The long chant gradually faded away. Wearing a simple wreath and draped in a red cloak, bare-chested Diego slowly opened his eyes, cradling a golden cup brimming with blood.
The rippling scarlet liquid had not come from innocent sacrifices, but from his own offering.
More blood flowed across the black floor engraved with runes of murder. It came from symbols carved into his back with a sharp blade. This was part of the Rite of the New King, though an incomplete one.
There was no helping it. Diego was alone and could only rely on clumsy mortals to assist with the ritual, which doomed it to be less perfect than the records described.
Yet he himself was not perfect either. At such a critical moment, he could only risk everything.
Drawing a deep breath, Diego tipped back his head and drained the blood from the golden cup. Then two mindless attendants carried a huge purple wooden box before him.
Having drunk his own blood, Diego was visibly nauseated, but he forced down the urge to vomit and lightly flipped open the clasp on the box.
Then a blast of air surging from within blew open the lid.
Inside lay a strangely shaped red longsword, covered from hilt to tip in mysterious symbols. At that moment, it seemed to breathe; with every flicker of its runes came a surging vitality.
"By my blood, I forge your soul."
Diego softly recited the verse and reached out with his right hand to grasp the restless longsword.
The instant the sword touched his hand, fierce rage and bloodlust, accompanied by a piercing shriek, crashed into Diego's mind. He staggered back three steps before steadying himself.
The attendants around him all collapsed to the ground, bleeding from their seven orifices, their faces twisted as they