Bloodline Evolution: I Can Choose Opposing Paths-Chapter 34: The First Defiler (1)

The robed figure tilted his head before turning it to face the Core.

Then he bent down to grab it with his other hand, holding it gingerly between his thumbs. His grip loosened on Luna just slightly as he studied the Core, as though savoring the proximity.

For a moment, he did nothing. Then with a flick of his arm, almost absentmindedly, he threw Luna aside.

She struck the pavement shoulder-first and slid across the stone, coughing violently as air forced its way back into her lungs.

"So this is it..." he murmured. "The thing they’ve been scrambling over."

His thumb brushed across its surface. The air around it trembled, and thin strands of dark ether began to gnaw its way into the cube, almost like a moth to a flame.

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

"Did that man really trust a high schooler with such a peerless relic?"

His grip on the cube tightened, the dark ether strands writhed more aggressively before abruptly snapping back into his skin.

"Ugh..."

He lifted the Core higher, tilting his head back slightly as though savoring the scent of it, pupils dilating beneath the shadow of his hood.

"If it wasn’t for orders..." he whispered, voice thinning with hunger, "...I’d devour this thing in one go."

His tongue dragged slowly across his lower lip.

From the mouth of the alley, Aren watched. With every instinct, he wanted to jump in there, but he held back.

The figure seemed to be distracted for now, so Luna wasn’t in any danger. The way he stared at the relic was strange. It was like he was addicted, like someone staring at a feast after going hungry for months.

But still, the question remained.

How did he track Luna? Was it by chance that she spotted her?

He looked back at the way he’d just came from, at the bridge that was supposed to be where the talisman was.

Aren looked around the alley, up to the roofs and in other alleyways, yet he saw no one else.

Though, with just a glance, Aren could tell the man was stronger. Even their grunts, the lowest-ranking members, were Practitioner-Stage Mystics.

Whatever, he seems to be alone. I need to take him out quickly.

Aren looked down at his hands once more as scales manifested into his Dragon Gauntlet, the weapon he’d been using for a while.

"Ahhh I really hate this part," he muttered.

[Morphing - Twin Dragon Horns]

Aren looked down at his hands as the Dragon Gauntlet began to dissolve. Like living metal, they peeled away from his arm and raced upward before settling in his forehead.

Bone forced its way through the crown of his skull. Aren’s knees almost buckled as twin lengths of white-blue horns pushed out of his head. Blood streamed down his temples as the protrusions got longer.

They didn’t look like natural horns, they were blades sheathed in his bones.

Across the street, the robed figure paused mid-motion, head turning slightly at the sudden spike of ether.

Aren exhaled through his teeth.

He reached up slowly, fingers wrapping around both horns. For half a second, he hesitated.

Then, he pulled them free.

Pain exploded down his head as the horns tore free from his skull with a grinding sound. Blood followed the blade’s exit, trailing down his face as bone separated.

When both blades were free, the wounds at his crown did not bleed endlessly. Scales shifted, sealing the openings almost immediately.

"What in the..." the man started.

But Aren moved immediately, appearing right behind the man and driving both swords into his back.

"Gghhh–!" the man screamed.

Yet when the swords went inside his body, Aren felt something wrong. The sensation of cutting wasn’t correct, like he wasn’t pushing through flesh.

Almost immediately the visage in front of him had changed, turning into dozens of linen wraps before falling onto the floor.

"Well..." a voice echoed lightly from the mouth of a nearby alley.

Aren didn’t turn immediately.

"...color me surprised."

The real Defiler stepped into view, dusting invisible lint from his sleeve as though mildly inconvenienced.

"That," he continued, faint amusement threading his tone, "was the closest I’ve ever gotten to dying."

"Tch," Aren clicked his tongue.

The Thousand Sands Fairy Pathway.

He’d read about it before.

Fairy-type Bloodline, similar to Lily’s, but one that had been stripped of the romanticism the category carried. Yet it was a Pathway that had been banned in unison due to a single reason:

It was one of the Pathways that killed in the most inhumane way possible, by choking the victim slowly while cursing them painfully.

It was referred to simply by a single name: the Desert Mummy.

The Defiler smiled faintly beneath his hood.

"Seems like you recognize it," he said lightly. "That saves me the trouble of explaining."

Fine grains of sand leaked from the cracks in the street before being drawn toward the Defiler’s raised hand.

"Sand Wave!"

Instantly, the sand shot out in unison, trying to smother Aren whole. But he knew better, condensing his ether into the blades before slicing the wave clean.

Water particles dragged a thin sheen that followed the arc of his swords. Moisture seeped into the sand, causing each grain to become loose before they could compress and hurt him.

The Defiler’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh?"

Aren pressed the advantage, closing the distance before he could use another Art. Each swing of his twin blades dragged arcs of condensed water through the air, disrupting any attempt the Defiler made to retaliate. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

The man tried to conjure sand walls and throw linen at Aren, but everything seemed to fail as they dispersed before even fully forming.

One clean cut carved across the Defiler’s sleeve, while another created a small gash on his chest, forcing the man back half a step.

Aren took a moment to breathe.

He had the elemental advantage. Water weakened earth, it was the basic principle.

The Defiler looked down at the thin line of blood seeping through his robe before laughing softly.

"A Dragon-type..."

His eyes lingered on the faint scars still on Aren’s head, on the twin blades slick with fresh blood.

"She’d be pleased to know I brought one in."

The shift was subtle, but Aren felt it immediately. The Defiler’s stance loosened, before he flexed his fingers.

Aren’s eyes widened, realizing he shouldn’t give the man time to use his next Art. He stepped forward to press the advantage—

Only for his foot to jerk forward.

His balance faltered mid-step, body flying forward as something pulled at his ankle. Aren dropped to one knee.

What the—How?

Then he looked downward.

It was faint, almost smaller than the eye could see, but it was there. Thin black threads were wrapped around his boots and around his calves, trailing across the ground and toward the Defiler.

Aren’s body jerked half a step toward him like a puppet caught mid-motion.

Shit! He’s a Line 3, Curse was his second Element!

"You were focused on the sand," the Defiler said mildly. "You should’ve paid closer attention."

Dark smoke began to coil along their length as linen made from sand followed. Aren tried to move but he was pinned down.

Layer after layer wrapped across his chest, pressing down against his ribs until each breath took something out of him. The twin blades slipped from his fingers as linen wound around his wrists, locking them to his sides.

The first strip brushed across his jaw, the second sealed over his mouth, and the third covered his nose. His vision began to narrow at the edges as the linen crawled higher, sliding over his cheeks and across his eyes.

Then the final strip passed over his eyes—

And the last sliver of light disappeared.