Born in Blood
168 Heir
There was silence for a good few minutes.
Eventually, groups of hooded men and women slowly exited the tunnels and surrounded Liam from all sides.
'They're not the strongest,' Liam thought, assessing their auras with the King's Eye. 'They'll do, though.'
Becoming an Ashura had no effect on his King's Eye, but having another sensory organ restored his vision.
Not to mention, the red iris looked horrifying, as it was both vertical and horizontal at the same time, but it took a closer inspection to see the faint difference.
"Where's master Revel?" a hooded man ahead, who Liam presumed was their leader, said.
Liam gave him a hard look.
"Dead."
Gasps rang out from all sides, followed by murmurs and loud curses. Some already unsheathed their weapons.
"W-what? You're lying!" the man responded, taking out a longsword from his hood.
Liam frowned and clicked his tongue.
"His sickness grew in the final stages of his life. I'm what remains of him," Liam took out Revel's token, then raised it in the air.
"Proof."
Silence ensued.
The members of the organization, which Liam didn't know the name of, didn't know how to take the news.
'Revel must have taken care of these guys well for them to call him 'master'.'
Liam could see the man's face through the dark hood. His expression was a mix of grief and shock, pained by the news.
To further prove his case, Liam took out Revel's blood-red odachi, which caused another round of incredulous stares.
"What are you to him?" the man asked with a threatening voice.
Liam was getting annoyed by the venomous stares.
"His heir."
Liam supposed acceptance would be better than a forceful takeover, but their reluctance to the news was making him impatient. He had places to be!
A tense minute passed, and the man finally spoke.
"Then we accept his wishes," he said, uncovering his hood and revealing his scarred features. "I'm Jargon."
Jargon looked a bit over the middle-age threshold, but face held a maturity beyond his years.
His features were weary – dark eyes that no doubt saw the pits of despair, short black hair, with tanned skin and a long scar that ran horizontally across his forehead.
The others followed suit, uncovering their hoods. They looked like the dregs of society, the forgotten and despised bunch.
Liam slicked his hair back.
"Good. Quickly show me how things are run here. I need safe passage to another country or continent, and I need it fast."
Jargon nodded firmly.
"Follow me, sir. Our passages lead to the ships."
Jargon entered one of the tunnels leading downwards and Liam followed closely behind him.
'Revel really liked building hidden bases, didn't he?' Liam thought as he entered the mountain passage.
It resembled Revel's hideout back in Ucladd, only much grander and vibrant. The inner passages were lit by countless bright yellow lights, connecting one passage to another.
Every corner bustled with people, staring at Liam with various emotions in their eyes.
"We're called the Blood Troupe, and we have roughly two thousand people with us," Jargon explained as they walked. "We're all fugitives and criminals… but master Revel didn't see any defects in us. He gave us spells, techniques and a place to live."
Liam hummed in thought.
'So he acted as a gracious benefactor and slowly raised his force using his wealth. Smart.'
"There aren't any camouflaging formations around your base. How do you not get caught?" Liam asked.
Jargon raised a brow.
"Why would anyone want to come to a magical beast infested area? Besides yourself, of course."
Fair point. The amount of magical beasts surrounding the base was much more than normal. Liam even had to kill a pack or two wolves to get through.
"We travel by a single ship. Towards the borders, there's a massive docking port where countless others like us travel between countries for trade and the like."
"Any inspections?" Liam asked. "And how fast is your boat?"
"Of course, any faster form of transportation requires money, which we don't really have much of. Our boat has a few inscriptions on it made by Revel himself, but they're… not the best."
"There are minor inspections with distant travel, and major if there's anything suspicious," Jargon explained, rubbing the scar on his forehead. "And our documents for travel are official. Our leader made absolutely sure of it."
Liam nodded to himself, satisfied.
"We have to be quick. The entire country will be on the lookout for me if they aren't already. What countries can you go to?"
Jargon looked a bit worried at Liam's first point, but scratched his head and looked away.
"It depends on how much money you have, and if they choose to accept you. Abyssal Plains and Korsan Lands are a no-go, but other countries are more lenient."
Liam ran through the countries he learned about.
First was Ilali, containing the Martial Alliance towards the west. Their cultures were surreal and revolved around martial arts and sectors – even their lands were called the "gangho", roughly translating to Land of Arts.
Calligraphers and artists were venerated there, including those with high battle prowess.
Liam weighed the other options.
With the knowledge he gained through his time at the Academy, he knew a good amount about the landscape of his world.
In the distant north, there was the Empire of Duality, ruled by both an Emperor and an Empress, both of whom were Rank 6 powerhouses.
However, it was a known fact that the two were not on fair terms. The Emperor ruled one half, and the Empress ruled another.
'I'm not interested in a dictatorship. I want someplace where I can freely practice my abilities without restriction.'
Some countries weren't dictated just by bloodline.
There was the small country of Aiho towards the northwest, which consisted entirely of alchemy experts. However, they only allowed in individuals that had a similar specialization. Some countries followed the same route.
Countries towards the south and east were basically impossible to arrive at due to the Blood Troupe's location – only the north, west, and the countries in between were open for travel.
Weighing his options determining each factor, Liam heaved a sigh.
'Ilali it is, then.'
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