God!
A god descended to the mortal world!
As Albrecht gazed at the figure that appeared and vanished atop the high platform, he felt the hair on his skin stand on end, and even the demonic tail behind him exploded in a frenzy in an instant.
As a legend who had lived for over two thousand years, Albrecht had encountered many myths throughout the long years.
Although the figure on the platform did not exude an overwhelmingly powerful aura, nor radiate the supre divine might like the myths he rembered, the mont he set eyes on the figure, his entire soul and body couldn’t help trembling.
He could sense that kind of suppression originating from his bloodline.
When his eyes t through the swirling mists, all the magic power within him slowed and stiffened instantly.
It was the natural intimidation of a higher life form over a lower one...
And for Albrecht, a legendary demon of the Bloodline standing at the pinnacle of transcendence, the only being higher than him was God!
Furthermore, with the insignia of the Holy Emblem that had spread throughout the Blood Demon Church, the identity of the other party was almost confird.
The God of the Dark Night...
The figure was, indeed, the God of the Dark Night!
After realizing this, Albrecht felt an unprecedented sense of mortal danger flooding his mind, an anxiety not even the wrath of the Blood Demon Duke for his warti laziness had ever invoked.
Not without reason, for this was a mythical being who harbored hostility towards the Blood Demon Church.
By now, he was almost completely certain that the one who had forcefully summoned and exposed him to the Holy Royal Court in Lutecia was probably this deity!
The newcor... bore ill intent!
Albrecht was overwheld with fear, his brain whirring rapidly as he thought of ways to escape.
At the sa ti, he struggled to redirect his sluggish magic power and strove to activate his bloodline power to the greatest extent possible, maintaining calm and preparing to trigger the secret technique for teleporting and make a desperate escape once again.
However, as he tried to arouse his bloodline power, sothing even more horrifying occurred...
Albrecht, to his horror, discovered that the bloodline power within him suddenly beca lively and vigorous, foreign and resistant!
As if it possessed its own life, his bloodline power even began to struggle as if attempting to break free from his control.
That feeling... it was as if his bloodline power had found its true ho, longing to leave him and return to the embrace of its mother!
Feeling the changes in his bloodline power, Albrecht’s eyes widened in shock.
He looked again towards the figure on the high platform, his expression growing increasingly incredulous.
He was not unfamiliar with this stirring of bloodline; in the distant past, he too had felt it.
That was two thousand years ago, in a ti brimming with myths and when the Bloodline had not yet split...
Crimson mist swirled enticingly, the figure upon the throne ever more majestic.
The surroundings beca gradually clearer, the strong sense of déjà vu and familiarity rising to the surface.
And as that familiarity combined with the agitation of the bloodline, ancient mories began to spread swiftly, and the present throne, the present castle, started to slowly rge with scenes from those ancient mories...
It was also a majestic and solemn castle.
Majestic murals depicted the rise of the Bloodline, with princes of the Six Great Clans and many dukes kneeling on one knee, worshipping the supre Blood Throne.
Above the throne, an ancient god with an indistinct face looked down from on high, his apathetic gaze viewing the many Bloodline mbers as if they were re ants.
As mory and reality converged, the figure shrouded in crimson mist gained clarity.
And at last, the visage of the ancient deity from Albrecht’s mory, like rocks revealed by the retreating tide, gradually beca clear.
Silver hair, a face both delicate and dreamlike, skin so pale it seed almost translucent, and those crimson-gold eyes that seed to pierce through the Star Sea and ti itself...
The face rged with the figure upon the throne at that mont, enveloped by mist yet distinguishable as one and the sa.
And in those blurred mories, the carved patterns upon the throne also ca into focus.
One was thorny,
One was a rose.
The two intertwined with each other, inner and outer sides forming a mysterious and beautiful Holy Emblem!
With his mories clear, the last trace of color drained from Albrecht’s face.
His eyes widened further.
His whole body shook, his mouth agape with shock, his heart unleashing a surging tidal wave of emotions...
God oh God!
When exactly had he forgotten those mories that should never have been forgotten?
Damn it, God of the Dark Night!
The thorny rose wasn’t a symbol that had only erged in recent tis, nor was it the Holy Emblem of the so-called God of the Dark Night!
It was the origin of the Bloodline, the most ancient True Ancestor, the source of all bloodline power, the emblem of the Blood Ancestor!
The "God of the Dark Night" was not so resurrected Bloodline Demigod; He was the supre of the Bloodline, the Monarch of the Eternal Night, the creator of the Bloodline who had swept across the world, the Blood Ancestor!
He... He was the Blood True Ancestor!
He had returned!
Albrecht’s face was filled with shock and astonishnt, fear, and unease, even as his left hand clutched his wound and his legs began to tremble.
However, that visage of terror and amazent was quickly replaced by fluctuating expressions.
Fear and astonishnt swiftly withdrew, replaced by admiration and excitent.
Although that admiration and excitent seed a bit too deliberate, the expression quite stiff, Albrecht adjusted swiftly.
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