Blood Online: Evolving Endlessly

The mountain air at the cave's exit was thin and biting, flavored by the acrid scent of Gregory's cigarette. Akhil felt the weight of the emblem in his pocket—a heavy, pulsating warmth that seemed to mock the cold tension radiating from the three groups blocking their path.

Gregory adjusted his cowboy hat, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the dark sky. He looked at Akhil and Layla with a lazy, appreciative squint, then took a step back, gesturing to his own team to stand down.

"I'm a man of leisure," Gregory drawled, his voice smooth and gravelly. "And my gut tells me I've got no business touchin' that emblem today. You two groups go on ahead. Take it if you can."

The lady leading the first group let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Giving up already, Greg? I knew you were a poser, but I didn't think you were a coward."

The leader of the second group—a tall man with a jagged scar running across his nose—spat on the ground.

"He's just thinking about it too much. Look at them. A kid who can barely stand on his own two feet and a girl with a big dog. They didn't win that trial; they survived it by pure luck. Probably scavenged the emblem after the real threats killed each other off."

Akhil looked at them, his gaze flat. 'If only they knew we arrived at the temple separately and still cleared the trial,' he thought. 'Luck didn't kill a Soul Contractor. Luck didn't turn Marcus into a red mist.'

Gregory's own team members looked at their leader with disbelief. One of them, a stout man gripping a heavy mace, stepped forward. "Boss, are you serious? We traveled all this way. If we help the other groups, we can split the rewards. Why are we just watching?"

Gregory didn't even look back at his man. He simply hopped onto a large, flat rock and crossed his boots. "I said stand back and watch. If you're so eager to die for a piece of gold you don't understand, be my guest. But don't expect me to carry your body back down the mountain."

The two other groups, emboldened by Gregory's withdrawal, began to close the circle. They drew their weapons—swords gleaming in the moonlight and bows creaking as the strings were pulled taut.

"Last chance, kid," the scarred leader said, his voice dropping into a predatory growl. "Hand it over, and maybe we'll let you crawl back to the city."

Layla's hand went to her dagger, her eyes darting to Akhil. She could see he was still pale, his breath still coming in slightly labored hitches. "Can you move?" she whispered.

Akhil slowly straightened his back. The blood essence he had absorbed from the soul conversion was still circulating, knitting his strained muscles back together. He wasn't at a hundred percent, but against these "vultures" who hadn't even seen the inside of the temple, he didn't need to be.

"I can move," Akhil replied, his voice a low, dangerous vibration.

He looked past the two aggressive groups toward Gregory, who was calmly watching the scene as if it were a theater performance. Gregory gave him a small, knowing nod—a silent acknowledgment from one predator to another.

"Layla," Akhil said, stepping forward until he was at the front of the cave's threshold. "Don't use your summons yet. Save the bodies in your sack for the city."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

Akhil didn't answer with words. Instead, he let his aura flare—not with the explosive violence he had shown Marcus, but with a cold, suffocating pressure.

The shadows at his feet seemed to lengthen, and his eyes flickered with a faint, ominous crimson light.

"If you want the emblem," Akhil addressed the twenty-odd adventurers in front of him, "come and take it. But I should warn you... I'm in a very bad mood."

The lady leader sneered, raising her staff. "Arrogant brat! Kill him!"

As the first wave of adventurers lunged forward, Gregory took one last drag of his cigarette and exhaled a long cloud of smoke.

"Here we go," he whispered to himself. "Let's see if my gut was right."

The lady leader didn't wait for another word. She swung her staff, signaling her front liners to charge.

"Tear them apart!"

Akhil watched the wall of adventurers close in. His mind was a cold calculator, running through his remaining resources. He was dangerously low on Blood Essence, and while his martial arts were peak, the sheer number of opponents would wear him down eventually.

'I need efficiency,' he thought. 'High impact, low cost.'

He tapped into a skill he hadn't used in a while—{Gene Avatar}. The system pulsed as it pulled from the genetic data of the predators he had slain.

{Skill: Gene Avatar activated}

{Beast: Star Wolf}

{Cost: 100 Blood Essence}

Layla's eyes widened. She saw Akhil's silhouette flicker. His legs didn't change entirely, but the muscle structure beneath his pants shifted, becoming leaner and more corded. His fingernails elongated into jagged, obsidian points, and his pupils narrowed into predatory slits.

"What is he...?" Layla whispered, her grip on her dagger tightening. Every time she thought she had seen the extent of his deck, he pulled out another card.

The first adventurer reached him—a man swinging a heavy broadsword. To the others, Akhil seemed to disappear. With the explosive agility of a star wolf, he moved inside the man's guard before the sword could even begin its descent.

CRACK.

A palm strike to the chest, reinforced by the star wolfs staggering speed, sent the man flying back into his own comrades.

Akhil didn't stop. He was a blur of lethal efficiency, using the enhanced speed to weave through the crowd. He wasn't wasting energy on massive blood spells; he was using the beast's instincts to strike vitals—throats, joints, and temples.

And the two leaders watched as each of their men fell one by one, eyes wide with disbelief. They knew they had fucked with the wrong person.

But it was too late.