The Drake Blood Tales

As Fallion decided to call it a day and tried to gather his thoughts, a sudden touch startled him. He instinctively reached for his sword but stopped when he realized it was the receptionist girl from the Mage Society.

"Excuse me, sir," she said calmly, her voice soft but steady.

Fallion's heart still raced from his near-death experience earlier. He exhaled sharply, trying to compose himself.

The girl continued, "I'm sorry for startling you, but... I think you could use some medical assistance?"

Fallion glanced down at himself. While none of his wounds were fatal, his body bore clear signs of the beating he had endured. Blood stained his clothes, and bruises were already forming. He nodded slowly. "Yes, please."

She stepped closer and began tending to his injuries, her hands glowing faintly as she used healing magic to ease his pain and close his wounds. Her touch was gentle but efficient.

As she worked, Fallion broke the silence. "Did you see what happened?"

The girl hesitated, her hands pausing for a brief moment before she answered. "Uh... yes, sir. But forgive me for not helping you."

Fallion offered a faint smile and shook his head. "No... it's alright. I wouldn't want anyone else getting hurt because of me."

The girl's expression softened, and she smiled. "Mr. Noblanc was right. You're truly kind-hearted."

Fallion's cheeks flushed at her words, and he turned his gaze away, embarrassed.

After she finished patching him up, she stood and prepared to leave. But before she could go, Fallion asked, "Do you, by chance, know anything about those people?"

The girl paused, thinking for a moment. "I've heard rumors. They're said to come from the Kashima region, across the sea—a province of the Ukataka Kingdom. But... I also heard whispers that the Kashima are plotting a rebellion against Ukataka."

Fallion absorbed the information, nodding thoughtfully. "Thank you."

She gave him a polite bow. "Take care of yourself, sir."

With that, the two parted ways, leaving Fallion to wrestle with the implications of what she had just told him.

When Fallion returned to his mansion, the servants were shocked to see their young lord covered in wounds. They rushed to his side, concern etched across their faces.

After recounting what had transpired, Samhain, one of the senior servants, suggested, "Young master, you should take Gaz'mirna with you. She's a daemoness and a former gladiator. Her skills could offer you valuable protection."

Fallion shook his head, rejecting the idea. "No, Samhain. Bringing her along would be risky. There are too many holy pylons in the city. They'd burn her on sight. Besides, the problem lies with an outside faction. If I bring a fighting force into the city, it'll draw unnecessary attention."

Samhain reluctantly nodded, understanding his reasoning. However, Fallion conceded to another precaution. "Assign someone—human or elf—to follow me discreetly. I'll allow additional protection, but only from a distance. If something happens, they can step in."

The servants agreed, and the matter was settled.

That evening, Fallion summoned Josul, his trusted aide, to his study. "Josul, I need you to gather information about the conflict in Kashima. Also, investigate my brother Fordragon's whereabouts. He may be tangled in this mess, and I need to understand the full picture."

Josul bowed. "It will be done, my lord."

The next day, Fallion returned to the Mage Society, his wounds still fresh but healing. As he entered the classroom, he noticed Jintaro waiting at the front, ready to begin the day's lecture.

When Fallion took his seat, Jintaro's sharp eyes immediately caught the bruises and cuts on his face. He raised an eyebrow but refrained from commenting directly, focusing instead on the lesson.

"Alright, class," Jintaro began, his authoritative tone commanding attention. "Today, we'll be discussing how incantations work in spellcasting. As for prayers or miracles—those fall under the domain of paladins or the church. You'll need to consult them if you want expertise in that area."

The room fell silent as students prepared their notes, eager to delve into the mechanics of magical incantations.

As Fallion settled into his seat, Jintaro continued the lecture.

"Each arcane spell, depending on its difficulty, requires a unique combination of magical triggers. These triggers are activated by creating precise magic pulses. When executed correctly, these pulses interact with a catalyst—such as a grimoire, spellbook, or scroll—and the spell is cast simply by chanting the appropriate incantation."

A student raised their hand and asked, "Professor, is it possible to cast spells without using incantations or catalysts?"

Jintaro nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it is possible. Catalysts and incantations were designed to make spellcasting more efficient and to help less experienced mages learn and utilize magic. In ancient times, before the Unification March, mages didn't rely on catalysts. Instead, they memorized the intricate patterns of magic pulses and created magic circles to shape and control their energy.

"High-level mages still use magic circles today. You may have noticed them forming glowing circles around themselves during combat or spellcasting. These are the product of their mastery, allowing them to bypass incantations and catalysts entirely.

"Magic circles weren't just for personal use, either. In the past, they were used in public services. For example, circles were painted on walls to power torches, lamps, and even defensive artillery in cities. While some are still in use, many have been replaced over time. Their inefficiency with constant usage, coupled with the risk of criminals activating them for malicious purposes, led to their decline."

The class buzzed with intrigue as the students discussed the implications of spellcasting without modern aids.

After class, Fallion sought out Noblanc to share the harrowing details of his encounter with the kunoichi and Miko.

As Noblanc listened, his expression turned grim. When Fallion finished, Noblanc leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk.

"This is no trivial matter," Noblanc said gravely. "The people you encountered are highly trained operatives, not the type of enemies you can underestimate. If they're targeting you, it means you've inadvertently stepped into something far larger than yourself."

"I know," Fallion admitted. "If I hadn't used my mother's ice magic, I'm not sure I'd have made it back alive."

Noblanc sighed and gestured to the potion brewing on his desk. "This purifier I'm preparing will address the spell your mother cast on you, but it won't be without consequences. There will definitely be side effects."

Fallion furrowed his brow. "What kind of side effects?"

"The nature of the spell makes it hard to predict. It could destabilize your mana flow temporarily—or even permanently. It might also interfere with abilities tied to your daemon bloodline. There's no guarantee it will go smoothly, but if we don't act, the spell could cause irreversible damage as it fades."

Fallion's expression hardened, though the weight of the decision was clear in his eyes. "I can't keep living with this spell. Whatever the risks, I have to see this through."

Noblanc nodded solemnly. "Very well. I'll have the potion ready by tomorrow morning. Until then, focus on stabilizing your mana. You'll need as much control as possible to handle the process."

Fallion left, his thoughts heavy as he prepared for the next step in his journey.

Fallion looked at Noblanc, a troubled expression crossing his face. "What exactly is it, though?" he asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Noblanc sighed, his gaze steady. "The spell has lasted this long because it's sustained by something—your own mana, to be precise."

Fallion's eyes widened as the realization hit him. That's what's been making me feel so uneasy, he thought. The spell has been leeching my mana for all these years.

Noblanc continued, his voice tinged with concern. "This process will unlock many blocked mana points within you. It's likely to cause shock and a great deal of pain." He paused before adding, "If you hesitate, I would recommend either waiting until you've learned curse-breaking magic or seeking the help of another mage society member."

Fallion clenched his fists, determination settling in his chest. He had endured the spell for far too long and could no longer live with the constant discomfort it caused. "I'll take the risk. I can't keep living with this unease."

Noblanc nodded, understanding the gravity of Fallion's decision. "Very well. You'll need to rest and be in peak condition for tomorrow. It will be a physically taxing process, so I suggest you skip class and focus on your recovery."

Fallion agreed, though the uncertainty still lingered. After confirming he was ready, he left the mage society, preparing himself for what lay ahead.

Later that day, Fallion found himself at a nearby restaurant, his body weary and his mind racing. As he sat, he noticed a group of nomadic people entering the establishment. They were a striking presence.

The nomadic people resembled humans, but their physical features were subtly different. Their skin was pale, and their arms and legs were noticeably longer, giving them an almost ethereal appearance. Despite their strange proportions, their bodies were in perfect harmony, and their movements were graceful yet powerful.

Known for their exceptional magic resistance and mana adaptation, nomadic people lived twice as long as humans, and half as long as elves. Their culture was shaped by constant movement, as they traveled from place to place, bridging nations and continents.

This nomadic lifestyle made them exceptional diplomats and traders. Their ability to learn multiple languages and communicate across cultural barriers earned them a respected place in every nation. They were considered invaluable for international trade and were highly regarded by both commoners and royalty alike.

Fallion observed them, fascinated by their presence. As he sat back in his chair, he couldn't help but wonder what their role would be in the growing conflict that seemed to be unfolding around him.

"Hmm, I haven't seen the nomadic people for a while," Fallion muttered to himself, watching the group with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

Deciding to approach them, Fallion made his way toward the nomadic group. They greeted him warmly, as was customary for their kind.

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" one of them asked politely.

Fallion nodded, appreciating their friendly manner. "Actually, yes. I've never been outside Whiteford Kingdom before. Could you help me with directions? I'm trying to find a route to the Kashima region."

The nomadic people exchanged glances before one of them spoke again, their tone more somber now. "The situation in Kashima is... complicated. A great conflict is rising in that area. The cultists have been growing in number, especially after a strange faction appeared in Qa'stur. This faction drove many cultists out and reclaimed Qa'stur for themselves."

Fallion frowned, sensing the gravity of the situation. "I see. That's troubling."

Another nomadic member handed Fallion a map, marked with areas of conflict, cultist-controlled zones, and both safe and dangerous routes. "If you're set on traveling there, this map will guide you. But be warned, the journey is perilous, and the situation is unstable."

"Thank you," Fallion said, his expression hardening. He knew this was no simple task he was embarking on, but something about it felt necessary. He paid for the map, his thoughts lingering on the dangers ahead.

When Fallion returned to the mansion, his servants followed quietly behind him. He made his way directly to his parents' room. The walls were lined with portraits of his family, but his gaze fell upon his mother's portrait.

He approached it slowly, his heart heavy with emotion. Taking the picture of his mother from the wall, he spoke softly, almost to himself.

"Mom, I'm sorry if I made you worry back then. I know you loved me and my brothers, but... Fordragon is right. We have to follow our calling, just like you always said. Whether you wanted me free from this spell or not, I have to do this. There's something inside me—a feeling I can't shake, a vision that's always blurred. But one thing I know for certain is that Fordragon has it, and he's never shared it with me. Something is driving him to go outside... and I think I need to find out what that is."

He placed the portrait back on the wall and sighed deeply, then sat on the bed to rest, preparing himself for the difficult journey that lay ahead.

The next morning, Paladin Dofan returned to the mansion earlier than usual. Samhain, already up and about, noticed him right away.

"Oh, you're very early," she remarked with a slight smile.

Dofan, however, seemed anxious. "I need to see Fallion immediately."

Although Fallion was already awake, many of the servants discouraged Dofan from disturbing their lord's rest. But Josul, understanding the urgency, allowed him to meet Fallion.

Josul spoke to Samhain quietly, his tone serious. "It's better that he tells him... We can't keep this a secret any longer."

Samhain nodded somberly and sat down, bracing herself.

Fallion greeted Dofan when he entered the room, his voice still carrying the remnants of sleep. "You're very early, but I'm already awake, anyway."

Dofan took a deep breath before speaking, his words hesitant and heavy. "Fallion… I have an important mission, but more than that, I've heard about you at the mage society."

Fallion noticed Dofan's uneasy demeanor. "Yeah, I figured it out... I don't blame you or the servants. I know all of you were just trying to protect me, and Fordragon as well."

Dofan stood silent, taken aback by Fallion's calmness.

Fallion continued, his voice soft but firm. "I feel strange things. I've known something was being kept from me, though I didn't know what it was. It's been eating at me, but I couldn't uncover it. Whatever it is, it must be something important, right?"

Dofan looked toward the family portrait in the living room, his eyes reflecting the weight of what he was about to say.

"Yeah… but it's not fair, and I can't blame her… But it's a cruel fate. Your aunt didn't deserve it. I failed to reveal this to Fordragon, and since then, he hasn't spoken to me."

Fallion sat down, his face darkening. "So it was that severe… I didn't realize."

Dofan, struggling with his own emotions, continued. "I don't have the guts to tell you this, Fallion. But you deserve to know. I failed your brothers… I am the one who killed your mother."

Fallion froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. Before Dofan could say anything more, the shock sent Fallion into a volatile state. His daemon form erupted, fire igniting on his skin, his power pulsing outward so strongly that even Gaz'mirna, nearby, flinched in alarm.

However, Fallion wasn't the child he once was. He quickly regained control, his fiery aura dimming as he forced himself back into his human form.

"I'm sorry for my outburst," Fallion said, his voice strained. The anger was still there, but it was tempered by something deeper—grief, confusion, and an overwhelming sense of loss. "This is far beyond what I anticipated. But I didn't expect this… Still, I believe you have an explanation."

Tears welled up in Fallion's eyes, betraying the strength he tried so hard to maintain. Dofan, looking equally broken, spoke with a heaviness in his heart.

"On that day, our mission to Qa'stur… we were ambushed by a mysterious group. They called themselves the 'Rift Occult Imperator Knights.' They were unlike anything we had ever seen."

Fallion listened intently, his shock deepening.

"They were out of our league. We fought daemons and cultists alike, but nothing compared to them. They wielded powers that could rival even an ascendant daemon. These knights were as strong as the noblest daemons, feared by our kind."

Fallion's breath caught in his throat. "Ascendant daemons... they were that powerful?"

Dofan nodded grimly. "Yes. Our holy magic had no effect on them. We were outmatched. Everything we knew… didn't work. That's when things went horribly wrong."

"Our steel shattered the moment it hit them," Dofan continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "Even though there were only about 80 of them, we barely managed to take down 20. Then the cultists ambushed us."

Tears streamed down Dofan's face, his grief evident in every word. "That's when your mother ordered us to retreat. She knew we had to regroup and prepare for a counterattack. But during the retreat, one of the Rift Occult Imperator knights struck her down. She managed to defeat one of them in a duel, but the cultists caught her. We couldn't save her. When we launched the second assault, we managed to drive the cultists back, but I saw something... something that haunted me."

Dofan's breath caught in his throat as he recalled the haunting memory. "There, among the cultists, I saw Katherine again. Her body was disfigured, a shell of the woman we once knew. She attacked us like a maniac, screaming at her former companions as she fought them. The sight of her… it terrified everyone. In that critical moment, I decided to step forward and face her."

Fallion sat frozen, his heart pounding as he absorbed the truth of the situation.

"I could feel her hatred, her agony," Dofan continued, his voice breaking. "It was beyond anything I could imagine. I don't know what the Zotho cult and those knights did to her, but it was horrible. I didn't want to fight her, but I had no choice. She was lost. And in that moment... I was forced to end it."

Fallion's face contorted in anguish as the weight of Dofan's words crushed him. "Why did you keep this from me?" Fallion choked out, tears streaming down his face. "Why didn't Fordragon know?"

Dofan's expression grew more somber, filled with regret and sorrow. "Your mother's family, the Sherwoods, possessed a unique ability known as the bloodbonded. It allowed family members with a direct connection—parents to children, and siblings—to see and share experiences and memories. Your mother had it... and she used that bond to give you a spell when you were young, one that would block your magic output as your curse activated."

Fallion's eyes widened in confusion and pain. "Block my magic?"

"Yes," Dofan replied gently. "That spell was meant to keep your powers in check, to prevent your magic from overwhelming you. But it didn't work the way it was supposed to. The spell, what we call soul binding, was meant to be cast by the highest-ranking paladins—those of the spear of justice. But your mana, your power, was too much for the spell to contain. That's why you've been able to access magic, even though it feels incomplete. It's why you still struggle with it."

Fallion's chest tightened, and the emotional weight of the truth broke him. He began to cry uncontrollably, trying desperately to block out the thoughts of his mother's agony. The visions of what she had endured, the pain she had suffered, overwhelmed him.

Dofan stood quietly, watching his nephew's struggle, knowing that nothing could ease the pain of such a revelation.

"Uncle," Fallion finally whispered, his voice barely audible as he wiped his tears away. "You can rest here. I... I need to clear my mind."

Without waiting for a response, Fallion stood up and left the room. He walked aimlessly, his mind heavy with the truth he had just learned.

He found himself at the edge of a lake near the border, the quiet ripples of the water mirroring the turmoil within him. The serene surroundings offered no solace; it only made the ache in his heart grow deeper. Fallion sat by the water, gazing at the reflection of the sky above, as if searching for some answers in the silence. But there were none.

For now, all he could do was let the tears flow, and let the weight of the truth settle in. He wasn't sure how to move forward, but he knew that the journey ahead would be harder than anything he had ever faced. And he wasn't sure if he was ready.

.

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