Tales of the Endless Empire
Chapter 221: Divine Meetings

“What has happened? Why have so many of my Blessed perished?”

Tenebrice’s voice rumbled through the void, the sound warping space itself, like thunder trapped inside an endless cavern. His words were calm — but beneath the calmness, an ancient fury stirred, dark and boundless.

Valeira stood alone within that void, her body dwarfed by the looming, endless structure behind the throne — the Red Temple, its spires spiraling infinitely into the abyss of space. At the heart of it all sat her Patron, draped in robes woven from shadows deeper than night, upon a throne that pulsed with a dim, crimson light. His presence was suffocating, and his wrath hung in the air like the scent of iron before a storm.

Every blessing was an investment, a fragment of divine power offered to mortal hands — and now, multiple blessings had been extinguished under her watch. Outside of the tutorial, such gifts were rare, coveted beyond measure. Even the smallest blessing was treated as a sacred contract, enough to elevate entire bloodlines. To lose so many at once was nothing short of sacrilege.

And worse: the Sanguine Thorns, which had cost Tenebrice a steep price to bestow, had not only been wasted, but one had been consumed by a human — a human who had somehow slain one of the Blessed early on. At least, that was the conclusion Tenebrice had drawn from the notifications marking their deaths.

“We attacked a human stronghold, one more fortified than we expected,” Valeira began, lowering herself into the deepest bow her body allowed. “The human who now carries the Sanguine Thorn killed my sister before the battle and somehow evolved the thorn's power. When we faced him together, even combined, we couldn’t defeat him.”

Her voice trembled with both shame and calculation. She was still, by far, the strongest of Tenebrice’s Blessed — at least for now. But she couldn’t shake the question from her mind: was their true purpose merely to cultivate the Sanguine Thorns, only to be devoured later by the chosen vampires once the tutorial ended?

“What?”

The word burst from Tenebrice with the weight of an avalanche. “And this human has consumed the other Sanguine Thorn?” His anger rippled outward, painting the entire void in a vivid, blood-red hue for a heartbeat before the color slowly bled away. This was merely his projection, his avatar — not even the true god — and still the raw, unfiltered power of his outrage left her frozen in place.

“Yes,” she managed to whisper, her voice barely holding together. “That is the situation. The survivors have regrouped at the Black Fortress, and we are preparing for the battle to come.”

Even standing on the fringe of her Patron’s presence, only sensing a sliver of his aura, it felt as if her body was caught between death and dissolution. Tenebrice did not tolerate failure. She knew — had she not still been bound to the tutorial, her life would have ended the moment she spoke those words.

“How strong is this human? And what of the others? Are there any more threats hidden among them?” Tenebrice asked, his voice cold now, barely containing the storm beneath.

“There are two more human outposts, but they pose no real danger. Their defenders are weak, their champions barely worth mention,” Valeira replied, still bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the void itself. “But the one who defeated us is... different. His fortress shelters more than ten thousand souls, and his strength vastly outclasses mine. If I were to face him alone, I would stand no chance.” She paused, voice darkening. “I want nothing more than to rip him apart for killing my sister... for stealing her eyes. But I must restrain myself. Reckless revenge would only lead to more failure.”

A heavy silence fell. Then Tenebrice spoke again — slowly, dangerously quiet.

“What do you mean... he took her eyes?”

“I do not know how,” she answered, her voice stripped of all emotion. “But when I saw him, he wielded her gaze as if it were his own. He had her eyes — and her power.”

For a moment, she braced for divine fury. But the outburst never came. Instead, Tenebrice leaned back against his throne, his shadowed form falling eerily still. His voice, when it came, was a thoughtful murmur, more to himself than to her.

“So... for such knowledge to be in mortal hands this early... another god must be involved.” His voice darkened further, the words soaking in suspicion. “A mortal, even a gifted one, couldn’t possibly transmute and bind another’s eyes to themselves without guidance. That means someone — one of the stronger gods — has interfered. No god would invest this much into a human unless the reward promised to be extraordinary. The question is... which god?”

Valeira remained silent, her heart calming slightly, relieved that his rage had shifted elsewhere — to some unseen rival, rather than her.

After a long moment, Tenebrice moved again, his piercing gaze falling back on her, voice heavy with finality.

“You are still the strongest among my Blessed in this trial. And you possess potential far beyond them. I will grant you one chance for redemption.”

His words sharpened like blades.

“I will elevate your blessing. I will provide specially crafted nourishment for your Sanguine Thorn, powerful enough to stand against a Crimson Virethorn. You will hunt this human. You will kill him and consume his evolved Thorn. Then, you will seek out your siblings and consume them as well. The last part must be done in secret — such things are... bad for morale.”

He paused, the void crackling faintly under the force of his resolve.

“As I’ve always told you: no price is too great for ascension. And the cost I must pay to empower you will be steep — but worthwhile, in the end. The human’s strength speaks to deeper manipulation. Some god has gone far beyond the rules to create this anomaly, and I will see their gamble undone.”

Valeira felt a rush of excitement surge through her chest, so intense it was almost difficult to suppress. When this meeting ended, she would be stronger than ever. Strong enough to claim the Crimson Virethorn. Strong enough to eclipse every other vampire in this tutorial. And perhaps — if her ascent pleased Tenebrice — strong enough to remain at his Chosen One’s side in the future.

Her gaze lifted slightly, drawn to the glittering object that had appeared in her Patron’s hand: a single blood-red crystal, pulsing with unfathomable power. Within its core, a single droplet floated, glowing with a potency beyond anything she had ever witnessed.

This was the gift. The rebirth. After this... she would emerge as something entirely new.

<--

Thalion had been busy.

Ever since the captured elf had confessed everything he knew, Thalion had reactivated his Domain Skill, subjecting the poor creature to another round of unrelenting torment. There was a purpose to this cruelty — the pillar needed to be charged to its absolute limit. If his plan succeeded, the crippled Eclipsari would receive a tremendous surge in strength, one that might shift the coming war in his favor.

But not everything had progressed as smoothly as he’d hoped. The Tidecaller Serpent and Eagly were lagging behind in their growth. The serpent, at least, could be fed. Every now and then, Thalion had it swallow one of the pearls or crystallized fragments he had hoarded from the third stage. It was a crude but effective way to push its evolution forward. Eagly, on the other hand, remained stagnant — its advancement locked behind an invisible wall Thalion had yet to break.

He had also taken time to leave the base and roam the streets of the battered city, hunting for one more resource: Credits. He didn’t know the exact price, but he suspected he would need an obscene amount to purchase either the knowledge or the artifact necessary to transfer a bloodline skill — or, if luck was truly on his side, an entire bloodline itself.

That’s why he had sent Kaldrek and Maike out with clear orders: gather everyone who wasn’t willing to fight in the upcoming battle against the undead. Those too cowardly or too weak to stand on the frontlines would pay their share in Credits. There had been resistance, of course — plenty of grumbling — but deep down most understood his reasoning. At least, this once.

Thalion had a reputation for keeping his word, something that couldn’t be said for every leader in the system. Some survivors still remembered the brutal days in other bases, when those who refused to contribute were bled dry — sometimes quite literally — just before they moved on to the higher stages. Compared to that, Thalion was lenient, even fair.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

In fact, Kaldrek and Maike had handled the logistics, ensuring that even weaker fighters were paired with stronger ones for protection. He’d even offered small bonuses to E-rankers who helped others gain experience, a rare display of incentive in a world where strength usually meant everything.

In the end, his efforts had yielded just over one hundred million Credits. Far from the fortune he had envisioned. He had hoped for twice that amount, at minimum. Two hundred million had been his conservative estimate — and still, reality had fallen short. But there was little use in complaining.

One way or another, he would gather the Credits he needed. The power locked within that bloodline skill was worth every scrap of effort.

And besides, he feared no one in this base. No challenger, no soldier, no vampire had matched him yet. He was the reason the Sanguine Thorn-bearers had been pushed back. Without his intervention, the vampires would’ve overrun them all — of that, he was certain. Perhaps a coordinated group assault could have worked, but Thalion doubted the survivors would have ever held long enough to organize one.

Now, the real moment had arrived.

His skin tingled, electric with anticipation, as his consciousness finally slipped into the system shop interface. He had delayed this for as long as possible, choosing to wait until the brink of war. If the gods intended to bend the rules, to smuggle last-minute boons to their favored Blessed, this was the moment they would do it.

Thalion could only hope it would be enough — though deep down, he knew better than to expect divine generosity. After all, just how far could even the gods twist the rules before the system itself snapped?

<--

"Hello, Elaria. Why do you wear such a storm on your face? Has something happened?"

Lunareth, the Goddess of Silver Winds and Celestial Harmony, spoke as her Blessed appeared before her in a burst of shimmering light.

The two stood upon an endless sea of white clouds, soft beneath their feet like woven silk. Above them, the sky shimmered with cascading auroras, flowing slowly like ink spilled in water. Lunareth herself looked as ethereal as ever—pale skin like moonlight, long golden hair cascading down her back, and elegant rings adorning every finger. Her flowing white robe was adorned with intricate silver embroidery, symbols of the constellations she ruled over. She radiated an ancient grace—ageless, but not yet at the apex of divine power.

"Yes," Elaria said, her voice shaking with barely restrained emotion. "My son… he was slain by a human. And now, the other elves insist on striking the undead first rather than avenging him."

Lunareth’s luminous eyes widened, her melodic voice taking on a softer tone.

"That cannot be. Even though my presence is limited in the tutorial realm, I still sense the life force of my Blessed. Your son… he still lives. I may have forgotten what I last said to him or what he has experienced due to the system's veil, but his spark is unextinguished."

Elaria's heart skipped a beat. Joy surged through her chest, followed by confusion. Her son was alive? But she had seen the recordings—every painful second of the fight, every blow traded. He had looked so broken in the end, crimson vines crawling through his flesh. How could he have possibly escaped death?

"How can he still be alive? I watched him fall," she whispered, tears of hope beginning to trace down her cheeks.

"What do you mean?" Lunareth asked, her usually composed face now tinged with curiosity. "Do you have a recording to show me?"

Without a word, Elaria summoned her divine token and projected the battle—flickering into the air like a memory caught in starlight. The image of the human came into focus: clad in obsidian armor, eyes glowing with an unnatural, burning red. Lunareth leaned in as the recording played. Her serene gaze sharpened the moment the red crimson arrows rained down.

"He should’ve run out of mana long before this point. That level of sustained power… There must be a god backing him, and not just any god. A powerful one." Her tone turned analytical, edged with suspicion. "And yet, I know of no blood god strong enough to bestow such strength, not one who isn’t a vampire."

That revelation struck Elaria like a whip. She hadn’t considered the mana cost. She had been so consumed with grief and rage, she had ignored the deeper truth beneath the fight’s choreography.

"No… I don’t have any solid information on that human," she admitted, only to be cut off.

"You must find out who his patron is," Lunareth said sharply. "If he is being coached by a hidden, powerful god, it will make him incredibly dangerous. Did you notice his eyes? Those were vampire eyes, and yet—he is clearly human."

Elaria faltered. She had expected wrath or sympathy, not cold analysis.

"Yes… but how is that possible? Can vampires have children with humans? And if so, wouldn’t the vampire traits dominate?"

"He didn’t inherit those eyes," Lunareth said, her tone darkening. "He stole them—likely from a powerful vampire. Let’s continue the recording. I want to see the full picture."

With a graceful wave of her hand, the memory resumed. Elaria watched, her fists clenched as the human relentlessly assaulted Sandor. Despite the brutality, something in the man’s movements suggested he was holding back. When he finally descended from the sky and Sandor seemed to regain control, a spark of hope flared within her.

That spark was crushed moments later.

The human spoke—calm, composed, chilling—and then killed her son. Or so she had believed. Her heart twisted watching Sandor’s body writhe beneath the crimson vines, pain etched into every twitch of muscle. Her son had only inherited one skill from her bloodline, not the full potential. That should have been the end.

Yet Lunareth remained calm, thoughtful, her expression unreadable.

"He never meant to kill your son," she finally said. "He meant to capture him."

Elaria’s voice broke like glass. "You mean that man is holding my Sandor hostage?! I will—"

"You will not do anything yet," Lunareth’s voice rang with power, divine and commanding. The very clouds around them stilled. "He is far too powerful. What you saw in that recording was not his limit. I suspect he’s after your son’s bloodline skill. But extraction takes time, and with his patron’s level of power, it won’t be rushed."

The goddess’s eyes glinted like silver blades.

"I will push the system's boundaries and upgrade your bloodline myself. I will elevate your blessing. But you must wait. Let the humans and undead weaken each other first. Then strike."

Elaria bowed deeply, her fury tempered by the promise of strength.

"Yes, my goddess. But… is it even possible to steal a bloodline skill?"

"It shouldn’t be," Lunareth replied, her voice low with concern. "Not at F-grade. Not without being a Chosen. But this human… he’s either nearing that status or supported by a god who has broken the system’s rules again and again. This blood god—whoever they are—is powerful and dangerous."

She paused, then spoke with iron resolve.

"Defeat the undead quickly. Then ambush the human. With these enhancements, I’m confident you will win—even if he was hiding much of his power."

"I will not fail you." Elaria's voice was a vow, her gaze burning with determination.

"Good. Be careful. A single mistake now could be catastrophic. I will suffer backlash for pushing the system this far, and I will likely forget this conversation until after the tutorial ends. But do one thing for me—when you find the human, extract the truth. Torture him if you must. I want to know which god dares stand behind him."

As she spoke her final words, Lunareth rose from the cloud. Her hands glowed with radiant white light that condensed into a frozen storm, locked in perfect stillness—a crystalline vortex of divine wind. A bloodline treasure. One of the rarest artifacts in existence.

Elaria’s eyes widened with awe—and hunger.

This changed everything.