Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 29 The First Magical Experiment

What does despair feel like?
Rolf felt that he knew the answer to this question.

The excruciating pain of his Adam's apple being crushed and torn by the fraternity bartender (whom he didn't even know was Yara's name) felt like it had just been five minutes ago.

After that, it seemed as if he was enduring that pain every moment.

Blood was forced back into the lungs from the throat.

The excruciating pain traveled from the throat to the brain.

Even the airway was blocked.

Unable to speak.

can not breath.

Unable to move.

He was like a badly wounded, dying stray dog, carelessly abandoned on Red Town Street.

Whether he dies from pain, suffocation, or choking, his life is nearing its end.

Only his childhood experience of wandering in the Comas League forced him to survive, driven by a strong will to live.

He, a wind-wielding superhuman, repeatedly used his power, like squeezing a sponge, to force mouthfuls of air, thick with dust, blood, and filth, into his lungs through his ruptured throat.

He then exhaled through another wound on his neck.

call.

suck.

call.

suck.

Every breath was accompanied by inhuman pain, like the torment of going back and forth between the River of Hell and the human world.

He was probably the first person to use superpowers to survive and prolong his life—Rolf thought sadly.

Rolf felt like a stray dog ​​scavenging for food in a gutter.

The female bartender left.

That scoundrel is gone.

Several groups of thugs passed by his severely injured and dying body.

A spy turned him over and probed his mouth and nose.

A deafening explosion reached his ears.

Rolf didn't care about any of it.

He simply used his supernatural ability to "breathe" through the excruciating pain, one breath after another, as if by instinct.

until dawn.

Until Númeno, in a panicked retreat, carried his "corpse".

Númeno, a country hunter by trade, was the undisputed coward among the Twelve Strongest. Rolf always looked down on him, mocking, humiliating, and bullying him within the gang, and he was also a pastime for the Wind Demon.

The most ironic thing is that this very coward he despised ended up "collecting his corpse" at the last moment.

Rolf was awakened by the excruciating pain in his legs.

He opened his eyes in the morgue of the guardhouse, his hands tightly bound.

Then I saw Nekra.

The leader of the Blood Bottle Gang's eight officers (whom he was unaware had already lost five in Red Town Street), known as "Red Viper" Nekra.

But Nekra just stared at him with a complicated expression, shaking his head with disgust and ferocity.

“You are one of the few survivors from the Blood Bottle Gang,” Red Viper said quietly.

Rolf struggled, trying to make a sound, enduring the excruciating pain in his throat, but could only utter meaningless "hoarse" sounds.

A sharp pain shot through my knee!
Below the knees, there was no sensation.

"Look at you, Rolf, the strongest among the twelve supreme experts, the only one of the super-level masters."

"That outstanding, arrogant, haughty, and promising—the Wind-Walking Ghost, Rolf."

"A young man who was proudly and enthusiastically recommended by Lady Catherine to the Air Mage, enjoying immense prestige."

The red viper gently patted his face, one pat at a time, its eyes still filled with complex emotions and disgust, and said sarcastically:
"Now they lie here like corpses, unable to speak, breathe, move, or eat."

Why are you still alive?

The red viper's eyebrows furrowed, and his face turned ugly and crazed.

"Why did you survive, and not Kex, Song, Spin, or Dorno? Why you, of all people, of all people, survived, and not my people?"

Rolf's eyes were wide open as he struggled in anger and pain, but the double agony and injury prevented him from moving.

The red viper suppressed its anger and instead burst into laughter, a laugh that was both joyful and morbid.

“The Blood Bottle Gang has suffered heavy losses, and my power has also been greatly damaged,” he said softly. “If we had a full complement of people, perhaps Catherine could have used me as a stepping stone to rise to power. Who knows?”

But Nekra's expression turned ferocious.

"But how can a mute, legless, and critically wounded ghost serve her?"

“So,” Nekra said, reaching out and pinching Rolf’s knee, the wound that had been forcibly burned to stop the bleeding!
"You might as well die in battle and disappear!"

"Ugh—" Rolf closed his eyes tightly in excruciating pain, struggling with his body, which was too weak to move due to his serious injuries, not to break free, but to alleviate some of the pain in his knees.

His wind-powered ability, which he relied on for "breathing," was almost interrupted!
“I’m in a bad mood today. I’ve been dealing with all the mess and hitting roadblocks at every turn,” Nekra sighed, and continued, “but getting rid of you and eliminating a genius that Catherine had her eye on is still quite satisfying.”

Seeing the resentment, pain, and rage in Rolf's eyes, Nekra showed apology and helplessness, and smiled:
"There was no other way. 'They' specifically requested a super-level expert and emphasized that their wrists should be preserved for blood extraction. Otherwise, what I actually wanted to cut off was your hand, not your leg."

He patted Rolf's face one last time and whispered in his ear, "I hope you get along well with the vampires."

As Nekra walked away, two Blood Vial Gang thugs approached. One picked up a three-inch-long copper needle with a tube, while the other grabbed Rolf's limp wrist.

In that instant, Rolf felt a profound sense of despair.

------------------

Thales stared blankly at Rolf.

He had an urge to ask him what happened to Yara afterward, and how their battle ended. Did Yara escape? Why had Rolf become like this? Wasn't he a member of the Blood Bottle Gang?
But Thales hesitated.

Because he saw Rolf at this very moment.

I saw this legless man with unfocused eyes, who could only express his emotions with meaningless shouts, his eyes filled with despair, pain, regret and sorrow.

He still remembered Rolf from last night.

Flirtatious, confident, arrogant, and exceptionally skilled.

He moves freely in the endless gale, leaving behind his signature laughter.

And now?
"Huff—woo—" Rolf closed his eyes again and groaned in pain.

The carefree, sharp-tongued, and unrestrained wanderer of the past is no more.

His lips were bluish-black and dry, clearly severely dehydrated, but Thales couldn't find any water and couldn't be sure if Rolf was still able to swallow in his condition.

Thales didn't even know how he was breathing.

The boy just sat there blankly, watching Rolf suffer and struggle.

In the second year after he transmigrated, a female beggar had both legs broken by Quaid. The poor girl wailed for a whole night before she died.

Thales was still in a daze at the time, having only recovered a few fragments of his memories. He was horrified and terrified by the horror of reality, and could only hide in a hole in the wall, trembling with fear.

So, in his sleep, he vaguely heard the girl wailing all night long.

It seems the same as it is now.

Later, he did wonder why he didn't have more courage back then to end that girl's suffering.

Thales looked at Rolf's unrecognizable state and felt a heavy weight in his heart.

No matter how serious the crime, no one deserves such torment—he told himself.

Finally, Thales sighed, crawled to Rolf's side, and whispered:

"Rolf".

"Midira Rolf".

Although his mind was gradually becoming hazy, at that moment, Rolf's pupils instinctively focused.

who is it?

Who will remember me?

Such a useless person, just waiting to die?

Thales gently drew JC's dagger and slowly pressed it against Rolf's neck.

"I know you are in a lot of pain right now, enduring torment and suffering that ordinary people cannot imagine."

“And I can end your life and help you get rid of all this.”

Rolf's breathing, which he was using through his throat and supernatural abilities, suddenly became erratic.

Tortured.

torment.

relief?

"But I must ask you seriously and cautiously, Midila Rolf, are you willing to let me relieve your suffering?"

"If you'd like, blink once."

"If you don't want to—"

"I'll only ask this once."

Thales waited for Rolf's reaction with a somber expression.

In the dim light, Rolf stared intently at the boy's blurry outline before him.

relief.

Rolf felt excruciating pain from his throat to his knees. Every breath he took tore open the wound in his throat, and every struggle aggravated the broken part of his knee.

He was thirsty, hungry, cold, in pain, and most terrible of all, desperate.

He recalled the feeling of the wind blowing around him, the first time he used his superpowers to kill someone, the first time he joined a gang, the first time he received a reward from above, the first time he became a man in that thin girl's body, and the first time he saw the Qi Mage as if on a pilgrimage.

He recalled the fearful gaze of his enemies, the submissive looks in his comrades' eyes, the admiring expression on "her" face, and the smug satisfaction that crept onto his lips when he overheard whispers about the "Twelve Strongest".

That was the glory days.

But he has lost all of that forever.

No?
The next moment, Rolf's gaze hardened, and he desperately activated his greatly diminished superpowers, forcefully "breathing" a breath into his half-crippled body.

Then, the Ghost of the Wind trembled, using all its strength and enduring the pain of rubbing against the locks on both sides, and tried its best to lift its head and stare intently at Thales.

He was about to blink.

A blink is enough.

a bit!
Then Thales saw Rolf's upper and lower eyelids twitch, tremble, and slowly close together.

Thales sighed inwardly and slowly tightened his grip on the dagger in his hand.

But Rolf's eyelids merely trembled, stopping at the midline of his eyes.

They were just one thread short of closing; the connection wasn't made.

a long time.

a long time.

The once-wandering ghost saw a familiar or unfamiliar scene flash before his eyes: desolate fields, dirty mud roads, stray dogs everywhere, and flies swarming.

That was his childhood, struggling to survive in the countryside of Comass Union.

That time, he was fighting with a pack of wild dogs for a piece of black bread that was almost eaten up by flies.

"Those wild dogs are really vicious," Rolf thought quietly in the dungeon.

Their deafening roars, their relentless biting, their frenzied force—yet—Rolf subconsciously licked his upper teeth.

That bread tasted awful.

In Thales' eyes, Rolf's face trembled and twisted.

His eyelids slowly relaxed, opened, and returned to their previous angle.

"Boom!"

Caught between the two clamps, Rolf's head, which he had managed to prop up with great effort, suddenly collapsed as if deflated, his head hitting the ground.

He ultimately didn't blink.

Thales silently exhaled and slowly lowered the dagger in his hand.

But Rolf seemed oblivious to the pain in the back of his head and the scratches on his cheeks.

His distorted face began to tremble slightly, along with his head.

"Waaah—waaah—"

This is not a groan.

Thales was taken aback.

He saw Rolf close his eyes in pain, his face trembling, letting clear liquid stream down his face.

"Woo-"

The voice was suppressed and filled with sorrow.

He is crying.

Ghost of the Wind, a once powerful and glorious superhuman, man, warrior.

She was actually crying with tears streaming down her face.

I don't know if it's because of my own cowardice or the pain I'm in right now.

Like an ordinary person, a normal person, or even a somewhat weak ordinary citizen.

Overwhelmed.

She was crying.

Thales could only stare blankly.

Seeing this man, unable to speak or breathe properly, collapse to the ground after giving up his chance to escape, and weep bitterly.

Thales turned his head away sadly, but gripped the dagger in his hand tighter and tighter.

Ensola, Nid, Kelit.

The names of the beggars who had died in the sixth house, those who didn't even have surnames, appeared before his eyes one by one.

He considered his own situation, and he thought about Gilbert and Yodl.

The boy frowned, then looked down at his hand. The fresh cut on it felt strangely familiar, just like the burning heat that had just touched his body.

At that moment, it seemed as if something had settled in his heart.

Thales leaned close to Rolf's ear for the second time.

"I understand."

He said softly.

Rolf was still weeping uncontrollably. "So, are you willing to break free of these shackles?"

Rolf's crying paused for a moment, but didn't stop, though it gradually subsided.

The image of the little girl with the broken leg wailing flashed before Thales' eyes, along with almost every child who had died in the abandoned house over the past four years.

Screams and wails could be heard again outside the cell.

This messed-up world.

The boy didn't know what was in the dungeon, but his gaze toward Rolf became increasingly simple and clear.

Then, Thales looked intently at the Wind Demon, which could no longer rise with the wind, and continued resolutely:

"Break free from these shackles, and then, with this broken body, struggle and eke out a living in this world."

"Let's see how cruel it can get."

"Do you want to?"

Rolf stopped crying.

His head was immobile; he could only turn his gaze and stare blankly at the boy beside him.

The boy then spoke, enunciating each word clearly:
"This may not be freedom."

"The price may be high; you might even die immediately."

"And I, too, am only doing it for myself."

Thales lowered his head and said slowly:

“But I can try to give you a chance to break free of these shackles and struggle again.”

"Do you want to?"

Rolf's eyes were fixed intently on the boy's eyes.

Although tears still lingered in his eyes, he suddenly felt like laughing.

He seemed to feel the pain in his throat and knees gradually numbing.

Those stray dogs.

Those stray dogs that tried to steal his bread.

The fate of those stray dogs—Rolf forced himself to take a breath, and a strange sense of joy welled up inside him—their fate:

That's really tragic.

Rolf, lying on the ground, trembled as he raised his eyes and stared intently at Thales.

The next moment, the ghost of the wind slowly, yet clearly and unmistakably...

He blinked.

Everyone blinks countless times in their lifetime.

Inconspicuous.

But just now, Rolf may have blinked the most important blink of his life.

Rolf slowly lowered his head.

Thales smiled, dispelling much of the gloom in his heart, and nodded lightly:
"Ok, I see."

-------------------

"I originally thought His Highness had woken up ahead of schedule."

"But it seems that's not the case now."

On the third floor of the Mangrove Manor, in a dimly lit room, Chris frowned.

His front was a large, brown-black stone coffin, connected by countless blood vessels, with intricate patterns, and measuring as tall as a person, three meters wide, and six meters long.

At this very moment, vibrations continued to emanate from the giant coffin.

“I tried to connect with His Highness’s consciousness, but the feedback was still a complete mess, only the instincts of hunger and killing—no matter how I tried to soothe or communicate with him, it was the same!” Chris put down a vein on his hand, his face growing increasingly grave.

"If this continues, Your Highness will only exhaust your remaining energy and blood prematurely!"

Lorana's face showed horror. The red-haired vampire said nervously, "Something must have provoked Your Highness, but we clearly didn't do anything!"

Chris's eyes gleamed, showing none of the previous lifelessness and dryness. The old man said decisively, "It wasn't us!"

"Your Highness reacted this way just five minutes ago, at that time—"

Chris's expression changed, and as if remembering something, he suddenly turned around and shouted loudly to Eastren, whose face was grave:

"That cub!"

“We can smell his blood and scent even from two floors away, and Your Highness’s sense of smell is even more acute—what about the cub?”

Distracted, Eastren looked at the agitated Chris and instinctively replied:
"He seems to have accidentally cut himself, then pulled out that half-crippled super-level blood vessel, and said some strange things. I didn't listen carefully, and then he—"

Chris, expressionless, ignored Eastren's explanation—the suspicious coffin continued to tremble and groan—and the old man abruptly interrupted Eastren:
“Bring that cub up—no, Isa, you stay here, let Lorana go.”

As the giant coffin trembled more and more frequently, an unusual glint flashed in Chris's eyes: "What His Highness craves is his blood."

——————————————————————————————————————

“This plan is very risky,” Thales calmly stated to Rolf on the ground, as if he had returned to the Sixth House, doing everything in his power to protect those innocent, blameless, and sinless beggars who were born to suffer in the River of Hell.

"But it would be far more unwise to sit here and wait for a miracle, to surrender without resistance."

Rolf simply stared quietly at the boy whose eyes were clearly different from those of ordinary people, and took a deep breath of air.

His serious demeanor—Rolf thought to himself with a smile: He's no less capable than the boss.

The Ghost of the Wind was unaware that, after experiencing the choice between life and death, he had become much more at peace.

Thales continued speaking calmly, as if he were not the one speaking:
"I don't know how much strength you have left, but I estimate it won't be much, and that old man's strength—"

"Therefore, neither reckless adventure nor passive waiting is suitable for the current situation. Our best, and optimal, time is to wait for my reinforcements to arrive, the instant they break down the door—"

"You won't get any reinforcements, you short-lived brat."

A cold female voice interrupted Thales's words.

Rolf's expression tightened instantly.

Thales paused for a moment, then turned around incredulously to look at the location of the cell door.

Outside the fence, Lorana Corleone, dressed in a playful riding outfit, seductively ran her slender and graceful right index finger across her lips while her left hand, transformed into a terrifying claw, fiercely clawed open the lock of the cell door!
"Isn't it true that we hear everything you do?"

“You’ve made fun of Mr. Eastron,” as if mocking him, Lorana chuckled, swaying her alluringly slender waist as she gracefully and sensually stepped into the open cell. “Too bad, perhaps if you were a few years older, even he would be bewitched by you.”

"But now, you're going to become His Highness's rich and potent energy drink—and perhaps lovely Lorana can even have a sip?"

Seeing Lorana appear at any moment, Thales knew she could subdue him at any time.

The boy sighed deeply, sincerely and regretfully.

“Rolf,” he said calmly, his voice devoid of any panic, “I need ten seconds.”

Ten seconds?
Lorana suddenly felt uneasy.

She remembered Estrom being fooled.

What other trump card could he possibly have? That half-crippled, super-elite short-lived being trapped and killed in the Nightwing Stone Lock?
But the shrewd Lorana was unwilling to take the risk, and her expression instantly turned sharp and decisive.

A pretentious little devil.

Her alluring figure flashed before Thales' eyes in an instant!
Once His Highness has drained you dry, you'll still be able to—

But just then, a strange gust of wind suddenly swept up in the small cell!
"call!"

The firelight flickered rapidly, fading several times!

The strong wind blew Lorana backward three steps. Startled, she quickly grabbed the fence beside her and stood firm.

Is this... a superpower?
Impossible, this child couldn't possibly be a superhuman.

That was it—Lorana looked with difficulty toward Thales' side, at the super-level expert who was firmly locked to the ground by the Nightwing Stone Lock—it was him!
Even in this state, they still have some strength left.

It's no use, Lorana breathed a sigh of relief and thought happily. Locked up like this and seriously injured, even if you have superpowers, how long can it last?

But that trickster brat… even if Chris scolds me, I'll have to have a taste first.

It will definitely leave a deep impression on you! Lorana thought viciously.

"Then, let's begin."

Thales looked at Lorana, who was hindered by the gale, and calmly turned his dagger upside down.

ten.

Under Rolf's puzzled gaze, he gripped the blade tip with his intact right hand.

Nine.

"I wish us both good luck," he said.

Eight.

My first magical experiment.

seven.

Start.

six.

Thales stared at the black stone shackles on Rolf's body.

Rolf's face turned red as he stared intently at Lorana, the wind howling.

Lorana gripped the fence beside her with a cold expression, her left hand beginning to transform into a terrifying crimson claw.

five.

I will break his shackles—Thales thought silently.

Rescue this man who has lost everything.

Four.

If it is as I have predicted—Thales recalled in his mind a series of life-or-death scenes:

Quaid's hand gripped his own neck.

Ashida's hand clenched gently.

And then there's that blood-red stain from a distant memory, and that nameless, gentle, chuunibyou (middle school syndrome) persona.

three.

Thales gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and suddenly grabbed the metal buckle with his right hand!
The heat emanated from the metal.

But he gritted his teeth and endured it.

Lorana sensed something.

She turned her head in surprise and found that the fence she was holding was shaking!
What's going on? The female vampire wondered in a panic.

That half-crippled guy—could he have multiple superpowers?

two.

"Ah-"

The fence shattered into countless small pieces with Lorana's hand!
Losing her footing, Lorana clutched the severed part of her arm and screamed as she was instantly blown out of the dungeon by the gust of wind generated by her supernatural power.

One.

In my ears came Lorana's sharp, frantic roar.

A scalding sensation washed over me.

zero.

Light—Thales thought, his consciousness blurred.

So much light.

----------------------

In the room on the third floor where the giant coffin was kept, Chris suddenly looked strange.

"What is Lorana trying to do?" he said coldly, looking at the massive coffin that was groaning continuously.

“Perhaps she wants to try it out first,” Eastren answered cautiously, sensing the adult’s nervousness, and continued, “She’s always—no! They are—”

Istrom's words were interrupted by the outside world as the two looked on in astonishment.

"boom!"

A deafening explosion, like a blast, came from the direction of the ground!
A cloud of dust suddenly blew in from the direction of the door.

The expressions of the two vampires, one old and one young, changed simultaneously, and they exchanged glances.

Something happened in the dungeon.

The next moment, they appeared outside the manor!

The moment Eastrun saw what was happening before him, he gaped in shock and disbelief.

Under the moonlight.

That super-short-lived species with tattoos on its face and no legs.

Midila Rolf, formerly known as the Ghost of the Wind.

They have been freed from all constraints.

He was tightly holding the short-lived cub, his face resolute, braving the strong wind—

Flying in mid-air.

-------------------

Not far away, Gilbert, who was riding at high speed with thirty Terminator Swordsmen, suddenly changed his expression!
"Bloodline Lamp." Amidst the rushing wind, he whispered to the court lady beside him.

As Ginny rode along, her face grave, she saw the lamp in Gilbert's arms.

The lamp flame turned red.

Leaning to one side.

“That direction—” Gilbert recalled for a moment, his expression grave:

"It's the Kevin Deer family's Wrigley Estate!"

The palace lady roared and lashed her whip across her mount.

Who cares whose it is!

"Even if the Walton family of Exeter is right in front of us—"

"We must charge in!"

Gilbert nodded, a resolute and sharp look appearing on his face:
"Everyone, turn with me!"

"No need to worry about saving horsepower!"

"Speed ​​up!"

"Ready to fight!"

If you enjoy this book, please consider adding it to your favorites, giving it a recommendation, and supporting the new author and niche fantasy novels beyond monster-slaying and leveling up.

Any comments or questions are welcome in the book review section or by joining the group for discussion. —by Wujian with a serious expression

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(End of this chapter)