2025-08-01 03:51:21It was midday at Riverland High School, at the back of one of the lonely buildings, and five students were seen throwing heavy punches and delivering sharp, lethal kicks to William, who lay on the ground helplessly, enduring the immense pain from the brutal beating.
William was on his way to the library to spend his lunchtime peacefully as he did every other day when the short, contentious student he had an altercation with in the morning arrived with a group of guys to drag him away violently to the quiet corner. While William tried to put up a fight, he was no match for the combined strength of the five, and he was immediately sent crashing to the ground, forced to endure their relentless assault. THWACK The one he had clashed with earlier—known among the others as young master Leo—landed a precise kick to William’s stomach, causing him to flinch and groan in sharp anguish. “Where’s all your cool now? Huh? Where’s that pathetic confidence of yours? Answer me!” Leo barked as he unleashed another vicious kick. “Just because we were in public, you thought your so-called cool would protect you from the fallout of your disrespect,” Leo continued, each kick punctuating his words, “now use that same lousy, aloof attitude to get the hell away from me!” The other four boys showed no restraint as they savored every moment of kicking and punching William without mercy. William bled from several parts of his body. Beyond the visible bruises and wounds, his insides burned with unbearable pain as he silently shed tears. This torture continued for the next five minutes. At this point, William’s groans had faded almost to a whisper and his reactions were minimal, as though he were drifting toward unconsciousness. But such wasn't enough to move their hardened hearts, they continued, deepening William's wounds and reducing every single chance he had of overcoming the pain. “That’s enough for now,” Leo declared abruptly after noticing William’s diminishing responses. “This will teach him never to mess with me again.” The others nodded in agreement and halted their attack, staring at William as he involuntarily flinched while the pain intensified further. Leo lingered a few seconds longer before spitting on him and leaving with the rest. 'Fuck!' William cursed inwardly. 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' His internal monologue was filled with nothing but anger and anguish. Not just from the brutal beating and the humiliation he had just suffered, but from the harsh reality that he would have to continue living like this, enduring unjust treatment without the right to speak out or seek justice. Is William weaker than Leo? Certainly not—he could easily take on Leo one-on-one, but what would be the outcome? Leo was the son of a popular TV show host and the grandson of a feared business mogul. If William were to exact his revenge on someone like that, his life would be shattered even further. He would be tormented both mentally and physically until he finally lost the will to live. Students like William could only endure such treatment from these people. Why? It was simple: because they were poor, and in today’s society the poor are seen as worthless—treated like animals and pawns by the rich, only useful for carrying out the orders of the higher-ups. 'What have I done to deserve such a fate? What sin have my parents committed to condemn me to this lifelong ridicule?' William had never really known his parent, he was an orphan since he was capable to remember and think for himself. He had never met anyone who had any information about them—whether they were alive or dead remained a mystery. All he had was the surname Ashworth. He had done extensive research online and in real life about his surname, but he never uncovered any tangible clue. It was as though his surname had never graced the internet at all, or as if it had been completely erased. "Ahhhh!" Summoning the last bit of strength he possessed, William let out a frustrated groan, laced with raw anguish. He was in so much pain that, if no one attended to him soon, he might pass out—or even die—given his seemingly endless streak of bad luck that always turned the simplest situation into the harshest, nastiest ordeal. Unfortunately, he was hidden at the back of an empty building in the rarely visited part of the school; no matter how much he yelled, no one could hear him. 'Fuck!' William cursed his misfortune once again. He repeated the curse over and over as though it might somehow lessen the overwhelming hatred and anger that churned in his heart or even ease the relentless pain he was enduring. Seconds slipped into minutes, and gradually more than half an hour passed. In that time, no one arrived, and William was slowly succumbing to pain—his eyes closed and only flickering open briefly at the sound of insects buzzing past him or birds chirping as they drifted through the vast sky. And then, as if time itself were mocking him, yet another hour slipped away! The school had fallen eerily silent, and William understood why—the school session for the day had ended and everyone had retreated to their homes, leaving him alone on the premises in a deafening stillness. Not only that—it was the weekend! No one would be at Riverland High School for the next two days! "Fine, I give up!" William let out a defeated sigh as he relaxed on the ground, feeling his last vestiges of consciousness slowly seeping away. His vision blurred, his body numbed by pain, and his heart began to lose strength. At this point, William had accepted his fate—whatever happened, would happen, he thought resignedly. But at the final moment, an unfamiliar robotic voice cut through the silence building up in his head. [ Conditions fulfilled ] 'Huh?' William muttered, struggling to comprehend the voice and its intent. [ Successfully turned eighteen — Check ] 'What is that voice?' As his hearing weakened further, the voice grew increasingly muffled and indistinct with every passing second! [ Given up on living and accepted harsh reality of doom — Check ] [ Bloodline legacy — Check ] ... — Check ] ... — Check ] [ Loading.... ] [ Loading.... ] At this moment, William had already lost his final strand of consciousness, yet the voice continued. As well as the holographic window, which William, unfortunately, could not see as he was unconscious. It contained every spoken word of the robotic voice invading his head. [ Bloodline Legacy Contract #307 loaded successfully ] [ Contract has already been pre signed. Proceeding... ] [ System unlocked ] [ Loading first inter-dimensional mission loading ] [ First mission loaded ] [ GOOD LUCK ]
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LS: 166 ( The end )
The wind was soft that morning. It carried the smell of grass and dust, a quiet sign that peace had truly returned. William stood on top of a hill that overlooked the small suburb he called home. The golden light of the rising sun stretched across the houses, painting the roofs and fields in a warm glow. For once, there was no smoke, no screams, and no blood. Just the sound of birds singing again after so long. He stood still for a while, watching the world breathe. It was finally over. The long fights, the missions, the endless running from one battlefield to another — everything was done. The people were safe. The demons were gone. The cities were waking up again. He took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly, his heart beating steady and calm. It felt strange. The quiet was unfamiliar, almost too peaceful for someone who had lived so long in chaos. He looked down at his hands. There were still faint scars on them — reminders of every world he had touched, every sou
LS: 165
The crimson storm tore through the sky like a wound that refused to close. Thunder rolled over the mountains, and the air rippled with burning energy that made the skin crawl. William stood before the dark gate of Seredane, the ruins trembling under the weight of what was about to come. Behind him, Lena and Orion steadied their weapons, their faces pale from exhaustion but burning with the same resolve that had carried them this far. The world felt alive—breathing, watching, waiting. The ground cracked beneath their feet as the first blast of dark energy exploded from the storm above. It struck the mountain, throwing debris into the air. Through the raging wind, shapes began to descend—massive silhouettes with wings like torn shadows and eyes that burned a deep, unholy red. The Demon Lords had arrived. There were seven of them, each one a towering presence that bent the very world around them. Their aura was enough to turn stone to dust and make the clouds twist unnaturall
LS: 164
The wind over the Whispering Peaks was sharp and cold. It howled across the cliffs like a ghost that had forgotten how to rest. William, Lena, and Orion moved slowly through the rising mist, their boots crunching against the icy stone. The journey had drained them. The mountain air was thin, and the fog here was not normal—it felt alive, whispering faint voices that tugged at their minds. They had been walking for hours. “Are we close?” Lena asked, her voice weak but steady. William nodded slightly. “Almost. The ruins should be right beyond that ridge.” He could feel it—the strange pull that had started ever since that mysterious figure appeared at the campfire. The closer they got, the stronger it became. It wasn’t painful, just heavy, like something ancient was watching from beneath the surface of the world. The path narrowed as they climbed higher. Broken pillars jutted from the ground like bones. Strange markings glowed faintly across the rocks, pulsing in rhythm with
LS: 163
The wind carried the heavy scent of blood and burning oil across the charred plains. William stood on a mound of blackened soil, the red sky splitting with thunder as he gazed toward the ruins of the once-mighty fortress of Thal’Grim. His sword, slick with ash and crimson, hummed softly — almost like it was breathing. Behind him, his allies regrouped, battered and panting. Lena’s bowstring was snapped, her arm trembling as she tried to tie it again. Orion leaned on his spear, face pale, veins pulsing faintly with traces of demonic energy. “Are we done here?” Lena asked, voice rough and hoarse. William’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the smoldering horizon. “Not yet.” From the shadows of the fallen fortress, a figure emerged. Cloaked in tattered robes, its steps slow and deliberate, the ground beneath its feet seared with each movement. A faint smile curled beneath the hood. “Impressive,” the voice drawled, smooth and venomous. “You’ve slain hundreds of my kin. Tell me, human… how l
LS: 162
The valley still smoked from the war that had nearly shattered the heavens. Charred soil stretched for miles, rivers of ash cutting through the land where forests once stood. The wind carried the scent of iron, burnt earth, and something heavier—the echo of death. William sat at the edge of a cliff, staring down at what used to be a city. The ruins were silent, and beneath the silence lay stories he didn’t have the strength to unearth. His armor was gone. His shirt was torn. Blood painted his arm, dry and crusted, yet he barely felt it. Mirabel sat beside him, her right arm wrapped in a bandage. Her face was pale, her hair a tangled mess. But her eyes—though tired—still glowed faintly with life. Neither spoke for a long time. The only sound was the distant crumble of stone as a tower gave in to gravity. Finally, Mirabel broke the silence. “You could’ve died,” she said softly. William didn’t look at her. “I know.” “You should have died,” she pressed. “That thing kille
LS: 161
The sun rose weakly over the shattered plains of Aerth. Its light broke through the smoke and fog, painting the ruins with gold that struggled to reach the ground. The air still smelled of ash and old blood. William stood at the edge of the broken valley where the final battle had ended. His sword was sheathed on his back, though its blade had long since lost its glow. He didn’t need its light anymore — not for this. Behind him, the survivors of the resistance gathered slowly. Mirabel stood among them, her right arm still bandaged, her movements slower than before but her spirit unbroken. Around her were the remnants of the human fighters who had lived through the long war against the demons. They had lost homes, families, entire cities — yet they were still standing. For a long moment, none of them spoke. The silence was sacred, heavy with memory. William finally turned to face them. “It’s over,” he said simply. The words fell like stones into still water. Some lowered th
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