Fractured Lake Prison, Medical Practitioners' Hall.
The 25 medical practitioners of the prison's treatment team gathered around a large table, their faces hidden by raven masks and bodies cloaked in black robes. No one could see each other's expressions, but the suffocating atmosphere betrayed their inner turmoil.
"Leader," Practitioner 201 finally broke the silence. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The group's leader—typically a two-wing Golden Arcana Master, far surpassing the one-wing Silver practitioners—replied bitterly, "There's nothing I can do. The 'Black Coffin' contains a three-wing Saint. His bloodline strength and power are leagues beyond mine. The 'Blood Lock' he's activated is completely out of my league."
A practitioner chuckled darkly. "Who would've thought that the Blood Lock, which we Blood Saints once used to control lesser beings, would one day be turned against us?"
The Blood Lock, originally an internal miracle for the Blood Saints, was a relic of the old family system. Before the establishment of the modern Research Institute System, Blood Saints expanded their numbers through a highly inefficient and risky ritual known as the "First Embrace," wherein a High Blood Saint transformed a chosen individual into a Lesser Blood Spawn by sharing their "True Blood."
This process, however, came with a peculiar requirement: the recipient had to genuinely love the Blood Saint performing the ritual.
In that era, to become a Blood Saint, one had to fall in love.
As a result, the Blood Saints were few in number but fiercely united. Their familial bonds, rooted in love, often led them to reckless vengeance if even one member was harmed. They would gladly destroy themselves to annihilate their enemies.
To outsiders, however, the Blood Saints were cold and merciless. Their relationships with other races were binary: either the Blood Saints obliterated their enemies, turning entire regions into paradises for themselves and hellscapes for others, or they were wiped out entirely.
The Blood Moon Sovereign revolutionized the Blood Saints' existence by dismantling the family system and establishing the Research Institute and Church Systems. These reforms enabled the Blood Saints and Shadow Moons to thrive, transforming them into the dominant forces they are today.
Under the new system, High Blood Saints no longer needed to seek out heirs personally. The world's finest minds now sought entry into the Research Institutes, enticed by the promise of immortality.
The "Blood Replacement Ritual" replaced the "First Embrace," converting these chosen ones into Preliminary Blood Spawn. To complete their transformation into true Blood Saints, they had to undergo the Blood Embrace Ritual in a prison, drawing nourishment from death itself.
The Blood Lock was initially designed to keep Lesser Blood Spawn under control, allowing High Blood Saints to track their movements or even dominate their actions. Should a High Blood Saint perish, they could even resurrect through their Blood Spawn.
With the fall of the family system, the Blood Lock was reimagined by the Blood Moon Sovereign as a tool of absolute authority. It now extended its reach beyond the Blood Saints to encompass every citizen of the Blood Moon Dominion.
Every child entering an orphanage was implanted with a miracle chip containing a drop of True Blood. As they grew, the blood integrated into their bodies, permeating their tissues, bones, and cells. In essence, every child raised in the Dominion was a potential Blood Spawn.
Modern Blood Locks, classified as three-wing miracles, allowed any three-wing Blood Saint to control any citizen of lower rank—be they human, elf, orc, or even another Blood Saint.
Back to the Medical Hall
The room buzzed with tension.
"Necromancers!" someone snarled. "That's the only explanation. Those wretches must've used necromancy to manipulate the Saint in the Black Coffin. Can't we use necromancy ourselves to regain control?"
"We're forbidden from attacking or channeling Arcana—how would we cast necromancy?"
"Wait a moment," another chimed in. "Entering the Black Coffin requires a key. How could outsiders possibly have access? Do we have a traitor?"
All eyes turned to the leader. "The keys are miracle-sealed. There's no way I could have leaked them," the leader defended, panic creeping into their voice.
"But the warden is never present, and the director is in the city. How else could the death row inmates have obtained a key?"
Practitioner 201 interjected, "I've heard rumors. Years ago, Cayman City was terrorized by a killer known as the 'Controller.' They committed a string of murders, their methods seemingly tied to the Blood Lock. My employer was called in by the Bureau of Criminal Wrongs to investigate. While the case went cold, it was confirmed that the keys hadn't been leaked from any custodian."
The group fell silent, acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
Practitioner 222, named Siflyn, finally spoke. "There's only one possibility: the inmates found a way to discover the true key. This incident proves the current key system is no longer secure. But that's not our concern. By the way, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
"The bad news."
"The bad news is that we've embarrassed ourselves thoroughly. By tomorrow, all 36 Research Institutes will know that we Blood Saints were captured by a bunch of death row inmates."
"And the good news?"
"The good news is we're wearing masks. No one will know who we are. Feel free to lose face all you want—no one will know the Blood Saints were humiliated."
The others groaned. Siflyn's nonchalance was infuriating but unsurprising. As a member of one of the four great Research Institutes, her reputation was virtually untouchable. What was a career-crippling disgrace to them was a mere footnote in her life.
"Is there really no solution?" someone asked weakly.
"Blood Resonance," the leader suggested. "If the Saint in the Black Coffin retains even a shred of consciousness, we might be able to establish resonance through our shared bloodline and break the Blood Lock."
"And how do we achieve resonance?"
"I don't know—strong emotions? Burning desire? Praying to the Blood Moon Sovereign? The success rate is abysmal, but it's all we've got."
The group reluctantly began trying various methods. Some cursed the inmates under their breath, others pressed their ears to the ground, hoping to feel vibrations from the Black Coffin. One practitioner even dangled from a chandelier, claiming to emulate ancient Blood Saint meditation practices.
A Sudden Interruption
The door burst open, and a prison guard peeked inside.
"Apologies, Practitioner 222, please come to the treatment room."
Siflyn raised an eyebrow. "Ash Heath? What do you need me for?"
"There's something I need you to do."
"Can't it be done here?" 201 stepped in front of Siflyn protectively. "If it's work, I can handle it instead."
Ash shook his head. "No. I need 222 specifically. And besides, this room has no bed—it's inconvenient."
The medical practitioners froze.
"What…?"
Oh no, the Blood Saints are about to be humiliated again.