章 38: Red Eclipse
Darkness engulfed everything, stretching endlessly, consuming all light. No spark of hope flickered in this void—only an infinite, oppressive emptiness. This was the dark void Elliot had come to know, the same realm he had inhabited each time he invaded another's body.
He lay motionless, his back pressed against the cold nothingness. His eyes were open, staring upward, though there was nothing to see. The void swallowed his vision, his surroundings, his existence. His pupils, dilated as if grasping for light, found no reprieve. He was adrift in a sea of darkness, his arms and legs splayed against the unseen floor.
Elliot didn't speak. He barely breathed. He simply stared into the infinite abyss, his expression hollow, his body unmoving. Only his heartbeat broke the silence, faint and steady, though even that seemed out of place in this lifeless expanse.
'Golden Reaper?' The thought clawed its way into his mind, bitter and accusing. 'What is that supposed to mean? A future I've yet to live?'
His thoughts churned, fragments of memories and questions colliding in chaotic disarray. 'Why? What could I have done to deserve such hatred from my own flesh and blood? I would have died for him—suffered endless torment if it meant he could live another day. So why? What could drive Ren to despise me so deeply?"'
Elliot's gaze remained fixed on the invisible heavens above. His thoughts spiraled deeper, emotions unraveling as the void crept into his heart. The pain that had once stabbed at his chest had dulled into numbness. Memories faded like whispers in the wind, leaving only questions.
'Why had Ren turned against me?' Elliot's mind clung to the thought like a drowning man to driftwood. 'Was it power? Did he know about the black blood? Or… was everything a lie? Has every moment with him been a deception?'
His eyes, once vibrant and piercing, had grown pale, devoid of their usual spark. His lids refused to blink, his gaze unflinching as if afraid to lose focus on something unseen.
'Golden Reaper…' The words repeated in his mind, sharp and venomous. 'What crime have I committed to earn such a name?'
A voice shattered the stillness, warm yet firm, reverberating through the endless void.
"The reason lies in your choices," it said, calm yet resolute. "Your future self-aligned with only one side—one extreme."
Suddenly, a light broke through the void, crimson and radiant. It spilled across the endless darkness, saturating the space in the deep hue of blood. In the distance, a figure emerged, his silhouette sharp against the red glow.
He was young, or so he appeared, with crimson hair cascading like fire, eyes like molten rubies, and skin shimmering faintly as if forged from the same scarlet light. His robes billowed gently, dyed in every shade of red imaginable.
The figure stepped forward, his movements slow but deliberate, his presence commanding yet serene. His voice echoed again, filling the space as though it spoke directly into Elliot's soul.
"Yes," the crimson god confirmed, his tone unwavering. "Your choices. The path you chose. The side you favored above all others."
Before Elliot, a massive table materialized, long and ancient, etched with unknowable symbols. Upon it rested ten crystals, each mounted on ornate pedestals. Four of the crystals shimmered with vibrant colors, while the remaining six were dull and lifeless.
"You may not want to accept it," the god continued, his voice steady. "But you committed atrocities. You killed for power, for strength, for the sake of your own growth. You slaughtered all who stood in your way—friends, foes, innocents alike. In the end, you even killed your brother. The world would call you the 'Golden Reaper,' a harbinger of death and judgment, feared by all, a servant of the golden bloodlines, an enforcer of their so-called divine will."
The god's gaze softened, though his eyes remained piercing. "But even they, Elliot, are not true gods. They are merely the children of my eldest."
Elliot remained motionless, his mind reeling, unable to process the weight of the words. The crimson god gestured to one of the chairs at the massive table—a throne directly opposite his own.
"Sit," the god said gently.
A snap of his fingers echoed, and in an instant, Elliot was no longer on the ground. He found himself seated on the throne, its enormity dwarfing him. The table stretched between him and the crimson god like a chasm, each crystal positioned precisely.
To his immediate left stood a blue crystal, glowing faintly. On his right, a green crystal shimmered with life as well as a yellow crystal. The others, dull and lifeless, were scattered farther along the table, save for one: a black crystal, distant and foreboding, emanating a faint, ominous pulse.
The crimson god leaned forward, his hands clasped together, his expression somber. "I am sorry, Elliot," he said, his voice sincere. "But that is the future awaiting you."
He paused, letting the words settle, before continuing. "Unless, of course, you change it. But to do so, you must embrace balance. Not good, not evil—both. To maintain balance is to walk the line between order and chaos, never truly belonging to either."
Elliot's breath hitched, though he remained silent. His chest ached with a growing despair, but his face betrayed no emotion.
"Even if you became a saint tomorrow," the crimson god continued, "the end result would not change. You would die, Elliot. Perhaps within days. Maybe within hours." His voice hardened. "You cannot save this world by choosing one side. You must be the bridge between them, the equilibrium that holds the scales steady. Your decisions must weigh morality against necessity, compassion against pragmatism."
The god's crimson gaze bore into Elliot, unyielding. "Elliot, you must rebuild this fractured world. Not as a pawn of the golden bloodlines, nor as a servant of chaos, but as a god—a true god, in my stead."
A long silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of the crystals and the weight of the crimson light.
"I know how you feel," the god said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "Lost. Isolated. Like a lone ship adrift on an endless ocean."
The words hung in the air, cutting through Elliot's guarded heart.
"But there are people who care for you," the god continued, his tone almost pleading. "There is a world worth saving. You must learn to love it, to fight for it, even when it feels impossible."
Elliot's mind rebelled. 'Lies.'
The crimson god said nothing more, his eyes locked on Elliot's. Seconds stretched into an eternity before he finally spoke again.
"There are things you must know," the god said firmly. "First: the golden bloodlines are not gods. I am a god, as are my children. From blue to gold, they are merely my progeny."
The god's gaze shifted, staring into the infinite crimson void. "Second: I am bound to this place—not by my children, but by my own nature, my own code. That is irrelevant to you, however."
He turned back to Elliot, his expression grave. "Elliot, I will say this only once more: the fate of this world rests upon your shoulders. Choose wisely."
"You must balance this world upon a silken thread while dedicating yourself to your purpose. And finally, I shall grant you an extension of your divine blood's abilities. First, you will have dominion over this place—complete authority over my prison. But there is a price for this power: you, too, will remain bound as I am."
The Red God's blood-red eyes locked onto Elliot's pale gray-blue irises; his voice unwavering. "You were able to inhabit the bodies of others, but now, you will wield the power to summon them here, into this space. I will bestow upon you a language—one that only you and the other chosen will understand. You must learn to wield it, not as a means of mere communication, but as a conduit for rituals. Rituals akin to those used to commune with the Nine Gods. This language is not your native tongue; it is the language of the crimson epoch, the era in which Sebastian once lived."
Elliot's expression remained stoic, yet his breathing quickened as the weight of the words pressed upon him.
"With this language," the Red God continued, his voice reverberating like a drumbeat, "you shall become your own god. Prayers will be spoken to you, miracles invoked in your name. Through it, you will forge alliances with those of other bloodlines and communicate with the unthinkable. You shall play the role you claim to disdain: the God of Creation. The Father of All Fathers."
The Red God rose, his silhouette towering like a shadow against an unseen sun. Suddenly, he appeared at Elliot's side, his blazing ruby eyes igniting the dim void around them.
"But know this, Elliot—you do not have long to live. Your soul teeters on the edge of this realm, threatening to escape entirely."
Before Elliot could respond, the Red God placed a hand upon his shoulder.
'CRACK!'
The sound split the stillness like a lightning strike. Elliot's gaze shifted downward, following the path of his severed arm as it tumbled to the ground, crimson blood spilling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His expression betrayed nothing—no pain, no fear. Only his gray-blue eyes tracked the flow of his lifeblood.
"You feel no pain here," the Red God said, his voice almost tender. "Neither physical nor emotional. But know this: the torment will return to you in the waking world—not this arm, but the anguish that festers within your soul."
With an unsettling calm, the Red God took Elliot's other arm and wrenched it free, the sinew and flesh parting with ease. Blood pooled around them, vibrant and almost luminous in the dimness. The God then pressed the severed arm back to the exposed flesh, reattaching it with an unholy precision.
Elliot sat motionless, his gaze hollow, his once-pale skin now reddened as the divine blood coursed anew through his veins. His torn garments lay draped across his lap, their once-pristine fabric dyed in shimmering crimson.
"Most of your blood was gone," the Red God said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "The blue, the yellow, the green, and the black—all drained from your body. But now you are filled again. Not with the blood of mortals, but with divine blood. Pure and untainted."
The God turned, his crimson cloak billowing behind him like a banner of war. "I must attend to my children now. We shall meet again."
He waved his hand, and the air itself twisted, bending reality to reveal an immense, open doorway. The portal stretched impossibly high, far beyond Elliot's ability to perceive its summit. It was a gateway to another realm—one filled with titanic beings whose forms defied comprehension.
Through the aperture, Elliot glimpsed colossi shackled by chains of gleaming metals. Their skins shimmered in hues of blue, green to gold, and their figures ranged from eyeless, smooth-faced titans to abominations adorned with countless eyes and limbs. The chains binding them radiated an unyielding power, pulsating like the heartbeat of the cosmos.
The doorway closed with a resounding boom, the Red God vanishing into its depths, his figure dwarfed by the enormity of the chained beings beyond. With a final wave, the void consumed him, leaving Elliot alone in the stillness. His eyes fluttered shut.
…
Elliot awoke to the stench of decay. Cold sweat clung to his skin, and his breath came in shallow gasps. Tiny, scuttling creatures crawled across his face, their legs prickling his flesh. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond. His muscles were paralyzed, his mind trapped in his uncooperative flesh.
'Where am I?' The thought echoed in his mind, tinged with rising panic. The confidence he had moments ago was gone, replaced by a pounding heart and a suffocating dread. His pulse quickened as an oppressive weight settled over his chest.
"Are we really just dumping garbage on the cargo?" A voice spoke, distant but audible.
"The Browns will eat anything organic," another voice replied dismissively.
'Browns? Cargo? What do they mean?' Elliot's thoughts spiraled, confusion mingling with fear.
A new pressure bore down on his ribs, and he felt the rhythmic rocking of a ship beneath him. The air was thick with salt and stench—blood, flesh, urine, and rot intermingled in an unbearable miasma. The sound of waves crashing against the hull filled the silence, punctuated by the creaking of wood under strain.
Through flickering eyes, Elliot caught glimpses of his surroundings. Darkness cloaked the space, the faint glow of a dim light seeping through a narrow window. His vision blurred, the pale glow of blue sunlight piercing through his dilated pupils.
He strained to see, his eyes drawn to the source of the light. It was the moon—its silhouette an inky black against the radiant blue sun. Slowly, the moon moved, its shadow sliding away to reveal the sun's brilliance. Elliot's pupils shrank to pinpoints, yet he couldn't look away.
The light grew harsher, but it was not alone. Another light—a red light—bathed the ship in an otherworldly glow. Elliot's chest tightened as he beheld the spectacle. A blood moon hung in the sky, casting its crimson hue across the waves.
Tears welled in his eyes, shimmering like rubies under the red light. They traced paths down his cheeks, staining his pallid face with streaks of crimson. Elliot lay among the dead, their lifeless bodies illuminated by the eerie glow of the red eclipse. His breath caught, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
Above him, the blood moon shifted, its golden surface transforming into an ominous red. The ocean itself seemed to bleed as the moonlight mingled with the waves. A faint mist rose, tinged with the colors of the eclipse—red with hints of blue, like veins of light threading through the darkness.
Elliot stared, unblinking, his lips trembling as the sight overwhelmed him. The enormity of the moment pressed down on him, rendering him motionless. Tears of blood continued to flow.
The ship rocked gently beneath him, but Elliot remained still, his body drenched in cold sweat. The crimson light painted the world in hues of death, a reflection of the horrors within and without. And yet, through the despair, a flicker of resolve sparked within him.
The red moon gazed back, unyielding.
'A Red Eclipse'
クリエイターの想い 
bloody_potato
bloody_potato With this, the first volume concludes, along with the free chapters. Origins of Blood will go on hiatus for a few days so I can stockpile more chapters. In the coming days, I expect to finalize a contract and transition to Premium. You can support me by purchasing the chapters here. However, I’ll continue publishing chapters for free on other platforms like Royal Road, so there’s no need to resort to piracy. I also plan to open a Patreon soon if you'd like to support me there.
P.S.: My apologies for what happened with Elliot and Ren. But now the story truly begins. Also do not forget to give me your Power Stones!
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