Chapter 57 – The Blood Hunt Begins
Part 1: Three Steps Into the Hollow
Velgraith showed up late.
Still dragging his chalkboard, still yawning, still dressed like someone who had only recently remembered that pants were a thing.
He stopped in the middle of the arena floor, scratched his jaw, and wrote a single word:
HUNT.
The classroom fell silent.
Eyes sharpened.
Tension rippled through the rows.
Ariz stayed still. He didn't need to guess. Whatever this was, it wouldn't be routine.
Velgraith rolled his neck, pointed at the board, and spoke through another yawn.
"First-year hunting trial. Pocket dimension drop. Forty-eight hours. Solo or teams of three."
He tapped the chalk rhythmically as he wrote:
Tier 1 beast cores – 1 pointTier 2 – 2 pointsTier 3 – 4Tier 4 – 6
"Highest score wins. Survival is secondary, but, y'know... not optional."
He stretched, like this was all just too much.
"No killing each other. No summoning backup. No spatial cheats. You carry what you kill."
Luceris lifted a hand lazily. "Which pocket?"
Velgraith blinked like the question offended him. Then muttered, "Crimson Hollow."
Silence followed.
Students froze mid-motion. Even those who thought they were ready paled slightly.
Luceris just smiled wider. "Oh. That one."
Ariz watched the tension shift through the class like a storm.
Velgraith elaborated flatly. "Old war echo. Battlefield locked in mana decay. Rot beasts. Blood-revenants. If you think you hear voices, you probably do."
Another pause.
"It remembers. Especially if you bleed."
Later, as teams formed in the courtyards, Luceris nudged Ariz aside.
"You'll need a third. Not optional in Hollow conditions. Solo gets you killed. And not you-killed. Partner-killed."
Ariz said nothing.
Luceris tilted his head toward the upper terrace.
"She's strong. Better reflexes than me. Just... don't flirt unless you want your throat rearranged."
She walked like sin given purpose.
High-slit crimson coat trimmed in gold. Leather corset armor hugged a waist that could've been sculpted by dark gods. Her long black hair spilled behind her like a velvet curtain, streaked deep red at the tips.
Eyes: sharp, intelligent, blood-red.
Smile: dangerous and amused.
She was Serika Vaernis, of House Vaernis—a noble vampire family infamous for their elite bloodbinding war arts and dark charm dueling schools.
She was Luceris's childhood sparring partner.
Which meant she was fast, well-trained, and had probably broken bones on him more than once.
Serika didn't wait to be summoned.
She walked directly toward Ariz, eyes fixed on him like he was a puzzle she wanted to cut open just to understand.
"So," she said, stopping two feet away. "You're the one who summoned a legacy-class familiar in his first month."
Ariz didn't flinch. "You going to ask to join, or are you trying to intimidate me?"
She grinned.
"Neither. I'm deciding if I want to fight beside you or test you first."
Luceris cleared his throat. "He'll survive. You'll enjoy it."
Serika gave him a brief look, then turned back to Ariz.
"I'm in."
[Team 27 Formed – Crimson Hollow Entry Approved]
Members:– Ariz al Sulieman– Luceris Vael– Serika Vaernis
Deployment Zone: Gate V – Scarplate Ridge
Far beyond the Academy, the Church burned a sigil.
Scrolls were read.
A name was confirmed.
"The Umbrakin lives."
High within the Citadel of Archflame, Cardinal Rem Vellian received the order personally.
A King-tier divine executioner, blessed by scripture, forged in ritual flame.
He prepared without ceremony.
He summoned a spear of consecrated wrath and adorned robes of judgment.
"I go to correct what should have remained ash."
But he never made it past the Bloodmoon border.
Because someone was already waiting.
A man stood atop a collapsed chapel at the edge of no-man's land.
Tall. Regal. Clad in crimson steel trimmed with silver. A goblet of bloodwine in one hand, and a bored look in his ember-red eyes.
The Cardinal arrived, flaming sigils igniting the sky.
The man didn't move.
He only said:
"You bring fire into old shadow.You will not pass."
"Who dares bar the hand of the Flame?" the Cardinal thundered.
The man sighed.
"I am Duke Thalres of the Third Night. And I have long since stopped asking permission."
The fight that followed didn't shake the world.
It cut it.
Skies ripped in half.The forest turned to ash from shockwaves.Scripture clashed with ancestral hunger.Time stuttered.
The Cardinal struck down with divine flame.The Duke caught it—with his hand—and drank the spell.
He reappeared behind Vellian with a whisper, blade kissing the Cardinal's ribs.
Vellian roared, summoning a host of spirit martyrs.
Thalres only said, "Cute."
Then consumed them in a tide of blood-cursed runes.
It ended in nine minutes.
The Cardinal's halberd fell to the soil—cracked in half, flaming edge dimmed.
His body? Gone. Swallowed by red mist.
And Duke Thalres sipped his wine again.
"Next time," he said softly, "send someone older."