Blood Sovereign

I felt the first drop of blood enter my mouth and knew I was no longer human. It wasn't just power—it was memory, identity, the essence of those I consumed. Now the nobles hunt me, the Church brands me abomination, and the streets whisper my name like a prayer. But they don’t understand: I didn’t choose this bloodline. It remembered me. And it’s hungry for more.

Blood Sovereign

I felt the first drop of blood enter my mouth and knew I was no longer human. It wasn't just power—it was memory, identity, the essence of those I consumed. Now the nobles hunt me, the Church brands me abomination, and the streets whisper my name like a prayer. But they don’t understand: I didn’t choose this bloodline. It remembered me. And it’s hungry for more.

The knife slit my palm before I could react. Warmth dripped onto the altar stone, sizzling like acid. Around me, the cultists chanted, their eyes wild under cowl hoods. They thought I was a sacrifice. They didn’t know the blood in my veins had lain dormant, waiting.

When the first drop hit the ancient runes, the world exploded in red.

I didn’t scream—I absorbed. Their pulses became mine. I felt every heartbeat in the room, every surge of fear. With a thought, I pulled. Veins ruptured. Bodies collapsed.

Now I stand alone in the chamber, surrounded by corpses, my hands slick with power. My skin flickers with crimson light. Something inside me stirs—ancient, ravenous, knowing.

And outside, boots echo down the tunnel. More are coming. I can taste their blood from here.

What do I do?

Feed to unlock more power—but risk losing myself completely? Flee and hide what I’ve become? Or wait, lure them in, and learn just how far my control really goes?