After the exhilarating auction concluded, the inky veil of night draped itself over the world. The Blackthorn trio found themselves far from the comforts of home, prompting them to take refuge in one of their opulent mansions scattered across the globe.
In this vast mansion, each member of the trio retreated to their respective chambers, seeking solace in the embrace of soft linens and the quietude of the night. Richard, however, had more than just a luxurious bed to accompany him in his room. There, nestled in a secure and shadowy corner, lay the coveted item he had acquired from the auction.
As the minutes ticked away and the moon cast its silvery glow through the windows, Richard contemplated the enigmatic object before him. It pulsed with an otherworldly energy, its presence seeming to reverberate within the very walls of the room.
Richard's eyes remained fixed on the enigmatic item that rested before him. It was as if he could sense its dormant power, waiting patiently to be unleashed. A profound sense of purpose surged within him, urging him to take action.
In his right hand, he clutched a gleaming kitchen knife, its blade sharp enough to slice through the thickest of meats. The room was bathed in a dim, eerie light, creating an atmosphere of suspense that hung heavily in the air.
Despite his resolute demeanor, Richard hesitated. His thoughts careened like a tempest within his mind. Doubt gnawed at him, and he questioned the audacity of the task before him.
He muttered to himself, a hint of exasperation in his voice, "I know I wrote that I must offer my blood to awaken this object, but, now that it has come to the time to just get done with it I can't help but hesitate, I mean, who in their right mind willingly cuts themselves for the sake of an ancient artifact? Well.. I guess Alex would have just went along with it."
(A/N: he is referring to the protagonist.)
The room echoed with Richard's inner monologue, his voice carrying the weight of his determination. He stood there, knife in hand, silently wrestling with his own apprehensions.
"Come on, Sean," he urged himself, with a wry smile, he continued, "You're the author here, and a mere kitchen knife won't be the end of you.... Wait, I can cast Legendary Pain Resistance on myself," he muttered, seeking a reassuring rationale for what he was about to do.
He then set the kitchen knife aside for a moment. His fingers danced in the air, weaving an intricate pattern. The ambient mana in the room responded, coalescing into a reddish, ethereal sigil. The crimson magic encircled him momentarily, casting a scarlet glow upon his figure. It was a precautionary spell, meant to dull the impending pain.
The atmosphere crackled with a charged anticipation as he took up the knife once more. His thumb quivered slightly as the blade pressed against his skin. As he made the incision, a thin bead of blood welled up, flowing like a scarlet river. With a controlled gesture, he allowed a single droplet to fall, like a macabre offering, onto the enigmatic artifact.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the artifact absorbing the crimson essence.
In the midst of the room's darkened stillness, the artifact began to radiate a radiant, almost blinding, light. Richard instinctively raised his arm, shielding his eyes from the sudden brilliance. The luminance danced across the room's walls, painting it with ethereal hues.
As the intensity of the light ebbed away, it unveiled a breathtaking sight - a crimson symbol etched in intricate detail, the likeness of a dragon's head. Richard couldn't help but be drawn to it, his breath momentarily stolen by the sheer beauty and mystique of the design.
With measured awe, he extended the arm he had cut moments ago, his skin still faintly marked by the ruby-red droplet of blood. A mesmerizing transformation unfolded before him. The dragon's head crest dissolved into a fine, reddish dust, which flowed like liquid silk into his waiting hand. Richard watched in rapt fascination as the crimson crest began to emerge on his own skin, etching itself as a permanent mark, fusing seamlessly with his flesh.
In that surreal moment, a voice pierced the silence, resonating in his mind. "[Ding!! Absolute plausibility system activated.]"
The sudden appearance of a bright, reddish virtual display materialized before Richard's eyes, the dragon head crest now a central feature of this enigmatic interface. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he whispered to himself, "It's even more incredible up close, isn't it?"
Meanwhile, In a distant, shadowy realm that existed beyond the boundaries of ordinary perception, within the looming walls of a sinister castle cloaked in obscurity, a clandestine gathering was underway. The chamber was shrouded in an eerie stillness, lit only by faint, flickering torchlight.
At the heart of this enigmatic assembly stood a man whose long, jet-black hair cascaded like a river of shadows, framing his striking crimson eyes. His face concealed behind a menacing black hood, and an ominous skull mask obscured his features. Eerie, otherworldly gleams emanated from his eyes, hinting at a sinister power that lurked behind the mask.
Around him, a few others had gathered, their presence marked by equally obscure attire - hooded cloaks and masks that concealed their identities. Each mask bore its own distinctive, eerie design, like a gallery of nightmarish phantoms.
Amidst the hushed stillness of the chamber, the man in the skull mask raised his voice, his words dripping with an unsettling gravitas. "Now that the cult has assembled," he declared, "let us set the first phase of our plan into motion."