Return of the Mythic Bloodline

Vyrion buried his nails in the ground in frustration and muttered, "I-I won't give up."

"All right then," I said, staring down at him. "Die."

I pulled my sword back and swung it in a horizontal motion toward his neck.

Tang…

Just as the blade was about to sever his head, Feralin stepped in between, catching the blade with both her paws.

Blood dripped from her hands, her cat eyes shimmering with tears as she murmured, "W-we give up."

"What are you doing, Feralin?" Vyrion shouted. "We need these Soul Stones for her treatment!"

"Wake up, Tyrion!" Feralin snapped back. "He is out of our league. I can't lose another companion because of these stupid stones!"

"Li-listen to Feralin, Tyrion… cough, cough," Armin added, pushing himself to his feet. "We've already lost."

Clicking his tongue in inner turmoil, Vyrion rose to his feet and removed two space rings from his hands.

"Here. These are all the Soul Stones we possess," he said, his face turning expressionless.

"Booo… that was so disappointing."

"Where is the fucking blood?"

"Oy, hairy bastard! Kill them and claim that cat beast, hehehe."

I removed my glasses and gazed at the crowd. An overwhelming pressure erupted from my body, turning everyone silent.

Taking the space rings from Vyrion's hands, I walked away from the stage.

---

Later that evening, after activating Vyaghra's blessing, I arrived at the camp where Vyrion and his companions stayed.

They sat slumped on the ground around the bonfire, their faces downcast, carrying the empty look of people who no longer knew why they should go on.

"Hmmmpppphhh, it was all your fault, bastard!" Gajendra roared, lifting Vyrion by the collar. "Why did you have to take that human's bet?"

"Stop it, Gajendra," Armin insisted, holding the arm that was lifting Vyrion. "We all agreed to this, so you can't put all the blame on him."

Armin's voice lowered as he continued, "Don't you know he's the one suffering the most?"

Gajendra clicked his tongue, lowered his hand, and whispered as he turned away, "The one suffering most is her."

As Gajendra was about to leave the camp, a figure stood in the shadows before him.

"Who are you, and why the hell are you blocking my way?"

The group's attention shifted toward the figure standing silently at the camp's entrance.

Taking a step forward, I—the figure—came into view under the light of the two moons. My hair, which had been completely messy earlier, was now tied into a ponytail, with a few strands resting on my chest in front of both ears.

A fitted white shirt hugged my torso, tucked cleanly into ankle-length black trousers. On my feet were polished Chelsea boots, and a black blazer hung effortlessly from my fingers over my shoulder.

My golden dual pupils shimmered faintly as I asked with a small smile, "Do you wanna earn some Soul Stones?"

"Th-that voice…" Vyrion murmured, his eyes widening in shock. "Wh-what else do you want from us?"

"Who is he, meow?" Feralin asked, confused.

"The man you were cursing earlier," I replied, taking out my sunglasses and spinning them around my fingers.

"H-hairy bastard, meow?" Feralin gasped. "Th-this was the face you were hiding behind those hairs?"

"Is that what you should be asking right now?" Vyrion muttered before turning back to me. "We don't have anything else left to give you, so stop harassing us."

Lightly pushing Gajendra aside, I stepped closer to the squad, arms crossed, and asked again, my voice serious, "Do you want to earn it or not?"

Their expressions shifted from miserable to curious at the seriousness in my tone.

I was a mysterious man to them—someone who came out of nowhere, ruined their swindling business, and then defeated them with overwhelming strength. Suspicion was natural, but since they were already cornered, Vyrion spoke up.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked.

"Bruuumph! He's the man who looted us of everything!" Gajendra shouted, clearly angry. "Don't trust him!"

"Do you have a better option?" Armin asked, joining in.

Unable to answer Armin, Gajendra returned to the camp and sat beside the bonfire.

As everyone prepared to hear me out, the first thing I said was:

"I'll lend you fifty percent of the Soul Stones you lost. Go to the back end of the camps and keep swindling people the same way you were doing before."

The group's dead eyes instantly lit with a glimmer of hope as they subconsciously rose to their feet.

"B-but why would you do that?" Armin asked, confused. "What's in it for you?"

"Hm, so you're the brain of this group," I chuckled with a faint smile before continuing. "It's simple. I'll take seventy percent of your earnings, and you may keep the rest and divide it among yourselves."

"But what if we run away after getting the Soul Stones?"

"You won't go anywhere, because you'll be taking a Soul Oath with me."

The moment they heard Soul Oath, their enthusiasm evaporated, and they stared at me with wary eyes.

Taking a brief sigh, I stated, "It's your choice. Either take the Soul Oath and get the chance to earn back what you lost, or keep feeling sorry for yourselves."

They huddled in a tight circle, murmuring among themselves.

After finishing their discussion by the dancing flames, they turned toward me, who was peacefully enjoying the bonfire's warmth.

"What are the conditions for the Soul Oath?" Vyrion asked.

"I have only two conditions.

First, you can't give anyone any information about me—directly or indirectly.

Second, you will honestly return seventy percent of the Soul Stones you swindle.

This Soul Oath shall remain active for the next seven days."

The group stared at me with wide eyes and open mouths at my conditions.

"What? Not interested?" I asked.

"No, it's quite the contrary," Vyrion replied. "It's surprising you didn't force us into slavery."

"Do you want—"

"We accept your terms."

Vyrion immediately extended his hand forward, cutting me off mid-sentence.

I grabbed his wrist as he grabbed mine, and we began the ritual to activate the Soul Oath.