
Arcturus soared into the sky, shadow trailing behind him like a comet's tail.
THE NIGHT OF A THOUSAND KILLSArcturus flew.
Not with wind.
Not with magic.
But with pure Primordial force.
One beat of his wings covered miles.
His eyes scanned the land—towns, roads, villages—all besieged by monster hordes.
He descended on the nearest town like a falling star.
Before he even landed, he whispered:
"Legion—scatter."
Behind him, a hundred clones folded into black streaks, shooting off in every direction, each heading toward a different location.
The town's defenders saw him descending and stopped fighting mid-swing.
A soldier cried out:
"BY THE GODS—THE DEMON PRINCE IS HERE!"
He landed silently in the center of the town.
Monsters rushed him.
He raised a hand.
They exploded.
Not in gore.
In ash.
Fine, crimson-tinted ash that drifted through the streets like snow.
Soldiers dropped their weapons in awe.
Arcturus didn't slow.
He walked through the streets, killing with gestures.
A flick of his fingers.
A tilt of his head.
A whisper.
Monsters died in waves.
A dozen clones leaped over rooftops.
Another tore down a rampaging ogre.
Another saved a child by slicing three beasts in half before they reached her.
The town cheered.
The next village cheered.
The next city wept in relief as his clones descended like executioners from the heavens.
The continent wouldn't forget tonight.
Children on rooftops shouted:
"THE DEMON PRINCE HAS COME!"
Women sobbed:
"HE SAVED US—HE SAVED US!"
Men knelt as he passed:
"Blessed be the Prince…"
Arcturus didn't respond.
He simply continued killing.
And killing.
And killing.
Until dawn.
By sunrise, he had slain over 200,000 monsters.
He landed atop a hill overlooking the final burning city, drenched in blood and light.
He exhaled once.
And his evolution hit.
Blood surged.
Shadows screamed.
Lightning tore the sky.
The world dimmed.
His body absorbed every kill.
Every drop of power.
Every echo of Primordial might.
His eyes opened—
—and now bore four rings.
Ascension III — Primordial Eclipse Sovereign.
EVOLUTION PANELName: Arcturus Valtarus
Race: Primordial Vampire (Eclipse Lineage)
Evolution Stage: Primordial Eclipse Sovereign (III)
Level: Beyond measurable human scale
New Abilities Unlocked:
1. Eclipse Heart:
Your core becomes a fused source of blood and shadow power. You regenerate energy faster than you can spend it.
2. Crimson Dominion:
All blood within 1 km is under your control. Including enemy blood still inside their bodies.
3. Eclipse Step:
Teleport through shadows or blood. Instantaneous.
4. Bloodborn Legion (MAX):
Create clones with 100% of your strength.
Each clone costs 1,000 Blood Force, instantly regenerating.
5. Primordial Hunger:
Absorb blood and essence of ANY being. Gain fragments of their power.
6. Sovereign Will:
Your voice carries command authority over all lesser beings. Your directives become instinctive compulsion.
Arcturus breathed out gently.
The morning breeze drifted across his face.
He wiped a drop of blood from his cheek.
"…Done."
And he turned toward the capital.
He had a family to return to.
A kingdom to protect.
And a continent to conquer.