Bloodbound Codex: I Grow Stronger in Secret

Velgrath was still alive.

Its wings had been torn apart, its beak had been crushed inward, and its enormous body had collapsed across the ruined northern battlefield, but the S-Rank Boss did not die immediately. Its chest still rose and fell heavily while black-gold Spirit leaked from the wounds across its body. Even after losing its ability to fly and release proper attacks, the pressure from its body was still enough to make the broken ground vibrate faintly.

Several surviving explorers noticed the change first.

Velgrath’s ruined feathers began glowing, and the black-gold Spirit leaking from its wounds started gathering back into its body instead of fading away. The pressure around it thickened every second, and broken stones near its corpse-sized body began moving across the molten ground.

Someone screamed.

”It’s still gathering Spirit!”

Another wounded explorer dragged himself backward with one broken leg.

”Move back! It’s going to detonate!”

Panic spread among the remaining survivors.

Even the monsters that had followed Velgrath moved away from the unstable Spirit building inside their dying master. A dying S-Rank monster was still an S-Rank monster. If that Spirit exploded without control, everything close to it would be caught in the blast.

Mark watched the change.

The Qield’s Watchers moved first.

Both A-Rank monsters were wounded, but instinct still forced them to protect Velgrath. One rushed from behind while the other lunged from the side, their dark fur soaked with black blood and their horns pulsing with dense Spirit.

Mark did not fully turn.

A thin Spirit thread wrapped around his fingers.

The first Watcher’s claw descended toward his back, but Mark shifted his fingers slightly. The thread caught the monster’s wrist for a single instant and changed the direction of its attack. The Watcher’s own momentum twisted its arm off course, and its claw struck the ground beside Mark instead.

BOOM

At the same time, the second Watcher reached him.

Mark’s other hand tightened.

A compressed layer of Spirit formed over his knuckles, thin and dense enough that it barely glowed beneath the ash-filled air.

Then he punched.

CRACK

The Watcher’s horn shattered first.

Then its skull collapsed inward.

Black blood spread across the ruined ground as the monster’s body fell backward without another sound.

The first Watcher tried to recover.

Mark’s forearm shifted.

A twelve-inch blade of condensed Spirit formed along his hand. It was shorter than most knives, but the edge was compressed enough to cut through Spirit reinforcement without resistance.

Shhhk.

The blade passed through the Watcher’s neck.

The monster’s head separated cleanly and rolled across the battlefield before stopping near a broken relic fragment. Its body remained standing for a moment, then collapsed.

Two A-Rank monsters were dead.

The gatekeepers of the mutated Cataclysm-Class Ruin had been killed within moments, but Mark did not look at them again. His focus returned to Velgrath because that was the main source of danger.

The Crowbeast’s body continued swelling with unstable Spirit. Black-gold energy crawled beneath its feather-like armor, and its broken wings twitched against the ground. Even with its beak ruined, a distorted sound came from deep inside its throat.

Mark walked toward it.

The pressure intensified as he approached. The ground cracked beneath his feet, and loose stones lifted briefly before crumbling from the unstable Spirit around Velgrath. The surviving explorers watched him move closer to the dying S-Rank Boss, but none of them tried to stop him.

He stopped before Velgrath’s massive head.

Then raised one hand.

Spirit gathered again.

The amount was small compared to the unstable force building inside Velgrath, but Mark’s control made the difference clear. The Spirit did not spread or leak. It compressed into a shorter blade than before.

Six inches.

Thin.

Almost invisible.

Velgrath’s pale-gold eyes stared at him with dying hatred.

Mark looked down at it.

Then moved his hand once.

Shhhk.

The blade passed through Velgrath’s neck.

The slash was clean and direct.

There was no wide explosion, large light, or unnecessary release of power. The unstable Spirit gathering inside Velgrath collapsed because the flow connecting it to the body had been cut before it could erupt.

The black-gold pressure disappeared in one breath.

Velgrath’s eyes widened faintly.

Then they dimmed.

Its enormous body stopped moving.

The S-Rank Boss was dead.

It had died because Mark cut the correct point with the correct amount of force. To the surviving explorers, that was more frightening than a large technique because it showed control beyond normal understanding.

The remaining monsters reacted immediately.

Some staggered backward after Velgrath’s presence vanished. Others turned and fled into the forest as the command holding them together weakened. But many still remained. Bloodmire Crawlers hissed across the crater edges, B-Rank beasts growled from broken roads, and C-Rank monsters scattered between ruined barricades.

Mark slowly turned toward the surviving explorers.

”Clean up the rest.”

His voice remained calm.

”The Boss is dead.”

His gaze moved across the remaining monsters.

”Don’t waste the opening.”

For a moment, the surviving explorers only stared.

Then the order reached them properly.

B-Rank Spirit Users forced themselves back onto their feet. Injured A-Rank combatants clenched broken weapons and stepped forward again. Support relic users dragged the wounded farther back while those still able to move began sealing the remaining monsters within smaller suppression formations.

The Outbreak had not ended completely.

But the main danger had been stopped.

Far away from the battlefield, Atlas felt the exact moment Velgrath died.

The Bloodbound Codex pulsed inside his chest.

Hard.

Atlas nearly bent forward from the sudden pull, one hand pressing against his chest beneath his black cloak. This was not the faint reaction it had shown toward ordinary monster blood. The pull was deeper and much harder to suppress.

The Codex had sensed the blood.

S-Rank blood.

A-Rank blood.

Blood from creatures far beyond anything it had absorbed before.

Atlas clenched his jaw.

’No.’

The pulse came again.

Harder.

His fingers pressed deeper against his chest.

’Not here.’

The civilians near him were still shaking. The D-Rank explorers were staring toward the battlefield with expressions that looked half-relieved and half-broken. Cathy, the brown-haired woman, stood near a tree with one hand against the bark while trying to steady her breathing.

If the Codex emerged here, the Guild would see it, the survivors would see it, and Mark might notice it.

Atlas forced the pressure down with everything he had.

The Codex resisted for several seconds. It felt hungry and alive, but eventually the pulse weakened.

It did not disappear.

It only waited.

Atlas slowly exhaled.

Velgrath’s blood was something he could not ignore.

But he also could not take it openly.

Not yet.

By the time the surviving groups returned closer to Ormolio, the city had become crowded with wounded explorers, guards, healers, and Guild workers. The northern gates remained open, but normal movement had stopped. Stretchers were carried through the street, civilians cried near the walls, and casualty names were shouted across temporary reporting stations.

The smell of blood had reached the city.

Atlas moved with the D-Rank group and the rescued civilians.

The merchant they had saved thanked them repeatedly with a shaking voice, though none of the explorers looked proud enough to accept it properly. The children clung to their mother. The injured coachman was taken away by healers carrying a glowing support relic.

Cathy wiped dried blood from her cheek and glanced toward Atlas.

”You’re pale.”

Atlas looked at her.

”I’m fine.”

She studied him for a moment.

”You don’t sound fine.”

Atlas did not answer.

The Codex still pulsed faintly in his chest every few breaths, always pulling toward the same direction.

The battlefield, corpses and the... blood.

Soon after, new emergency orders spread among the lower-ranked explorers.

The living were exhausted, the injured were too many, and the dead covered the northern battlefield in numbers that made normal cleanup impossible. The Guild needed every monster corpse collected, counted, and stored before scavengers, decay, or uncontrolled Spirit contamination ruined the materials. Monster bodies were valuable resources after an Outbreak. Claws, fangs, shells, organs, cores, and blood all had value if preserved properly.

Atlas received the order without resistance.

Monster corpse recovery.

Temporary storage transport.

Guild branch material intake.

It was the kind of work most D-Ranks hated because it was bloody, heavy, and exhausting.

But for Atlas, it was an opening.

Evening descended over the ruined northern field.

The red and black flares had faded, but smoke still drifted across the battlefield in gray sheets. Guild workers, guards, and lower-ranked explorers dragged monster corpses toward reinforced wagons. Human corpses were separated carefully, wrapped, identified, and marked. Monster bodies were handled differently.

They were resources first.

Atlas worked among the cleanup teams, lifting monster remains with controlled strength while keeping his hood low. The work was brutal, but his body handled it better than most D-Ranks. He deliberately slowed himself so he did not look too fast, too strong, or too capable.

Cathy ended up working beside him again.

She crouched near the torn body of a Bloodmire Crawler, checked the tag attached by a Guild worker, then helped drag it toward the nearest cart. For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Then she exhaled heavily.

”We never introduced ourselves properly, did we?”

Atlas glanced toward her.

Cathy straightened and brushed dirt from her leather armor.

”My name is Cathy Merium.”

Her voice was rough from exhaustion, but steadier than before.

”And yours?”

Atlas paused.

The instinct to lie appeared immediately.

Then he dismissed it.

He had already submitted a name to the Guild. Giving her a different one would only create problems if she checked the records later. The surname was already changed enough to separate him from his old life.

So he answered calmly.

”Atlas Crosswood.”

Cathy watched him.

Atlas added after a short pause.

”A commoner.”

Something unreadable passed across her face.

After everything that had happened today, birth probably mattered less than who had survived.

”Well, Atlas Crosswood...”

She grabbed the corpse rope again and pulled.

”You’re a strange commoner.”

Atlas looked away.

”I’ve heard that and...something worse.”

For the first time that day, Cathy almost smiled.

Then they returned to work.

Later, Atlas was assigned to help move fragments from Velgrath’s corpse.

The full body was far too massive to transport whole, even with relic-enhanced wagons. Guild specialists had already begun separating valuable sections while Mark remained inside the Ormolio branch, giving reports and assisting higher command.

That relieved Atlas slightly.

Velgrath’s remains were overwhelming up close.

Even dead, the Crowbeast’s body still released faint pressure. Severed wing fragments looked like collapsed walls of black feather armor. Its talons were longer than carts. Its blood had soaked deep into the earth, darker than ordinary monster blood and carrying a faint golden shimmer beneath the black-red surface.

Atlas approached a fragment of the beak.

The shattered piece alone was larger than his body, black and jagged like broken metal. Guild workers had attached chains to it while others directed lower-ranked explorers to haul it toward a reinforced cart.

Atlas placed his hand against the cracked surface.

The Codex pulsed so violently that his breath nearly stopped.

His fingers tightened against the broken beak.

The blood dried along the edges called to the Codex.

It did not simply call. It felt like a command.

Atlas’s eyes narrowed beneath the hood.

’This blood...’

It was different.

Almost intoxicating to the relic inside him.

Cathy’s voice came from the side.

”Hey, Atlas. You good?”

Atlas removed his hand from the beak.

”...Yeah.”

He grabbed one of the chains.

”It’s just heavy.”

Cathy snorted softly.

”That’s because it belonged to something that nearly destroyed the city.”

Atlas said nothing.

Together with the others, they hauled the beak fragment toward the transport cart.

The entire time, the Codex pulsed inside him again and again.

Night had fully fallen by the time the monster materials reached the Ormolio Guild branch.

The building no longer looked like it had the day before. Its lower halls were filled with wounded explorers. Some lay against walls with bandaged limbs. Others sat with blank eyes, still covered in dried blood. Staff members ran between counters, carrying reports, relic fragments, and casualty ledgers.

Names were shouted constantly.

Confirmed alive.

Missing.

Dead.

Unknown.

Atlas moved through it quietly, assigned with several others to carry monster remains into the deepest storage section beneath the Guild branch.

The Monster Storeroom.

It lay below the main hall, accessible through reinforced stone stairs and guarded by thick iron doors etched with preservation runes. The air grew colder the deeper they descended, carrying the metallic scent of blood and the bitter residue of monster Spirit.

Inside, the chamber was vast and cold.

Hooks hung from the ceiling.

Sealed crates lined the walls.

Preservation runes glowed faintly across stone floors stained by old blood.

Monster remains were sorted by rank and type.

C-Rank materials near the entrance.

B-Rank remains deeper inside.

A-Rank remains behind a reinforced section.

And near the far end were Velgrath’s materials.

The beak fragment.

Blood-stained feathers.

Fragments of talon.

Chunks of black feather armor still warm with faint Spirit residue.

Atlas helped carry the last crate into place.

Cathy was called back upstairs soon after to confirm civilian rescue details. Other workers left one by one, pulled away by injury reports, exhaustion, or new orders from above.

Atlas waited.

He kept moving small crates, adjusting ropes, checking labels, and pretending he still had work.

Then the storeroom door closed behind the last Guild worker.

Atlas stood still and listened.

Footsteps faded from the stairway.

Distant voices remained above, muffled by stone.

No one was nearby.

Atlas slowly turned toward the deeper section of the room.

The Codex pulsed.

This time, he did not suppress it.

His eyes darkened beneath the faint glow of the preservation runes.

Then he spoke quietly.

”Originate.”

Crimson light bloomed from his chest.

The Bloodbound Codex emerged into the cold air, its dark pages pulsing violently while the Sanguis Stylus appeared beside it almost instantly.

This time, the Stylus did not wait.

It shot toward the nearest Qield’s Watcher remains.

The crimson tip pierced into the corpse.

Fwoooosh.

Black-red blood rose from the dead A-Rank monster and flowed upward in twisting streams before surging into the Stylus. The liquid inside darkened immediately, becoming heavier and thicker.

Atlas watched.

The first Watcher dried rapidly.

Then the Stylus moved to the second.

Again, blood surged.

A-Rank blood flowed into the Stylus like something being dragged into a greater hunger.

The Codex trembled faintly.

Then the Stylus turned toward Velgrath.

The moment it neared the Crowbeast’s beak fragment, the storeroom darkened.

Atlas’s eyes widened slightly.

The crimson glow from the Codex deepened into black-red. The preservation runes across the floor flickered under the pressure spreading from the relic.

The Stylus pierced into the dried blood along the broken beak.

For one second, nothing happened.

Then pressure shook the room.

Atlas gritted his teeth.

The S-Rank blood rose.

Slowly at first.

Then violently.

Dark blood threaded with pale-gold light emerged from the cracks of Velgrath’s beak and the sealed feathers nearby. The streams moved toward the Stylus like living serpents.

The Codex opened by itself.

Pages flipped violently.

Atlas clenched one hand and whispered sharply.

”Quiet...”

The relic did not listen.

The blood continued pouring in.

The Stylus shook as if struggling to contain it, and distorted crimson lines spread across the chamber walls from the Codex’s pages.

Atlas’s breathing became heavy.

This was not ordinary absorption.

The Codex had found something far stronger than anything it had consumed before.

Finally, after several long moments, the last stream of Velgrath’s blood disappeared into the Sanguis Stylus.

The room settled again.

But the Codex did not close.

Instead, it flipped directly to the Trait Page.

Atlas stepped closer slowly.

New words began forming across the page.

Several lines.

The text glitched before stabilizing piece by piece.

Atlas’s gaze sharpened.

The first completed line appeared.

[ Qield’s Horn — Rank A ]

Atlas’s eyes narrowed.

A-Rank.

From the Qield’s Watchers.

Before he could think further, another line formed beneath it.

[ Regenerative Hide — Rank A ]

Atlas’s fingers tightened slightly around the Sanguis Stylus.

Two A-Rank Traits.

That alone was already enough to change his survival completely.

But the Codex was not finished.

The page darkened again.

This time, the crimson letters mixed with faint pale-gold light.

The pressure coming from the page changed.

Atlas’s breathing slowed as he stared at the next forming line.

The first word appeared.

[ Crowbeast... ]

Atlas’s eyes widened.

Then another line began forming beneath it.

This one carried the same pale-gold pressure.

The Codex trembled harder.

Atlas stared at the page without blinking.

Because this time—

The rank appearing beside both lines was not A.

It was—

[ Rank S ]