Preparing himself, Lucas dashed forward without hesitation, charging straight into the storm of lightning with unwavering resolve.
A sleek black dagger with intricate patterns materialized in his hand. Channeling every ounce of strength he had, he hurled it straight at the giant wolf.
Thunk!
The dagger hit its mark—right in the wolf's eye. The beast let out a guttural roar of agony.
Blood gushed from the wound, dripping onto the scorched ground beneath. The massive creature staggered, claws raking the earth as it struggled to stay upright, pain radiating from every movement.
But Lucas gave it no time to recover.
With labored breaths and eyes gleaming with sheer determination, he lunged forward. A slender, gleaming rapier was gripped tightly in his hand, and arcs of lightning danced around his body, distorting the air around him.
In one swift, precise motion, Lucas vaulted onto the wolf's head and drove the blade straight into the beast's mouth.
Srak!
The tip of the rapier pierced through the roof of its mouth and exited the back of its skull. The wolf froze, its remaining eye wide in shock—then collapsed, lifeless.
Lucas landed softly on the ground, exhaling sharply as he stared at the now-still behemoth. His rapier still dripped with blood, though the crackling lightning around him was already fading.
[You Have Killed an Adult Thunder Wolf. Do You Want to Extract Its Blood?]
"Yes."
From the corpse, blood began to seep out, flowing toward Lucas's left hand. As it pooled, a grotesque red eye opened on the back of his hand and absorbed the blood in a single, greedy motion.
[Blood Extraction Activated. You Have Absorbed 73 Blood Essence.]
"Not bad," Lucas thought, as his eye color returned to normal.
Suddenly, his knees buckled. The strength left his limbs, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap. His entire body screamed in agony. The aftereffects of the Thunder Wolf's attack were catching up, spreading like venom through his system. His head spun. His vision blurred. Consciousness began to fade.
It would've been easy to give in—to black out and forget the pain. But Lucas knew he couldn't let that happen. If he closed his eyes now... he might never open them again. No one was coming to save him.
Clinging to what little resolve remained, Lucas forced his body to move. Every twitch sent waves of agony through his nerves, but he knew one thing—he had to leave this place. The howls and sounds of battle just now may have drawn more predators.
Gritting his teeth, Lucas dragged himself up. The pain was excruciating, but to him, it was nothing. After surviving that massacre, his tolerance had reached inhuman levels. The real problem now was that his body simply wouldn't cooperate.
Eventually, he managed to stand. He cast a fleeting glance at the corpse that had nearly killed him, retrieved his dagger, and staggered away—limping through the scorched battlefield.
---
Godslayer's Successor
Name: Lucas Sinclair
Blood Core: 1/7
Blood Essence: 274 / 2,456
Inheritance Progress: 6%
Class: Blood Master
Skills: [Blood Extraction] [Burning Blood] [Blood World]
---
On the way back to the camp where his escort unit had set up tents, Lucas didn't encounter a single monster or beast. Was it luck? He didn't know. He only knew one thing—he couldn't afford to expect anything better.
Once he got back to camp, the first thing he planned to do was collapse and sleep. He didn't care what James would think when he saw the state he was in.
Pushing through the trees and underbrush in the dead of night, Lucas finally spotted a flicker of light—campfire. His guards' camp.
He quickened his pace, but then—the scent hit him.
That distinct, sickening smell.
Blood.
Lucas froze. A bitter smile crept onto his face.
"Prince, where have you been? Didn't I tell you not to stray too far from the group?"
The cold, familiar voice came from his right. Lucas turned and saw James Lortbrok, his knight, striding toward him. His clothes were drenched in blood, yet the sword in his right hand was spotless—gleaming. A stark contrast.
"What is the meaning of this, James? Explain yourself!" Lucas rasped.
"Calm yourself, my prince. Everything I've done… I've done for the sake of the kingdom," James replied, his pace steady and unwavering.
"Traitor!" Lucas spat, fury lacing his voice.
James stopped. His face remained expressionless, unreadable. But it was clear—he had killed all of Lucas's guards.
"Look at yourself, Prince. Aren't you ashamed? Put aside that you were born weak and without mana. On top of that, you're reckless, careless, like to disobey orders, and act on a whim without thinking of the consequences. I wasn't even going to ask what happened to you out there, but looking at you now... a little of my doubts are gone."
James's words poured out, years of frustration toward the prince finally bubbling to the surface.
"I can't let the kingdom fall into the hands of someone like you. The crown belongs to your sister, she's far more gifted. That's why… die for the good of the kingdom."
And with that, James lunged forward, blade ready to sever Lucas's life in a single strike.
Lucas didn't move. He simply stared, waiting for the moment the blade would cut his throat.
Everything James said was true. Lucas realized that his sister was far more deserving of the crown. Ranyra—his sister—was a girl blessed by mana from birth. A genius who awakened powers from the age of five. While he... was weak, sickly, and useless.
However, even though he was aware of all that, Lucas could not just let his life slip away.
"You think my father, the man you so loyally serve, will just let his son be murdered? If you kill me, a tracking spell will activate. He'll know exactly who did it," Lucas lied, stalling for time.
"You don't want to die branded a traitor, do you? A stain on the records of the royal knights?"
He saw it—the flicker of doubt in James's eyes. But even with hesitation, the knight pressed forward. In a blink, he was upon Lucas, sword arcing toward his neck.
Lucas could see the whole movement clearly. But he didn't have the strength to dodge. Hence, he made a quick decision and went for it.
Just then, the blade shifted. Instead of slicing through his throat, it slammed into his head—with the blunt side.
The blow landed hard. Lucas was thrown to the ground, tumbling like a broken doll.