Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 403: Chapter 271: Holy Blood Blessing_2

”Yes!”

Soon, the first three heroes—those closest to Hamlet’s secret—gathered around Lance.

”I have summoned you for a reason,” Lance began. ”If the Witch was just a test by the evil cult, then the recent Wizard is a sign they are making their move...”

At that moment, aside from Reynard, neither Dismas nor Balistan were in the best of shape. After all, they each had their own nightlife to attend to. However, upon hearing this, they too grew serious.

Lance roughly explained the Wizard’s situation. He had, of course, altered the story, concealing most of the information. He focused on how a Wizard had suddenly received the evil cult’s guidance and support and then attempted to meddle in Hamlet’s affairs.

”The Wizard was killed, and I discovered a power on his body that is exclusive to our family. This means the evil cult has made progress in their research on the previous Lord, and our time is running out.

However, through the ritual of killing him, I also recovered some of my power. Today, I have assembled you to share the power hidden within my bloodline.”

The men reacted differently to this. They had watched their Lord grow from a frail scholar—no, skyrocket—in power at a speed incomprehensible to the average person.

Lance had previously explained that a vast power had always been latent within him, only unearthed after he received the Divine Revelation.

Thus, they were well aware of just how strong their Lord’s bloodline power truly was.

They didn’t dwell on it much, as they themselves did not possess such bloodlines.

But now their Lord had said such things—that he intended to share that bloodline power with them! How could they not be astonished?

Dismas, among them, reacted most intensely.

Why had Dismas gradually been marginalized? It wasn’t just that his strength couldn’t keep up; rather, it was his lack of diverse abilities. Everyone else had a specialty: military affairs, administration, or some skill unknown to commoners.

But Dismas, lacking proper education or the right environment, was just a bandit—a somewhat conscientious one—who knew nothing beyond petty thievery and killing.

Watching his companions each find their place while he could only drift along, he felt somewhat... inferior.

Perhaps ’inferior’ wasn’t the right word for Dismas, but he was indeed falling behind. That was why he was the most desperate for power.

”Dismas, you come first,” Lance said, having of course noticed him and choosing him to begin.

Dismas stepped forward without any fear, taking long strides. I should be My Lord’s sharpest blade, he thought, not just idling away, waiting for death like I am now.

”The Blessing will last for some time,” Lance began, his voice taking on a serious tone. ”Your body will experience anomalies. You might suffer from the scrutiny and whispers of the Void, and encounter auditory and visual hallucinations.

”You might suffer temptations of power. They will promise you endless strength, then lead your soul into the Abyss.

”You might...”

Lance put on an act, spouting a great deal of nonsense to paint the situation as perilous as possible. The atmosphere immediately grew serious, even oppressive.

Only at the end did he summarize with a final warning, ”But do not fear. Stay calm and confront it. Believe that the power is under your control, and never let the power control you. Think about why you want to gain power. Solidify your will, hold fast to your true self, and trust that I will always stand by your side.”

For the ritual to appear solemn, it couldn’t be treated casually, as if it were no more significant than drinking foot-washing water. It had to be formal, at the very least.

Lance retrieved a gold-rimmed, jade-inlaid cup from his collection and filled it with clear water. Then, he pulled out a Dagger, pricked his fingertip, and let fresh blood drip into the cup.

”I am ready!” Dismas declared, not shrinking back from Lance’s words. On the contrary, he erupted with unprecedented fervor. He knelt before Lance, his breathing becoming rapid. With solemn hands, he took the cup and drained it in one gulp.

”With my blood...” Lance intoned, wasting no more words. He raised his hand towards Dismas and began to chant otherworldly words in a low voice, following a peculiar rhythm.

”Spirits of heaven, spirits of earth, I beseech the Panel to reveal its divine power! First, I summon General Reynard! Second, the rogue Dismas! Third, I call forth the old soldier to manifest his holiness and slay the great ancient evildoer!”

Lance was spouting utter nonsense, yet the power of the Blessing still took effect.

Dismas felt an indescribable sensation radiating from within his body, as if his very muscles and bones were dissolving.

Nearby, Reynard and Balistan noticed Dismas’s body begin to tremble, but they could only wait patiently.

Lance had no intention of elevating them to his own level in a single step, as that was unrealistic. He had to prioritize his own strength, and besides, he didn’t have that much Spiritual Essence to expend.

All Lance intended was to enhance them slightly, just enough for them to clearly feel their bodies growing stronger. That would suffice.

His mastery over the Power of Flesh and Blood allowed him to estimate that Dismas actually had considerable potential. Years of battle had given him a much higher starting point than Lance’s own initial ’blank slate’ physique. According to the Panel’s classifications, Dismas possessed at least the strength of the Brave rank, which explained how he had survived in a chaotic world for so many years without being killed.

This time, Lance expended a significant amount of Spiritual Essence to raise Dismas to the Elite rank, as recognized by the Panel. Now, he was far from ordinary.

Fortunately, the upgrade to Lance’s Flesh Reconstruction ability had deepened his understanding of flesh. This allowed him to simultaneously eliminate old, difficult-to-treat internal injuries, bringing Dismas’s body to its peak condition.

Soon, Lance lowered his hand, fatigue evident on his face. This was no act; his energy truly had been significantly drained.

However, Dismas seemed not to have emerged from that state yet. He remained motionless, as if truly contending with something.

Seeing this, Lance’s expression grew even more troubled. I was just making things up to create an atmosphere, he thought worriedly. Surely nothing genuinely troublesome has arisen, right?

Thankfully, his concerns were unfounded; the Panel was reliable. Dismas awoke, feeling an unprecedented sense of ease. It was as if he had been carrying a load of stones on his back but had now cast them all off, experiencing the exhilarating freedom of running naked!

”How do you feel?” Lance asked.

”This... it’s incredible...” Dismas stammered, clenching his fists. He felt his body transformed, as if reborn—it was almost unfamiliar to him.

”Remember, power is to be controlled by people, not the other way around. All for our goal,” Lance reminded him.

”Yes, My Lord!” Dismas exclaimed, now extremely fired up. If he could, he would have picked a fight with someone right then and there, but he dared not be too presumptuous in the Lord’s presence.

Lance glanced past Dismas, who was still acclimating, and turned his attention to Balistan.

”Come. With my blood, I shall share my strength with you,” Lance said.

”For the grand plan!” Balistan swore solemnly to Lance.

Balistan’s natural talent was formidable. He epitomized strength and an indomitable spirit, possessing herculean power coupled with extensive experience. In terms of melee weapons, he could be called a Master, much like Geralt, were it not for his age and numerous hidden injuries dragging his prowess down from its peak.

Lance had previously treated some of these hidden injuries, but only after his Ability upgraded did he realize he had merely seen the tip of the iceberg.

His flesh was like the rings of a tree; one could glimpse within it the countless times he had suffered grave, near-fatal injuries. His survival was nothing short of a miracle.

Because Balistan’s physique was so exceptional, Lance didn’t rush the Strengthening process. His strong foundation meant it could become a bottomless pit for resources. Instead, Lance focused on treating his hidden injuries, seeking ways to restore his body—a monumental task.

Balistan felt a tingling sensation spread throughout his body. His muscles seemed to quiver on their own, and it was as if ants were crawling over and nibbling at his flesh.

He could endure pain, but this particular sensation filled him with unease.

Balistan immediately realized his reaction was different from Dismas’s. Could it be, he wondered, that the Aberrant Demons from the Void employ different tactics for each individual?

Now, he had no choice but to resist this ’corrosion’ with all his might.