Ancestral Lineage

Madeleine looked at her mother, her green eyes flickering with uncertainty. Seraphina's presence had always been serene, almost otherworldly, and despite her soft voice, there was an undeniable weight to her words.

Seraphina smiled gently, brushing a stray strand of red hair from Madeleine's face. "Come," she said, turning away, her long dress flowing behind her as if caught in an unseen current.

Madeleine hesitated only for a moment before following.

The path they walked was bathed in twilight hues, the moon's light casting long shadows through the towering trees. The leaves shimmered, whispering in a language only the ancients could understand.

After a few moments, they reached a secluded grove, untouched by time. In its center stood a small altar, old yet pristine, with strange runes carved into its surface, glowing faintly with silver light.

Madeleine's breath hitched.

She recognized those runes.

"Mother… this is…"

Seraphina nodded, stepping forward, her delicate fingers grazing the surface of the altar. "This… is the culmination of a dream I once held. A wish I thought was long lost."

The air around them shifted.

The ground trembled ever so slightly. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire

Then—

CRACK!

The altar split open, not with force, but with purpose, revealing a small crystalline orb, pulsating with a deep, ancient power.

It wasn't just powerful—it was alive.

Madeleine's eyes widened as the orb floated into the air, drawn toward her. She could feel it—its warmth, its strength, its… longing.

"This…" Her voice came out in a whisper.

Seraphina's expression softened. "A piece of what I once desired most… now meant for you."

Madeleine's hands trembled as she reached for it, the orb responding as if it had been waiting for her all along.

As her fingers made contact—

The world vanished.

A rush of memories that weren't her own flooded her mind. Visions of ancient battles, of worlds long forgotten, of a power only second to that of a Creator.

And then…

A voice echoed within her soul.

"At last… you have come."

Her breath caught. Her grip tightened.

Seraphina watched, her glowing white eyes holding the wisdom of someone who had seen too much yet still hoped.

"Accept it, my dear," she whispered. "And make it your own."

Madeleine's vision swam as the voice resonated through every fiber of her being. It wasn't just speaking to her; it was reaching into her very soul, threading itself into the essence of who she was.

She gritted her teeth, feeling the raw power swirl within her chest, threatening to consume her. The energy pulsed violently, like a heart that had waited far too long to beat again. The ground beneath her feet cracked, light seeping through the fractures, illuminating the grove with a glow both eerie and beautiful.

Seraphina remained still, her white eyes watching without a hint of concern. She knew this process well. It was a trial, a moment where one either accepted or was devoured.

Madeleine could feel the weight of countless memories pressing against her mind. Ancient beings, forgotten wars, civilizations rising and crumbling—knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. It was overwhelming, like drowning in an ocean with no surface in sight.

But she was no stranger to power.

She clenched her fists, her breath steady. The raw force within her began to take shape, bending, molding, obeying. She didn't resist it. She didn't fear it.

She claimed it.

The glow around her intensified for a split second before vanishing into her body. The ground stopped trembling, the energy around them settling into an eerie stillness. The grove, once bathed in silver light, returned to its natural state.

Madeleine appeared, her presence heavier than before. Her once red horns were now darker and covered in faint, intricate scales that shimmered under the light. The tips of her long red hair had taken on a deep green hue, blending seamlessly into the strands like an ancient mark of power. Her dark skin had gained a glossy, almost reflective sheen, exuding an aura of quiet but undeniable strength. Her emerald-green eyes burned with newfound intensity, carrying the weight of something beyond mortal comprehension.

Madeleine exhaled, her breath misting in the cool night air. She felt different—stronger, sharper, complete.

Seraphina smiled. "Good. You took to it faster than I did."

Madeleine turned to her mother, eyes flickering with something new, something ancient. "What… was that?"

Seraphina reached forward, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's forehead. "A gift. A burden. A responsibility." Her voice softened. "You'll understand in time."

Madeleine didn't press further. She simply nodded, gripping the new power within her soul.

She had no idea what was coming, but she knew one thing for certain—she was ready.

...

"How are the preparations coming along? We can't afford to wait any longer. Lives are at stake," Ethan said, his voice firm, carrying the weight of authority. After the encounter with his mother, he and Trevor immediately convened an emergency meeting with the council. The war was still raging, and he knew that the Blade Clan would never retreat—not when they had a Primogenitor-level being among them. That alone changed everything.

Primogenitors could sense one another, and this one was strong. Stronger than even Vlad, who had already reached the Emperor Realm. It was a troubling revelation, but there was no time to dwell on it. Strategy was their only way forward. Waiting for the enemy to bring the fight to them was nothing short of foolishness. They had to take the battle straight to their doorstep.

"Patriarch, our forces are prepared, but..." Lord Verna hesitated.

"They're too weak," Lord Steil finished grimly. "The strongest among them barely reach the Warrior level. Aside from the Zodiacs, who possess unique abilities, the majority are too underpowered. We have a few Expert levels, but even that won't be enough."

Ethan remained silent for a moment, considering.

"We could enhance their strength, but we lack the resources for such a large-scale augmentation," Lord Tennyson added.

"What exactly do you need?" Ethan asked.

"If we're talking about large-scale improvements—power-boosting pills, supplementary elixirs, weapons, armor, support equipment like hoverboards, barrier deployers, camouflage bots—we'll require a vast amount of Mythril and Platinum, along with specialized metals and minerals. Some rare elemental crystals will also be necessary. In short, a massive supply of resources," Lord Tennyson explained.

"Give me an estimate," Ethan said. "Let's use buildings as a reference. How much space would be needed to store everything?"

"A stockpile that could fill the entire Assembly Hall," Tennyson answered.

Ethan exhaled through his nose, nodding. "We'll secure those resources soon enough. Now, how many races are involved in this war?"

"If we count all those enlisted, we have vampires, dwarves, fairies, felines, humans, a handful of demons, a few werewolves, youkai, ghouls… nearly every race we know of is represented," Lord Griswold replied.

"Good," Ethan said, his gaze sweeping across the council. "Grand Lord Trevor, all vampires are under your command. Grand Lord Seraphina, you'll oversee the dwarves. Lord Verna, as the strongest youkai present, you will assist Matriarch Clara in handling the youkai forces. Lord Steil and Matriarch Carmen, the felines are your responsibility. Lord Tennyson and Matriarch Lisa, you will manage the humans. Matriarch Pisces, you will lead the fairies. Grand Lord Lamair, the ghouls will follow your command. I will personally handle the remaining forces. If any of you require additional support, inform me immediately, and I will ensure it is provided.

"We move out in three days. Rally your troops. The crafting dwarves will assist the Tennyson family in forging the necessary equipment. Do not concern yourselves with resources—I will handle that matter.

"Grand Duke Vlad and Madeleine, you are the commanders of this war. You have full authority to act as you see fit. I care not for the process, only the results.

"Anbord will never fall to a clan of cowards. Every life lost will be repaid in blood and fire. The Blade Clan will know true despair."

...

Veryan City, once a proud and thriving part of Anbord, now stood as a conquered fortress under the iron grip of the Blade Clan. The towering structures, once symbols of progress and unity, bore the scars of war—cracked stone, scorched banners, and the lingering stench of blood. The streets, once filled with merchants and citizens, were now lined with armored soldiers, their eyes sharp and their weapons ready. What was once a city of life had become a city of occupation.

Inside the war chamber of the Blade Clan, the air was thick with tension. A massive obsidian table dominated the center of the room, its surface carved with a detailed map of Anbord and the surrounding regions. Above it, a shimmering projection displayed the movements of the resistance—Anbord's forces preparing to take back their land.

Seated at the head of the table was Grand Marshal Darius Blade, his cold blue eyes surveying the room with an air of amusement. His jet-black war armor, adorned with ancient sigils, pulsed with a faint, ominous light. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, his voice low and measured.

"They're finally making their move," he said, lips curling into a smirk. "Took them long enough."

Across from him, General Althea Veris studied the map with narrowed golden eyes. A battle-hardened hybrid, she had earned her place among the Blade Clan through sheer brutality. Her long black braid hung over one shoulder, and her enchanted combat suit hummed with barely restrained power.

"We should crush them before they reach the city," she said sharply. "If they reclaim Veryan, they'll regain a crucial foothold in Anbord."

"And risk exposing our defenses?" another voice countered smoothly. Silas Blade, the clan's Master of Tactics, leaned forward, his dark blonde hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. He had no visible weapons, but none were foolish enough to think him unarmed. "No, we let them come. Let them think they have the upper hand."

Darius arched a brow. "You have a plan, I assume?"

Silas tapped a section of the map, his voice as calm as ever. "We set up layered defenses along the outskirts. Make them believe they are winning. We let them push forward, only to find themselves trapped within the city's streets—funneled into positions where our true forces will be waiting. Meanwhile, we deploy a strike force to cut off their retreat. Once they realize their mistake, it will be too late."

Althea scowled. She preferred direct combat over deception, but she couldn't argue with results.

"And what about Ethan and Trevor?" she asked. "Both of them will be leading the charge. We can't afford to underestimate them."

Darius let out a deep chuckle, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "We have a Primogenitor of our own. Let them come. Let them believe their power is enough."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. None questioned the weight of his words. The Blade Clan had always been strong, but now, with a Primogenitor among them, they had become something far greater.

Veryan City was no longer just a fortress—it was a trap waiting to be sprung. And when Anbord's forces arrived, they would find only death waiting for them.

If only that was true...