Ancestral Lineage

As the weight of Onyx's vast presence receded, another force began to stir—subtler in scale, but far more unnerving.

This new presence wasn't expansive like the void. It was contained. Concentrated. Alive. A terrifying calm cloaked it, like a blade sheathed in silk, whispering of its power rather than declaring it.

Ethan's smile grew faintly. "Mmm… I sense something interesting."

"You can open your eyes now," Onyx's voice chimed, giddy with anticipation.

Both Ethan and Saareiya opened their eyes—and gasped in unison.

Before them stood a figure unlike anything they expected.

Long inky-black hair cascaded like liquid shadow down her back. Her skin was ghost-pale, almost translucent—so starkly white it made Ethan's own complexion seem sun-kissed by comparison. Her eyes were deep pools of pitch-black, each with a white slit glowing faintly in the darkness. Her body was lean, athletic, and unmistakably feminine, with graceful curves accentuated by an ethereal elegance. Sharp ears jutted from her head, like an elf's each adorned with six gleaming rings. From behind, three flowing tails made of dark, energy-like substance shimmered and swayed.

"Onyx…?" Ethan asked, eyes wide. "Is this really you?"

"Hehe~ Master… do you like it?" Onyx replied, her voice playful and teasing.

"You're… beautiful."

"Yesss! I win! I win!" Onyx jumped with joy, spinning midair in glee. Her entire form was still nude, modesty barely maintained by a sheer veil of dark energy that clung to her skin like smoke.

Ethan covered his face with one hand and sighed. "So… the quiet one turns out to be the wildest…"

"Wait… does this mean the others have humanoid forms now too?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

Onyx grinned. "Just wait and see, Master. Hehe~ You're gonna love it."

"Put on something already. You're older than me, but you act like a child…" Ethan muttered with exasperated affection. With a flick of his fingers, he conjured clothes out of the air—dark robes laced with obsidian accents, woven from shadow and woven will.

Saareiya's jaw dropped again. Clothes? From air? Just like that?!

Onyx giggled, beaming as she floated down to accept the gift. She slipped the garments on with ease, twirling once to admire herself before floating beside Saareiya—and promptly engulfing the girl in a suffocating hug.

"Eeeh—! Wait—! I can't breathe—!" Saareiya flailed helplessly, buried in Onyx's overly affectionate embrace.

Ethan's brow twitched as he watched the scene unfold.

How did the most silent and mysterious of my spirit beasts become this unhinged?

Still… a faint smile crept back to his lips.

He wouldn't trade any of them for the world.

Ethan's eyes flicked upward. The air changed again—still, heavy, yet charged with the static tension of impending arrival. The void shimmered, then split open with a low rumble, like mountains grinding beneath the surface of reality.

From the fissure stepped a towering figure, barefoot and composed, exuding quiet dominance with every stride.

He stood at 7.6 feet tall, built like a war-forged statue—lean, sharply defined, with muscle that rippled beneath smooth dark grey skin. His hair, light grey and swept back, framed his angular face with an effortless elegance. From his forehead jutted a pair of deep grey horns, curved slightly upward and ridged like obsidian. His ears were elflike, angled and refined, adding to his austere beauty.

But what truly drew the eye were the dark blue alchemic tattoos that glowed faintly across his arms, neck, and cheeks—arcane etchings that pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, resonating with the chain beneath his feet.

A long grey tail flicked behind him, graceful and deadly. On his bare back, Saareiya noticed what seemed like intricate wing tattoos—two massive glyphs of coiled, fleshy design, dormant yet brimming with potential.

The gargoyle came to a halt in front of Ethan and lowered his head in a respectful bow.

"…Master."

Ethan smiled calmly. "Maverick. You look more… refined than I expected."

"You always had high expectations," Maverick replied, voice deep and smooth, with a trace of gravel—like wind passing through ancient catacombs. "I wouldn't dare disappoint."

"I see your wings are hidden." Ethan gestured to his back.

A flicker passed across Maverick's skin, and the tattoos shifted—unfolding from flesh and light like living ink. In an instant, two massive, fleshy wings burst forth, spreading with an audible snap of pressure, before curling inward around him like a cloak.

"I wear them only when needed," Maverick said, folding them again into nothingness. The tattoos retook their place in perfect symmetry.

Saareiya could only stare.

How many monsters has Master bonded with?

Onyx grinned at her expression. "He's always been the brooding type. Even when he didn't have a face."

"I still don't speak unless necessary," Maverick replied dryly.

"Boring~" Onyx chimed.

Ethan chuckled. "It's good to see you, old friend. You've grown well."

"I am only a reflection of your strength… and your trust," Maverick said solemnly, stepping to Ethan's right and folding his arms.

The air fell quiet once more. But there was no tension—only calm. Two spirit beasts had returned, one loud, one stoic, each radiating power in their own way.

Ethan's gaze lifted toward the sigils still glowing in the air.

"Next," he murmured, voice calm but commanding, "let's see who else has changed."

The moment settled again into silence—an anticipation that stretched just long enough for the senses to tingle. Then came the cold.

Not a simple chill. This was the oppressive cold of ancient tombs and forgotten graves, the kind that made the spirit flinch before the body could register it. Purple wisps of flame curled around Ethan's remaining sigils, particularly the third—the one that burned with a spectral violet hue.

Then the void shivered.

A rift split across the space like a gash, and from its mouth emerged a figure cloaked in creeping death and quiet majesty.

Stygian stepped out onto the floating chain with deliberate, graceful steps, the chain beneath him frosting over in thin layers of violet crystal that vanished just as quickly. His tall, athletic frame stood with an easy poise—silent power masked by fluid movement. Black skin like obsidian shimmered faintly beneath shifting necromantic markings: deep purple tattoos that danced across his arms and coiled up to his shoulders like living enchantments. His clawed hands flexed once, and the sigils pulsed in recognition.

His hair, a cascade of wild, spiky strands in glowing purple, crackled with barely-contained energy, and atop his brow flickered a small violet flame—its quiet existence more dangerous than any roar.

When his deep purple eyes opened fully, they glowed like stars in the abyss.

"Master," he intoned, his voice smooth, cool, and echoing with a haunting timbre. "I have returned."

"Stygian," Ethan said with a soft smile. "You've taken a form even Death would envy."

Stygian smirked faintly. "It is only fitting. After all, I am what lingers after the end."

Saareiya blinked rapidly. "H-He's… scary…"

Onyx was oddly quiet for once, her usual playfulness dulled by the sheer weight of Stygian's aura. Maverick merely nodded to the newcomer in calm acknowledgment.

"I'm glad to see you haven't changed," Ethan said, amused. "You still enjoy your theatrics."

Stygian bowed with one arm crossed over his chest. "A little dread keeps lesser things in line."

He stepped forward and took his place on Ethan's left, mirroring Maverick's composed stance. The flame on his forehead pulsed once and then quieted, yet its presence could not be ignored.

"And here I thought Onyx was the dramatic one," Ethan muttered with a low chuckle.

"I'm still the prettiest," Onyx retorted quickly, clinging tighter to Saareiya, who was clearly reevaluating her life choices while trapped between Onyx's arms.

Saareiya dared a look toward Stygian again, who had now closed his eyes and entered a silent meditative state. But the space around him remained tense, heavy, and cold—like a mausoleum in space.

Ethan looked toward the two final sigils still glowing.

He let the chain rumble beneath him and whispered,

"Now… It's your turn. Who comes first?"