CHAPTER 329: ECHOES OF THE ORIGINAL HUMAN [PART-2]

Echoes of the Original Human [Part-2]

When at last the mist cleared, a form emerged in the middle of the room.

Leon’s body floating in mid-air, absolutely naked, unashamed. His physique had been changed beyond anything human. Muscles weren’t merely bulked out—there was sharpness to them, hardness, every curve etched with fierce precision. As though a master sculptor had carved him from marble, every line and curve juggling brutal power with classy elegance. Shoulders widened, chest puffed out with authoritative presence, abs defined in perfect ridges, legs strong and firm like pillars of stone. His skin shone, unblemished, unsullied by scar or imperfection, radiant palely under the crimson residue stuck to him like ancient combat paint. Even the tiniest movement of his fingers seemed to emanate power—as if every molecule of his essence had been remelted into myth.

His hair had grown, now darker, thick and full of movement, shining as though it possessed a life of its own. His face, once bold, now wore an ancient, commanding presence—whispering unspoken power beneath tranquil control. The still authority carved into his features made the room seem less large, as though his very presence changed the air around him.

Then his eyes flew open.

Twin golden fires blazed in the darkened hall, burning hotter and more keen than before, alive with hot passion and new intent. Leon floated there, stone-still, looking over the great hall that was now his sanctuary. Gradually, he sank down, bare feet falling softly on the chill marble, creating hardly a sound.

His eyes fell, landing on the stubborn red substance smeared across his skin. A frown creased his brow—curiosity knotted with confusion. What was this odd residue? Swiftly, without thinking, he stretched his palms wide, observing the thick, blood-like liquid drip slowly from his fingers.

He curled and uncurled his hands, experimenting with the strange feel. "This. feels different," he spoke, voice low but firm in the quiet air. "Looks like the bloodline change really took."

A crisp chime rang in his mind.

[Ding!]

[Bloodline change process — complete.]

[Congratulations, Host, on acquiring your new bloodline.]

Before he could even blink, another notification chimed loudly.

[Ding!]

[Luck smiles upon you as ever, Host.]

And then—

[New Bloodline data updated successfully. You can now access it in the System menu.]

Leon blinked, incredulity veiling his keen eyes. He stood frozen, thoughts racing to process the system’s words. Then, voice guarded, barely resilient with hope, he inquired, "So... I truly got a new bloodline?" There was skepticism in his tone, like a man unwilling to believe good tidings that would flee. "System... you mean I really have a new bloodline now? Right?"

[Yes, Host.]

Silence lay between them like heavy mist. Gradually, tension seeped from his frame. A grin spread across his face—wide, true, full of naked delight.

"YAHOOOOOOO! I DID IT!" His bellow resonated off stone walls, clean triumph sounding clear. "I got it! I really got it!"

He laughed, his voice cracking with excitement and relief. "Well? So tell me—what am I now? Dragon? Elf? Angel? God? Demon? Vampire? Werewolf? Tell me!" His words spilled over, playful and desperate, like a child demanding candy. "Come on, don’t hold back—what did I become?"

The system answered, flat and calm.

[None of those, Host.]

His smile faltered, confusion glinting in golden eyes. "...Huh? None of those?"

"Then what the hell type of blood did I receive?" Leon’s voice sliced tightly, frustration and disbelief tangled in each word.

[Bloodline of the Ancient Human.]

The system replied in its detached, measured voice.

Leon’s brows drew together deeper. "...Ancient... human?" The words were like lead, heavy with weight.

[Yes, Host. The first humans ever fashioned by the cosmos — the original type.]

He blinked in surprise. "What?" Shock coursed through his chest like a crashing wave. "The. first?

[In fact. Through countless millennia, all races — including humans — have experienced bloodline deterioration. Power wanes from one generation to the next. Potential slumbers in genes, but many never rouse that which ancestors possessed. Resources shifted, circumstances altered, the flame once hot dwindled. In the absence of right energy or determination, descendants lose power. Humans, as all other races, lost most of the power of their ancestors. Energies dissipate. With each generation, characteristics are lost, vanishing forever into lost legend.]

Leon cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as he absorbed the gravity of reality. "So... what’s the difference then?"

[Today’s humans are able to tap mana, cast spells, call on the elements. But ancient humans—or merely, Super Humans—were not. They were physically strong, lived decades longer, had sharper senses—and most crucially, bore the Spirit of Nature.]

His face changed, curiosity knotted up with doubt. "...Spirit of Nature?"

[Yes, Host. Spirit of Nature.]

[Each ancient human bore this. It’s the power to bring forth the living soul of nature—the spirits within beasts, plants, elements, even the earth itself. There is a spirit in all things, Host. Beasts, trees, wind, mountains. Ancient Humans were able to summon their own spirit, a potent fighter in combat and guardian as well.]

Leon’s eyes ignited suddenly. "Wait—I can do that too? Bring forth my spirit?"

[Yes, Host.]

His heart thundered against his ribs, the pulse racing a jolt of electric tension through his veins. "May I do it now? I need to see it!" The words tumbled out, harsh and raw, quivering with desperate expectation.

[Yes. Concentrate all your energy into your heart with all your might. Summon your spirit forth.]

In a moment of instant resolve, Leon stood tall, shutting his eyes to the world, blocking out all distraction. He probed deep within himself, reaching outward with his senses to bind the mana circulating unseen around him. Slowly and deliberately, he drew it inward—like dragging a river of cold water beneath his skin. At first, it rippled softly, a quiet current churning just beneath the surface, but with each beat of his heart, it intensified. The torrent increased, accelerating, hammering in relentless rhythm like a war drum of some primitive tribe beating in the cavity of his chest.

Time distorted around him—seconds lengthened and became indistinct as his intent honed down to a pinpoint. His frame quivered fractionally, energy building tight, primed to explode. Then, on a beat when the rhythm within his chest climbed to climax, he flung his eyes open, vocal cords raw and commanding, "Come forth... my spirit!"

For a heartbeat, nothing replied—silence lay heavy, loaded with expectation. Then, at his back, air moved. A spark of golden light flared into existence, tentative at first, like the initial warm beams of morning breaking night’s darkness. The aura rippled softly, vibrating with potential power that thrummed beneath the surface, waiting.

A low crackle snapped through the quietness—hard and spangy, like far lightning splitting the air. The air behind Leon cracked almost unnoticed, a delicate seam of light stretching and opening, as if the fabric of reality flexed to respond to his summons. The golden light coalesced and plunged deeper, turbulent into shape, pushing upward and outward in a measured, stately force.

In front of him, a great form coalesced—something huge, living, breathing to the slow, steady beat. It walked in patient silence, eyes unvisible but observing, waiting for its time. The air itself thickened with power, charged and electric, alive with an old power that pulsed to the same rhythm as Leon’s heartbeat.

His very soul was stirring—emerging from the depths of his being like a sleeping titan awakened, prepared to walk alongside him, to battle with him, to become one with him.