Kalon Bloodborn POV

We dined in peaceful silence, savoring the scrumptious meal my mother had prepared. The only sounds in the room were the soft clinks of silverware against platters, filling the quiet space. I set my plate aside and slid a little closer to my father.

“Father, could you tell the story about the nine races of Enoria again? Please?” I asked, my voice brimming with excitement. I loved hearing the tales of Enoria, especially about the other races. In Bloodville, we hardly saw any of them — just the occasional passerby.

He chuckled softly. “Of course, son. Let’s see, where should I begin—”

“Stop it, both of you!” my mother interrupted, her voice sharp but fond. “Neither of you has finished your meals, and here you go, diving into one of your stories again.”

She shot us a stern look, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. My father gave a sheepish grin in return, his eyes warm. They had known each other since childhood, and their playful exchanges were a common sight. I'd rarely seen my father angry, and moments like this made our home feel all the more comforting.

“Mother, please,” I pleaded, flashing my best hopeful grin. “Dinner’s a bit dull. At least, let me hear the tale before bed.”

She didn’t respond, merely looking away with an exaggerated sigh. I knew that look — it wasn’t a real refusal.

Father chimed in, backing me up. “The boy’s right. It’s just the three of us, and this house is too quiet.”

“And whose fault is that?” Mother shot back, but there was a teasing lilt in her voice. “You two always gang up on me. Kal never takes my side.”

Father chuckled while I waved my hands in denial, shaking my head at her remark. “That’s not true!”

She smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Well, if you say so. Go ahead then, but make sure you finish your meal.”

With that, Father dove into his narration.

“The Giants,” he began, his voice low and grand as if the words themselves carried their size, “colossal beings that level mountains and summon quakes with a single step. They command the stones beneath their feet, their strength unmatched. A proud and noble race, they value honor and tradition above all.”

I leaned in, fascinated as always.

“Their culture is rich in stone carving and runic magic,” he continued. “I’d love to see it someday. Giants can even shapeshift into their smaller forms—ground state—which makes them look much like other Celestials.”

“In their colossal state, Giants retain their formidable strength and durability,” Father continued, his voice steady, painting the picture of towering figures of power. “Yet, in their ground state, they are more attuned to the earth, able to interact with it as if it were an extension of themselves. Giants are masters of earth magic, manipulating the land beneath them with ease.”

I could almost see them in my mind, mighty beings shaping mountains as easily as clay.

“They dwell in Tarvile, a vast stone expanse, with colossal halls carved directly from the earth. To the east of Stygia lies this ancient city — massive and imposing, just like its inhabitants.”

Father’s eyes glinted as he moved on. “But northeast of Tarvile stands Darile, a beacon of flame and light. Towering pyres and obelisks rise toward the sky. It is the home of the Sols. These Celestial beings command beasts of flame — creatures capable of both incinerating their enemies and providing life-giving warmth to their allies.”

Images of dragons and fire-beasts flared in my imagination. “The Sols,” he continued, “are allied with the Vulcans, the legendary forge masters of Enoria.”

“The Vulcans?” I asked, leaning forward in excitement. Father grinned.

“Yes. Grey-skinned, with horns protruding from their foreheads. They reside in the Ironhold Isles, a fortress-city forged from the toughest metals. Their craftsmanship is unmatched, producing artifacts and weapons used throughout Enoria.”

I imagined the clang of hammers, the glow of molten metal, and the gleaming fortresses.

“They’re often compared to us Lamians,” Father added, “in terms of wisdom. Though their magical strength is limited, their craftsmanship and ingenuity make them indispensable. Even the Amuns — Celestials of wind and sound — favor them.”

“And what creatures live there?” I asked.

“The Isles of Ironhold are home to basilisks, creatures as tough as the iron walls they roam,” he said, his voice growing softer as if inviting me to wonder about the untold secrets of Enoria.

As father continued, I could more and more recall the other races and the dwelling place.

Perched on the edge of a frozen sea dwell the Nodens, battle-worn Celestials who command the tides of the Whispering Sea under the guidance of our enigmatic Oracle. Their homeland, Lemuria, is a shimmering jewel of coral and stone, glistening in the moonlight, as if the sea itself breathes life into their city.

Then, there are the Dryads, embodiments of nature and the very essence of flora. Their presence brings forth a verdant bloom, with hair cascading in a crown of blossoms intertwined with thorns. These beings hold the power to awaken life from barren earth. Their history is steeped in blood and war with the Giants, a feud only quelled by the intervention of the Oracle, who bridged peace between these ancient races.

The Typhons, radiant beings of pure energy and light, illuminate their surroundings with an ethereal glow. Masters of mana, they manipulate raw magical energy with unparalleled precision, shaping it into intricate constructs with ease. Their home, Amagia, a golden city of splendor, shines like a beacon on the horizon. The bond they share with the Amuns stretches back to the dawn of Enoria itself.

The Amuns, Celestials who govern the winds and melodies of sound, are the ruling race of Enoria. Their domain, Aeolia, rests upon floating mountains that drift among the clouds, ever in motion, like whispers carried by the breeze. It is here, atop these lofty peaks, that the Oracle resides, overseeing the fate of Enoria with the wisdom of ages.

The tales of the Oracle left me questioning how the Enoria could be govern by a single being. Father had made it clear that the oracle is an Amun of great power. Her influence over the selection of the guardian – a being who had will over a unique magic . It was this magic that made the guardian the personification of power. And the authority over the guardian that gave the oracle such influence.

Father cast a drop of blood over his hand, shaping it into a shadowy creature. His eyes darkened, and his voice deepened to an ominous tone. "And last, we have the Phantoms, a mystical race wielding the magic of darkness. Their power is unlike any other, and you’ll seldom find them outside of their land, Nyx. It's said they can foretell the deaths of any creature..."

Before he could finish, mother pinched his arm, her voice gentle but teasing. "Phantoms aren’t grotesque, dear. The real difference between the races lies in our magic, not appearances. You should tell him that, instead of scaring him."

Father smiled sheepishly as he rubbed his cheek. "Uh—yes, well, you’ve already said it, haven’t you? Now please, let go."

I giggled at their playful banter, the lightness of their teasing filling the room. We continued our chatter for a while longer before mother excused herself to clean up. It didn’t take her long, and soon after, we made our way to my parents' research chamber—the widest room in the house. I had spent many hours here, watching them work meticulously on their lifelong project.

While they settled into their routine, I rested in my usual spot, observing. Their hands moved in perfect synchrony, finalizing details with practiced precision. Eventually, they called me over.

"Alright, son. Do you know what your parents have been researching all these years?" Father asked, his voice carrying a weight of expectation.

"Yes, father. You've both been working on the cause of the 'Demons'," I replied, my voice steady despite the dark topic.

Watching my parents immerse themselves in their research had always been exhilarating for me. Perhaps it was because, unlike my peers who had already gone off to Stygia to begin their "Path of Mastery," I had lost interest in games. My parents reassured me that staying with them would offer greater knowledge than I could ever gain in Stygia. They were scholars, after all, their wisdom undeniable. Still, they promised that once they were ready, they would take me to Stygia themselves.

"Yes," I responded, "the underlying cause. The spontaneous transmutation of Celestials and other beings of Etheria into demons."

Father lifted his hand in a grand, sweeping gesture, clearly enjoying the moment of teaching. Mother, ever calm, activated the luminous prism, an artifact that refracted light into intricate, floating projections. A faint glow illuminated her fingertips as she channeled a small pulse of mana into it. Immediately, detailed illusory images materialized, hovering in the open space between us.

The first display showed various sites across Enoria—locations where demon outbursts had occurred. The images then shifted, revealing waves of spectral colors, swirling in harmony. But as we watched, that harmony was violently disrupted, the colors scattering and dissolving into a void. The next sequence portrayed the horrific transformation of Celestials into demons, the once radiant beings contorted and twisted by some unseen force.

"Mana is quite extraordinary, Kalon," Father began, his voice full of reverence. "It makes up the world around us. To Celestials, it’s our very lifeblood—one might even call it our bread and butter. But it’s not the only force at play in this universe."

Mother nodded and continued, "Beyond the lands of Stygia, beyond the ocean at the cape of Lemuria, lies an expanse teeming with ever-flowing spirit energy. It’s another form of energy, one we Celestials rarely encounter, but it exists in balance with mana."

"The Whispering Sea," Father continued, "is one of the wonders of our world. It's a force beyond the reach of we Celestials. A variable, right, dear?" He looked to her with a smile, which she returned by gently patting my head before turning her gaze back to him. But then, his expression shifted, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

"We’ve discovered that this spirit energy is responsible for the phenomenon of mana-shift – the demonization of Celestials and magical beast. An upsurge in that energy disrupts the mana in our environment. The effect is profound and immediate, impacting every being that draws breath from mana." He paused, his brow furrowing in concern. "We still don’t know the exact cause, but perhaps—"

Suddenly, I felt a tingling sensation wash over my body, followed by a high-pitched ringing in my ears. It was brief but alarming. Mother’s eyes widened in shock as they met mine, and I could see she had experienced the same disturbance.

Then came a sharp pain in my neck, causing me to jerk back. A chilling sensation enveloped me as I lost the connection to mana throughout my body, leaving me feeling significantly weakened. Desperate for support, I leaned heavily against the table.

Screams of agony echoed from the district outside, chilling my blood. Mother stumbled, losing her balance, but Father was quick to catch her. She looked disoriented, touching her head as if trying to chase away the pain. I panicked and rushed to their side, offering what little comfort I could muster.

"Run, Kalon!" Father urged, pushing me away, his voice strained and commanding. Confusion and anxiety flooded my mind, but I relented. My mother needed help, and yet, as I looked at her face, it began to warp before my eyes. Fear gripped me, and I fell backward in horror.

When I turned back to my parents, I was met with an equally horrifying sight. Father's hand, which had wrapped around Mother, was bulging grotesquely, his skin taking on a sickly pallor. He shot me a glare, his eyes fierce and filled with an urgent intensity, yelling for me to flee.

It was with a heavy heart that I turned to run. I darted through the chaos of fallen structures, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. The image of my parents remained etched in my thoughts— my last memory of them, juxtaposed with my relief at having escaped, yet weighed down by the sorrow of knowing I might never see them again.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I navigated through the debris, despair swallowing me whole as I began to weep for the family I feared I had lost.