Chapter 296: Blood Oracle

Trafalgar stayed silent.

Not because he didn’t have something to say—but because every possible answer felt wrong.

The casino noise had long faded into a distant murmur. What remained was an uncomfortable stillness, thick enough to press against his senses. He had faced monsters stronger than himself. Assassins. Political traps. None of them felt quite like this.

Someone who knew too much—and wanted nothing.

That was new.

His gaze lingered on the table between them, on the faint rings left by glasses, on the empty space Borin had occupied moments ago. Selendra sat across from him, relaxed, patient, crimson eyes watching without urgency. She wasn’t pushing. She wasn’t retreating either.

That, more than anything, unsettled him.

’If she talks,’ Trafalgar thought, ’her family might already know. Or they might not. And I’ll never know which until it’s too late.’

The danger wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t a blade at his throat.

It was structural.

Reputation. Information. Lineage. If House Nocthar decided he was worth watching—or worse, worth removing—then everything changed. Not because of what Selendra might do tonight, but because of what her existence implied.

He finally spoke.

"So," Trafalgar said calmly, voice steady despite the tension coiled beneath it, "is your curiosity satisfied?"

Selendra tilted her head slightly, considering the question as if it genuinely amused her.

"More or less," she replied. "I’d like to see your entire status, of course. That would be ideal." Her smile softened. "But I can settle for this. For now."

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

"And what do you plan to do with what you know?"

She answered immediately.

"Nothing."

He studied her face, searching for cracks. Found none.

"I’ll observe," Selendra continued lightly. "Watch how things unfold. That’s all. No one else knows. If I wanted to act—if I wanted you dead—you wouldn’t be sitting here."

The words were delivered without menace.

That made them worse.

’I don’t like this,’ Trafalgar admitted internally. ’But nothing is still... nothing.’

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "Then why tell me at all?" he asked. "You could’ve watched from a distance. Quietly."

Selendra’s smile sharpened, just a touch.

"Because distance dulls clarity," she said. "The closer I am to someone, the more clearly I can read their mana resonance."

That phrase landed hard.

"Mana resonance?" Trafalgar echoed.

"Yes," Selendra replied. "Contact. Proximity. Interaction. All of it strengthens the signal." Her eyes met his directly. "That’s how my ability works."

A chill crept up his spine.

"So you approached me," he said slowly, "to learn more."

"Exactly."

Trafalgar didn’t break eye contact. "And today?"

Selendra didn’t dodge it.

"Yes," she admitted. "I tried to read your status."

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Every instinct he had sharpened.

Trafalgar didn’t move.

"Were you trying to read my status?" he asked again, this time slower.

Selendra nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

That single word tightened something in his chest.

"And?" he pressed. "Did you succeed?"

"No." She tilted her head slightly. "Not anymore."

His eyes narrowed. "Not anymore."

"Something changed," Selendra continued calmly. "Between the Council and now. Back then, I could read fragments. Now?" She shrugged lightly. "There’s nothing. Or rather—something I can’t reach."

That was worse.

"So that’s why you came over today," Trafalgar said. Not a question. "To check."

"Yes." Her honesty was almost irritating. "I wanted to see if proximity would restore the resonance. If interaction would bridge whatever gap appeared."

"And did it?" he asked.

Selendra smiled faintly. "No."

For a brief moment, Trafalgar considered standing up and leaving. Nothing bound him to this table. No contract. No trap. No obligation to entertain the curiosity of a vampire heir from one of the Eight.

’I could walk away right now,’ he thought. ’And that would be the safest option.’

Selendra seemed to read the hesitation—not his thoughts, but the tension in his posture.

"You can leave," she said lightly. "I’m not stopping you."

That, too, was deliberate.

But she was right about one thing.

He was curious.

Annoyingly so.

’Damn it,’ Trafalgar admitted to himself. ’I do want to know.’

Selendra’s gaze sharpened just a fraction. "See? That silence. It’s loud."

He exhaled slowly and sat back down.

"Fine," he said. "If you know things about me, then it’s only fair I know what I’m dealing with."

Her smile widened, satisfied—but not triumphant.

"You already know the name," Selendra replied. "Blood Oracle. A pretty unique class."

"Explain," Trafalgar said flatly.

She folded her hands on the table. "I perceive information tied to mana. Marks, abnormalities—they leave impressions. Echoes. That’s the first layer."

"And the second?" he asked.

Selendra’s eyes glinted faintly. "Blood."

The word lingered.

"Through blood," she continued, "I can see fragments of potential futures. Not certainties. Possibilities. Threads. Most of them never come to pass."

"The future isn’t fixed," Trafalgar muttered.

"Exactly," Selendra agreed. "That’s why prophecy is unreliable. But patterns still exist."

He looked at her steadily. "And you could do that... to me."

"Yes." No hesitation. "If you allow it."

His jaw tightened. "And the price?"

Her smile turned sharp—not threatening, but honest.

"Your blood."

Silence stretched between them.

Not the awkward kind—no. This was the kind filled with calculations, with futures branching and collapsing in the span of a breath.

Trafalgar exhaled slowly. "You’re asking for something dangerous."

"I know," Selendra replied without hesitation.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the armrest. "If you see something... you see it too. That information doesn’t just affect me."

Her smile softened, losing its edge for the first time. "I’m well aware. That’s why I haven’t done it already."

His gaze sharpened. "Honestly? This would be a lot easier if you weren’t part of one of the Eight Great Families."

Selendra let out a quiet, amused breath. "I was thinking the same thing." She tilted her head slightly. "If I were anyone else, you might trust me. If I were weaker, irrelevant... you wouldn’t hesitate."

"And because you’re not," Trafalgar said flatly, "everything you do carries weight."

"Yeah." She nodded once. "Our families could be enemies tomorrow. Or allies. Or something worse—entangled." Her eyes darkened just a fraction. "That’s why I can’t act on curiosity alone."

She paused, then added, "The more blood I consume, the clearer the visions become. Patterns sharpen. Outcomes narrow." Her voice lowered. "And the political risk increases just as much."

’So she’s holding back,’ Trafalgar realized. ’Not out of fear... but restraint.’

That, somehow, unsettled him more.

They sat there for several seconds, neither speaking. The low hum of mana from the barrier around them felt distant now, like the world had narrowed to just this table.

Then Selendra’s eyes shifted—not away from him, but inward.

"...There is another way," she said.

Trafalgar looked up immediately. "Go on."

"A contract," Selendra said calmly.

His brow furrowed. "A contract?"

She nodded. "A Blood Contract." Her tone was matter-of-fact, almost clinical. "Terms defined. Intent bound. If either party violates the agreement..." She met his gaze steadily. "They die."

No embellishment. No drama.

Just truth.

Trafalgar didn’t react outwardly, but inside, something tightened.

’Absolute,’ he thought. ’No loopholes. No betrayal.’

"Simple," Selendra continued. "I gain permission under strict conditions. You gain guarantees. No information shared. No manipulation. No action taken beyond what’s agreed."

"And if someone breaks it," Trafalgar said slowly.

"They don’t get a second chance."

The words settled heavily.

Trafalgar leaned back, eyes fixed on her, mind racing through consequences, futures, probabilities.

Accepting meant opening a door that could never fully be closed again.

Refusing meant walking away... never knowing what she might see.

If he could glimpse even fragments of what was coming, he could act on it. Adjust. Prepare. Avoid disasters—or walk straight into them with open eyes.

War. Primordial beings lurking behind veils of myth. Void creatures moving where they shouldn’t. Even the Veiled Woman herself. Any single piece of foreknowledge could change everything.

And Selendra wouldn’t be able to betray him. Not if the contract was real. If she broke it, she would die. Simple as that.

Both sides would gain something. Selendra would finally satisfy her curiosity—prove what she already suspected. And Trafalgar... Trafalgar would walk away with something far more valuable than gold or weapons.

Information.

For the first time since arriving in Carac, he understood why Borin had warned him. Selendra au Nocthar wasn’t dangerous because she was hostile.

She was dangerous because she saw too much.