Origins of Blood[Has been republished]

The bathing area resembled a modest lake or river on Earth, albeit smaller and relatively clean, with an open sky above and no roof to obscure it. The ability to cleanse oneself was the only aspect that truly mattered, yet there was one significant detail that bothered Elliot the most: the shared towels and toothbrushes, despite the absence of toothpaste. Each item was used daily by dozens of people, leading the towels to carry the distinct odor of a wet dog and remain perpetually damp. While this didn't trouble Elliot as much, given the focus on physical hygiene, he was far more affected by a concern that was only partially physical—namely, the lack of separation between men and women.

Had the bathing pond been slightly larger, some distance could have been maintained; however, the entire area measured no more than 20 to 30 square meters, allowing for little privacy. Everything was visible, except for what lay beneath the water. This lack of separation weighed heavily on him emotionally and mentally, making Elliot feel uncomfortable. It was particularly disconcerting that he, along with most of the other men present, experienced an involuntary arousal, which only added to his discomfort, especially as many harbored inappropriate thoughts. While some outside the water chatted freely or brazenly attempted to catch glimpses of something indecent, Elliot and Gene hastened through their cleansing routine. They washed, dried off, and exited as swiftly as they had entered.

Gene let out a sigh of relief as he and Elliot twisted their arms into the air. "There's nothing quite like the feeling of being clean..." They exchanged brief glances and a quick handshake before parting ways. As Elliot inspected his teeth, he noticed the satisfying whiteness, interrupted only by a wisp of bluish mist. Finally, my teeth are back to normal.

…

In Denklin, the capital of the Kingdom of Zentria, within the estate of the Rosenmahl family, several figures dressed in black and white exited Aston's chamber, announcing, "Sir Aston, you have correspondence—two letters, one from the Kingdom of Avelor and another from here in Zentria."

Aston lay sprawled on his enormous blue bed, the lavish decor adorned in shades of blue, white, and gold. Aside from the wall paintings, the walls appeared somewhat bare, save for a few rose-patterned designs. It didn't take long for him to rise and make his way to his desk. Yawning, he raked a hand through his slightly unruly hair and reached for one of the letters, breaking the blue seal to read the contents written in orange ink.

"Dear Mr. Aston Rosenmahl,

With a heart pounding in wild excitement, I pen these lines, which I have long kept within. Since that evening at your splendid estate when I first laid eyes on you at the ball, I have been unable to tear my gaze from your unparalleled form. Your artfully arranged blonde hair and sparkling azure eyes, which reflect even the sunlight, have deeply impressed me. The grace with which you savored the fine red wine was simply... overwhelming.

You see, I can remain silent no longer. My heart..."

Yet, instead of continuing to read, Aston ripped the letter to shreds. What a lack of charm; it is as clear as day what they all desire. How they idolize me as I sip my wine—it's laughable… Aston thought bitterly, his gaze darkening as it fell upon the torn fragments of the letter. He quickly shifted his focus to the unopened one.

"Dear Mr. Aston Rosenmahl,

What transpired with your mother just over a year ago still weighs heavily on my heart. I am aware that both your family and you have suffered due to this situation. Therefore, I want to assure you that, should you have any grievances, I am always here for you. My door and my ears remain open to you at all times.

However, I reach out to you with a particular request. I find myself facing a dilemma that has already led me to resort to less than honorable methods. I am being demanded to pay a sum of 600 Elis, which I have fortunately managed to settle relatively painlessly. However, another issue has arisen that I cannot resolve with money but only through your kindness and goodwill.

Rather than seeking additional funds, I have been tasked with procuring specific blood and substances to enhance my blood powers. The requirements include a quarter kilo of ground Avel roses, six roses with eye patterns—three with one eye and three with three eyes. Additionally, I need 20 grams of the powder from the deceased night shimmer moth and 10 grams from a dead rose bush from the Forest of Glimmering Shadows.

I thus implore you, dear Aston, to lend me your assistance as a friend. Your support would be immensely helpful, and I would be forever grateful.

Yours sincerely,

Hank Dosen"

Aston regarded the orange text of the letter, sinking back into the plush, gold-adorned chair as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He then took up his pen, a gold-plated instrument with a long blue-and-white feather protruding from its wide casing.

"Dear Hank Dosen,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I am pleased to inform you that I have received your last letter intact. First and foremost, I would like to thank you for your kind words and your concern.

The loss of my mother continues to be a challenge, but we are slowly finding our way through it. Though the grief is ever-present, the memories of the beautiful moments we shared bring us solace. It is a difficult time for my family, and I know you can relate to the circumstances.

Regrettably, I have learned of your unfortunate predicament and the specific resources you require, which are not easily accessible to you. How fortunate—or perhaps clever—you are to have reached out to me. I am aware of the challenges you face, and I will do my utmost to assist you.

However, before we proceed, I must stipulate a few conditions. It is important to me that we meet in person to discuss the matter in detail. I propose we meet the day after tomorrow, as today marks the Day of Verdant Haven—let us gather on the 6th of Astra, 1613 AORB, also known as the Day of False Gods.

I ask you to join me in Denklin at a modest restaurant called "Delicacies in a Bowl." The venue may seem unremarkable, but I believe it provides an ideal setting for us to discuss the specifics of your request and any potential counteroffers without interruption.

I am eager to ensure that our discussion remains confidential, and I am confident we can find a mutually beneficial resolution. Please confirm whether this date works for you.

I look forward to your response and to our forthcoming meeting.

Warm regards,

Aston Rosenmahl"

As Aston placed his pen, dipped in the previously mentioned orange ink, back on the desk, he gazed out the window at the azure sun, now further risen on the turquoise horizon, partially obscured by a few clouds.

…

Fring Street 95, Blue Sharks

Elliot had been at his desk for about an hour, buried in paperwork. However, as fate would have it, William called out, "Elliot, could you make me a coffee?" "Coming right up!" Elliot replied, his tone steady despite the walls that separated them. As he walked over to the coffee machine, a faint smile crept onto his lips. The atmosphere here was markedly different from the dreary blue haze outside or the dim shadows of the storage room adjacent to Edwin and Samantha's modest home. It was warm and inviting, much like the coffee he poured into a porcelain cup.

Suddenly jolted from his daydream, Elliot suppressed a yelp, "Argh! Damn it!" With a wave of his right hand, he inadvertently spilled the rich brown liquid onto the wooden floor. William rushed over, glancing at Elliot's hand before stifling a chuckle. "Sorry about that; let me grab a cloth." As Elliot set the coffee cup down and examined his slightly reddened hand—though thankfully unburned—William quickly wiped the liquid off the floor and muttered, "Let's hope no stains remain; otherwise, our boss will be even more stressed than usual."

William clapped a hand on Elliot's shoulder, prompting Elliot to ask, "Boss?" They exchanged bewildered looks until William scratched his head, his eyes widening. "Bill's actually the boss here. But we tend to talk more as equals." He chuckled at Elliot's confusion, lifted the coffee cup, and thanked him as he left.

Why am I stuck with all this paperwork? I thought there would be more assignments and less bureaucracy… Elliot sighed internally and turned toward his workspace when the sudden ringing of a bell interrupted him. He hurried to the entrance, passing through the storage room filled with syringes and various equipment.

Before him unfolded a scene straight out of a detective film. A rotund man stood there, clad in an impeccably tailored black-and-white suit, topped off with a large hat and a monocle perched on one eye. His fingers were stained blue with blood, as was much of the rest of his attire, and his disheveled hair stood on end. He looked distressed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, his legs trembling as his red-rimmed eyes darted around.

Elliot's eyes widened as he clenched his fists. The slave trader. That bastard who sold me! With gritted teeth, he glared at the man from a distance, cold fury radiating from him.

"My name is Jack Maggerson..." Jack wheezed, panting heavily. His back hunched and his bloodied hands resting on his thighs. "…Esteemed Blue Sharks, I need your help! My wife, my unborn child…" He choked back tears, "They were just…gone! Just gone!"

Jack couldn't hold back the flood of tears, tugging at his hair in anguish as it threatened to slip further from his receding hairline.

Thud! Thud!

Jack, after pulling out a handful of hair, began to pound his own thighs repeatedly until Chris and Elton seized him, calming him down. Concern etched on everyone's faces, even Elliot felt a twinge of pity but continued to regard him with furrowed brows from a distance. A rough voice rose among the seven people in the room. "Jack Maggerson, I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, but please calm yourself so you can tell us what happened." Bill approached Jack with measured yet firm steps.

"It all happened so fast!" Jack's eyes flickered in a daze until Elisia murmured something in a language Elliot didn't understand. "Goddess of Reason, grant this poor soul peace amidst chaos, so that in times of torment he may escape the damned cycle of anguish and act rationally rather than emotionally!"

As Elisia recited her incantation, she pricked her finger and traced a simple circle with a dot in the middle on Jack's sweaty cheek. In an instant, the heavy breathing, tremors, and exhaustion seemed to vanish. Jack stood there, eerily calm, as though caught in a waking dream.

"Maggerson, please continue," Elisia's gentle voice broke the bureaucratic silence.

With a newfound serenity, Jack recounted, "I was at work, dealing in the slave trade, and making a decent profit. I had netted nearly ten Elis that morning, five more than usual. But when I decided to take a break and visit my beloved wife—her belly was swollen, very swollen, already in her sixth month—what I found was my dead wife. My dead wife. She lay there before the fireplace, the flames crackling, her face in the midst of it all. Her body was covered in blue blood, yet I saw no open wounds at first glance. It appeared as though the blood flowed from her eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, until it consumed her entirely. All I could do was hold her and cling to her."

Everyone bowed their heads in silence, except for Elliot, who continued to watch Jack Maggerson with a mix of pity and resentment. After a few moments of stillness, Bill met Jack's gaze again. "Mr. Maggerson, what exactly is your request?"

Locking eyes with Bill for a brief moment, Jack replied, "Find the person responsible for this tragedy inflicted upon my wife and unborn child, and deliver them to me."

Bill nodded, urging, "And how much are you willing to pay?"

Jack's response was swift and devoid of emotion. "One hundred Elis if you identify who did it, and two hundred Elis if you bring him to me alive."

Nodding in agreement, Bill asked, "Where did this tragedy occur?"

In a monotone voice, though growing weaker, Jack replied, "Ost Street 34, across from the Monnem Bar."

Bill exchanged a glance with Elisia, silently confirming their next steps, while she absentmindedly traced her finger over the blue half-dried blood on her cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Maggerson, for entrusting us with this task." Bill bowed slightly, his hand resting between his chest and abdomen as he expressed his gratitude. Elton and Chris helped the blood-stained man to his feet just as his strength gave out.

As Bill turned to leave, he and Elliot shared a long, serious look. For a moment, the air between them thickened until Bill's lips curled into a slight smile. "Elliot, there's a job for you."