Bloodline of Ruin

They walked for two days without incident, following game trails deeper into the mountains. The landscape here was raw, unforgiving—jagged peaks that scraped the sky, valleys shrouded in perpetual mist, and silence so complete that their footsteps seemed like violations.
On the third day, they found the village.
Or what remained of it.
The structures were ancient—predating the architectural styles Haruto recognized by centuries. Stone foundations supported buildings made of materials that had long since rotted away, leaving only skeletal frameworks. But what drew his attention were the markers.
Hundreds of them.
Stone monuments, each carved with names and dates, arranged in neat rows that suggested a cemetery. But these weren't grave markers—they were genealogies. Family trees carved into stone, tracking bloodlines back generations.
"What is this place?" Shinjiro asked, studying one of the monuments. "Some kind of ancestral shrine?"
"Worse," the priest said, his voice hollow. He was reading the inscriptions, his face growing paler with each one. "This is Ketsueki-no-Sato. The Village of Blood. It was destroyed three hundred years ago, but the stories about it persist."
"What stories?"
"That it was a village obsessed with bloodline purity. With maintaining family lines untainted by outside influence. They practiced strict intermarriage, kept detailed genealogies going back centuries, believed their blood was sacred." The priest moved to another monument. "But the obsession became corruption. The bloodlines grew too concentrated, too pure. Children were born with... abnormalities. The village elders attributed it to divine blessing. Called them sacred bloodline traits."
"But they weren't blessings," Ayame said quietly, studying the monuments. "They were deformities. Mutations from generations of inbreeding."
"Exactly. And when the empire finally investigated, when they saw what the village had become, they ordered it burned. Every building. Every record. Every person." The priest's voice was strained. "But they couldn't destroy the stone monuments. Couldn't erase the genealogies carved into rock. So they just... left them. Let the forest reclaim the village. Let it be forgotten."
Kiku had wandered ahead, drawn by something Haruto couldn't see. She stood before one particular monument, her small hand tracing the carved characters.
"Mother," she whispered. "Your name is here."
They rushed to her side. And there it was—carved into stone three hundred years old:
*Ayame, descended from the Pure Line, transformed by divine power*
Below it were branches showing descendants, connections, a bloodline that continued forward through time even after Ayame's transformation and sealing.
"That's impossible," Ayame breathed. "I had no children. I transformed before I married, was sealed before I—"
"Look closer," the priest interrupted, pointing to a smaller inscription. "It says 'spiritual bloodline,' not biological. You didn't have children, but your essence—the fragments that leaked from the imperfect seal—they infected people. Changed them. And those changes were passed down through generations."
Haruto followed the carved lines with growing horror. The bloodline branched and branched, spreading through the village like roots through soil. And at the end of each branch were notations: *sacred sight*, *divine strength*, *blessed wisdom*.
But in smaller script, barely visible, were other descriptions: *eyes that see too much*, *bones that break from simple touch*, *mind that cannot rest*.
"They called the deformities blessings," Shinjiro said. "Made them part of the sacred bloodline. But they were just genetic damage from exposure to demon essence."
"And this village..." Haruto looked around at the ruins. "They cultivated it. Deliberately bred people who'd been touched by the essence, trying to concentrate the power."
"Until it destroyed them," the priest finished. "The obsession with purity, with preserving sacred blood, became greed. They hoarded the power, kept it within their families, refused to let it dissipate naturally. And it consumed them from within."
A sound made them all freeze.
Laughter. Children's laughter, echoing through the ruins.
"Oh no," Kiku whispered. "They're not all gone. Some of them are still here."
Figures emerged from behind the monuments—not solid, not quite ghost, but something in between. They wore the same translucent quality as the kami from the Forsaken Shrine, but these were different. Twisted. Wrong.
They had too many limbs, or too few. Eyes in places eyes shouldn't be. Mouths that opened too wide. Bodies that bent at angles that shouldn't exist.
*"Visitors,"* they spoke in unison, their voices like wind through broken teeth. *"Descendants of the Pure Line. Come to see what blood can build. What ancestry can create."*
"We're not descendants," Haruto said, though he wasn't entirely certain. His own bloodline had been manipulated by the seal, shaped by forces he didn't understand. Who knew what connections might exist?
*"All who carry the demon queen's essence are descendants,"* the spirits replied. *"Blood of blood. Soul of soul. Part of the great genealogy that began when she first took power four hundred years ago."*
They moved closer, their twisted forms shambling between the monuments. As they passed each genealogy marker, the stones began to glow, and new names appeared—names that hadn't been carved there before.
Names that were currently living.
Or recently dead.
*"Look,"* the spirits gestured. *"Look at what your bloodlines have wrought. What your ancestors built. What your descendants will become."*
Haruto found his name appearing on one of the monuments. And below it, branching forward into the future, were more names. Children he'd never have. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. An entire bloodline extending forward, each generation marked with notations:
*Carries fragment of demon essence**Born with shadow sight**Dreams of the seal chamber**Dies young, consumed by inherited corruption*
"No," he breathed. "This isn't—I don't have children. I'm not married. This is just—"
*"Possibility,"* the spirits said. *"Probability. What happens when you carry demon essence and pass it to your descendants. What happens when you hoard power instead of releasing it."*
Shinjiro had found his name too. But his genealogy was shorter—no descendants, just a notation that read: *bloodline ends here, soul already claimed by death*.
"At least mine is simple," he muttered.
The priest's monument showed something different—his bloodline extending backward, showing Tsukiko, showing the generations of carefully cultivated spiritual power that had led to her birth. And beside her name was a new inscription: *died to strengthen the seal, sacrifice wasted*.
"That's not true," the priest said, his voice shaking. "Her death wasn't wasted. It bought us time to—"
*"To destroy the seal anyway. To release what she died containing. To make her sacrifice meaningless."* The spirits surrounded them now, their twisted forms blocking escape. *"That is greed, priest. Not the greed of taking, but the greed of keeping. You hoarded your granddaughter's life until the very end, kept her for the seal's purpose, refused to let her live freely. And when she finally chose her own death, you destroyed what she died for."*
"I didn't—I never wanted—"
*"Want is irrelevant. You participated in a system that required her sacrifice. You raised her knowing she would die. You kept her trapped in Kagura-no-Sato her entire life, never letting her experience the world beyond. That is possession. That is greed."*
The priest collapsed to his knees, and Haruto saw tears streaming down the old man's face. Because the spirits were right. However noble the intention, however necessary the sacrifice, the priest had treated his granddaughter as an asset. A resource to be preserved until needed.
Kiku was staring at her own monument, but it was different from the others. Instead of showing ancestry backward or descendants forward, it showed branching possibilities—timelines where she chose differently.
*Accepts the Lilim's offer, becomes demon queen reborn**Releases the essence, dies peacefully as human child**Maintains balance, lives full life, passes power to chosen heir**Fails to control the essence, transforms into something worse than mother*
"So many paths," she whispered. "So many ways this could end."
*"That is the burden of carrying power,"* the spirits said, now focusing on her. *"Every choice you make echoes forward through generations. Every moment you keep the essence, you risk passing it to others. Every time you use its power, you strengthen the chance of transformation. That is the greed of potential—hoarding possibilities instead of accepting limitations."*
Ayame's monument was the most elaborate, showing her bloodline extending in multiple directions. Biological descendants she'd never had. Spiritual descendants touched by her essence. The Crimson Lilim, listed as her daughters. Even Kiku, marked as *born from love, destined to repeat the cycle*.
*"You cannot escape your bloodline,"* the spirits told her. *"Cannot sever the connections you created. Every soul you consumed, every person touched by your essence, every demon born from your suffering—they are all your descendants. Your family. Your responsibility. And you hoard them all, claiming ownership of their fates through guilt and the desire for redemption."*
"I'm trying to help them," Ayame protested.
*"Are you? Or are you trying to control them? To ensure they don't make your mistakes by removing their ability to choose?"* The spirits moved closer to her. *"You took Haruto's despair. Guided Kiku's transformation. Intervened every time they faced danger. That is not help—that is possession. You are hoarding their futures, keeping them safe by keeping them dependent."*
The words struck like physical blows. Haruto wanted to argue, wanted to defend Ayame, but he couldn't. Because he'd felt it too—the way she always stepped in, always sacrificed, always made choices for them "for their own good."
It came from love. He knew that. But love could be greedy too. Could hoard and possess while claiming to protect.
The monuments began to pulse with light, and suddenly the genealogies came alive. Haruto saw his potential descendants living their lives—generation after generation shaped by the demon essence he carried. Some thrived, using the power wisely. Others were destroyed by it, consumed like Ayame had been.
And he realized: this was the trial of Greed.
Not about hoarding gold or power for selfish reasons, but about keeping things you shouldn't. About holding onto burdens you should release. About possessing people, futures, possibilities through the excuse of protection or responsibility.
"We have to let go," he said suddenly. "Don't we? That's what this trial is teaching us. We have to release what we're hoarding."
*"CORRECT,"* a familiar voice boomed.
The Serpent of Eight Sins materialized among the monuments, its eight heads studying them with burning eyes.
*"THE TRIAL OF GREED IS NOT ABOUT WANTING. IT IS ABOUT KEEPING. ABOUT THE REFUSAL TO RELEASE WHAT IS NO LONGER YOURS TO HOLD."*
The greed-head spoke alone, its golden eyes gleaming: *"YOU HOARD THE DEMON ESSENCE, CLAIMING YOU MUST KEEP IT CONTAINED. BUT PERHAPS IT SHOULD BE RELEASED ENTIRELY. DISPERSED INTO THE EARTH, DILUTED BEYOND USEFULNESS. YOU HOARD EACH OTHER'S FUTURES, INTERVENING IN CHOICES THAT ARE NOT YOURS TO MAKE. YOU HOARD GUILT, KEEPING IT CLOSE LIKE TREASURE, REFUSING TO LET IT GO BECAUSE IT HAS BECOME COMFORTABLE. FAMILIAR."*
*"THE QUESTION IS SIMPLE: WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RELEASE?"*
The clearing fell silent except for the wind through ruins and the distant sound of water running over stone.
"The demon essence?" Haruto asked. "You want us to just... let it go? After everything we've done to keep it contained?"
*"PERHAPS. OR PERHAPS YOU SHOULD RELEASE SOMETHING ELSE. THE GUILT. THE RESPONSIBILITY YOU CLAIM FOR OTHERS' CHOICES. THE NEED TO CONTROL FUTURES YOU CANNOT PREDICT."* All eight heads turned to look at Ayame. *"OR PERHAPS THE DEMON QUEEN SHOULD RELEASE HER DESCENDANTS. STOP CLAIMING OWNERSHIP OF EVERYONE TOUCHED BY HER ESSENCE. LET THEM MAKE THEIR OWN MISTAKES."*
"If I do that," Ayame said, "they might be destroyed. The Lilim might—"
*"MIGHT. POSSIBLY. PERHAPS. YOU USE UNCERTAINTY AS JUSTIFICATION FOR CONTROL. BUT THAT IS GREED—THE DESIRE TO POSSESS OTHERS' FATES BECAUSE YOU FEAR WHAT THEY MIGHT CHOOSE."*
The spirits of Ketsueki-no-Sato were nodding, their twisted forms seeming to approve of the Serpent's words.
*"We hoarded bloodlines,"* they said. *"Hoarded purity. Hoarded power. And it destroyed us. Turned our children into monsters. Consumed us from within. The same will happen to you unless you learn to release. To let go. To trust that some things are better dispersed than concentrated."*
Kiku stepped forward, her small form seeming fragile among the monuments. "What if I released the essence I carry? Gave it back to mother, or dispersed it into the earth like the spirits suggested?"
*"YOU WOULD DIE,"* the Serpent said bluntly. *"THE ESSENCE IS THE ONLY THING MAKING YOU CORPOREAL. RELEASE IT, AND YOU RETURN TO BEING A FRAGMENT. A THOUGHT WITHOUT SUBSTANCE."*
"But the three of you would have more to carry," Kiku said to Haruto, Shinjiro, and the priest. "Would be more burdened. I took one-ninth from each of you. If I give it back—"
"No," Haruto said firmly. "That's not what this trial is about. The Serpent said release, not sacrifice. You dying isn't releasing—it's just trading one form of hoarding for another."
"Then what do we release?" Shinjiro asked, frustration clear in his voice. "We can't let go of the essence without it reforming into something dangerous. Can't stop protecting each other because the threats are real. Can't release our guilt because we're genuinely responsible for what happened. What exactly are we supposed to let go of?"
The Serpent's eight heads swayed, considering. Then the serene head spoke:
*"THE NEED FOR CERTAINTY. THE BELIEF THAT YOU MUST CONTROL EVERY OUTCOME. THE GREED OF WANTING TO ENSURE GOOD RESULTS INSTEAD OF SIMPLY DOING GOOD WORK AND ACCEPTING WHATEVER FOLLOWS."*
Understanding crashed over Haruto like cold water.
"We're trying to guarantee success," he said slowly. "We hoard the essence because we want to be certain it won't cause harm. We protect each other because we want to guarantee everyone survives. We claim responsibility for everything because we want to control outcomes we can't actually control."
*"YES. THAT IS THE GREED YOU MUST RELEASE. NOT THE BURDENS THEMSELVES, BUT THE BELIEF THAT CARRYING THEM ENSURES SPECIFIC RESULTS. YOU CANNOT GUARANTEE SUCCESS. CANNOT ENSURE NO ONE GETS HURT. CANNOT CONTROL FUTURES. YOU CAN ONLY MAKE CHOICES AND ACCEPT WHATEVER CONSEQUENCES FOLLOW."*
"That's terrifying," the priest whispered.
*"YES. WHICH IS WHY MOST PREFER GREED. PREFER THE ILLUSION OF CONTROL, THE COMFORT OF BELIEVING THEIR EFFORTS MATTER. BUT RELEASE REQUIRES ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU MIGHT DO EVERYTHING RIGHT AND STILL FAIL. THAT YOU MIGHT SACRIFICE EVERYTHING AND HAVE IT MEAN NOTHING. THAT THE ONLY THING YOU TRULY CONTROL IS YOUR CHOICE IN EACH MOMENT—NOT THE RESULTS THAT FOLLOW."*
Ayame sat down heavily among the monuments, looking at the carved genealogies that showed futures she couldn't control. "So I have to accept that I can't save the Lilim. That they might choose corruption even if I do everything right. That my descendants might repeat my mistakes no matter how hard I try to prevent it."
*"YES."*
"And we have to accept that carrying the essence might ultimately fail," Haruto added. "That despite our best efforts, it might still reform. Still create new demon queens. Still cause the suffering we're trying to prevent."
*"YES."*
"And I have to accept that my death fifteen years ago might have been final," Shinjiro said. "That these borrowed years might be meaningless. That my resurrection might have been the demon's manipulation rather than mercy."
*"YES."*
"And I have to accept that Tsukiko's sacrifice might have been wasted," the priest finished, his voice breaking. "That I raised her for nothing. That the seal we maintained for generations was ultimately destroyed anyway."
*"YES. ALL OF YOU MUST RELEASE THE NEED FOR YOUR SUFFERING TO HAVE MEANING. FOR YOUR CHOICES TO GUARANTEE RESULTS. FOR YOUR SACRIFICES TO BALANCE COSMIC SCALES."* The Serpent's eight heads spoke in unison: *"YOU MUST ACCEPT THAT YOU MIGHT FAIL. THAT YOUR BURDENS MIGHT BE POINTLESS. THAT THE HARVEST MIGHT COME DUE WITHOUT EVER REVEALING WHY IT WAS OWED. AND STILL CHOOSE TO CARRY FORWARD. NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE CERTAIN OF SUCCESS, BUT SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS WHAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO DO."*
The monuments stopped glowing. The spirits of Ketsueki-no-Sato began to fade, their twisted forms dissolving back into whatever space held forgotten things.
*"We learned too late,"* they whispered as they disappeared. *"Learned that hoarding creates monsters. That possessing destroys what you hold. That the only way to preserve anything is to release it. Learn from our mistake. Let go of certainty. Embrace the possibility of meaningless failure. That is the only path to genuine success."*
Then they were gone, leaving only the monuments and the ruins and the uncomfortable truth of the trial.
"So that's it?" Kiku asked quietly. "We just... accept that nothing we do might matter? That sounds like despair, not release."
"No," Ayame said, understanding dawning on her face. "Despair is believing nothing matters so why try. This is different. This is accepting that results aren't guaranteed, but trying anyway. Not because we know we'll succeed, but because the choice to try is itself meaningful—regardless of outcome."
The Serpent nodded, all eight heads moving in synchronization.
*"THE TRIAL OF GREED IS COMPLETE. YOU HAVE RELEASED YOUR NEED FOR CERTAINTY. ACCEPTED THAT MEANING IS NOT FOUND IN RESULTS BUT IN CHOICES. THIS IS... ADEQUATE."*
*"FOUR TRIALS REMAIN. WE WILL RETURN IN FIVE DAYS FOR THE TRIAL OF ENVY. PREPARE YOURSELVES. THAT ONE WILL TEST WHETHER YOU CAN BE CONTENT WITH WHAT YOU HAVE INSTEAD OF COVETING WHAT OTHERS POSSESS."*
The Serpent began to fade, but the serene head spoke one last time:
*"YOU HAVE PASSED THE HALFWAY POINT. DESPAIR, PRIDE, WRATH, AND GREED—ALL CONFRONTED, ALL SURVIVED. BUT THE REMAINING SINS ARE SUBTLER STILL. HARDER TO RECOGNIZE IN YOURSELVES. ENVY, LUST, SLOTH, AND GLUTTONY HIDE IN PLAIN SIGHT, WEARING THE FACES OF LEGITIMATE DESIRES. BE CAREFUL. THE FAILURES COME NOT FROM DRAMATIC FALLS BUT FROM SMALL SURRENDERS YOU DON'T EVEN NOTICE."*
Then it was gone completely.
They stood among the ruins of Ketsueki-no-Sato as night fell, surrounded by monuments that showed futures they couldn't control and pasts they couldn't change.
"I feel lighter," Haruto said, and was surprised to realize it was true. "Like releasing the need for certainty actually took weight off my shoulders."
"Because you've been carrying two burdens," the priest said. "The demon essence itself, and the responsibility of ensuring it never causes harm. Releasing the second made the first more bearable."
"Will we succeed?" Kiku asked. "Will we pass all seven trials?"
"I don't know," Haruto admitted. "And that's okay. We'll try. We'll do our best. And whatever happens, happens. That's all we can control."
They left the village of Blood as the moon rose, walking away from monuments that showed futures they would never guarantee and pasts they could never fix.
Four trials remained.
But tonight, they carried their burdens a little lighter.
Accepted their limitations a little easier.
And walked forward not knowing if any of it would matter.
And somehow, that was enough.