The moment the drop of my blood hit its surface, the pearl changed colors, its glow changed, increasing and dimming until it settled to a point where one could hardly see it.
This… was this good? I couldn't help but inwardly question. Of course, the only way to know was by looking around. Seeing the pearl's glow, my mother's face instantly fell, turning a bit...fearful? Suddenly, it felt as if the way she was looking at me had changed.
My father, on the other hand, only let out a deep sigh before returning back to his normal expression.
"It doesn't seem like he has inherited much of the bloodline, that's a good thing in itself I suppose." he spoke to my mother, playfully reaching out his hand towards me.
"This is not a good thing. If he hasn't inherited that predatory blood of yours, then he might have..." My mother spoke with a cold tone. I was right. Whatever this was, this seemed like a big deal.
"You are overthinking things. It's not like we can test him for it, besides look at him, does he look anything like… them to you." Father spoke again, chuckling, and gently took me from mother's arms.
"You have to trust me on this, even if he inherited a part of the Valthorian bloodline, then it has already been chewed and spit out."
He spoke before signaling the knight standing in the corner. The knight nodded and stepped outside of the tent, returning with the previous group of maids and doctors.
"You just focus on recovering and throw all those thoughts out of your mind." My father addressed my mother and handed me to one of the nurses.
"Take good care of my wife and son." He spoke, giving instructions to the nurses, and stepped out of the tent, leaving me and my mother behind to rest.
---
The next day, Father barged into the tent, greatly startling the maids and even myself, seeing that Mother was fast asleep. He took me in his arms and stepped out of the tent.
What greeted me outside was a scene straight out of a historical movie. We were standing on a large grassy plain with hundreds of tents similar to our own, only smaller in size.
Lightly cradling me in his arms, Father began walking forward, passing several armed men, all of whom would pause and give a bow the moment they saw us. Some, mostly those dressed in nicer-looking armor, would come forward smiling and greet Father, occasionally sparing glances my way.
Father managed all these interactions with ease, stopping for a couple of seconds to talk and then continuing forward. We soon walked past all the tents and reached an area that seemed like a horse stable. Seeing us approach, the old man standing there hurriedly brought forward a massive black steed.
Mounting the steed while still holding me in his arms, Father urged it to move, slowly making his way out of the military camp and onto a well-paved road. By now, several things had become clear to me. Judging from the size of the tent, the constant bowing from armed men, and this large horse, it was obvious that Father was someone of high rank — perhaps a military commander or even a noble.
Yet, the more startling discovery was something else. I had already made some guesses, but seeing the amount of human and beast corpses — or what remained of them — littering the surroundings of the road confirmed it.
What kind of maniac gives birth to their child on a battlefield? Perhaps the one who takes the said child to take a stroll on that battlefield.
Human corpses were piled together in several small mounds. The ground all around was scorched, with large craters scattered here and there. The rancid smell of blood and death lingered in the air.
Even though there were hundreds of soldiers working to clean up and carry the dead bodies away, they would still somehow miss the occasional limb lying around.
Honestly, it was surprising how little my surroundings were affecting me. By now, I should have been puking my guts out while mentally cursing my luck for being born in such a place. Yet, for some reason, I felt fine. The idea of death didn't seem as horrifying as before.
Huh, I wonder why?
The further we progressed, the larger the scale of devastation became. More corpses filled the fields, and the destruction of the land was even worse. Yet, my father kept moving forward with a slight smile on his face. Occasionally, he would glance down at me, laugh, and speak in that unknown language.
Soon, what I assumed was our destination came into view. In the distance, I saw a large city protected by giant stone walls, at least thousands of feet tall. These walls, which must have been impenetrable once, now lay broken, with a large portion of them collapsed. Smoke rose in the distance, and even from far away, you could hear the roars and screams of beasts.
Looking at the scene, I involuntarily braced my tiny body, though Father didn't seem to notice. His horse continued at the same leisurely pace, passing by carriages and carts coming out of the broken city gates.
We soon entered the city, moving past a group of bowing soldiers guarding its gates. The inside of the city was somehow even worse. The houses and buildings around us were destroyed and reduced to rubble.
Pure destruction littered the streets. Corpses lay scattered in the middle of the road, their blood pooling into large crimson puddles.
What was even worse was the condition of the bodies—torn to shreds. It felt like every single one of them had been ripped apart by a chainsaw rather than cut by a blade.
Should a child even be seeing this? Why had he brought me here? What kind of place was this?
Suddenly, a different realization hit me as I paid closer attention.
These people... they aren't soldiers.
Unlike the dead outside, most of the corpses in the city were wearing normal clothes, without a weapon or armor anywhere near them.
These people were civilians, no doubt.
I couldn't help but glance up at the figure of the smiling man holding me in his arms.
Had he caused all this destruction? It was too much, even for my newfound tolerance for death.
Seeming to notice my gaze, my father looked down at me and let out another laugh. He then shifted me in his arms, angling me for a better view.
He spoke again and said a single word: "Thalynor."
Suddenly, the air fell silent, and our surroundings chilled. The city, previously filled with screams and shouts, was momentarily swallowed by an eerie stillness. Even my tiny heart began to beat faster as I saw the unbelievable sight unfolding before me.
All around us, shadowy hands began to emerge from the corpses. Soon, ghost-like beings crawled into the world of the living. My tiny eyes widened. The once-empty street was now filled with these creatures—things exuding death itself.
"Look carefully son, This is the legacy of a Valthorian."
My father spoke once more and raised me higher in his arms. In front of my eyes, I saw hundreds of these dead creatures lining up on the sides of the street, bowing as we passed by.
This... this was ahead of anything I could have imagined. There were no words to describe this feeling.
It seemed I had been born into the family of a necromancer.