Tales of the Endless Empire
Chapter 224: Divine Skills

After a brief exchange with the ever-enthusiastic voice, the animated golden statue sent over a curated list of skills it believed would suit Thalion’s style. It was still sorting through them, which perhaps explained the lackluster quality of some of the bloodlines from before.

Still, Thalion couldn’t hide his anticipation. Divine-rarity skills weren’t just rare—they were spoken of in whispers, wrapped in myth. And now, they were laid bare before him.

The first entry glowed softly on the hovering interface. Its description unfolded like scripture, etched in flowing golden script.

Flamebound Essence (Divine)

You are no longer merely touched by fire, you are blessed by it. Flames drawn to your soul begin to change, mirroring the core of your affinity. All fire you conjure, and all fire near you, instinctively shifts toward your dominant nature. Even wild, uncontrolled infernos bend under this unseen law. You no longer suffer from fire’s touch. Instead, its heat invigorates your body, sharpens your mind, and wraps around you like a second skin. In battle, fire strengthens you with each flicker, as if the world itself lends its breath to your fury.

A grin tugged at the corner of Thalion’s mouth. That kind of passive manipulation, the ability to bend an entire element to match one’s affinity? That was wildly overpowered—if one had the arsenal to wield it. Unfortunately, he only had one fire-based skills, not enough to make full use of it.

Still, the concept intrigued him. What if there were flames that resonated with blood affinity? Was such a thing even possible? Could he ignite his blood and command it in battle, shaped by this passive force?

It also brought up an old question he’d been meaning to clarify. Some skills—like Speech, Identify, Shapeshift, and Acquire Form—had always worked across all his forms, without needing to be linked. Did divine skills follow the same rules?

"Hey, voice—these divine skills you sent over, do they work for all forms, or just one? And how can I tell if a skill is form-wide?" Thalion asked, still studying the luminous text before him.

"Ah, yeah. That’s a bit of a bug," the voice replied casually, already half-occupied. "Sometimes it's listed in the description, sometimes not. But don’t worry—all the divine skills I sent you are available in every form. They’re legacy relics, leftovers from the system’s original creator. Top shelf stuff."

The answer satisfied him, though it left more questions about the system’s history than it answered. Legacy code, divine classification, ancient creators—there was a deeper story hidden here.

As for Flamebound Essence, he mentally shelved it. Without a proper way to flood the battlefield in fire, it didn’t fit his current toolkit. Maybe in the future… unless he found a way to make flames burn underwater. That would certainly make the Tidecaller Serpent interesting again.

For now, he moved on, eager to see what else the voice had unearthed.

Eclipse Veins (Divine)

The void pulses through your bloodstream. Your body absorbs shadows like breath, rendering you unseen in dimness and untouched by lesser illusions. Night strengthens you—each step quieter, each strike faster. Even under daylight, your veins remain cool and veiled, cloaking your presence behind a veil of dusk. Where others see only darkness, you move with perfect clarity.

Now that had potential.

Thalion’s thoughts drifted to the battlefield: dusk-lit forests, smoke-filled ruins, the eerie twilight before dawn. In those moments, this skill would turn him into a ghost—silent, swift, and deadly. The idea of drawing strength from darkness instead of just hiding within it appealed to him on a primal level.

He liked how this wasn’t just about stealth; it was enhancement. Precision. Speed. Control.

Sanctified Core (Divine )

Your heart burns with a quiet radiance. Light wraps around your bones and blood like armor. You passively emit an aura that slows decay, deflects curses, and heals minor wounds without effort. Holy energies recognize you as kin. Blinding light no longer harms your eyes—it speaks to you, guiding your hand in times of chaos.

This one was more subtle—protective rather than offensive. But even so, Thalion couldn’t deny its allure. An aura of passive restoration and divine resistance could be invaluable, especially when surrounded by cursed terrain or corrupted enemies. It wasn’t flashy, but it was enduring. Reliable. Unyielding.

Still… it also reeked of sanctity. And sanctity had a tendency to be selective with what it deemed corruption. That might be a problem. The Crimson Virethorn, for example—was that just a living weapon, or would this so-called purity treat it as something to be cleansed?

That was the catch with holy things: they rarely played well with monsters.

Three divine skills, each powerful in its own right. But Thalion could feel it—there were more waiting to be revealed. The voice was still sorting, still laughing to itself in the background, lost in half-amusement, half-awe at the treasure trove it had stumbled across.

Thalion leaned forward, eyes gleaming. He wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

Crimson Surge (Divine)

With a single gesture, your blood ignites and surges outward in a writhing crimson tide. Tendrils of coagulated force lash out, draining life from all they strike, returning the stolen strength to you. The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of iron. Any wound made during this moment will bleed longer, deeper, and more fiercely.

Frostbrand Wrath (Divine)

You summon a storm-borne blade forged from glacial fury. Each swing sends out crescent arcs of frozen air, capable of halting flame and shattering steel. The cold clings to anything it touches, growing roots of ice that spread like vines. Enemies slowed by your strikes may find their limbs frozen mid-attack.

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Soulflare Burst (Divine)

A sphere of condensed holy flame erupts from your palm, exploding on contact into a rain of starlight and cleansing fire. Corrupted creatures scream as the purifying blaze pierces their essence. Allies caught in the light feel a surge of energy—not healing, but divine focus—sharpening their next action like a blade.

Umbral Rend (Divine)

You tear a rift into the fabric of shadow itself. A scythe-like arc of darkness lashes forward, slipping through armor and shields like whispers in a dream. Those struck are momentarily cast into a pocket of true void—disoriented, blind, their bodies numb to sensation. The more fear they feel, the deeper the blade cuts.

"Now this is more like it," Thalion thought, his excitement barely contained as he scanned the latest list of divine skills. Unlike what he had expected from something labeled divine rarity, the descriptions were brief—almost understated. Yet the raw power woven between the lines was impossible to miss. Even without flowery wording, the weight of these abilities spoke for themselves.

The first skill, Crimson Surge, radiated potential. It would fit well with his human form, granting considerable combat efficiency. However, compared to the others, it lacked the transformative depth he sought. Still, it planted an idea in his mind—perhaps, with time, he could develop a version of it tailored to his own style. He was particularly intrigued by the bleeding effect. How much more would a target bleed? Was it enough to become a death sentence on its own? Given its divine rank, the answer was probably yes.

The next skill on the list caught his eye like a glint of silver in the dark. It felt like an evolved form of his original Mana Blade—the one he’d purchased at the very beginning of the tutorial and now used in tandem with the Blade of the Blooded Templar. This version, however, was something else entirely. The ability to freeze a target mid-air had enormous implications, especially against blood cultivators and those who wielded water-based techniques. Immobilization was often the beginning of the end in a fight.

Then came Solarflare Burst. Explosive. Devastating. Beautiful in theory. Yet ultimately not for him. As impressive as it sounded, the spell leaned heavily on light and flame, which didn’t mesh well with any of his current forms. On the Tidecaller Serpent, it would be completely useless, and the radiant nature might even actively harm the Crippled Eclipsari. It was powerful, yes—but not practical.

Despite that, he was genuinely surprised by how effective even F-grade divine skills were. He hadn't expected this level of lethality from a category so seemingly low-tier. And then… he read the next one.

The words etched into the skill description hit him like a silent thunderclap:

Tear open a rift. Cast your enemy into the void.

No reflection. No resistance from armor or weapons. No mercy. Just… gone.

It sounded like an instant kill, a skill that ignored all defenses. It was the kind of technique people would sell their souls for. What had the gods done to deserve this being freely offered to him? Why would the system just give him this? No cost. No strings.

That question lingered.

What kind of nightmare waited for him once he stepped beyond the system shop?

He flipped through two more divine attack skills afterward, but none struck him quite the same. Powerful, certainly. Umbral Rend, in particular, looked like a cheat code for combat—ripping through enemies with shadow-soaked ease. But it felt static. Not scalable. He suspected that once he advanced to E-grade, it would lose much of its edge. A skill like that was fine for brute-force types, but Thalion wanted more than raw destruction. He wanted something he could build upon, refine—something that would evolve with him.

What he truly longed for was a divine bloodline or passive skill that would empower all his forms. But so far, none of them fit quite right. Each one lacked synergy with his hybrid nature. Close… but not close enough.

The hours passed, and Thalion remained deep in the system interface, eyes flicking rapidly across glowing glyphs and evolving menus. The air around him was still, the silence broken only by the occasional soft hum of the system’s architecture. From time to time, the voice chimed in, occasionally helpful—often amused.

“Oh, look at this one!” the voice said gleefully. “Your vitality skyrockets across the board. No downside at all!” A new bloodline appeared before Thalion, swirling in radiant amber.

He gave it a glance. Impressive—but still not what he needed. He pushed on.

In the back of his mind, one idea had begun to take shape. A hybrid concept—risky, ambitious, and potentially monstrous in execution. If he could merge it with the bloodline skill of the elf and somehow tweak his mother’s lineage into it… the result could be terrifying. It was a long shot. He doubted he would even encounter his mother during the tutorial.

But if he did…

Time slipped by, and he let it. This wasn’t a choice to rush. His decision could shape his strength for the entire path ahead.

Finally, with just half an hour left before he would be forcibly removed from the system shop, Thalion prepared to make his move. His options were narrowed, but his path was still uncertain. If the voice denied the combination he was planning—if he had to choose between one or the other—he would fall back on Umbral Rend as his divine attack skill.

He cleared his throat and addressed the system, voice steady.

“You said earlier that I can choose either a bloodline or a skill,” he began. “But what if I want a divine skill… and one of the terrible bloodlines? Can I take both?”

He waited, eyes fixed on the ever-shifting data in front of him, as the voice prepared to answer.