Blood…
It's everywhere.
It floods my vision, seeps into my mouth, coats my skin, and rises from my nose.
It's not just warm…
It's alive.
As if the ground beneath me is no longer soil, but a butchered being—writhing in its final death throes.
I open my eyes.
The first thing I see… is my older brother's face. Or what's left of it.
His eyes stare blankly at the cracked ceiling, mouth half-open—
as if a scream is still trapped inside.
I used to hate him.
And now?
I feel… nothing.
I try to move. My limbs are heavy.
My joints scream, as if they've been shattered and reassembled—wrongly.
There's a sting deep inside, a pain I can't quite name…
but somehow, it feels familiar.
As if my body is reinventing itself beneath the skin.
I brace my elbow on the ground… and lift my head.
The Grand Hall—once the pride of House Arcalis—
is now a silent massacre.
The throne is shattered.
The family crest, engraved in the stained glass behind it, is fractured.
One half smeared in blood…
The other reflects my trembling image.
Everyone I knew… lies here.
My brothers.
My cousins.
The guards.
The nanny who used to sneak me sweets…
All of them.
Silent.
The scent of iron and death chokes the air.
And the silence… is worse than screams.
I touch my neck.
A wound.
Deep.
Its shape suggests a failed attempt to slit my throat.
But it's not bleeding. Nothing comes out.
On the contrary…
It feels like the flesh is slowly knitting itself shut.
I smile.
Not because it's funny—
But because, for some reason I don't understand…
I'm still alive.
"You don't die easily, do you?"
The voice comes from behind.
Soft footsteps. Light—yet full of certainty.
I turn my head…
A girl. No older than fourteen.
She stands firm amidst the carnage.
Her plain clothing marks her as a servant.
Her hair is soaked in blood, and in her hand—
a stained dagger.
I look at her.
Then at the dagger.
Then I laugh. A choked sound—
not quite human.
More like the rattle of a body refusing to cry.
"Were you one of them?"
She shakes her head.
"I just… cleaned up after them."
She takes a step forward.
So light…
Yet it lands heavy in my chest.
She stops near the shattered throne.
Runs her fingers over the engraved glass—
right across the family crest.
Then, she looks at me.
"They thought you'd bring the palace down if they crossed you…
So they decided to start the slaughter with you."
I lower my head.
I look at my hands.
My fingernails are cracked…
Fear's claws nearly tearing through my skin.
But I'm alive.
"They were late, weren't they?" she whispers.
I say nothing.
I don't yet understand how.
But I know something within me is shifting…
Something unnatural.
My sense of the world—
of blood's rhythm, of the heat in the air—
It's changed.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
She smiles.
And for the first time… I notice she doesn't quite know how to.
"That doesn't matter.
What matters is what you'll do now."
I lift my gaze.
There's something behind her eyes.
She's not just a girl…
Not even just a servant.
"Why didn't you kill me with the rest?"
She blinks. Slowly.
And says:
"I was waiting for you to wake up."
She's very close now.
Leans in, and whispers:
"But waking up… isn't enough.
You have to choose."
"Choose what?"
"Will you bury yourself with your family—
or burn the world that tried to bury you?"
A chill runs through me—
starting from the old wound.
As if my blood is reacting to her words.
As if everything around me is pulling me in one direction—
Upward.
Toward the peak.
Toward freedom.
Toward something greater than revenge.
I rise… slowly.
And I speak, in a voice I didn't know I had:
"I didn't survive the massacre."
I look to the broken throne…
To the bloodstained glass…
To my reflection within it.
"I was born from it."
The servant girl smiles again.
Then turns, walking toward the edge of the hall.
And before she vanishes into the shadows, she whispers:
"The Blood Chapter has begun… Lord of Blood."
Hello heroes
I hope you will support me.