Eros’s mind was a whirlwind of questions. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a slender, snow-white finger gently tapped his brow.

  The world blurred again. Another abrupt transition—this time, he was back in the desolate, grey fog of the ritual space.

  Back in her realm, Cecilia blinked in slight surprise as the child vanished. Then, she let out a soft, melodious laugh. "I see. Not enough power to sustain the connection."

  Without hesitation, she let her gaze drift down the Great River of Bloodlines. She tracked the current until she found the boy sitting in the center of the ritual array in the far reaches of the future.

  She pressed her thumb against her index finger, causing a tiny bead of crimson blood to well up from her porcelain-fair skin. Then, she pointed. This single motion seemed to bridge the vast gulf of time and space.

  From the very origin of the bloodline, her power streaked forward, striking the center of Eros’s forehead in the far downstream of history.

  The Shadow Realm, Cathedral Hall

  The elders, who had been anxiously waiting, turned pale with terror as Eros suddenly vanished from the array. Several of the more hot-headed ones lunged forward to investigate.

  Right then, the silver-white crescent moon—the decorative ornament behind the Ancestor’s statue—began to glow. A low, vibrating hum resonated through the hall.

  Before the elders could reach the array, an inexorable force slammed into them, pushing everyone back to their original positions.

  Estelle tried to push forward again, desperate for her son, but Alaric caught her arm. "Stay back," he whispered, shaking his head. "If the Great One has intervened to stop us, then Eros is likely safe."

  He signaled toward the silver moon, which had returned to its dull, unremarkable state. Estelle’s racing heart slowed slightly. She knew the history of that artifact; it was a relic forged by the Ancestor herself. It would not harm a descendant of its mistress.

  "The array is still active," someone else comforted. "Besides, we are within the Ancestor’s sanctuary. Nothing will go wrong."

  As if to prove him right, Eros reappeared in the center of the array just as abruptly as he had left. The entire hall exhaled in collective relief. But before they could even finish that breath...

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The sky collapsed.

  An indescribable aura descended from the firmament, freezing time and space within the entire Shadow Realm.

  Everyone present began to tremble uncontrollably. They found it impossible to breathe, as if an invisible hand were crushing their hearts. Just as the pressure became lethal, the silver crescent moon flared with brilliant light, erecting a barrier that shielded them from the terrifying divine presence.

  Once the pressure lifted, the elders collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

  "What... what is that?" someone shrieked, pointing.

  Everyone looked up. Hovering in the air was a finger—so blurry it was barely a smudge on reality—pressed firmly against Eros’s brow.

  Behind the boy, the phantom of a lush, ancient tree manifested. Waves of vibrant life force radiated from the phantom tree, washing over the hall.

  As the energy enveloped them, the elders found their discomfort vanishing. In its place was a feeling of profound relaxation and bliss. Some were stunned to find that old, nagging injuries from their youth were spontaneously healing.

  Someone recognized the phantom tree and gasped, his voice trembling with awe.

  "The World Tree... that is the World Tree! Does that mean... that aura just now... was the Great One of the Elven race? She is... She is personally performing the initiation for little Eros!"

  The hall fell into a stunned silence, followed by a wave of ecstatic frenzy. Elders wept openly. To receive a baptism from a Great Being—what level of talent was this? The Ancestors had blessed them! The rise of the clan was finally at hand!

  In the corner, a white-bearded old man muttered to himself, "So... we actually did have Elven blood after all."

  Alaric, standing nearby, overheard him and looked at him in shock. "Uncle! Didn't you tell me when I was a kid that our ancestors intermarried with Elves?"

  The old man looked embarrassed, scratching his head. "Well, that's what your great-grandfather told me. I always thought he was just bragging. I mean, we never had any official records of which ancestor it was."

  Alaric was speechless. So you were just making stuff up to fool me?

  Sensing his nephew’s judgment, the old man coughed awkwardly. "Well, it seems it was true after all. It’s just... hard to believe. Little Eros actually caught the attention of a Great One during the soul-searching. To think she would perform the baptism herself..."

  Indeed, even Alaric, who had the highest hopes for his son, was reeling. If he were from Earth, he would have screamed, "This isn't scientific!" This was a Great One—a God who sat upon a celestial throne!

  After what felt like an eternity, the phantom of the World Tree solidified and then faded. The divine finger slowly withdrew, vanishing into the void.

  Just as the crowd thought it was over, they noticed the ritual array was still humming. The ceremony was not yet finished.

  Eros, meanwhile, knew nothing of the chaos outside.

  He was currently wandering aimlessly through the grey fog. It was boring—nothing but mist as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, a pale gold orb of light materialized before him, accompanied by a block of text that imprinted itself into his brain.

  Eros looked at the orb in surprise. "A spell derived from my bloodline?"

  In gamer terms, this was a "Skill." But I didn't even do anything? How did I learn this?

  Whatever, he thought. Let's see what this is. 'Divine Art: Chapter of Life.'

  The moment his hand brushed the orb, it turned into a streak of flowing light, shooting through his palm and directly into his mind.