Darian Bancroft slamd his fist onto the ornate table, causing the crystal decanter to rattle precariously.
"Six of my best n. Six!" His voice echoed through the chamber, reflecting the fury in his eyes. "Strung up like common criminals at our own gates!"
Erson Hols stood a careful distance away, his posture rigid with tension. "The Black-Robed Reaper is becoming more brazen, sir."
"Reaper?" Bancroft spat the word. "Don't use that ridiculous na. It only feeds the legend."
I pressed closer to the ventilation shaft, careful to mask my spiritual energy. After my display last night, security had tightened throughout the Guild headquarters, but they still hadn't discovered all my listening posts.
"What do our intelligence reports say?" Bancroft demanded, pouring himself a generous asure of amber liquid.
Erson cleared his throat. "Our analysts believe he's specifically targeting the Blood Heir program. The timing of his attacks coincides with—"
"I know what he's after," Bancroft interrupted, draining his glass in one swallow. "He wants the Ashworth girl."
"That would suggest it really is Liam Knight, sir."
Bancroft's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Knight is dead."
"With respect, sir," Erson ventured carefully, "we never recovered a body."
"Because there was nothing left to recover!" Bancroft hurled his empty glass against the wall, where it shattered spectacularly. "What are you suggesting, Hols? That a lowly Third-Circle cultivator survived a combined attack from three Martial Marquises and sohow, in re months, gained enough power to slaughter our elite forces?"
Erson remained silent, wisely choosing not to argue.
"Whoever this impostor is," Bancroft continued, "he's well-inford about our operations. That ans we have a leak."
I smiled beneath my mask. Let them waste ti hunting for traitors within their ranks.
"What's our next move, sir?" Erson asked.
Bancroft paced the length of the room. "Set a trap. Use the new Blood Heir as bait."
"The Warren girl? But sir, she's scheduled for initial extraction tonight."
"Perfect timing. Leak the information. Make sure our black-robed friend learns exactly when and where the transfer will happen."
Erson frowned. "With respect, are we prepared for such a confrontation? If this attacker could eliminate six of our best—"
"We'll be ready this ti," Bancroft interrupted. "I'll personally oversee the security arrangents."
I'd heard enough. Slipping away from my hiding spot, I made my way through the narrow maintenance tunnels that honeycombed the Guild complex. Bancroft was planning a trap, which ant I needed to adjust my strategy.
The obvious move would be to rescue Eliza Warren during transport. They would expect that. But what they wouldn't expect was for to be in two places at once.
---
Hours later, I stood in a dimly lit chamber deep beneath the Guild headquarters, watching as Dominic Ashworth was led into the room by two stone-faced attendants.
"Everything is prepared, Young Master Ashworth," one said with a deferential bow.
Dominic's eyes glead with anticipation as they settled on the large, ornate bathtub in the center of the room. Steam rose from its surface, carrying a distinctly tallic sll that turned my stomach.
The door opened again, and Darian Bancroft entered.
"Ah, right on ti," he said, nodding to Dominic. "Are you prepared for the procedure?"
"I've been ready for weeks," Dominic replied, already removing his outer robe. "How fresh is the supply?"
My jaw clenched as Bancroft smiled. "Extracted this morning. The Ashworth girl remains our most potent source."
Isabelle. My Isabelle. I fought to control my rage, focusing on my mission. I couldn't save her yet—not until I knew exactly where they were keeping her. But soon.
"Excellent," Dominic said, stepping toward the tub. "I want maximum potency."
"Rember," Bancroft cautioned, "the process will be painful. The more concentrated the blood, the more intense the reaction."
Dominic sneered. "Pain is temporary. Power is forever."
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As he disrobed completely, I noted the cultivation marks already visible on his skin—evidence of previous "treatnts." He lowered himself into the tub, and I couldn't suppress a shudder at the sight of him imrsing himself in what I knew was Isabelle's blood.
The mont his body was fully subrged, Dominic's expression twisted in agony. A scream tore from his throat as his body convulsed violently, sending crimson waves sloshing over the tub's edge.
"Hold him steady!" Bancroft ordered the attendants, who rushed forward to restrain Dominic's thrashing limbs.
I watched in horrified fascination as Dominic's skin began to absorb the blood, taking on a reddish hue. Veins bulged across his body, glowing with an unnatural light as the powerful blood integrated with his system.
His screams continued for nearly twenty minutes before subsiding into ragged gasps. By then, the tub was nearly empty, its contents absorbed into Dominic's transford body.
"How do you feel?" Bancroft asked, leaning over him with clinical interest.
Dominic's eyes snapped open, revealing irises that now held a distinct crimson tint. "Powerful," he whispered, flexing his fingers. "More powerful than ever before."
Bancroft helped him from the tub. "The integration appears successful. Your body has accepted approximately sixty percent of the Ashworth bloodline properties."
"Sixty percent?" Dominic frowned. "Why not more? Why not the full power like Isabelle has?"
"Natural compatibility limitations," Bancroft explained, helping Dominic into a waiting robe. "Your body can only assimilate so much of the foreign bloodline before rejection sets in. Sixty percent is actually remarkable—most subjects achieve less than forty."
"Will I need more treatnts?"
Bancroft nodded. "To maintain and potentially increase the integration, yes. But for now, you possess more of the Ashworth bloodline power than anyone outside Isabelle herself."
Dominic's frown deepened. "If she's so special, why keep her locked away? Why not use her in the field?"
"Because she's the source," Bancroft replied. "We can't risk losing her. Besides, her will is too strong. Even after months of conditioning, she refuses to cooperate."
My heart swelled with pride at those words. My Isabelle, defiant to the end.
"Let speak with her," Dominic suggested. "I could convince her."
"You've tried before," Bancroft reminded him. "She spat in your face, as I recall."
Dominic's expression darkened at the mory. "Things are different now. I'm stronger."
"Focus on mastering your new abilities first," Bancroft advised. "The Ashworth girl isn't going anywhere."
Dominic rose from the tub, and I was struck by the transformation. His muscles appeared denser, more defined. His movents held a fluid grace that hadn't been there before. The blood ritual had clearly enhanced more than just his spiritual energy.
"How long before I can test these new powers?" he asked, examining his hands with fascination.
"Take the rest of today to acclimate," Bancroft instructed. "Tomorrow, you can join the operation to capture the Black-Robed Reaper."
Dominic's eyes lit up. "You think he'll take the bait?"
"He's been striking at every aspect of the Blood Heir program. He won't be able to resist trying to save the Warren girl."
I continued watching as they discussed tactical details. Dominic's newfound confidence was concerning. If the blood bath had truly enhanced his abilities as dramatically as it appeared, he could pose a significant threat to my plans.
As the eting concluded, Dominic flexed his arms experintally, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Right now, I feel great. In fact, I'd really like to see what that black-robed man is capable of..."
Bancroft laughed. "Patience, Dominic. You'll get your chance tomorrow night."
"And when I defeat him," Dominic continued, his eyes gleaming with malice, "I want him kept alive long enough to witness what we've done with his precious Isabelle."
My fingers instinctively tightened around my blade's hilt. Soon, very soon, I would make them all pay for what they'd done to her. But first, I needed to ensure Eliza Warren didn't suffer the sa fate.
As I slipped away from my hiding place, one thing beca abundantly clear: tomorrow night would determine everything. Not just for and Isabelle, but for Eliza Warren and every other potential Blood Heir in Veridia City.
I had to succeed. Failure wasn't an option.
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