Nerion opened his eyes with almost unnatural ease, as if he had no eyelids at all. The simple desire to see was enough to bring his vision to life.
He looked around.
Nothing.
Only endless darkness, scattered with faint glimmers of pure white light. They seemed close—strangely close—but no matter how hard he focused, he could not reach them. It was as if they existed right before his eyes, yet beyond the limits of touch.
Weird. Deeply weird.
He tried to move—but there was nothing to move. No arms, no legs, no body. He felt like a ghost floating in a world where the physical had no meaning.
Then—
Ding!
Nerion flinched slightly at the sudden appearance of the interface—familiar, yet surreal. It was the same system screen he had seen just before blacking out.
He stared at it, barely able to believe his eyes. He had not expected anything like this after crossing over into this world. His transmigration had already been surreal enough, but gaining a system was an entirely different matter.
Still... he was not happy.
The whole idea of a "system" felt cheap to him. Nerion had always wanted to take control of his own destiny—without relying on some cheat granted by fate.
Most systems in stories were created by powerful beings, and they always came with a price. He did not want to owe anyone anything. He did not want power he had not truly earned. In his eyes, many so-called protagonists did not deserve their achievements. Countless others worked harder and suffered more, only to remain unnoticed simply because they lacked a system.
No.
That was not the path he wanted.
"Can I refuse you?" he asked aloud—or at least, that was what it felt like in that moment. Somehow, he had the strange sense that this Origin Bloodline System could hear him and communicate with him. He did not know how he knew, but the certainty was there.
[Heir, allow me to clarify a few things. I can already sense the instability in our spiritual link,] the system replied calmly.
[I was not created by any powerful being, as you imagine. I am an ethereal entity directly tied to your bloodline—your Origin Bloodline.]
"How the hell do you know what I'm thinking?!" Nerion snapped, anger rising within him.
The idea that the system could read his mind was dangerous. It felt like being haunted by a parasite fused to his soul.
[No, heir. I cannot read your thoughts—at least, not in the usual sense. This space is your soulscape. Here, your thoughts echo clearly because you have no mouth or voice. What you perceive as 'speech' is actually your thoughts, focused and directed at me. Outside this space, I will not hear a single thought unless you consciously choose to share it.]
The system continued.
[I am here to serve you, bound only to your bloodline. No one created me. I exist because your bloodline exists. Without it, I would not be. Without you, I would vanish. I have never had a master before you. If you die, I disappear.]
[You are not the first of your lineage, of course, but your lineage is simply priceless, and you are its first and only heir. I, too, am the only one of my kind, and I accept only one heir—and you were chosen the moment you arrived in that place. No one from your lineage has ever come to this world before you.]
[I believe that answers many of your questions, but for now, I cannot tell you everything. If I did, I would place you in danger. To put it simply—it would be deadly.]
Nerion remained skeptical, but the logic made sense. The system had no reason to lie. They were connected—like a heart and its veins. If one failed, the other would too.
One question remained.
"Tell me clearly," he said, his voice more serious than ever, "are you a gift, or are you my rightful inheritance?"
[No, heir. I am not a gift. I am your rightful inheritance—a birthright born from your bloodline. No one placed me inside you.]
[Besides, I know of no creature capable of doing such a thing.]
[And whatever idea you may have, heir, that my role is to make your path easier than everyone else's, is nothing more than a delusion—one that will disappear the moment you begin climbing upward.]
Nerion let out a deep breath.
He could never accept an unearned shortcut.
No.
Nerion used to read biographies of businessmen and millionaires who told young people to struggle, work hard, and endure suffering—despite the fact that they themselves had never gone to sleep hungry even once in their lives. They had never heard their father complain to their mother about the weight of life.
Even some of the protagonists in the novels he read would proudly say, "I earned this," while using some absurd cheat that let them breeze through difficulties as if they were nothing. Meanwhile, countless others fell behind them—people who were smarter, more disciplined, and had gained their strength through years of pain and effort.
Still... Nerion kept reading those stories.
Why?
He was bored.
But that was not the only reason.
He was searching for inspiration. For something specific—even if he did not know what it was. He hoped that one day, while reading one of those books, he would find it.
But he would never accept that kind of advantage for himself.
Nerion did not love hardship for its own sake—no one did. What he hated was the idea of everyone else having to face those trials and overcome them, while he simply bypassed them with the help of a cheat.
How could he celebrate reaching the finish line when someone else had taken the harder, more meaningful path—only to lose because Nerion had been helped by another being? That was not victory. That was two against one... if not worse.
Nerion believed in one very important truth:
The harshest trials forge the strongest men—if they endure them.
But back to the present.
"So tell me," Nerion asked, curiosity finally overcoming caution, "how exactly do you work, Origin Bloodline System?"
[As you already suspect, heir, I am not here to make you stronger. I am here to show you how.]
[Your bloodline lacks a structured evolutionary path like the ones developed in the Ancient Era. That is why I exist—to guide you through the progression of your bloodline's sequences.]
"I see," Nerion replied. "But I doubt it will be easy, right?"
[Indeed, heir. Your path is one of the most powerful in existence—perhaps the most powerful. You will learn that in time. But what I can assure you is this...]
[It is also the most difficult.]
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nerion asked, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.
[Exactly what you think. The Origin Bloodline stands at the peak—but its path is a nightmare. Pain is only a small part of the trial. Each step requires rare materials, dangerous rituals, and unimaginable risks. There are no shortcuts. No skipping sequences. Your road will be paved with blood, and your chances of survival are lower than those of anyone on any known path.]
The words struck him like a storm.
But the system was not done.
[So, heir... you have two choices.]
[Live as one of the lower races, abandon this terrifying path, and live a decent life—not the strongest, but not the weakest either.]
[Or walk the hard road. Either you reach the top... or you do not. I can promise nothing. I am only a guide.]
For many, that might have seemed like an easy choice.
But not for those who truly understood how difficult such a journey could be—those who knew that sometimes hardship reached a point where giving up felt tempting, even reasonable. Such people would stop and weigh the risks against the rewards.
Yet there was a third kind of person—far rarer than the rest.
Those who had succeeded before. Those who knew that the harder the road, the sweeter the destination. Better yet, the more brutal the journey, the greater the reward.
And this bloodline promised the cruelest journey of all.
A wide smile spread across Nerion's ethereal face, causing a ripple in the spiritual link between him and the system.
"But I do have one question," he said suddenly.
[Go ahead, heir.]
"The original owner of this body didn't have this bloodline, right? I brought it with me. That's why my eyes are different, isn't it?"
[Yes, heir. The previous owner possessed no unique traits. Even your current appearance is the result of your bloodline rewriting this body's genetic structure, restoring features similar to your original form—only amplified by this world's willpower energy. Your eye color, your features... all of them are the result of that transformation.]
[As for why this body was chosen—it was the most recently deceased vessel with minimal damage. That allowed me to preserve the essence of your bloodline and test your willpower under harsh conditions, completing the inheritance process.]
Nerion was surprised by how precise everything had been. The system had not chosen randomly—it had optimized every detail.
Oddly enough, he was not angry.
In fact, the system had done exactly what Nerion would have wanted if he had been given the choice at the time.
It had even allowed him to sharpen his mind and test whether his old skills and instincts were still intact.
Cunning had always been his greatest weapon—in his former world and now in this one.
Before his reincarnation, that had been his specialty.
Why?
Because before he was recruited to work for the state, he had been a renowned psychiatrist. And he had been obsessed with it—alongside archaeology.
Why those two?
Only Nerion knew.
---
Ding!
[The merging process is nearly complete. When you awaken, you will be prompted to choose your active path, as previously described.]
[You may feel disoriented at first, but it will pass. I have erased all traces of the former owner, except for a few essential memories—such as language and certain basic knowledge—whose removal might cause problems for the heir in this world.]
[Good luck on your path, heir.]
Ding!
[Merging complete. Residual soul fragments removed. Heir will regain consciousness in:]
[3...]
[2...]
[1...]
---
Gasp!
Nerion's eyes flew open.
Huff.
Huff.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat soaking his body.
"Nerion!" a soft, worried voice called out.
He looked up—and found himself staring into two crystal-blue eyes filled with relief and joy.
'Wait... am I lying on her lap?'
Yes. Nerion was lying flat on his back, his head resting on Mia's thighs.
"Thank goodness... I was so worried when you passed out," she whispered, her hands trembling as they cupped his cheeks.
Nerion blinked.
He did not understand.
They had only just met. How could she show such deep emotion?
'Is she acting?' he wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought.
If she were pretending, she would not have been angry earlier when he looked at her with disgust. And with her power, she had no need to fake anything.
'Maybe transmigration gave me a superiority complex,' Nerion thought, inwardly amused.
What Nerion didn't know was that Mia had never allowed herself to get this close to a man before. It was not for lack of trying on her parents' part. They had introduced her to several of their own kind, but no matter who the man was, Mia was always repulsed by his scent. She never allowed any man to come within a meter of her—
because among vampires, a true mate was meant to be more than a companion. By nature, such a bond was also tied to blood itself. A spouse was meant to be the primary source from whom blood was taken directly, and for that reason, scent mattered more than anything else. Yet every man she had ever met had filled her with nothing but disgust.
Nerion was the first.
The first man whose scent did not repulse her. The first whose presence did not stir irritation in her. And strangely, it was not only his scent. There was something about the way he carried himself—even in weakness, even in confusion—that drew her in. His eyes, his restraint, the quiet sharpness in the way he spoke and observed... all of it felt different.
It wasn't love—nothing so deep or refined. It was something far simpler, far more unfamiliar. For the first time in her life, Mia found herself drawn to a man instead of repelled by him, and because of that, she had no idea how to act. Her instincts were clashing in ways she had never experienced before.
Then Nerion spoke.
"Can you help me back to my chair?"
Mia hesitated for a moment, then nodded and carefully helped him up.
"Miss Mia," Nerion said, "may I ask you something?"
"Of course, Nerion. Ask anything. But please, just call me Mia," she replied with a gentle smile and hopeful eyes.
He returned the smile faintly.
"Alright, Mia. I wanted to know—why did that minotaur call you 'Breaker of Chains'? What does that mean?"
"Oh, that's easy. It's because of my sequence—Sequence 8. Sequence 8 is known as 'Breaker of Chains'."
"S-Sequence? What is that?" Nerion asked, genuinely confused.
'She's Sequence 8... Is that high?'
'Like... is it stronger than Sequence 5, or weaker?'
He tilted his head.
He still did not know.
And judging by the way her eyes lit up, Mia was more than ready to explain everything.