Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 183: Grandma Seraphina, The Creator (2)

In the dimly lit cave, the soft glow from Seraphina’s crystalline horns cast flickering shadows against the jagged walls. The faint light from the entrance barely reached them, leaving the air thick with an eerie yet oddly comforting silence. Beside her, Ethan sat with his long legs stretched out, his towering figure contrasting sharply against her smaller frame.

The sight was almost comical—they looked more like a father and daughter than a grandmother and grandson.

The tips of Ethan’s horns shimmered with a dull golden glow as he pondered where even to begin explaining. There was so much to say, but the real challenge was figuring out how to make her believe it.

Seraphina, on the other hand, was still too overwhelmed to process anything properly. The presence beside her felt familiar in a way she couldn’t explain—a dwarven familiarity as if they shared the same blood. But there was more to it. Something deeper. And what troubled her the most was the impossible contradiction of it all.

The being in her visions before she entered her Evolutionary Slumber. The Ancestor. The one who stood above all. And now… her grandson?

What kind of twisted mysticism was this?

Ethan exhaled softly, and in his mind, Zark’s voice echoed.

’It would be best if you address her by her name first. Approach her as an ancestor, not a grandson. She’ll come to accept you as a family later.’

’Mm. Thanks, man.’ Ethan responded before shifting his gaze back to the woman beside him.

’Seraphina.’ His deep voice carried through the cave, firm yet composed.

Seraphina flinched slightly at the way he said her name. "My lord?" she replied hesitantly, confusion still clear in her tone.

Ethan sighed. ’I hate that title when family uses it, but I’ll let it slide for now. Do you know who you are?’

Seraphina frowned. "I am Seraphina. A dwarf and wife of the Vampire King, Vlad."

’No, you’re wrong—although you’re also right. Let me rephrase… Do you know what you are?’

"A dwarf? An evolved dwarf," she answered, still uncertain.

’Correct, but still wrong.’

Her brows furrowed deeply. "I don’t understand."

’You are a Primogenitor.’

Seraphina blinked. "You mean like... what?!"

’Mmhm.’

"No, wait! That can’t be! A Primogenitor?! That’s the same status as the Ancestor—it’s the same status as you!"

’You’re right.’

"Then… there cannot be two Primogenitors of the same race in the same world!" Her voice grew more distressed.

’I know.’

"But—"

’Seraphina, please calm down.’

Ethan’s voice turned hard, and authoritative, and just like that, Seraphina shut her mouth. Though they were technically of the same status, Ethan’s unique bloodline as both a Vampire and a Dwarf placed him on a different level entirely. Even Trevor, another Primogenitor, couldn’t compare to him in sheer presence.

Seraphina clenched her fists. "I..."

’I understand what you’re saying, but think about it—if we were truly the same, would you be here right now?’

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

’I am your ancestor, yes—but not yet. The real Ancestor is still out there, somewhere, watching over us. I am merely a stand-in for him. I am a perfect hybrid of Vampire and Dwarf—a Blood Primogenitor and a Creator. Because of that, our statuses are not equal.’

Seraphina’s hands trembled slightly. "Then... is there a Blood Primogenitor? If you are a hybrid of us, then there must be one."

’Correct. And he also happens to be your grandson. My little brother—Trevor.’

"Unbelievable..."

’Believe it or not, this is reality. I don’t know how you saw me in your visions, but I’m certain it was the work of the real Ancestors of the Smith Clan. They’ve now entrusted the Ancestor position to me. After all, there must be balance between the two races of the Smiths—and I am the perfect one for that.’

Seraphina’s expression tightened. "...It’s still hard to believe. But… does that mean this world already had three Primogenitors?"

Ethan chuckled. ’Haha! There are more—some are in hiding, and some have yet to be born. The correct statement is that the Smiths now have three Primogenitors… and we’ll have to prove it to the world.’

Seraphina exhaled slowly. "I don’t even know how to use my power."

’Neither do I. I’m still learning.’

She pursed her lips, then hesitated before asking, "...Is Vlad still alive? Is he well?"

Ethan’s expression darkened slightly. ’He is… but—’

Her eyes snapped to his. "But?"

’He’s made a grave mistake—one that has forced me to take action. He has started a war.’

Seraphina’s breath hitched. "A war?"

’Yes. And it is with the Blade Clan.’

"You’re kidding, right?"

’Do I look like I’m kidding?’

"...I can’t see your face."

Ethan blinked. ’For some reason, that hurt me more than necessary.’

Seraphina sighed. "I’m still trying to accept that you’re my grandson."

’Are you as crazy as my mother?’

Seraphina’s eyes twitched. "Madeleine inherited my craziness?"

’No need to ask. It’s obvious.’

"Hey! That was disrespectful! Is that how you talk to your grandmother?!"

’You accepted that fast...’

"Piss off, kid!"

Ethan burst into laughter. ’Hahaha!’

...

Far from Ethan and his grandmother, the battlefield was a living nightmare. The sky was painted in streaks of red and silver as chaos reigned, blood splattering across the ground like macabre rain. The sharp whistle of a wind slicing through the air cut through the noise of battle, chilling and merciless. Wherever the sound passed, bodies either exploded into grotesque showers of gore or were bisected cleanly, their remains collapsing in lifeless heaps.

Elsewhere, screams of agony intertwined with the crackling roar of a firestorm. Towering flames in shades of red and orange danced wildly, engulfing everything in their wake. At the heart of this inferno stood a massive fox, its two tails lashing through the air like whips of fire. Its deep blue eyes gleamed with an almost eerie intelligence, and its fur—if it could still be called that—merged seamlessly with the living flames that wreathed its body. It was as if the beast itself was fire incarnate, a walking disaster scorching the land.

Besides the great fox, another smaller one—its mirror image but on a lesser scale—moved just as lethally, weaving through the ranks of the Blade Clan, leaving a trail of smoldering corpses in its wake. The two beasts were Reginald and his spirit companion, their spirit flames turning men into nothing but blackened ash and charred bones.

Then—

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ROAR!

A thunderous, bone-rattling roar silenced the battlefield.

Every fighter, ally and foe alike, froze as a powerful gust of wind swept through, howling like a storm’s wrath. When they looked up, fear gripped their souls.

A massive silver wyvern, its scales gleaming like liquid mercury under the flames of destruction, descended from the sky with terrifying speed. Its wings were spread wide, their sheer size casting a monstrous shadow over the battlefield. Its cold red eyes gleamed with a ruthless intelligence, and the mere sight of it sent shivers through even the most battle-hardened warriors.

The air around the wyvern twisted unnaturally, forming countless cyclones that spiraled downward like scythes of destruction. As they struck the ground, the impact was catastrophic—warriors were torn apart, their bodies shredded into unrecognizable pieces. Structures that had once been proud strongholds were now collapsing under the sheer force of the wyvern’s descent. The ground trembled violently, cracking and splintering under the pressure.

Hovering just behind the wyvern, a figure loomed in the sky like a harbinger of death.

Jerry.

His presence was overwhelming. The tattoos on his arms pulsed with silver and crimson light, their glow intensifying with every breath he took. His hair floated slightly, as though lifted by an unseen force, and his mismatched red and silver eyes burned with a lethal brilliance.

Then, something changed.

His wings—those signature markers of his vampire heritage—vanished. In their place, a long, slender silver tail unfurled from his lower back, glowing faintly with intricate red runes that pulsed in sync with his heartbeat. His nails elongated into razor-sharp claws, and as he bared his fangs, his entire form radiated an undeniable sense of primal power.

The very air warped around him.

Then—

CRACK! BOOM!

With an explosive burst, he shot forward like a bullet, the sheer force of his movement splitting the air itself. A shockwave erupted behind him, sending debris flying in all directions.

In the blink of an eye, he was upon a group of Blade Clan warriors who had formed a defensive line, their bodies positioned protectively around something—or someone.

They had no time to react.

Jerry’s claws flashed a blur of silver slicing through the air. A burly warrior in front of him didn’t even get the chance to scream before his body was cleaved into five perfect pieces. His blood, flung violently into the air, should have splattered across the ground.

It didn’t.

Instead, the crimson liquid hung mid-air, freezing unnaturally.

The remaining warriors stared in horror as the suspended blood shimmered, its surface rippling like molten metal. Then, in an instant, it condensed into a sleek, razor-sharp blade glowing with a faint silver hue. Read new chapters at novelbuddy

Before they could even move—

SWOOSH!

The blade shot forward like a missile, carving through them in a single devastating arc. Their bodies fell one after another, lifeless before they even hit the ground.

Jerry landed softly, his silver tail curling slightly behind him as he flicked the lingering blood from his claws. His red-silver eyes, glowing with an eerie light, surveyed the battlefield with a predator’s calm.

"Tch! Show-off..."

A deep, almost growling voice rumbled through the air.

Not far from Jerry, Reginald’s fox form glowed intensely as he watched the slaughter. His massive frame was now radiating a deep golden hue, his flames intensifying, turning wilder, more untamed. The ground beneath him cracked violently as his power surged, and the very earth itself responded—erupting into a hellish river of fire.

With a single step forward, the flames around him detonated.

A wave of pure spirit fire roared outward, swallowing everything in its path. Trees, bodies, weapons—nothing was spared. The air shimmered with unbearable heat, and the smell of burning flesh choked the battlefield.

Then, with a final, powerful leap, Reginald’s body became a blur of red and orange, his form transforming into a living inferno. His spirit tails, now appearing more ethereal, whipped through the air like sentient fire, lashing out with the force of a natural disaster.

At that moment, for the warriors of the Blade Clan, there was no hope.

Only death.

...

Jerry moved toward the large, cloth-covered object that the Blade Clan warriors had been so desperately guarding. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, each step filled with an unshakable presence. The battlefield around him was still in chaos—fires raged, bodies lay scattered, and the scent of blood hung thick in the air—but his focus was solely on the concealed box before him.

The heavy fabric covering it was stained with dirt and blood, a testament to the fierce battle that had taken place around it. His silver tail flicked behind him as he reached forward, gripping the cloth with his clawed fingers.

With a single pull, he ripped it away.

His mismatched red and silver eyes widened.

The air around him grew unnaturally still.

For the first time since his transformation, a cold breath slipped past his lips, and his expression flickered with something dangerously close to shock.

"Oh… crap."

The words left him in a low, almost disbelieving whisper.

Something was very wrong.