Thalion finished adjusting the last strap of his armor and gave his blade a final inspection, ensuring everything was ready so he could return to it immediately after visiting the system shop.

The others were still busy retrieving the countless treasures scattered throughout Ankhet's palace. Only the strongest dared leave the main base to hunt, for hunting parties still vanished like smoke in the wind, and no one had yet discovered the culprit lurking in the shadows. Lucan worked tirelessly on new bombs, his hands blackened with soot, after gaining fresh insights from the elves' devastating bombardment.

For now, everything seemed to be progressing smoothly. So when Thalion received the notification that the system shop had arrived, he triggered it without hesitation. Why wait until the end? The sooner he completed his tasks, the better. He doubted the gods still interfered with the tutorial. Its conclusion loomed close, and without any stakes for them, why would they bother?

Only forty-eight thousand survivors remained, and a little over thirty thousand of them belonged to Thalion's faction. He had, without much effort, risen as one of the few who had truly conquered the tutorial. Yet deep down, he suspected this was the system's design. Forcing the strongest to clash again and again, like wolves driven to tear each other apart under a blood-red moon.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of the final week, and with it, the inevitable storm of battle. The thought of the enemies he would soon face filled Thalion with unease. His greatest fear, however, was not external. It was the curse of his own bloodline, gnawing at him from within like a chain that refused to break. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find a way to control it, not yet and certainly not within the span of a few weeks.

When he entered the system shop, he appeared before the familiar presence of the system's voice, bound once again within the form of a statue.

"Greetings. I have a ticket from Ankhet's treasury, and I require materials for my armor," Thalion said immediately. Efficiency was key. He wanted to be done quickly so he could return and complete his preparations.

"As expected," the voice echoed in his mind. "Here you go. Choose your reward for claiming Ankhet's treasure."

A translucent screen unfolded before Thalion's eyes, shimmering like water disturbed by wind. The items displayed upon it radiated power, and he had to admit, each one seemed as dangerous as it was enticing.

The Candle That Never Was

A small candle which, when lit, erases a single event from everyone's memory, including the gods. The forgotten memory takes form, mutating into a beast that hunts the one who lit the flame.

That one was… unnerving. Dangerous, even. Thalion had no desire to forget the tutorial, nor to be stalked by some nameless beast born of erased memories. The absence of a rarity rank told him everything about the item's caliber. It was beyond measure, a weapon sharper than most mortals could hope to wield.

Marias Golden Fruit

A fruit plucked only once per era from a living tree that grows in a battlefield where ancient gods once clashed. Consuming it grants immortality, until the eater is struck. When that happens, body and soul wither like the hollow seed within the fruit.

Thalion frowned. Was that even a reward, or a curse dressed in gold? Perhaps it would suit someone who lurked in shadows, never fighting like rogues or assassins who survived by hiding. But to him, it seemed worthless. Definitely not an option. He scrolled onward.

The Forever-Burning Ember

An ember from a forgotten age, still glowing as if it had never cooled. Legends claim it once burned with the desire of a hero who sought to bring down the sky itself. Whoever consumes this ember will wield fire skills rooted in lofty concepts, their flames carrying the unyielding will of the fallen hero.

This one, at least, called to him. The words themselves seemed to radiate heat, and Thalion imagined holding the ember would feel like grasping the beating heart of a volcano.

There were many more treasures like this. Each offering affinities of incredible potency, enough to grant mastery on a level most mortals would never reach in a lifetime.

As Thalion scrolled through the endless list, he discovered a treasure for nearly every affinity. Weapons and artifacts were also available, but he dismissed them without hesitation. His sword would be his own creation. He had no desire for another's blade.

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What truly caught his attention were the bloodline treasures. In his eyes, they were extraordinary and potent beyond reason. One promised an instant bloodline evolution, a reward so outrageous it bordered on madness. Normally, such an evolution required centuries or sometimes millennia of effort, struggle, and risk. To bypass all of that with a single prize felt like cheating destiny itself.

Other items claimed to add effects to a bloodline, while some could purify it, supposedly amplifying its potential. Yet even with such temptation, Thalion hesitated. Evolution was powerful, yes but also dangerous. He was already struggling to control his own skills, and meddling further with his unstable bloodline might unravel everything. Worse, it might interfere with his ability to steal other bloodlines. No, he couldn't afford to gamble recklessly. Like a predator waiting in the tall grass, he needed patience. Power that strengthened him now, not rewards that promised greatness only after years of hardship.

"Bloodline treasures are off the charts," he admitted to himself. But then, as if fate itself had been listening, his gaze landed on one particular treasure, one that made his heart pound and his greed blaze like oil poured onto fire.

Velastra's Line

Long ago, shapeshifters of the Velastra line were born with a bloodline scattered across their many forms. They sought to stitch the fragments together into one perfect vessel, but all failed. Generations of shapeshifters withered and died chasing that impossible dream. Then came Velastra the Seamstress. She alone succeeded. She wove her fragmented power into a single body, creating what became known as the "One Form." In that vessel burned the entire legacy of her bloodline. With it, she reshaped her world. By activating Velastra's Line, a shapeshifter binds their bloodline into a single body, magnifying its strength by drawing on the rarity and power of the other forms that once bore it. The skill also allows to weave your bloodlines into the One Form and using them to climb ever closer to perfection.

A grin split across Thalion's face, sharp and hungry. "Well, well… what do we have here?"

Power radiated from the description, intoxicating and dangerous. This was riskier than the bloodline evolution, yes, but only his human body would suffer the burden. His other forms would remain safe.

Questions flickered in his mind like sparks leaping from a fire. Could he sacrifice bloodlines later? What if he stole one that didn't fit? Would they fuse, or fracture? There were gaps in the explanation but fortunately, he knew exactly who to ask.

"I have a question about Velastra's Line," Thalion said, addressing the system's voice. "When I buy it, are the bloodlines immediately forced into one body? How do I choose the right one? And if I steal new bloodlines later, can I still assign them to different forms? The bloodline is part of my soul, so if it differs between bodies, isn't this… impossible?"

The statue's voice resonated in his mind, calm and absolute.

"No. This is not truly an item, but a skill. Once purchased, you gain the ability to focus your bloodlines into one form. It will bind to the form you occupy at the moment of activation. In the future, when you steal new bloodlines, you may choose which body receives them."

"Perfect." The word slipped out of Thalion's mouth before he could stop it, his eyes glittering with greed. He accepted the reward without hesitation, and a moment later the skill Velastra's Line appeared among his abilities. No rarity rank, no limitations written but Thalion didn't care. This was everything he had hoped for.

Already his mind raced with plans. The elf woman's bloodline would be perfect for Eagly, or whatever he became upon his evolution to E-grade. Hopefully… a dragon. His human form, meanwhile, would serve as the anchor, the crucible into which fire and blood would be poured.

"Yes… yes… yes." The words echoed in his chest like a heartbeat. Soon he could elevate the Fear Pillar, merge it with the crippled Eclipsari, and ignite his Sanguis Impera with fire. His human body would suffer, yes—but his other forms would remain unshackled, free to fight while he learned to tame the monstrous bloodline.

With that, his hopes soared. He could almost taste his divine class, his rightful ascent. Soon, the hunt would begin.

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