The Crimson Tyrant's Forbidden Source

Blood lust

Chapter 10: The Dropping Point

The echoing crash of the crystal wine glass against the polished marble floor sounded like a bomb explosion in the sudden silence of the General Hall.

For a fraction of a second, the rhythmic pulse of the orchestral music tried to play on, but the sheer, jarring friction of the disturbance killed the melody within beats. The maritime freshman, his eyes filled with intoxication and his breath reeking of expensive, high grade spiritual wine, stood there swaying on his feet. His face was a mask of an ugly shade of red half from the alcohol, half from the sheer humiliation of being flung across the room by Serena like a piece of unwanted debris. There was also likely blood spreading across his skin from slamming into the pillar. Desperate to salvage and put together what little was left of his dignity in front of the watching heirs and preying eyes of the seniors on the upper pavilion, he pointed a shaking, ring heavy finger straight at Malachi’s chest.

"Do you have ears, you pariah rat?" the boy roared, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure of his own forced bravado. "I asked you a question! You're standing here in the dark like you own the masonry, ruining garments that cost more than your entire bloodline's quarterly assets!"

Malachi didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

He stood perfectly still in the deep shadow of the eastern pillar, but the passive, forgettable aura he had been maintaining just seconds ago vanished completely. Down on the floor, the dark pool of crimson wine staining his polished black shoes now mixed with the trace amounts of blood from the maritime noble began to behave unnaturally. Instead of spreading flat across the marble, the liquid seemed to pull inward, defying gravity as tiny, microscopic beads of red plasma began to vibrate against the leather.

Then, the ambient temperature in the quadrant plummeted.

It wasn't a gradual chill; it was a sudden, suffocating drop that made the breath catch in the throats of the closest onlookers. The air grew heavy, thick with the metallic scent of old iron and ozone. It felt as though a physical weight had just been dropped onto the chests of everyone within a ten meter radius.

"What the... what is this pressure?" the maritime freshman muttered, his aggressive posture fracturing instantly. The alcohol-induced heat in his veins vanished, replaced by a cold, primal instinct that screamed at him to run. His knees trembled slightly as he took a half step back, his eyes widening as he looked up into Malachi's face.

Malachi slowly raised his head and casually lifted his hands. The dull, unassuming expression was gone. His crimson eyes caught the ambient light of the overhead chandeliers, glowing with a dangerous, volatile, and deeply murderous hue that seemed to pulse in sync with the humming air. The two deep rubies hanging from his ears began to bleed a faint, dark crimson light, their surfaces rippling with minute, microscopic geometric patterns.

As everyone watched, a small, bloody array lit up under the feet of the maritime freshman. The boy's body began to bend and his limbs began to twist in ways that were physically impossible, entirely defying the laws of biological anatomy.

The maritime freshman began to scream, making grappling motions toward the empty air as veins began to appear all over his body, beating and pulsing to a sickening rhythm. All eyes looked on in sheer horror.

Up on the upper pavilion, the casual atmosphere completely evaporated. The senior students, who had been lounging against the heavy stone railings like spectators at an arena, suddenly straightened up. The lazy, arrogant smiles vanished from their faces.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Across the entire split level hall, dozens of phones began vibrating simultaneously. The Chaos Ranking application’s backend algorithm was reacting in real time to the sudden spike in localized energy data. The system data was recalculating, its threat assessment interface flashing a subtle, light blue warning light as searches for "Malachi Cross" spiked exponentially.

"This power... it doesn't match his official student registry," a senior student on the upper tier murmured, staring down at his flickering screen in disbelief. "The official registry is a joke. Look at that output."

"It's not just the blood essence," a colder, older voice replied from the shadows of the senior section. "Look at the frequency. It's structural. He’s anchoring an array through his own posture without any seals. He created a blood array merely by raising his hands."

Eva watched the entire scene unfold from her position near the perimeter of the ground floor, her pitch black eyes entirely unblinking. While the commoners and lesser nobility around her shifted away in panic, her mind remained completely detached, breaking down the mechanics of the event with clinical precision.

Her eyes didn't linger on Malachi's glowing gaze. Instead, she swept her attention across the other students in the hall. Julian was now leaning against a table with a smooth smile on his lips, while the shadow behind him, Lozac, was unexpectedly watching the show with a trace of cautiousness in his eyes. She turned to look at Serena, whose brows were tightly furrowed, likely wondering if all of this was a mere coincidence. The girl beside her, Lyra, was staring at Malachi with unconcealed disgust.

Eva removed her gaze from the two girls and turned toward the center of the hall. There, Bulin and the rest of his crew were watching the spectacle unfold. A trace of battle intent was appearing within Bulin's eyes, and a slight chuckle couldn't help but escape Eva's lips. The muscle head was still as dumb and gullible as ever.

Her gaze smoothly cut back across the tense room, tracking the invisible lines of manipulation straight to the upper tier.

There, standing near the shadow of the western balcony, was Julian. The silver haired heir calmly lifted his glass to his lips, a faint, deeply satisfied smile playing on his face. He didn't look surprised by the sudden explosion of violence; he looked like a playwright watching the first act of his script unfold exactly on cue. He had used the maritime freshman’s drunken arrogance as a perfect, low cost tool to force the hands of the last remaining pure lineage of the Cross bloodline.

The question was, why? Did he just want to see exactly what the last remaining bloodline of House Cross was capable of before the formal trials even began? Was it really just student rivalry? What exactly was his real purpose, and what were the true limits of his power?

Eva’s lips thinned into a straight line. A calculated provocation, she thought, her mind filing the data away for future utility. Julian wanted Malachi exposed.

The air grew so cold that a thin mist began to form from the breath of the panicking students. Malachi took a single step forward, the shattered shards of the wine glass grinding to dust under his heel. The suffocating aura pulsed outward, ready to snap the remaining restraint holding his latent bloodlust in check.

The commotion in the hall finally drew the attention of the administration, and soon, Vice Dean Lucian arrived on the scene. His eyes took in the chaos, a deep exhaustion weighing down his features.

Vice Dean Lucian looked at the sight in front of him: the poor boy kneeling on top of a glowing red array, his twisted arms reaching fruitlessly for the ceiling, his veins looking as if they were on the verge of exploding. The lad was obviously already close to death. Lucian’s fingers massaged his forehead as he calculated the best possible way to handle this matter without drawing the attention of that useless Dean.

He looked toward the remnant of the Cross family. The boy had clearly fallen under the curse of his wretched bloodline; his eyes were completely filled with bloodlust, meaning he wouldn't listen to reason. Trying to command him at this moment would only cause Lucian to lose authority when the boy inevitably ignored him. The thought brought a flash of hatred to the Vice Dean's eyes, but he quickly adjusted his expression to think. After all, his own ability though somewhat powerful was not useful when it came to dealing with arrays.

The students on the upper floor watched the Vice Dean's hesitation, mockery filling their eyes. No matter how powerful his A-tier Painter’s Touch ability was, they all knew he was merely a kept man. Schadenfreude filled the air as they waited for him to embarrass himself. While the Cross family might have dwindled, records of them still existed. Everyone knew that any member of the Cross bloodline who awakened a blood related ability was cursed with a volatile bloodlust that made them mad, but terrifyingly powerful.

Amidst the heavy silence and choking tension, the distinct sound of boots hitting the tiles echoed through the room. The rhythm was aggravating, and almost every eye turned to see who had just ruined their good show.

Julian walked calmly toward the corner of the room that had unexpectedly become the epicenter of the hall. He reached out, lightly grabbing the cuff of the Vice Dean's suit jacket, his voice resounding clearly against the walls.

Julian looked around, his hand still resting casually on the Vice Dean's sleeve, and lightly tapped his boot three times. Each tap echoed unnaturally, sounding as if it were vibrating directly inside each individual's ears.

Instantly, the bloody array dissolved back into a harmless pool of liquid. The freshman collapsed, losing consciousness entirely as he lay in the pool of his own blood.

Julian didn't even spare the boy a glance. He looked around the hall, noticing that almost every single eye was fixed entirely on him. He let out a soft chuckle.

"I have done some research into the way of arrays and formations," he offered smoothly, as if providing a casual explanation to the crowd.

He walked past the Vice Dean, his boots stepping right over the collapsed freshman as he made his way toward the entrance of the hall. As he brushed past Malachi, he reached out and lightly tapped the boy's shoulder.

Upon contact, Malachi’s eyes immediately began to clear, the blinding scarlet color slowly receding back to its original shade. The entire hall watched in stunned silence as Julian walked out through the gigantic doors.