Devourer's Legacy: I Regressed With The Primordial Crest-Chapter 28: Messed Up (2)

The Blood Crests were the fundamental powers of a living being—either inherited through bloodline or earned through sheer effort.

Among them, eight Blood Crests stood above all, revered as the highest rank. These were the royal Blood Crests, passed down through generations of the eight great families, their power shaping the history of the continent.

Along with these royal blood crest of the eight families, there also existed other bloodlines that could rival their power.

The blood crest of the Ice Palace, who chose to isolate itself in the frigid northeastern islands, and the Draconians, who were believed to be the descendants of dragons are example for that.

But not all blood crests were revered, there were some which were feared!

These were the Blood Crests deemed too cruel that their use strictly forbidden. The abilities related to these blood crests were so dangerous that those who possessed them were hunted down, their entire bloodline erased to prevent their corruption from spreading.

One such forbidden crest was the Blood Art.

It was a crest that only revealed its full power at the cost of another's life. To wield it, one had to be intimately 'familiar' with blood—not just the sight of it, but its very essence, its flow, its purpose. It was not simply a weapon but a force that demanded sacrifice.

There was also a strict requirement: only demons of the Blood Queen's lineage or half-demons carrying their blood could use it.

Looking at Henry, it was clear what he was.

A half-demon, born of both human and demon blood—an existence despised by the entire continent.

Renard could only imagine the kind of life Henry had endured—shunned, hunted, forced to survive in the shadows.

But right now, he felt no sympathy.

'Fuck!'

Blood Manipulation - an ability which was fundamental of the blood art. Renard had seen the Blood Queen use it, but was his first time being on the other side of it.

Blood spears hovered all around them, glistening in the dim light, trapping them like mice in a cage.

Of Course, the ability used by Henry was laughable to even compare with that of the Blood Queen's, but right now, as powerless as Renard was - it was a threat he couldn't endure.

The thick, metallic scent of blood filled the air, sharp and suffocating.

[Name: Renard Grim][Age: 14][Gender: Male][Zone: Awakened Zone][Title: Devourer's Heir][Blood Crest: Eternal Hunger][Crest Rank: Primordial][Crest Abilities: Devour (F) | Prajna (F)][Stolen Abilities: Night Vision (F)][Devoured Abilities (1/1): Beast Mimicry (F)][Sealed Abilities: Devourer's Rage (F)]

Not a single ability he possessed could protect him at the movement.

His mind raced, desperately searching for a way out. Every second felt stretched, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His grip on his sword tightened.

"Die peacefully," Henry said, his voice calm, almost amused, as he unleashed the blood spears all at once.

—Sweesh.

Renard brandished his sword, gritting his teeth. He was determined to at least protect his sister.

No matter what.

"Shield!"

Sara's scream rang out, raw with desperation, as she pulled Renard and Aria into her arms.

A sudden flash of blue lit up the space. Renard barely registered it before the translucent barrier surrounded them, flickering like a fragile bubble of protection. His breath hitched.

The artifact in her hands was their last hope.

But his attention snapped to Zain, who remained outside the shield's reach, his entire focus locked onto the blood spears.

The shield's radius wasn't wide enough to protect him. There was no time to turn back or run either.

The Blood spears rained down and the last thing Renard saw as he fell with Sara was Zain's back—before everything exploded in red.

***

Zain watched as the blood spears closed in from all directions, a crimson storm ready to pierce through him.

Saying he wasn't afraid would be a lie.

He was terrified.

His fingers clenched around his sword, his breath coming fast and uneven. His instincts screamed at him to move, to escape—to live. But not once did the thought of running cross his mind. Maybe it was the power coursing through his veins, making him feel stronger than he actually was. Maybe it was his stubborn pride, the ego that refused to let him back down.

But deep down, Zain knew the real reason.

A face flashed in his mind. His little sister.

Big, round eyes that always looked up at him with admiration. Tiny hands that used to grip his fingers tightly when she was scared. A voice that wavered but never broke, because she wanted to be strong—just like him.

They were orphans. Born with nothing. No parents to guide them, no home to return to. He had been the one to hold her hand when she cried. He had been the one to protect her from the cold, from hunger, from the cruel world that didn't care if they lived or died.

He was her shield.

And she believed in him.

If she were here, she would never want to see him run.

She would never respect a brother who turned his back on a battle.

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The blood spears inched closer, vibrating with deadly intent.

That's when he saw Renard.

The young noble stood his ground, sword clenched tightly, shielding his sister behind him. His body shook, but he didn't waver.

Zain saw himself in him.

The same desperate resolve. The same unbreakable bond.

Renard wasn't just fighting for himself. He was fighting for his sister. Just like Zain had done all his life.

And in that moment, Zain knew what he had to do.

He took a deep breath.

Both of his Blood Crest abilities were active.

Code Creation with its two codes reinforcing his body beyond human limits.

And Code Foresight—warning him, screaming that this was an attack he could not defend against.

And yet, he raised his sword.

"A knight does not flee in the face of adversity."

He took a step forward.

His first code—Oath of the Indomitable Knight—roared.

A brilliant green aura surged around him, a manifestation of his unwavering will. It was an advanced application of essence, a force that made his presence feel larger than life.

"A knight's duty is to protect his charge."

Another step forward.

His second code—Oath of the Guardian—flared, intertwining with the first. The green aura intensified, burning brighter, stronger.

"A knight's blade must always follow honor."

The aura flowed into his sword, the very essence of his resolve condensing into its blade.

The honor of protecting those under his care.

The honor of fighting against the wicked.

The honor of standing steadfast in the face of fear.

At that moment, all of it became one.

Zain became the SWORD OF HONOR.

And thus, his epic began.

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