CHAPTER 27: DROP OF BLOOD

"A drop of blood from a mythical creature..."

Cillian raised his hand, pinching the diamond-shaped jewel between his fingers and lifting it to the light. Within the crystal, a single drop of crimson pulsed like a living heart, even through the diamond’s barrier he felt the vitality radiating outward, a presence so rich it seemed to thrum against his skin.

The blood of a mythical creature.

Such a thing was not common, nor should it even exist within reach of a student like him. Mythical creatures were born only in extraordinary divine realms, worlds vast and stable enough to hold beings that, once matured, naturally seized upon the laws of existence.

A single such beast could bind itself to the rules of creation, weaving those threads into its own strength. And if too many of these beings appeared in a world, the balance of its laws would slip from the creator’s grasp, spiraling toward collapse.

That was why mythical creatures could not be born in ordinary realms. Their very existence demanded more rules than such fragile worlds could sustain.

And more than that, only Star gods possessed the ability to design them. Students like him were told of these creatures in passing, a note in the textbooks. Their lessons warned them away from distractions like that.

What mattered for a graduate was not brilliance or legend, but stability. Build a world that could hold itself together, and that was enough.

However this was something beyond the classroom.

The true value of mythical blood was not just its raw power. Within every creature flowed the imprint of the divine world it hailed from, the patterns of rules, condensed into flesh and essence.

To reveal such a thing was to expose the heart of a god’s creation. In essence, if enemies ever studied it, they could turn that knowledge back against the world, breaking its balance from within. For that reason, no high god would ever share it willingly and even a child of their bloodline might never touch such a treasure.

And yet here it was.

If a graduate possessed a drop before their final trial, and if they knew how to use it, the path ahead would be transformed.

Mythical essence could become the core of formation, a ready-made rule bound in blood, it was a weapon, a key, and a shield all in one.

Even the most fearsome enemies of the test, the lords from beyond who ran amok in the third trial, would fall instantly before such power.

Cillian’s gaze lingered on it, half in awe, and half in disbelief, the sunlight bent through the diamond, turning the drop into a star glowing in his hand.

"It’s... beautiful." His voice was hushed, a strange warmth flickering in his eyes.

⸻X———

Far above, in the principal’s office, Vice Principal Warren leaned back in his chair, clutching at his chest as though the weight of his choice had crushed him, pain etched every line of his aged face. Across from him, Principal Elara Everheart watched with quiet amusement, her lips curved in a knowing smile.

"So," she said lightly, "you really gave that drop to Cillian?"

Warren groaned, shaking his head as though reliving the moment. He had intended to keep it, to seed his own world with the beast’s essence. But something had shifted when Cillian spoke of his ’mountain.’

Against all logic, he had been moved and in that instant, impulse overcame reason, and the treasure had slipped from his grasp.

Seeing Elara’s smile, he sat up straighter, dignity stiffening his posture. "Ahem. It was precious, yes... but I do not regret it."

"Oh?" Her voice was playful, her eyes sharp. "And why is that?"

"Because I believe," Warren said, the pain fading from his features, "that this drop of blood may be the key. With it, Cillian could become the first to clear the fourth trial."

Elara arched a brow, intrigued but unconvinced. "Really? You put that kind of faith in a mere graduate? One month is not enough to build a world for such a test." Her tone softened, though the words cut still. "And the Endless Abyss he designed, don’t pretend you don’t see the flaws, a world so unstable is not built to withstand a war like this."

Warren’s gaze hardened. "No. You’re wrong. That world holds something most others lack. It is not built on perfection, it is built on survival, in the Abyss, only those who fight, claw, and bleed endure, and even its flaws bend toward that truth. It is a world that respects survival above all else."

Elara studied him in silence, her expression unreadable. Then, at last, she nodded, though without further comment.

"Speaking of survival," Warren said after a pause, remembering suddenly, "you called me here for something else. You mentioned calculations, something you couldn’t complete?"

Elara waved a hand, and behind her a galaxy bloomed into view, a map of stars and currents shimmering like silver dust.

"Yes. I needed your computational power. I gained new insights while observing the Abyss in motion, its patterns were... strange. Like the high-latitude laws we both know, but inverted. Not higher, but lower."

Warren froze, his breath catching. "Low-latitude rules?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Operational rules of another layer?"

"Exactly." Elara’s eyes glowed faintly.

"I see." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with resolve. "Then I will lend you my power. I will channel it directly into your divine world."

She inclined her head in thanks, already beginning the work of materializing her domain. But before she could continue, another thought struck her, and she glanced back at him.

"Warren. When you handed Cillian that blood... did you tell him what creature it came from? Did you teach him how to wield it properly?"

Warren blinked. "I... may have forgotten." His mouth twitched, almost sheepishly. "But I believe he’ll find the answer."

Elara gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

"After all," he said, smiling faintly now, "life always finds its own way."

⸻X——-

The Endless Abyss shifted once more. Its landscapes, already brutal and unstable, began to change under the surge of life pouring from the abyssal incubation pools.

From those depths came countless small demons-fragile things, their bodies weak, their power almost laughable. They were quickly seized upon by the older demons, the abyssal natives who had ruled unchecked until now. To them, the little demons were nothing but slaves, fodder, or toys. They hunted them, devoured them, and played with their suffering.

And yet something strange happened.

No matter how many were consumed, their numbers never seemed to thin. They adapted to every corner of the abyss, filling it like a swarm, only to be cut down again and again. But for every one slain, another rose. The Abyss itself was changing because of them.

Soon the Original demons discovered another truth, the little ones were not only prey.

They could be shaped, controlled, turned into tools, with that the first attempts at enslavement began.

Then the first crude territories were formed, spheres of influence carved out not by instinct alone but now with a deeper hunger to command. The little demons became pawns, soldiers, and servants, extending the reach of their masters.

For the first time, the abyssal lords tasted something new..order, however fragile.

They built lairs, bred legions, and began to fight not only for survival, but for domination. Hunting was now no longer based purely off instinct, it became strategy, and soon, the prey they sought was now not only weaker beasts, but also their own kind.

Strength rose at a terrifying pace.

Those who secured safety and resources multiplied their power swiftly. It was inevitable then that the first of the Original broke through the barriers of growth, stepping into legend.

That creature was born of fire and war. Dozens of evolutions had reshaped its body until it no longer resembled its kin. Battles scarred its flesh, near-death sharpened its instincts, and every victory layered its strength higher. When the final threshold shattered, its entire form transformed.

Flaming scales hardened into molten armor, glowing as though magma itself flowed beneath. Its blood thickened with venomous mists that slipped from its pores, subtle and deadly, an enemy need only graze its skin to inhale death. And in its hand appeared a weapon, a colossal sword that burned without end, a gift from the Abyss itself, born from the soul of a fallen forebear.

A Legendary Demon had appeared.

It was the first, but not the last. Others followed. One, then two, then ten, then a hundred, Original demons straining toward the legendary stage. Most perished in the attempt, crushed by the merciless climb, but the Abyss birthed too many for the failures to matter. Those who succeeded sealed their bloodlines, leaving behind descendants that carried fragments of their power. Over long years, the rulers of the Abyss were forged in this crucible of survival.

And yet, in the midst of this feral rise, Cillian did not share in their triumph. Watching from the heart of his world, he saw only chaos, endless cycles of slaughter birthing new tyrants. The strong devoured the weak until only a few remained standing. That was the way of the Abyss, perhaps it was inevitable and perhaps it was all the world would ever be— if left unchecked.

But he had something in his hand that could change everything.

A single drop of blood from a mythical creature.

⸻x——

At the bottom of the Abyss, Cillian studied the jewel that contained it, his divine power coiled tightly around the drop. He dared not let it touch the open air., the Abyss corrupted everything it touched, laws twisted, essence spoiled, even life itself bent toward madness. If exposed, the drop would be ruined.

He weighed his choices carefully. He knew enough to see the paths before him. He could use the blood as a seed to forge a new creature, one carrying the essence of a myth. Or he could strip the rules from the blood, weave them into the foundation of the Abyss, and give his world a new law to build upon. Each method promised power with relative risks.

"Extract the rule, then use the body," he murmured to himself. "Both creatures and order at once..." It sounded perfect. But even as the thought formed, he shook his head.

"No. The Abyss would twist it, rules here do not hold, strength might become weakness, blessing could turn to curse."

Another path: analyze the blood, then design a creature. He quickly dismissed that idea too.

"If it cannot adapt to the chaos, it will die before it grows. Foreign things never truly belong, they break to easy. "

He sighed, frustration heavy in his chest. "Good in theory, much too risky in truth."

And then, a thought struck him and his eyes sharpened.

"What if... the natives themselves take it? Let the demons devour the blood. Let their evolution decide what survives. They will strip what is useless, keep only what strengthens them. Their bloodlines are already binded to the Abyss. Whatever they gain will return to the world itself."

It was dangerous, but it could also be perfect.

He closed his eyes and gave his command.

Across the Abyss, every demon that had clawed its way toward legend, every one on the cusp of power, felt the pull of their creator’s will. They fell to their knees in the wastelands and caverns, their roars trembling with both fear and hunger.

The decree was simple.

A massacre.

They were to tear each other apart until only one remained.

The last survivor would earn the right to consume the blood. One would rise above all others, hopefully crossing into myth.

The Endless Abyss itself seemed to shiver with anticipation.

And with that the hunt for godhood had begun.

.