Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 306

Chapter 306: A Little Progress. Dance of the Dead King’s Hand
A dark purple wave of destructive energy surged forward, colliding with a massive wall of ice. The impact shattered the barrier like it was made of brittle glass, scattering frost and vapor through the air. The shockwave from the explosion swept across the battlefield, forcing Regnare and his team to dive for cover.

Though the ice wall had absorbed the brunt of the blast, the residual energy alone was catastrophic.

Vorr screamed, clutching the bloody remains of his face — his right eye completely gone. Yamal staggered back, his severed arm twitching uselessly on the ground before vanishing into dust. The rest of the team bore a mess of wounds — burns, lacerations, and ruptured skin — but none as severe as the vampire and the elemental.

“Fuck! I wish we had a goddamn healer!” Damak growled, pushing himself up on trembling arms, his skin singed and his clothes torn.

“Too late for wishes, man,” Yamal replied with a strained grin, even as muscle and bone knit themselves back together where his arm once was. “Perks of being undead.”

“How the hell did your father fight this thing?!” Rhask snarled, his black sclera shifting into a deep violet, his aura becoming unstable.

“I don’t know,” Regnare said, spitting blood. “He’s… in a league of his own. Even your master only stalled it until my father showed up and ended it.”

That statement hit hard.

Nyarelle’s gaze snapped to Rhask. “Don’t tell me… you’re going to use that, Rhask.”

Rhask didn’t answer right away. His expression was unreadable. Then, with a sharp inhale, a purple sigil — shaped like a puppeteer’s hand — manifested behind him, glowing ominously.

“Well… I would’ve used it sooner or later,” Rhask said calmly, shadows gathering around his shoulders. “Besides, I’m not like most ghouls.”

Ghouls — undead vessels born of necromancy — were widely feared not only for their immortality but for their immunity to pain and emotional suppression. But thanks to their origin, the Death Primogenitor, ghouls could feel emotions… even if many chose not to.

Rhask was one of the rare few capable of wielding a second affinity — Puppeteering, the very affinity of his master and king: Lamair Thanatos Griswold, the Death Primogenitor and monarch of all ghouls.

Unlike Lamair, who wielded the power freely and effortlessly, Rhask bore a terrible cost. Every time he invoked Puppeteering, it plunged him into an unpredictable hibernation. Once, he had slept for three years after a single battle.

Whether the slumber would last two seconds or a hundred years… no one could ever tell.

That’s why the team tensed.

Because if Rhask fell, there would be no second chance.

The moment the sigil flared to full brightness, the ground beneath Rhask cracked, and shadows swirled around his feet like coiled serpents. A sinister wind blew outward from him, carrying a pressure that made even Yamal pause in his regeneration.

Then came the silence.

The monster — a hulking abomination of writhing limbs and arcane eyes embedded in its hide — halted for the first time, sensing something had changed.

Rhask’s pupils split into thin, vertical slits as ethereal threads of violet energy shot out from his fingertips. They snaked through the air, weaving toward the beast with eerie precision. The threads didn’t just bind the monster’s limbs — they pierced into its soul, latching onto its very will.

“Dance.” Rhask’s voice echoed, layered with a deeper, otherworldly tone.

The monstrosity jerked violently, its limbs spasming against its own volition. Its screech turned guttural and distorted, as if it were fighting its own throat to scream. One by one, its movements slowed, halted, then reversed — its arms twitching into defensive poses, its legs folding into kneeling positions. The hunter had become a puppet.

“Holy shit,” Damak muttered, eyes wide. “He really did it…”

“He’s only got seconds,” Regnare warned, already forming another ice spear in case the binding failed. “Make it count.”

“On it!” Nyarelle shouted, her body glowing as sigils lined her arms — Time Severance activating. She blinked forward, slashing across the monster’s exposed joints, warping time around the cuts so the wounds aged centuries in an instant. Flesh cracked and blackened, bones snapped and disintegrated. Time was her second affinity, apart from Darkness.

Damak followed with a sound burst, concussive and sharp, tearing through the weakened tissue. Then Regnare’s ice spears pierced the heart and brain simultaneously.

The monster collapsed — for good this time.

And Rhask?

His body teetered like a broken marionette. The sigil behind him flickered.

“…here we go,” he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Then he fell.

Unconscious. Breath even. Pulse steady.

But asleep.

“Rhask!” Yamal caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him gently. “Shit… he’s out.”

“How long?” Vorr asked, voice gravelly as he tried to hold a cloth over his empty eye socket.

Regnare knelt beside him, his eyes solemn. “Could be seconds. Could be years.”

Nyarelle looked up at the sky, her eyes stormy. “Let’s hope it’s the former.”

They had won the battle — for now — but one of their strongest had fallen into the mysterious slumber that all ghouls feared.

And somewhere in the distant sky, beyond clouds and ruins, something stirred — as if watching, waiting for the moment the king’s hand would move again.

…

“Oh, he used it again?” Lamair’s voice was calm, but his eyes glowed briefly with a deep, unnatural purple — the mark of a Primogenitor resonating with his descendant across the veil. “How long will it be this time…”

“Rhask?” Lusamine asked softly, concern creeping into her voice as she looked up from her seat near the hearth.

“Yep,” Lamair replied, still staring off as if his vision pierced realities.

Cassandra, perched behind him, paused mid-braid. Her fingers froze in his purple hair. “Can’t you change that? You’re their origin, aren’t you?”

Lamair gave a quiet sigh, the contemplative kind that seemed to age the room by centuries. “No… Not yet. It’s like… something’s missing. I’m not complete.”

“Ethan, I guess?” Lusamine murmured, her hands drifting playfully toward his jacket zipper, trying to lighten the mood.

Lamair chuckled, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she took his member in her mouth, licking the head slightly. “Yeah. Him. He made us more than Primogenitors — Ancestors. He unknowingly anchored us to concepts greater than ourselves… but none of us have truly awakened to what that means.”

He glanced between the two women, eyes thoughtful.

“Trevor became the Blood Primogenitor and the first of the Vampires. I — Death — and the origin of Ghouls. Lisa is the Lightning Primogenitor, mother of all Humans. Clara… Spirit, and the origin of all Youkai. Harley’s the Healing Primogenitor, tied to the Gorgons. Carmen became the first of all Felines, but she’s not a Primogenitor.”

He paused.

“Our next evolution… our true identities… they hinge on Ethan. On what path he chooses. Until then, we’re waiting — echoes waiting to be called whole.”

Silence fell, weighty and cosmic.

“…Do you think he knows?” Cassandra finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I think,” Lamair replied, smiling faintly, “he’s starting to.”

“You still believe there’s a higher position above the Primogenitor?” Cassandra asked as she eyed Lusamine in mild annoyance and jealousy.

“Not belief, Cassie — certainty,” Lamair said, his tone firm yet thoughtful. “Why else would we be called Ancestors rather than just Primogenitors? The title isn’t a ceiling… It’s a foundation—a stepping stone. I believe the true path ahead of us lies beyond what even we understand,” Lamair answered as his member pushed deeper into Lusamine’s mouth, causing him to grunt in pleasure.

“But Ethan is also a Primogenitor, just like you,” Lusamine whispered breathlessly, her gaze smoldering as she licked her lips.

Lamair’s eyes flickered with contemplation. “That’s the part I still don’t understand. He holds the same title, yet feels… beyond us. As if the rules bend differently for him.” He exhaled slowly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps when he returns from the Beast Plane, we’ll have our answers.”

He paused, eyes distant. “I wonder what he’s seeing there right now…” he said as Cassandra switched positions with Lusamined and also took his member into her mouth.