I Was Born With A Bloodline That Ended The World-Chapter 118: Traces in the Rain

Rhian left the female dorm with a quiet sense of unease trailing behind him. The halls were still, only a few students moving around this early.

He pulled out his phone again, checking the screen. Still nothing from Nia.

His brows furrowed. She hadn’t been in her room. No one had seen her leave either. That didn’t sit right with him.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he looked around.

The campus wasn’t exactly small, but there were only so many places someone could go at this hour. Maybe she went to the training rooms.

He stopped walking.

No... Nia wouldn’t have ignored him for this long without a reason.

He didn’t want to assume anything, but the longer the silence lasted, the harder it was to ignore. Still, he knew her.

She was strong. If something was wrong, she’d reach out. That’s what he told himself.

For now, he had other things to focus on.

He turned toward the training district. He didn’t rush. His body was fine, but his mind was full.

There were whispers again around campus, like before the tournament had been announced.

People were starting to talk about something new, about portal access opening soon. Some claimed they heard it from second-years, others from instructors.

Rhian didn’t know what was true yet, but it lined up with what he’d been preparing for.

He finally reached the training building. Most of the rooms were still open, the lights inside dim, waiting for students who hadn’t arrived yet. Only a few were in use this early.

As he walked past the glass-panel doors, his mind kept drifting. He had been turning over the same question for days now—why hadn’t he ranked up?

He had consumed plenty of cores. He had fought. He wasn’t anywhere near his limit. That much, he was certain of.

So what was holding him back?

A loud crack of thunder broke his thoughts. He flinched, eyes darting toward the ceiling. The sky was still overcast, but that sound hadn’t come from outside.

He turned his head, narrowing his eyes toward the occupied training rooms.

Something was off.

But that didn’t make sense. The training rooms were soundproof.

Then he heard it again, dull, distant thunder, like a blast rolling through concrete.

He moved quietly down the corridor, slowing near each closed door, trying to catch the source.

Eventually, he found it. One room had a faint vibration behind the door, just enough to set his nerves on edge.

He stood still.

It was rude to open someone’s training room. More than that, it was dangerous. If something went flying inside projectiles, ability bursts, anything, you could get seriously hurt just for peeking in.

Rhian hesitated.

He sighed and gave in to his curiosity.

Carefully, he cracked the door open just enough to peek inside.

A blur moved across the room.

His eyes caught the shape of a training dummy, one of the high-grade models that could take almost anything without breaking.

They were used to test high-output abilities, not for combat, just endurance. They didn’t fight back. They just stood and took damage.

But his focus shifted fast.

The figure darting around the room wasn’t just anyone.

Brown skin. Black hair streaked with gold. She moved too fast for a clear view, but the streaks caught the overhead light as she pivoted.

Sparks of golden lightning raced along her arms and shoulders, tracing over her body like veins of energy.

She was tall. Confident. Her form crackled with energy.

It was Nia.

He didn’t open the door wider, just enough to see.

Inside, Nia moved like she wasn’t training but performing.

Her feet glided across the mat in rapid bursts, not with brute force, but with measured control.

Every step came with a faint crack of static beneath her soles, a snap of energy that grounded her and pushed her forward like a pulse.

Lightning trailed behind her, not wildly, but shaped.

A golden shimmer arched across her back and curled along her arms as if it had form and purpose. She wasn’t just releasing energy; she was bending it.

Nia stopped suddenly, crouching low.

Her palm snapped forward, and from it, a condensed bolt shot into the dummy’s chest.

Not a straight line of raw power, but a spiraling streak, weaving through the air like it had weight and direction.

The impact didn’t shake the walls, but the dummy vibrated, its chest faintly glowing from the hit.

She didn’t wait to admire it.

Her next movement spun her into the air, one foot dragging a lightning arc behind her, the other kicking forward.

Mid-spin, she flared out her arms, and several smaller sparks fanned outward like needles of light.

They peppered the dummy with pinpoint strikes, landing with surgical precision on its joints.

She landed low again and dragged her hand across the mat. The friction pulled a line of lightning out of the ground itself, curving it around her into a ring.

For a moment, she stood within it, electric, glowing, her eyes narrowed and calm.

Then she snapped her fingers.

The ring contracted into her body, surging up her spine in a controlled burst.

Her hair lifted slightly as the golden streaks ignited brighter, and when she dashed forward again, she was gone for half a second.

Rhian blinked. The movement hadn’t just been fast, it had skipped a frame.

She reappeared behind the dummy, fist already chambered.

The moment it struck, lightning expanded outward in a conical burst, wrapping around the dummy like a glowing net.

The dummy didn’t budge, but the light around it sparked with residual arcs, as if her energy refused to fade.

Then she turned and walked away from it.

Not slowly, not with drama. Just casually, like she knew exactly what she’d done and had nothing left to prove.

Rhian couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t just that she was strong. It was how deliberate she was. Every movement had a goal.

Every surge of lightning followed a rule she clearly understood better than anyone else. It wasn’t reckless or loud. It was refined.

And somehow, the energy that should’ve made her look dangerous only made her seem brighter.

The streaks of gold in her hair shimmered with every step.

The sweat on her skin reflected the overhead lights, but the static made it look like she was glowing on her own.

Even the tension in her muscles, sharp, controlled, looked less like exhaustion and more like focus.

She didn’t grunt. She didn’t yell.

She trained in silence.

As if the only thing that mattered was the bond between her and the lightning.

Rhian stood there, hand still on the door, completely still.

She didn’t know he was watching.

And for now, he didn’t want her to.

He just watched.