Within the confines of Sokram’s soul realm, which now resembled a cramped library, abyssmally different from its previous glory.

The space was modest, with shelves barely wide enough to house the volumes they held, but the knowledge within defied the room’s limitations.

Sokram had expected fragments of his past timeline to linger, but what he found exceeded his expectations.

Each book, seemingly slim with a finite number of pages, became an endless journey the moment he opened it.

The first book, with a deceptive thickness suggesting only a thousand pages, expanded as though each page gave birth to countless others.

Six months of diligent reading yielded only a tenth of its content.

Sokram absorbed the words like a sponge, rediscovering knowledge that was both familiar and forgotten.

The sheer immensity of information in a single soul-book was beyond any expectation.

‘My body must have grown stronger by now,’ he thought, closing the book with a heavy sigh.

Reluctantly, he shifted his focus, pulling his consciousness back to the physical world.

As Sokram took control of his body from his subconscious, he felt the subtle changes that had taken place during his absence. His limbs, though still small, felt stronger, and his senses were sharper than before. He took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of being fully present in the world once more.

However, as he looked around, he realized they were no longer in Androny’s estate in Frozen River City.

Instead, they were back in Eversnow City.

Eversnow was a small military city in Norwinter, the country where Sokram’s family resided on the Northern Continent.

Located in the northwest corner of the country, it bordered three other nations: Dracony, Frostaxe, and Whiteland.

This strategic location made Eversnow the primary line of defense against the not-so-friendly neighbors, Frostaxe and Whiteland, while also serving as the main trade route to its oldest ally, Dracony.

Founded by seven prominent families and clans: the Greyfur, Silverfang, Armfrost, Dracnakrid, Goldenmane, Blackmane, and Snowheart.

All united by a common desire to protect their land from invaders, these families had once formed a strong alliance.

Over time, other smaller families joined them, and what had started as a small village and first line of defense grew into a walled city housing ten thousand people.

Eversnow's layout divided the city into three rings of walls.

The outer ring housed the slums, inns, and the bulk of the lower-ranked military.

The middle ring contained the merchant district and the merchant families.

Lastly, the inner ring. Reserved for the founding families and any noble families that joined later.

Once, Sokram’s family, the Dracnakrid, had stood at the pinnacle of the city’s power and influence.

Etched into every stone of Eversnow was their legacy, but their fall from grace had been steep.

Despite their diminished status, their name would never be forgotten in the north, marked by sacrifice and loss that left their name whispered with both reverence and regret.

The reason for their downfall was the same reason Norwinter’s borders remained secure: many members of the Dracnakrid family had given their lives and blood to protect the land they loved.

Now, the last remaining members of the Dracnakrid family resided in the smallest state in the noble district.

After realizing where he was, the first sounds to greet him filled him with regret for staying submerged in his soul realm for so long.

“So, is he better now?” Brunhild’s concerned voice carried through the room.

“No,” Hilda replied, her tone laden with sadness. “He’s still the same, just a living puppet or a beast moving purely on instinct. Astrid and Mikhail were already trying to walk and talk at his age, but he…” She trailed off, worry evident in every word.

Sokram’s heart ached at her words. ‘I’m sorry, Mom. But don’t worry. I’ll show you I’m fine.’ Determined to ease her concerns, he resolved to take action.

He began cautiously, reacquainting himself with his body and senses. Despite the physical limitations of his small frame, Sokram’s mastery over his movements and perception improved rapidly.

Within two weeks, he had gone from a seemingly unresponsive child to walking and even speaking his first words.

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Hilda, Brunhild, and Astrid were elated by his sudden transformation. Their despair turned into awe and joy as they watched Sokram learn at an astonishing pace.

Astrid's deep blue eyes widened in amazement. "It's like a miracle," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “Is it because of his bloodline gifts?”

She, a perfect blend of her mother and grandmother, radiated beauty and strength. Her shining golden hair was the only feature distinguishing her from them.

If the three women stood side by side, they could be mistaken for sisters. Their youthful appearance was not due to their bloodlines, which remained dormant at this stage, but rather a benefit of their cultivation as Arcane Warriors.

As their Tiers and Levels of Existence increased, the practice naturally slowed their aging.

Brunhild, though equally overjoyed, couldn’t suppress a hint of worry. “Moira is coming to check on him,” she said. “She told us before that he was perfectly healthy, but we need to be sure.”

As if summoned by her words, Hilda turned to see her best friend arriving.

“She’s here,” Hilda announced with a relieved sigh.

Moira, a snow-elf of striking beauty, entered the room with an air of grace.

Unlike the golden-haired, sun-kissed high elves, snow-elves like her were shorter, with pale skin and fiery red hair. Despite their differences, both races shared an affinity for light and elemental magic.

Moira, however, possessed a rare brilliance, being both the High Priestess of their small city and an ardent follower of the 3rd Exalted Paragon, Belladona.

Her mastery of healing and holy magic was second to none.

Sokram’s face lit up at the sight of her, rushing forward on unsteady legs, he threw himself into her arms.

“Hi, baby boy!” Moira exclaimed, picking him up with a warm smile. “You’re happy to see Auntie, aren’t you? You’re so cute!”

‘This time,’ Sokram thought, his emotions swelling, ‘I’ll make sure all of you stay with me.’

The weight of his memories and love for his family overwhelmed him, and tears began streaming down his cheeks.

Moira, noticing his tears, stopped pinching his cheeks. “Oh, did I pinch too hard? I’m sorry!”

Shaking his head to reassure her, Sokram wiped his eyes.

His understanding of her words startled everyone present.

Though he had shown progress over the past week, this level of comprehension was unprecedented.

Hilda, still brimming with concern, turned to Moira. “Check him. We need to know what caused his earlier state. His development is happening too quickly now.”

Moira’s soothing smile didn’t waver. “Isn’t this a good thing? You were worried when he wasn’t responsive before. Maybe it’s a characteristic of his bloodline, considering how unusual his birth was.”

At the mention of Sokram’s conception, Hilda’s face darkened.

Memories of the harrowing ritual came flooding back, but her love for Sokram pushed those thoughts aside.

Moira cast a diagnostic spell over the child, her expression shifting to one of intrigue.

“Amazing,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen a baby with brain activity this advanced. It’s comparable to that of a highly intelligent adult.”

“What does that mean?” Astrid asked, frowning slightly.

“It means,” Moira explained, “that he’s likely a genius, or one of his five bloodlines is accelerating his mental development. Either way, it’s extraordinary. He’ll learn and mature faster than most children his age.”

“But what I don’t understand,” Hilda's voice trembled with worry, “is how he went from being barely responsive to walking and talking in just two weeks.”

Brunhild’s voice cut through the tension. “Hilda, darling. When we found you in Garuth’s lair, we discovered his notes…”

Brunhild went on to explain what they discovered then.

When the dragon named Garuth kidnapped Hilda, who was pregnant at the time, everyone was desperate, searching for her everywhere.

It was only when Garuth’s mother, Hannah, approached them in her human form, saying she knew where her son had taken Hilda and the elven princess Miralyn, that the puzzle began to take shape.

Hannah’s revelation confirmed this wasn’t just a case of revenge by one of their many enemies.

Garuth’s intent was far more sinister and methodical.

When the rescue party arrived at Garuth's lair, they found the ritual already complete.

Garuth was dead, his body reduced to an empty husk, and only Hilda and Miralyn remained.

Miralyn, inconsolable, muttered over and over, “He stole my baby. He killed our baby.”

The truth was far more complex.

While the group tried to piece together what had transpired, Empress Meriande of the Central Continent Elven Empire, well-versed in biomancy, discovered Garuth’s notes.

What she read left her speechless.

The ritual had done more than anyone could have imagined. It had infused the unborn children in Hilda and Miralyn's wombs with extraordinary bloodlines.

Hilda's child now carried the purest draconic bloodline, while Miralyn's child carried the rarest Elemental bloodline: the Natura bloodline, granting dominion over all elements.

Both fetuses’ original bloodlines were also fully awakened: the High Human bloodline from the Androny's lineage and the Moon and Sun elves from the Grey Elf bloodline from Miralyn.

Garuth’s ultimate goal was to merge the two fetuses into one being and transfer his own soul into this fused vessel.

Garuth's choice of Hilda as the carrier was no accident.

Her family name, Dracnakrid, marked her as a direct descendant of the Draconic Humans and the legendary Dragon EmperorDrokmin of the ancient fallen empire of Draggonia.

Her unique heritage made her the ideal host for carrying a child meant to embody Garuth’s ambitions.

The elves demanded the child's death, fearing it carried Garuth’s essence. However, before they could act, Moira, also present due to her status as a High Priestess and being Hilda's close friend, suddenly fell to her knees, her body trembling.

Her emerald eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as she became the vessel for Belladona, the 3rd Exalted Paragon.

When Belladona spoke, her voice carried a resonance that silenced everyone in the chamber. “This child is under my protection, an untouchable spark of evolution. Any harm brought to it will bring upon you Nhiria’s wrath. The Central Continent Elven Empire will cease to exist, wiped from this world by her hand.”

The words sent a shiver down the spines of all present, and the elves, no matter how powerful or proud, found themselves kneeling before the authority emanating from Moira.

Belladona continued, “Garuth’s soul is now forever lost to the void; it will never reincarnate. What he sought to accomplish through twisted means and forbidden Soul Magic has instead resulted in a profound advancement of life. The child in Hilda’s womb represents a potential greater than any of you comprehend. You will not interfere.”

As the glow faded, Moira collapsed into Brunhild’s arms, her body weak from the strain of hosting the Paragon’s power.

When she awoke, the words of Belladona lingered in the minds of all who had witnessed it.

In the aftermath, Miralyn was taken back to the Central Continent, shattered but alive.

Hilda returned to her family, but Adulwulf, unable to accept the circumstances, severed ties with her and the unborn child.

Sokram’s existence was both a blessing and a burden; the embodiment of Garuth’s ambition and failure.