Chapter 498: Blood of Mark

Chapter 498: Blood of Mark

Lucien sighed under his breath, not unfamiliar with her riddles. “Beings born from the remnants of Mark’s original body,” he replied. “Fragments of what was left behind after his body was sealed away. Pure anomalies that feed on souls and mutate reality. And Vespers… they’re humans who undergo Null Transformation using the blood of Mark’s original body. Mutated, twisted, but vastly powerful.”

He paused a beat before continuing. “And then there’s the Doomreavers. The final form of a human and Null whose bodies have been utterly consumed and corrupted by the blood of Mark’s original body. Beings of annihilation.”

The Witch of the North nodded slowly, her fingers intertwining as a glimmer of pink light pulsed at her palm. “Exactly,” she whispered. “But I don’t have that blood. I don’t want that blood. So Max… won’t be walking the same path.”

Her voice dipped lower, more deliberate. “But guess what he does have? Something that Mark also possessed. Something pure, violent, and ever-hungry.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “…Infernal Energy.”

“Yes… infernal energy,” she murmured, almost reverently. “You wouldn’t believe what I discovered when I examined Max’s body just now. His entire being… it’s attuned to it. His mana and infernal energy don’t conflict. They coexist. That shouldn’t be possible. Infernal energy is inherently chaotic—it erodes, it devours, it corrupts. And yet, inside him, it behaves like it belongs. Like it’s been with him forever.” She tilted her head, amused. “But I remember the child I once marked. He wasn’t like this. Not even close.”

She paused briefly, letting the revelation sink in before continuing. “Anyway, here’s the core of my plan—what I intend to do with the artificial soul. Just like a human undergoing Null Transformation with that cursed blood gives rise to a Vesper or worse… Max will undergo something similar. But not with Mark’s blood. No, his transformation will be fueled entirely by infernal energy. Instead of tearing him apart, it will build him.”

Her tone sharpened slightly. “But in order for the artificial soul to truly take root, to grow stable and self-sustaining, the Yang Soul must be removed. If I don’t, the moment the new soul begins to form, it will collide with the remnants of the Yang Soul—and the resulting imbalance would destroy everything. Not just his soul. His body. His existence.”

She looked Lucien directly in the eyes now, voice calm but firm. “That’s the price. The Yang Soul must go. Only then can something truly new take its place.”

Lucien sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as he looked at Max lying unconscious on the floating bed, still wrapped in the strange shimmering energy that hung over him like a protective veil.

He had heard everything, weighed the risks in his mind a thousand times already, and still, no better solution came to him. With a tired breath, he asked, “This won’t… do anything to Freya, right?”

The Witch of the North, who had already begun gathering the tools of her trade, looked up briefly and gave a slight nod. “No. I’ll remove my Witch Seal from his Yang Soul before I extract it. That way, the link between their life forces will vanish. Their fates will return to what they were meant to be. She’ll be safe.”

Lucien nodded slowly, then closed his eyes for a second before speaking again. “Then do it.”

The Witch chuckled softly, her tone light but filled with something far more chilling. “I would’ve done it even if you’d said no, Little Lucien. But I appreciate the gesture.”

As she said those words, a thin, metallic needle materialized between her fingers, gleaming faintly in the eerie pink glow of the floating world.

A strange machine floated toward her on its own, humming softly, its glass tubes filled with various fluorescent liquids—pinks, blues, and deep reds—glowing faintly like the heartbeat of some unnatural thing. It stopped just beside her, aligning itself perfectly as if it too understood the gravity of what was about to happen.

“This,” she said under her breath, her eyes now locked on Max’s body with a mixture of reverence and obsession, “will be my greatest piece of work.”

There was no fear in her gaze. Only fascination. Like an artist before a blank canvas. Like a scientist on the edge of a breakthrough. And as her fingers tightened around the needle, she whispered, almost lovingly, “Let’s begin.”

***

A week later, Max’s eyes fluttered open, his consciousness slowly returning as he found himself weightlessly floating in that same surreal pink-colored world.

The sight before him was strange yet familiar—tables, teacups, furniture, and all sorts of oddities drifted around like fragments in a forgotten dream.

His gaze shifted, and not far from him, he spotted Lucien and the Witch of the North seated comfortably, sipping tea with an unnerving calmness.

“What… happened?” Max muttered, his voice hoarse but steady as he looked at them in confusion.

However, before they could respond, a sudden rush of energy surged through him, and Max’s eyes widened in disbelief. He could feel it—clearly, purely, unshakably—his strength had risen.

“Level 1… of Seeker Rank?” he muttered, stunned. The realization hit him like a lightning bolt. “Does this mean… your solution worked?!”

Excitement briefly sparked in his eyes, but it felt strange—hollow somehow, like a fire burning in an empty room. Something was off.

Lucien gave a faint, knowing smile. “It did. You’re fine now. Your soul can withstand any level of power you reach from here on. But tell me… do you feel anything strange?”

Max paused at the question. He examined himself from within, trying to sense what might be different. No pain. No strain. No sense of instability. But there it was… a quiet, gnawing emptiness sitting deep at his core.

It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t brokenness. It was just… absence. A strange vacancy that made him feel lighter, colder. Yet his thoughts were sharp, his mind more focused than ever before.

“I… I’m fine,” he finally said, though a faint shadow lingered in his voice. He didn’t know what was missing—but something definitely was.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!