Chương 50: The Secret of Bloodlines

"What do you know about bloodlines?" Luke broke the silence.

"Specifically, bloodline skills." Across the tower platform, Allison lay down with his bag as a pillow and his wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. For a moment, he didn't answer.

"Besides the obvious—like someone inheriting power from a parent—there are… other ways," Allison finally said.

"Sometimes a powerful being can grant their bloodline to someone else. That's how you got yours. Same way I got mine." Luke's brow furrowed. Why would something like that… choose me?

"So where did the first bloodlines even come from?" he asked.

"I mean, the first skills." That question brought silence. Heavy. Measured. Allison exhaled, slowly.

"What I'm about to tell you... isn't public knowledge." Luke sat up a little straighter.

"This is the kind of thing only the upper tiers of guilds and the World Government know."

"And how do you know it?" Allison just shrugged, his face unreadable.

"I have my sources." Luke didn't push. He wanted answers about bloodlines. Especially his own.

"There are all kinds of bloodlines scattered across the multiverse," Allison said, his voice quieter now.

"Some are powerful. Others are useless. It all depends on who granted it—how strong they were." He lifted one hand. A thin layer of frost shimmered along his fingers, icy mist curling in the night air. Luke watched in silence.

"The System exists everywhere out there," Allison continued.

"In nearly every universe. Ours… was one of the few that was excluded. Until recently." Luke narrowed his eyes, trying to picture it. A civilization where the System wasn't just some magical interface—it was the foundation of reality.

"Think of a bloodline as an inheritance," Allison said.

"The further a creature climbs the System, the stronger their legacy becomes. At a certain point, when they've reached true power, they can choose to pass that legacy on. But only once." Luke's thoughts raced. Only once. Not just power, but intent. Purpose. Judgment.

"They don't choose just anyone," Allison added.

"They pick someone… worthy." A chill ran down Luke's spine. So why did that being choose me? Just thinking about it raised more questions than answers.

"It's like succession," Allison said at last.

"A transfer of legacy." The silence after that said enough. Either he couldn't say more… or he wouldn't. Luke didn't press. But one more question still burned in his mind.

"What about class mutations?" he asked.

"Are those related?" Allison turned slightly.

"No. That's something the System grants directly."

"Based on affinity?"

"Or how well you embody your class." Allison folded his arms.

"Two people can be the same class and still be nothing alike. Mutations are like… personalized evolutions. The System watches your growth. If you push far enough, if your path is clear—it offers a new one." Luke thought about that.

"So… you haven't reached yours yet." Allison sighed through clenched teeth. Frustrated.

"Not yet. There are hidden conditions. Unique to each person. I just… haven't figured mine out yet." Luke stared into the flickering sky above, his thoughts drifting back to something Allison had said. Hidden requirements. He hadn't known class mutations worked like that. So how did I meet mine? His class changed after killing William. But it wasn't just the level-up. Something shifted inside him that day. He remembered it vividly. A choice—one he didn't fully understand at the time.

Maybe it's not just about stats or strength… Stolen novel; please report. Maybe it's mindset.

"It's kind of like the philosophy of names," Allison explained.

"Philosophy of names?"

"There was this ancient culture, long forgotten, from another time, another world. They believed people were born without names and only received one when they came of age. The name wasn't chosen, it was given, based on the person's actions throughout life. Just like the system. Just like the classes we're assigned. Interesting, right?" Luke paused, thinking. Names and meanings... the system and classes.

"That's how I got my name," Allison continued.

"My name is Allison, not because of who I am as an individual, but because of what the name stands for." He looked at Luke.

"I believe class mutation works the same way. You don't choose it, it's something you earn. Like a name that's deserved." That thought lingered in his mind, coiling tighter with every breath. Eventually, he noticed Allison had dozed off, his breathing slow and steady beneath the wolf pelt. The faint glow of starlight danced across his face. Luke opened his system window and scrolled to Charlie's profile. The words were right there—bold, undeniable.

A familiar prompt followed, almost identical to the one Luke received for his own class evolution: Princess Charlie's Warrior Class has undergone a Mutation. A class molds itself to its bearer. Depending on how it is wielded—its role, tools, skills, race, and even intent—it may evolve into forms more aligned with its master's path. Many factors influence this metamorphosis. Once chosen, certain futures become closed forever. Choose wisely, for the shape of your strength will never be the same. Luke's eyes narrowed.

His own class mutated at level 8. Charlie's… triggered at level 6? Why? Was it because she's a monster? Or did she meet some unseen condition? The mutation options materialized before him. Unlike his own experience, which offered three paths— Charlie had four. Luke took a deep breath. He'd already read them once when the prompt first appeared. But he read them again. Every word mattered. This decision would shape her future. Their future. Charlie wasn't just a summon. She was his partner.

The first option glowed faintly at the top of the screen: [Tombfire Warden]: An undead warrior who has awakened the fire of the grave. No longer a mere melee fighter, she trades steel for sorcery. The flames of the underworld pulse through her hollow bones, consuming flesh and spirit alike. As she grows, her mastery over pyromancy deepens until her very body becomes an extension of spectral fire—an avatar of cursed flame that devours all in its path.

Attribute Bonuses per Class Level: +4 INT, +3 END, +2 STR, +2 VIT, +1 AGI, +3 Free Points Luke stopped breathing for a second. This was… Exactly the monster that killed Charlie in the crypt dungeon. The same burning skeleton that almost took his life. That thing was a Tombfire Warden. Choosing this would completely change her combat role. She'd become a mid-to-long-range caster. Her physical defense and melee output would fall behind, forcing Luke to take more aggro and cover for her. That bonus…

+3 Intelligence and +3 free points per level? That was huge. It meant her low mana pool wouldn't be a problem for long. Stat scaling alone would solve it. Tempting. Extremely tempting. But risky. Because if she focused too hard on magic... she'd lose what made her so reliable up close. And this was just the first option. Luke tightened his grip around his knees. The decision wasn't about what sounded cooler. It was about survival. And if he chose wrong, It could cost both their lives.

[Skeletal Golem]: A fusion of brute force and unrelenting defense. The user's bones thicken, their body becomes a living monument of density and mass. They move like a siege weapon—slow, deliberate, and unstoppable. Strikes that would cripple lesser beings barely register. In time, their body rivals blacksteel in durability, and their fists alone can crack armor and shatter enemies like porcelain. Attribute Bonuses per Class Level: +5 STR, +4 END, +2 AGI, +1 VIT, +2 PER, +2 Free Points Luke frowned.

He already knew where this one came from. Iron Fist. Charlie had spent so much time without a weapon, using her bare hands to fight, defend, and protect. The system noticed. And adapted. She hadn't chosen this direction. But every decision mattered. Even the ones made in desperation. Even silence shaped destiny. This was that result—a class forged from habit. Born of necessity. A wall of fists and bone. But not the only path. Another option flickered into view.

[Ossified Tyrant]: A bone-clad berserker who thrives in the chaos of combat. Each wound only fuels the rage, each kill strengthens their resolve. This warrior doesn't retreat. Doesn't fear death. They fight beyond exhaustion, beyond logic. When battle turns into bloodshed, they transform into a reaper made of wrath and marrow. Attribute Bonuses per Class Level: +4 STR, +3 END, +3 AGI, +1 VIT, +2 PER, +2 Free Points Luke narrowed his eyes. There it is. This path was pure evolution from the base Warrior class.

It wasn't a deviation like the golem—it was a culmination. Charlie had always fought on the front lines. She never hesitated. She wanted to be in the thick of it, clashing steel and cracking skulls. A berserker class wasn't a surprise. But it was a gamble. The Ossified Tyrant would keep her mobility. She'd retain her swordplay. She'd hit like a truck. But she'd become unpredictable. More aggressive. Possibly harder to control in critical moments. Luke hesitated. Between the Golem and the Tyrant…

he knew which one Charlie would prefer. And it wasn't the walking fortress. She liked swords. Liked motion. The Ossified Tyrant was the obvious upgrade to her style. But then— T he final option appeared. This wasn't raw power. It wasn't impenetrable defense. It was something else. Something… larger. His fingers hovered over the name as the text filled the screen. [Death Knight]: A cursed knight who treads the veil between life and death. Shadows follow her blade. Her steps leave behind echoes of the beyond.

As she grows, her bond with the dead deepens—those slain by her hand do not vanish. Their souls remain, lingering. Waiting. One day, they will rise again… not as enemies, but as soldiers beneath her banner. Attribute Bonuses per Class Level: +3 STR, +3 END, +2 AGI, +2 VIT, +2 INT, +1 PER, +2 Free Points Luke leaned back, staring at the screen. There it was. Not the most brutal. Not the most defensive. But by far, the most complete. A hybrid class. A leader's class. A tank. A fighter. A commander of the dead.

The potential here was overwhelming. And the synergy with Charlie's race and role was perfect. It was even more than that. It was his path too. Dark blood. Demon instincts. A summoned warrior forged from bone and bound by soul. Luke chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head.

"A Death Knight… Hah. Of course." He looked at Charlie's figure nearby.

"You're not just my blade anymore," he whispered.

"You're the first piece of an army."