Nyx snapped out of her thoughts, quickly regaining her composure, only to realize…
He was standing right in front of her.
Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Instinctively, she bowed, offering her greetings.
“N-Ninth Vein,” she said, still shaken by the events, so much so that the words slipped out in a stutter.
Malakai looked at the maid who had served him for years with a calm expression. In her thirties and yet, petite in size.
‘She didn’t leave this place.’
With his heightened sensitivity, Malakai could now perceive even the smallest details within a five-meter radius. And he noticed it instantly.
She still wore the same clothes she had on when he entered the pit, now smeared with dirt and creased from standing in the same position for too long.
Plus, she had been the only one there as he emerged from the pit… as if she had never left in the first place.
‘It’s been two days.’
He counted the hours he had spent within the trial. She had waited here, unmoving, for two days.
But it only made Malakai cautious, extremely.
His past had taught him that kindness didn’t always come from a good place. After countless betrayals, he had sealed his heart shut, vowing never to trust anyone again.
But even with all that…
He could be rude. He could be blunt. He could be cold.
Malakai could be many things, but ungrateful wasn’t one of them.
‘She saved me.’
Whatever his feelings were, the truth remained clear: her actions had saved him.
Without a word, Malakai reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a coin, then held it out to her.
Nyx blinked, slightly baffled as her eyes fell on the bent coin.
“Thank you,” he said.
Her eyes widened again. In all their years together, this was only the second time he had ever said those words to her.
And though they were ordinary… they made her feel warm inside.
She didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know how her coin had helped him.
But she bowed her head nonetheless.
“Yes, Ninth Vein.”
Before they could continue their conversation, the sound of roaring wind reached their ears.
Both turned to see a figure approaching at high speed.
‘It’s that warrior.’
Malakai’s eyes narrowed. He remembered the warrior who had shown him kindness before he entered the pit.
‘Hamada.’
Hamada came to a sudden stop a few meters away from the duo, a cloud of dust rising around him, still trailing behind from his approach.
“You’re alive.”
He saw nothing else, only the shirtless figure standing there, calm as ever, as though he hadn’t just crawled out of hell itself.
“Yes,” Malakai responded.
How…
It was the question burning in Hamada’s chest. How had Malakai survived?
But like Nyx, with a single probe, he saw it.
The Vita.
It converged around Malakai in waves, swirling and flowing into him as though he were the eye of a storm.
“You… evolved,” Hamada muttered under his breath, unable to hide the disbelief in his tone.
But Malakai’s response remained unchanged. Calm.
“Yes.”
He offered no explanation. He didn’t owe anyone one.
Except…
Still, despite the overwhelming curiosity that clawed at him, Hamada didn’t press on.
Instead, he met Malakai’s gaze. And there it was.
Those same cold, unyielding eyes, eyes that looked ready for anything the world dared to throw.
The same eyes that had stirred his heart from the beginning.
‘I can’t wait.’
An intense surge of excitement roared through his body as Hamada clenched his fist. Malakai was the first child he had ever seen with such eyes.
He had always wanted to see it, to witness it…
The kind of Sanguine he would grow to become.
And now, he would.
Hamada bowed, hiding the wide smile that had formed on his hardened face.
“Welcome back, Ninth Vein.”
…
Soon after, multiple warriors of the Blackreach arrived at the scene, each one mounted atop their Gravethorn.
Without hesitation, Hamada took off his jacket and handed it to Malakai, who didn’t refuse and slipped it on immediately.
Compared to Hamada’s broad frame, Malakai was still smaller, causing the jacket to hang loosely over his shoulders, baggy and oversized.
As the warriors brought their Gravethorns to a halt, their eyes blew wide the moment they caught sight of Malakai.
It was as if they were staring at a ghost.
None of them could speak. They could only stare.
The silence lingered… until Hamada stepped forward.
“Three of you will relinquish your mounts,” he said. “Share with the others. We’ll be escorting the Ninth Vein back to the fortress.”
His authoritative voice snapped them from their daze, though the shock in their expressions remained.
“Yes, Blood Champion Hamada!”
Three warriors quickly dismounted, pulling their beasts over. Hamada received the reins and passed one Gravethorn each to Malakai and Nyx.
“I’ll escort you to the fortress now, Ninth Vein.”
Malakai gave a simple nod before stepping toward the beast.
To his surprise, the Gravethorn stilled as he approached, its aggressive posture fading instantly, its breathing slowing. Then, as if in reverence, it lowered its head.
‘Is it the essence?’ Malakai wondered.
He had always needed to calm Gravethorns before riding them. It was as though they had been aggressive to him because he was unevolved. But now… it was utterly subservient.
With a simple leap, Malakai mounted the Gravethorn swiftly. A wave of shock rippled through the warriors.
The way he moved…
They probed and… it was then they felt it.
The Vita.
It was swarming to him, drawn like a thick and pulsing tide. And as the realization crashed down on them, their hearts trembled.
The ruined heir of the Sanguine clan had evolved.
…
The ride back to the fortress was silent.
Throughout the ride, the warriors could only steal glances at Malakai, still trying to comprehend what they were witnessing.
He wasn’t supposed to have survived the pit.
And yet, not only had he survived… he had done the impossible. He had evolved.
They soon reached the towering gates of the Blackreach, and entered.
By now, the other warriors of the Blackreach had already gathered outside, having seen the pillar of darkness that pierced the sky on the horizon.
Fully armed and ready for battle, they stood at attention, their gazes sharp, waiting, anticipating battle.
Then the massive gates creaked open, and multiple figures led by Hamada rode in on Gravethorns.
Instantly, the gathered warriors surged forward, forming a crowd, wondering what was happening.
Were they under attack? Had something escaped the pit?
But as the Gravethorns reached the middle of the field, their questions died on their tongues.
Their eyes landed on the figure riding beside Hamada, and words could not begin to describe the shock that surged through their bodies.
He was alive.
