Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: Threads of Destiny; Entangled in Prophecy
From a distance, Kabunlawan appeared as a modest town nestled against the rolling hills and riverbanks, its wooden walls standing as both a barrier and a testament to its resilience. The ever-vibrant life and struggle linger in the air as people walk through its cobblestone paths.

The settlements within were orderly, with sturdy wooden homes interspersed among shops and communal structures, all bound together by the ever-watchful Loom System. At its heart, the marketplace buzzed with the ebb and flow of life while merchants haggled, traders displayed their wares, and travelers from neighboring regions wandered in search of necessities or rare finds. The lively chants give more color and energy to their surroundings.

Despite the lively scene, an undercurrent of tension wove itself through the town. Just a few days ago, a recent monster incursion into the outer fringes had left people wary, eyes darting toward the walls as if expecting another surge of horror at any moment. The town guards, clad in reinforced leathers, walked their patrols with an unusual stiffness, their hands never straying far from their weapons.

Yet amid this tension, there was a moment of solace.

In a quiet area of the town, Lena knelt before the Dambana Shrine, hands pressed together in silent prayer. The shrine, though modest in structure, bore an air of serenity. It is a carved wooden altar adorned with candles and incense, its presence a beacon of faith for those seeking strength beyond their own. Lena’s breathing steadied as she whispered her gratitude. Her composure and grace seem like the forest air and calm seas.

“Goddess of Creation… grant me the will to stand firm.”

She had found a newfound balance within herself, her strength stabilizing after the extraordinary awakening. A gentle breeze passed through the shrine, rustling the hanging charms and carrying away the weight on her shoulders. She let out a breath of relief.

“For now… this is enough.”

With one last bow, she rose to her feet, adjusting herself before stepping back into the world beyond the shrine. The moment of peace was fleeting, but it was enough to allow her to return to her duties.

In the central area of Kabunlawan, within one of the three-story wooden houses that overlooked the town, a lone figure sat by a window. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, remained locked on the Dambana Shrine.

Something was amiss.

“A divine presence?”

Their breath hitched as they wove their observation technique, fingers subtly tracing patterns in the air. As the threads coalesced, a greenish hue shimmered in their irises, webbing across their vision like an intricate tapestry. Their sight expanded, focusing entirely on the shrine.

Yet, as their threads reached the sacred site, their vision blurred.

Celestial gleams clouded their view, shifting like an ethereal mist, preventing them from seeing beyond the shrine’s entrance. The obstruction was unnatural. It was static and unmoving; something was inside, and something powerful enough to resist their weaving technique.

“This… a celestial presence.”

A bead of sweat formed on their brow as their fingers twitched instinctively, trying to adjust their weave. Were they witnessing the interference of a divine entity? If so, what did it mean for Lena? Their mind raced with questions.

“If something unnatural is happening to her, should I intervene? No—”

A pause. A deeper concern gnawed at them.

“If this is divine, am I overstepping my place? Would God punish me?”

Then, the shift happened.

A sudden spiritual fluctuation pulsed through the shrine, a force so strong that their threads nearly unraveled just by observing from their position. It surged, then faded just as quickly. Their vision cleared, and they could see inside.

There was Lena—kneeling, her head bowed in simple prayer. Nothing seemed out of place. No unnatural being, no celestial figure standing beside her. Just a woman seeking solace.

Yet… something had changed.

They narrowed their eyes, pushing their weaving technique further. Their right iris flared, turning into a brilliant yellow glow as they analyzed Lena’s presence.

And then they saw it.

Her aura.

Before, Lena had been a stagnant thread in the Loom—a presence with potential but bound by her limited awakening. But now… something was different. Her energy was no longer dulled by limitation.

“This isn’t the power granted by the Rite of Mambabatok…”

The realization struck them like a dagger.

“Did Lena awaken through a divine blessing? Then this…” Their words paused as awe coursed through them, but so did fear.

Divinity had truly touched it; then some would seek her out. Those whom they had worked tirelessly to keep her hidden from.

“Damn it.”

They clicked their tongue, frustration barely restrained. Frustration not with Lena’s divine awakening, but at the threats that would claw at her if she detected. There was no choice.

“I must report this to the Empress.”

The figure made their way through the winding streets of Kabunlawan, their mind still reeling from what they had just witnessed. Lena’s awakening was no ordinary one—there was something divine about it. And if that were true, it wouldn’t be long before others caught wind of it as they glimpsed her threads.

They needed to act fast.

Soon, they arrived at the mercenary post, a rugged wooden lodge nestled between two storage buildings. The structure bore the marks of its clientele—scars of past skirmishes on its walls, a faint scent of steel and leather lingering in the air.

Inside, the post was dimly lit by oil lanterns, casting flickering shadows over the various mercenaries and scouts huddled in quiet conversation. Some were sharpening weapons, others reviewing maps or counting coins.

At the counter sat a tall man with a jagged scar running across his nose, idly sharpening a dagger. His sharp, dark eyes flicked up at the approaching figure, assessing them without a word.

“Looking for work or hiring?” he asked gruffly.

“Hiring,” the figure replied, voice steady but quiet. “A scouting assignment. Discreet.”

The man exhaled through his nose, setting his dagger aside. “Discreet costs extra. What’s the job?”

The figure leaned in slightly. “I need a team of scouts and weavers. Four should suffice. Their task is to keep watch over a particular individual for the next twenty-four hours—no more, no less. Maintain a safe distance. Ensure her safety without making contact or drawing attention. She must not notice she is being watched.”

The scarred man raised a brow, interest piqued.

“Babysitting a noble child? Or something more dangerous?”

“Neither. Just precaution.”

“If you’re worried about her safety, why not hire guards?”

“Because guards would make it obvious.”

The mercenary tapped his fingers against the wooden counter, considering the request. “Stealth, protection, limited time frame… You’ll want trained eyes for this. Scouts alone won’t do. Weavers will need to blend the team into the environment.”

“Exactly.”

“Four of my best won’t come cheap. Ten silver-glazed paper notes.”

The figure scoffed. “Too steep for a one-day job. Six.”

The mercenary smirked. “Eight.”

A pause. The figure’s fingers drummed lightly against the counter. They didn’t have time to argue further.

“Seven. Last offer.”

The mercenary let the silence stretch before nodding. “Seven, then. We have a deal.”

Reaching into their satchel, the figure retrieved four silver-glazed notes—each marked with official insignias, a form of recognized currency among mercenaries and freelancers. They slid the notes across the counter.

We will pay the difference when the job is done.

The scarred man took the notes, tucking them into a lockbox. He gestured to a side door, where a few seasoned scouts and weavers sat. “They’ll get started immediately. Who’s the target?”

The figure didn’t answer outright. Instead, they slid a small folded parchment across the counter.

“The details are inside. Ensure they follow them exactly.”

The mercenary nodded, his fingers brushing over the sealed paper before tucking it away. “Consider it done.”

With that, the figure turned on their heel, making their way toward the exit.

Stepping out into the crisp night air, the figure cast a wary glance around. The streets of Kabunlawan had quieted, save for the occasional guard making their rounds.

Once they reached the gates, they halted, ensuring no one was nearby. The town’s looming walls stretched high above them, but they had no intention of walking through the main entrance.

Closing their eyes, they exhaled.

Their threads coalesced around them, shimmering faintly before merging with the air itself. Their body blurred, distorting like a mirage before vanishing entirely.

To any onlookers, it would seem as though they had simply disappeared into thin air.

Now nothing more than a whisper in the wind, the figure ascended, weaving themselves into the night sky. Their form streaked across the heavens, moving with purpose and urgency.

Their destination was back to the City of Cynara.

And they would waste no time getting there.

Back at the Dambana Shrine, Lena’s senses buzzed with newfound clarity. Each breath she took filled her lungs with air that felt more vibrant, more alive. Energy hummed through her body, sharpening her instincts as if something primal awakened within her.

She could feel it—the threads of power now woven into her very being, thrumming softly beneath her skin like an unseen current. Every step she took felt lighter, yet more grounded. Her muscles were brimming with vitality, her perception sharper than ever before.

Then, hunger struck.

A deep, gnawing hunger.

Not just the usual pangs of an empty stomach, but something far more intense—like her body was demanding sustenance to fuel whatever transformation had just taken place.

Lena instinctively made her way back to her humble home, a simple wooden dwelling near the outskirts of the settlement. As she pushed open the door, the scent of dried herbs and faint traces of last night’s meal filled her nostrils.

Yet, even beyond that, she could pick up everything with startling precision—the fragrant blossoms from the flower bed outside, the lingering scent of rain in the distant hills, and the faintest traces of the incense burned at the Dambana Shrine hours ago.

Her senses had changed.

She hesitated for a moment, blinking as she turned her gaze toward the town’s perimeter. In the far distance, beyond the structures of Kabunlawan, she saw it—something she had never perceived before.

The barrier.

The Negation Obelisks and Weaver Pillars spun the shimmering weave of power that encased the town. Before, it had always been an unseen force, an abstract protection that she simply trusted to be there. But now? Now, she could see its threads, faint but undeniable—woven intricately like an endless tapestry, shifting subtly in response to the world outside.

It was breathtaking.

“What… is happening to me?” she murmured, pressing a hand against her chest.

Her heartbeat was steady, yet every fiber of her being felt alive with energy.

The hunger clawed at her again, snapping her out of her trance. She hurried to her small cooking area, reaching for whatever food she had left. A small bundle of rice, dried fish, and some root vegetables—simple, yet enough to fill her stomach.

She wasted no time setting up a fire and preparing her meal with practiced efficiency. Yet, even as she ate, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something within her had irreversibly changed.

Her body, her senses, her very essence—it was as if she had crossed a threshold to elevate her being. And deep within, where the threads of power coiled and pulsed, a quiet voice whispered.

This is only the beginning.

Lena exhaled, gripping her bowl tightly.

She didn’t know what was unfolding within her, but one thing was certain. She needed to find out her purpose.

As Lena ate, her thoughts drifted toward the Loom System, the foundation of magic, and she tried to remember anything she knew about the power of the threads.

Her fingers tightened around her bowl as a strange warmth spread across her right eye, followed by a subtle shift in her markings. A pulse, like a thread being tugged in a vast tapestry.

Then—

A status screen erupted in her mind.

It wasn’t visible in the air before her, nor projected like some grand revelation—it was something within her, an intuitive connection to the Loom itself. The information flowed through her mind effortlessly, as if she had always known it but had only now unlocked the ability to perceive it.

[Lena]

Markings of the Loom: Banaag—Divine Comfort

Title: Weaver of Refuge

[Resonance Attunement:]

Weaver: 5%

Anchor: 4%

Conduit: 20%

Number of Threads: 2

[Thread Types:]

First Thread: Aether Thread (Rare: Stage 1)

Second Thread: Creation Thread (Divine: Stage 1)

[Spirit Contracts:] None Bound

[Divine Blessings:] Protection of the Creation Goddess

[Diwa Manifestation:] Cannot Manifest

Lena’s breath caught in her throat.

Weavers had to meditate or undergo deep reflection to assess their loom status, often requiring the guidance of a skilled mentor. Yet here she was, accessing it instinctively, as if the Loom itself had opened to her without hesitation.

Her markings symbolize divine comfort.

Her title—Weaver of Refuge—felt heavy with meaning. Its true meaning is yet to be unveiled.

And then, the biggest revelation—her threads.

Her first thread is an Aether Thread. This revelation shocked her; she understood that she possessed a rare first thread.

Then her true awakening led to the unsealing of her second thread, a Creation Thread. A Divine Thread—something unheard of outside of saints, legendary weavers, or those directly chosen by the gods themselves.

Lena’s heartbeat quickened.

Her Conduit Attunement was the highest—20%. Her natural alignment meant she channeled energy between people, places, and objects. Attune to divine and supportive weaving techniques. Additionally, her status listed a divine blessing—protection by the creation goddess.

Lena clutched her chest, her fingers brushing over her markings. Aether, Creation, a Blessing—this wasn’t just an ordinary awakening.

Her food sat forgotten as she tried to steady herself, her mind racing.

Why?

And most importantly—what did this mean for her future?

Before Lena could press further into her awakening, a familiar pair of voices called from outside her home.

“Tasi? Marya?” she muttered, pushing herself up quickly.

She barely had time to steady herself before stepping outside, only to freeze at the sight before her.

Tasi and Marya stood there, their faces lined with confusion and a hint of worry. But what caught Lena’s attention wasn’t just them—it was what stood behind them.

A dozen Weaver Guards, clad in their signature reinforced cloaks, their weapons gleaming faintly under the midday light. Two hovering carriage transports idled behind them, the gentle hum of their enchanted engines filling the air.

The event caused quite a stir within the neighborhood as people observed what was happening.

Lena’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t a casual visit.

Something was happening.

Tasi was the first to speak, her voice hesitant but firm.

“Lena… we came to say goodbye.”

Lena’s breath hitched.” What?”

Marya, standing beside Tasi, gave her a small but forced smile. “Someone summoned us. To Pagadianara.”

Lena’s mind reeled. Pagadianara—a wealthy region.

“By who?” she asked, barely keeping the unease from her voice.

“The Head Elder… and the Duke of Tala Noble House,” Tasi admitted, exchanging glances with Marya.

Lena’s fingers twitched. A direct summons from both the head elder and a noble duke? That wasn’t just unusual—it was alarming.

Tasi stepped forward, pressing a small pouch into Lena’s hands. The familiar clink of coins made Lena stiffen.

“Silver coins,” Tasi said. “For you.”

Lena blinked, looking up at her in surprise. “Why are you giving me this?”

Tasi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because we wanted to stay. We did. But… our husbands—” she hesitated, her grip tightening, “They’ve been gone far longer than they should have. We need to check on them.”

Marya gave a firm nod. “We don’t know how long we’ll be gone. We might return soon, but just in case, use this to take care of yourself.”

Lena shook her head, trying to push the pouch back into Tasi’s hands. “You don’t have to—”

But Marya placed her hands over Lena’s, pressing the pouch firmly against her palm. “No. Take it.”

There was no room for argument.

Lena swallowed the lump in her throat. Despite the suddenness of it all, despite the looming questions in her mind, she forced a small smile.

“Then… come back soon, okay?”

With one last lingering glance, Tasi and Marya turned, stepping into their respective carriages. The hum of the engines grew louder as the transports lifted off the ground, moving gracefully toward the border gates of Kabunlawan.

Lena watched them disappear beyond the shimmering Weaver Pillars, her heart weighed down by unspoken worries. First, her awakening. Now, this.

The observing townspeople dispersed as Tasi and Marya departed the scene.

Everything just felt so sudden for Lena. She released a deep breath as she settled everything in her mind. Even as she heads back inside her home to rest, she can’t calm herself, not when she’s perceiving those who are observing her every move. The eyes watching her from a distance were like a piercing gaze even though they were not physically near, but she just knew she was being observed.

Until she couldn’t fight back her sleep anymore as weariness clawed at her, her eyes slowly closed, slowly embracing a restful slumber, and the comfort of the cushions lingered in her senses.