All Chapters of Awakened in a Realm of Magic and Blood: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
10 chapters
The Fall
Andrew Blackwood had never been taught empathy. Born the son of a billionaire, he had been raised to believe that money, influence, and fear were all that mattered. In his world, people existed to obey, not to question.Tonight, in a dimly lit warehouse at the outskirts of the city, Andrew proved that truth again.The sound of hurried footsteps and muffled grunts echoed off the concrete walls. A man lay on the floor, trembling, as Andrew’s men circled him like predators. He tried to stand, but their presence was overwhelming, and fear held him down. Andrew’s eyes swept over the scene, cold and calculating.“Did I tell you that you could talk back to me?” Andrew asked, voice low but sharp.The man’s defiance flickered in his eyes, even under the weight of his fear. He opened his mouth to speak, but Andrew did not wait. He lifted his foot and brought it down against the man’s face. The impact sent him stumbling back. Andrew crouched briefly, gripping the man by the shoulder and forcing
A World That Isn’t Mine
Andrew’s head throbbed, each pulse reminding him how fragile he now was. The memories of the drowning, the twisting metal, the icy sea—they came back in flashes. He had thought death was the end. But opening his eyes to this dim, gray place proved that he had been wrong.For a moment, he let himself scowl at the unfairness of it all. How ridiculous. Me—Andrew Blackwood—the son of a billionaire, the master of every situation I touched—reduced to this? He clenched his fists, the ache in his body and bruised muscles protesting. Arrogance surged in him, defiant even through pain. No matter what this place is, I will not bow. Not now. Not ever.He pushed against the rough floor with trembling arms, attempting to rise. Each movement was agony; his ribs ached, his head spun, and his legs wobbled like they belonged to someone else. His body was weak, alien. Yet every time he fell back, he forced himself up again.The room he found himself in was dim and musty, the walls cracked and stained wi
It Seems You’ve Lost Your Senses
He had to sleep in the hut for the day and on an empty stomach.The decision wasn’t really his. His body had reached its limit long before his pride did. Hunger gnawed at him relentlessly, each dull ache in his stomach a reminder of how far he had fallen in a single day. The thin mat beneath him offered no comfort, the cold seeping through the warped wooden floor and settling into his bones. Every time he shifted, pain flared somewhere new, forcing him to remain still.The hut was quiet, but not peaceful. Outside, faint sounds drifted in—footsteps, murmured voices, occasional laughter that felt cruel simply because it did not belong to him. Andrew lay there staring into the darkness, his thoughts restless, his mind replaying fragments of memories that refused to connect. A life of wealth. A moment of terror. A world that no longer made sense.Sleep came not as relief, but as surrender.The next morning,Andrew woke up choking on dust.Not because he had inhaled it, but because his che
Poor, Powerless
The hut fell quiet after Eli left.Andrew let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and leaned back against the cracked wall. The thin wood pressed uncomfortably into his spine, but he barely noticed. His thoughts drifted far from Ashwake House, far from Aetherion, back to a life that now felt like a dream fading at dawn.Nightclubs filled with neon lights. Music so loud it drowned out thought. People who smiled when he entered a room because his name carried weight. Women who laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny. Cars, money, power. Control.His father.Andrew’s jaw tightened.For the first time since waking in this world, regret seeped in quietly. Not loud, not dramatic. Just a dull ache. He had lived like tomorrow was guaranteed. Like consequences were for other people.Now tomorrow had arrived wearing rags and hunger.He scoffed softly. “Pathetic,” he muttered, unsure whether he was insulting his past self or his present one.He exhaled and stared at the
Cracks in the Cage
Andrew didn’t collapse immediately.He stood there long after the others fled, chest rising and falling unevenly, eyes fixed on the doorway as if expecting them to return. His fists were clenched so tightly his fingers trembled. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight still hummed beneath his skin, sharp and restless.Then it faded.The pain arrived all at once.His knees buckled, and he barely caught himself against the wall. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as fire spread through his ribs, his arms, his legs—everywhere at once. His vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously.“Hey—!” Eli rushed forward and grabbed him. “Don’t you dare fall now!”Andrew let out a low breath, teeth clenched. “I’m… fine.”“You’re lying,” Eli said flatly, hauling him toward the wall and forcing him to sit. “You’re always lying.”Andrew slumped down, the strength draining out of him like water from a cracked cup. His head dropped back against the wood, eyes closing as he focused on breathing
Hunger Has a Schedule
The silence that followed Eli’s last words lingered like dust in the air.Andrew was still thinking about the caravan, about tests and gates and cracks in cages, when a sharp, unmistakable sound cut through his thoughts.Grrr.His stomach twisted violently, the ache sudden and humiliating. Andrew stiffened, one hand pressing instinctively against his abdomen. The hunger hit harder than before, as if his body had finally decided to remind him of its priorities.Eli blinked, then burst out laughing.“Oh no,” he said, pointing. “Don’t tell me you forgot about that too.”Andrew shot him a flat look. “My body seems determined to remember everything I don’t.”Eli wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, well, your body’s right. It’s almost dinner time.”“Dinner?” Andrew repeated skeptically.Eli was already standing. “If you want to call it that.”Andrew pushed himself up, moving slower this time. His muscles protested, stiff and sore from the earlier fight, and the hunger only made it wor
Those Who Want More
The stew was warm.That alone felt like a luxury.Andrew cradled the chipped bowl in both hands, letting the heat seep into his fingers before lifting it to his lips. The liquid was thin, barely more than water tinted brown, with a few floating scraps that might once have been vegetables. Still, when he swallowed, his stomach clenched eagerly, accepting whatever it was given without complaint.Around him, the hall hummed with quiet desperation.No one spoke loudly. No one laughed. The scraping of bowls, the occasional cough, the shuffle of feet against stone, these were the only sounds allowed. Even Eli, usually incapable of staying silent, ate with uncharacteristic focus, his head bent low, shoulders hunched protectively over his portion.Andrew noticed that too.Food isn’t just nourishment here, he thought. It’s territory.He finished half the bowl slowly, forcing himself to pace his bites. The hunger hadn’t vanished. It never truly did. But the sharp edge had dulled, replaced by a
When Morning Changes the Rules
The morning came too early.Andrew knew it before he opened his eyes.The bell didn’t ring—it attacked.Metal screamed against metal, sharp and relentless, tearing through Ashwake House without mercy. It wasn’t the lazy, half-hearted ringing of ordinary mornings. This was deliberate. Angry. A command rather than a call.“Up!”A caretaker’s voice followed immediately, loud enough to echo.“Everyone up! Outside. Now!”Andrew’s eyes snapped open.For a brief moment, clarity flooded him.The pain in his ribs was still there, a dull pressure beneath his skin, but it no longer ruled him. His limbs felt lighter. His breathing steadier. That strange calm from the night before resurfaced, quiet but firm, settling into his bones.Prepared.The word surfaced without permission.Andrew frowned slightly as he sat up.Around him, the hut stirred—but not the way it usually did.There were no groans. No curses. No slow complaints about aching joints or cold floors.Only whispers.Low. Nervous. Sharp.
Those Who Are Watched
Andrew’s answer didn’t sound heroic.It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic.But Eli stopped walking.For a second, the noise of Ashwake House faded—the shuffle of feet, the muttered complaints, the caretakers barking orders in the distance.Eli turned slowly. “You didn’t even hesitate.”Andrew met his eyes. “Why would I?”Eli stared at him, searching for something—sarcasm, arrogance, regret.He found none.“You don’t know what they’re offering,” Eli said. “People leave with caravans and don’t come back. Some end up in Blackmere proper. Some disappear.”Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “And?”“And you still said no.”Andrew exhaled through his nose. “I said not without you.”Eli looked away first.“Careful,” he muttered. “That kind of promise gets people killed in places like this.”“Then don’t make me regret it,” Andrew replied.They reached the hut just as a caretaker’s voice cut through the yard.“All residents remain inside. Representatives are touring the grounds.”The door was sla
The Second Phase Begins
The courtyard did not empty when the names were finished.That was the first sign.The caretakers ordered everyone else away—those whose names had not been called. No explanations were given. No comfort offered. The unselected were herded back toward the dormitories in small groups, watched closely until they disappeared through the gates.Some of them looked back.Others didn’t.Andrew noticed how quickly they were forgotten.The fifty who remained were kept standing under the open sky. No one told them to sit. No one dismissed them. Time passed in silence, broken only by the scrape of boots and the low murmurs of caretakers conferring among themselves.Eli stood a few steps away from Andrew, shoulders tense, hands clenched at his sides.Neither of them spoke.Hunger settled in slowly, deliberate and intentional. It wasn’t sharp yet, but it was noticeable. Andrew recognized it immediately for what it was.Pressure.A man Andrew had not seen before stepped into the courtyard.He wore