Chapter 374 — I Need More Power
8 min read ·
He reached out as if to touch it, his hand extending slowly.
Then stopped.
His fingers hovered in the air between them for a long moment before lowering back to his side.
"..."
The silence stretched.
The Patriarch’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his gaze becoming distant like he was looking at something very far away.
When he spoke again, his voice came out softer.
"Reminds me of someone."
The words felt deliberate, each one chosen with care.
"Back before everything changed."
His orange eyes refocused on Damian’s face, studying him with an intensity that made Damian’s instincts scream.
"But you clearly don’t share blood with him."
The statement came out flat, matter-of-fact.
"I can tell."
Something about the way he said it felt wrong, like he was convincing himself as much as stating a fact.
His hand lowered completely.
"That man treated commoners like they were his own family."
The words carried weight that went beyond simple observation.
"Protected them with everything he had."
A pause that felt loaded with things unsaid.
The Patriarch’s expression became unreadable, whatever emotions had flickered across his face now buried so deep that nothing showed.
His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something else, then closed.
His orange eyes held Damian’s crimson ones for another heartbeat.
"I wonder what he’d think of you."
And then, without warning, he vanished into the void, leaving nothing behind except the burning corpse and lingering smoke.
****
Damian stood there in the forest, alone again.
His body trembled, exhaustion and lingering fear making his muscles shake despite his best efforts to control them.
The fire continued to burn, orange flames dancing across dead scales.
The night air was cold against his sweat-soaked skin, making him shiver.
’What the hell just happened?’
The conversation replayed in his mind with perfect clarity, every word carved into his memory with surgical precision.
The casual cruelty underneath friendly words.
The suggestion that his entire life’s work could be erased on a whim.
The philosophical justifications wrapped in centuries of resentment.
And that moment at the end.
When the Patriarch had looked at his hair like he was seeing a ghost.
Damian’s hand moved unconsciously, fingers running through crimson strands that had drawn such an intense reaction.
’Reminds me of someone.’
The words echoed in his mind.
’That man treated commoners like they were his own family.’
His jaw clenched as pieces clicked together.
The Bloodworth Imperial Family.
The only Imperial family with crimson hair and crimson eyes as their distinguishing feature.
The family that had been wiped out sixteen years ago in a massacre that killed everyone, women and children included.
The family Damian was born into before his biological mother had burned her life to erase every trace of Bloodworth blood from his body.
’Was he talking about them?’
The question burned in his mind as his hands clenched into fists.
The Patriarch had said he couldn’t detect any shared blood, which made sense given what Damian’s birth mother had done. She’d removed the Bloodworth genetic markers entirely, severed every connection that would link him to that doomed bloodline.
But the way the Patriarch had looked at him...
Like he was searching for something he expected to find and couldn’t.
Like he knew something was off but couldn’t quite place what.
’Did he suspect me?’
Damian’s breathing became shallow as darker thoughts surfaced.
’Was he one of the ones who killed them?’
His mother’s words from that night sixteen years ago came back to him, filtered through Alaric’s retelling.
’I don’t know why!’
But she’d hesitated.
A slight pause before saying "why" instead of "who."
Like she knew exactly who but couldn’t understand their reasoning.
The Imperials.
It had been Imperials at that celebration, all the major family heads and their Patriarchs gathered in one place to celebrate the birth of Darius Bloodworth’s heirs.
And then everyone had started dying.
’Was it you?’
The thought felt like acid in his mind.
’Were you there that night? Did you help massacre an entire family, women and children included, and now... you’re standing here telling me about how humans are ungrateful?’
His nails bit into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
The Patriarch had spoken about humanity with such exhausted cynicism, such bitter disappointment, like he’d given everything and received nothing in return.
But the Bloodworth family had given everything too.
Had chosen to build their estate on the frontlines where the fighting never stopped.
Had spent generations protecting the North when other Imperials prioritized politics and wealth accumulation in safer regions.
Had treated their people well, had cared about commoners in ways other Imperial families never bothered to.
And they’d been slaughtered for it.
’By who? By the same people who now lecture me about knowing my place?’
Rage burned in his chest, hot and vicious, mixing with helplessness that made it worse.
Because even if the Royce Patriarch had been involved, even if he’d personally killed Damian’s biological family, what could Damian do about it?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
That man could erase him as easily as breathing, could end everything Damian had built without breaking stride.
The power gap was so vast it might as well be infinite.
’I was sitting beside the man who might have murdered my birth parents.’
The thought made him want to vomit.
’Listening to him give friendly advice while he burned an S rank beast like it was kindling.’
The flames had died down now, leaving only embers and charred remains.
The clearing felt darker without that orange light, shadows pressing in from all sides.
Damian forced himself to breathe normally, to unclench his fists, to think instead of just reacting.
’He said I don’t share blood with them.’
The statement had been too deliberate, too carefully phrased.
’Either he genuinely can’t detect the markers my mother removed, or he knows something and was testing me.’
Both options were dangerous.
If the Patriarch genuinely couldn’t tell, then Damian’s secret was still safe, the last surviving Bloodworth hidden behind Alaric and Lyandra’s protection.
But if he knew...
If he suspected something and was watching to see what Damian would do...
’I can’t give anything away.’
The resolve hardened in his chest.
’I can’t show any reaction, can’t investigate too openly, can’t let anyone know I’m asking questions about what really happened that night.’
Because the moment he started digging, the moment anyone realized he was looking for answers about the Bloodworth massacre, they’d connect the dots.
And then him being useful entertainment would stop mattering.
The forest around him was silent, ancient trees bearing witness to revelations that changed everything and nothing simultaneously.
He took one last look at the charred corpse, at the empty space where a Patriarch had sat and dispensed warnings wrapped in friendly smiles.
’I need more power.’
The thought crystallized with absolute clarity.
Not just to protect what he’d built.
Not just to avoid being erased when he stopped being useful.
But because somewhere out there were answers about what really happened sixteen years ago.
About why an entire Imperial family had been massacred during what should have been a celebration.
About who had given the orders and who had carried them out.
About whether the friendly Patriarch with orange hair and exhausted eyes had blood on his hands that went beyond monsters and beasts.
’And when I’m strong enough...’
His crimson eyes reflected the dying embers, cold and hard.
’When I’m strong enough that they can’t just erase me, when I have power that actually matters instead of being entertainment for ancient monsters...’
His hands unclenched slowly.
’I’m going to find out the truth.’
About his birth family.
About the massacre.
About everything the Imperials had buried beneath layers of silence and threats.
The fire died completely, leaving only smoke drifting up through the canopy toward a sky he couldn’t see.
And Damian Valcor stood alone in the darkness, carrying the weight of a conversation that had revealed more than it answered.
His birth mother had died protecting him.
Had walked to her death carrying a decoy baby to ensure he’d survive.
Had burned her life removing every trace of Bloodworth blood so he could live normally, could be happy, could escape the fate that had consumed their family.
’I’m sorry, Mother.’
The words formed in his mind, addressed to a woman whose face he’d never seen.
’I can’t be the normal, happy child you wanted me to be.’
His jaw clenched.
’Not when the people who killed you are still out there, pretending to be heroes, lecturing me about gratitude and necessity.’
The path ahead was dark.
The enemies were ancient and powerful beyond his current comprehension.
The smart thing would be to let it go, to accept that some questions had no safe answers, to live the life his birth mother had sacrificed everything to give him.
But Damian Valcor had never been particularly good at doing the smart thing.
And he’d be damned if he let the people who’d massacred his family continue breathing while pretending their hands were clean.
Even if it took decades.
Even if it meant becoming strong enough to fight beings that treated S rank beasts like kindling.
Even if it meant walking into darkness with no guarantee he’d ever come out.
’Watch me,’ he thought.
’Watch me get strong enough that you can’t just erase the last Bloodworth when I start asking the questions.’
The forest offered no response.
Just cold air and distant sounds of creatures and the lingering scent of smoke.
Damian stood there for a long moment, letting everything settle, letting the rage and grief and determination crystallize into something he could carry.
And carried the weight of two families into whatever came next.
The one that had died to save him.
And the one that had loved him enough to make that sacrifice worth it.