Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 366: Awakening the First Bloodline

The towering man straightened and lowered his gaze toward Silvanus. From this angle, he looked even larger and more intimidating.

His legs were encased in black armor, as was his left arm. Only his right arm was bare, gripping a massive black sword with a sharp, triangular blade and a thick, weighty base.

He had bright golden hair and blue eyes, with sharp, flawless features.

He looked at Silvanus and curled his lips—not truly a smile—and said casually, "An intruder. Don’t worry, master, I’ll handle him."

He lifted his sword, clearly preparing to drive the sharp tip straight through Silvanus.

But Silvanus’s eyes were fixed on the small figure behind the man.

A child with a small, adorable face—but an expression far too solemn and mature for his tiny body. Emotionless. Lonely. Long black hair, half tied up and half falling freely. He was barely one meter twenty tall, and the oversized black cloak made him look even smaller.

But what drew the most attention were his ears—pointed, yet not elongated like an Elf’s. They stood slightly upright, much shorter than Elven ears.

A thought immediately flashed through Silvanus’s mind.

He was a Hobbit.

And those eyes... that golden color, faintly glowing with gentle light—eyes Silvanus had seen over and over in his dreams.

Amid the ruins, only those eyes shone brilliantly.

"You’re..."

Silvanus whispered. At the same time, The Hobbit spoke as well.

"He is not an intruder, Drake."

Drake clicked his tongue and stepped aside obediently, though with evident displeasure, looking as annoyed as if someone owed him a fortune.

The Hobbit’s voice was unmistakably that of an adult.

Which made sense—a Hobbit standing at a meter twenty was definitely grown. And living in a place like this, who knew how long he had existed?

Silvanus finally stood up. He bent down slightly, looking at the Hobbit before him, and said softly,

"Were you the one who brought me here?"

The Hobbit nodded, then shook his head.

"Fate arranged this long ago. You were destined to pass through this place. Whoever influenced you doesn’t matter."

It sounded profound, but Silvanus pressed on.

"We’ve met before, haven’t we? In my dreams..."

"Those weren’t exactly dreams. When the time comes, you’ll understand what they mean."

Silvanus pressed his lips together and said directly,

"Then can you take me outside? My friends are in danger..."

The Hobbit looked at him and replied quietly,

"They’re safe. As for you, you will not be going back out."

As he spoke, he raised his hand. A drop of fresh blood fell from his fingertip onto the center of Silvanus’s forehead.

Silvanus froze, stunned. He instinctively lifted his hand to touch his forehead, but felt nothing unusual.

Then suddenly—his eyes flew open as pain crashed into him so abruptly that he had no time to brace himself.

His bones felt as though they were being violently reshaped. The agony was so intense that he couldn’t even stay upright—he collapsed, curling on the ground as he held himself tightly.

He bit his lip so hard that blood streamed down.

Alden watched Silvanus fall and said softly,

"Go ahead and scream. It definitely isn’t pleasant."

But Silvanus couldn’t hear anything anymore. He had already fallen completely unconscious.

And where he lay now had changed entirely—a pile of clothes wrapped around a much smaller body.

The boy’s eyes were tightly closed, and his ears were identical to Alden’s.

Alden crouched down, observing Silvanus, and spoke quietly,

"Awakening successful. Drake, don’t leave him on the ground."

Drake was stunned by the whole development, but truthfully, his brain rarely focused on anything besides fighting and obeying Alden.

He immediately bent down, gathered the clothes around Silvanus’s tiny body, and lifted him up.

Silvanus, once a fourteen-year-old boy over one meter sixty, had now shrunk to even smaller than Alden.

Drake was genuinely afraid that using even a bit too much strength might kill him instantly. Hobbits were small, fragile creatures after all—their brains were the only invincible part of them.

Alden walked ahead, slowly moving toward the center of this realm.

Unlike the gray, desolate outside world, this place was filled with endless light, and at its core shone a brilliant, golden glow.

The space was empty except for a single radiant golden forge.

Drake followed behind Alden, his slow, steady footsteps making him look every bit the reliable, loyal giant of a bodyguard.

He was the first Sentinel Alden had ever created—and the last one Alden had personally forged.

To an ordinary observer, it would be impossible to imagine that a being as lifelike as Drake was actually a Sentinel.

He had no stars because stars could not measure his rank. From the very beginning, he had been born from Alden’s hands, and his abilities had far surpassed all other Sentinels.

But even Drake himself knew very little about the outside world.

From the first day he opened his eyes, he had been here. Only one thing had been carved into him: Alden’s commands were absolute, and the Hobbit race must always be treated with the utmost respect.

Silvanus slept for two days, during which everything continued as usual.

Alden sat off to the side, staring blankly into space, while Drake somehow managed to find thread, needles, and fabric, then began sewing a new outfit for Silvanus.

"Master, look at this!"

Drake suddenly shouted with delight. Alden glanced over and saw... a shirt. No—maybe it was a dress—stitched together like a leaf. The seams were far from sturdy, each thread visibly looping through the next.

Alden pressed his lips together, then nodded thoughtfully.

"Not bad."

Drake lifted his chin proudly.

"As expected, I am a perfect being just like you!"

As he spoke, he continued cutting and sewing with great effort, his massive body hunched in the corner, fussing over a tiny piece of fabric—an unintentionally hilarious sight.

Just then, Silvanus—lying beside the forge—began to stir.

He felt as if waking from a profound sleep. He blinked, his vision clearing quickly as he scanned the area.

The moment the blinding golden light hit his eyes, he flinched and turned his head—immediately seeing both figures staring at him.

And in that moment, everything that had happened came back to him.

The drop of blood on his forehead.

The pain.

Silvanus instinctively shot up. His body felt light and firm, as if the previous agony had been nothing but an illusion.

But then the sensation of fabric sliding off his skin made him freeze.

He looked down instinctively—and went blank.

He stared at his hands.

Then lower...

Wait—what the hell was this tiny chili pepper supposed to be?!

Where was his mighty black dragon?!