Chapter 250: Overwhelming Secrets (1)

The room beyond was unlike anything Nero had seen before.

It was large, far larger than the previous room, and every inch of wall space was covered in shelves. Vials of every size and shape lined those shelves, filled with liquids in every conceivable color. Some glowed faintly, casting soft halos of light onto the surrounding surfaces. Others seemed to shift and swirl on their own, as though alive. The walls themselves were etched with runes, faintly glowing symbols that pulsed in a slow, steady rhythm. The air thrummed with energy, a low vibration that Nero could feel in his chest.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring.

Bishop chuckled and gestured to a wooden chair near a cluttered workbench. “Take a seat.”

Nero obeyed, sinking into the chair while his eyes continued to roam the room. Bishop moved to the workbench, setting the vial down carefully before lowering himself into a chair opposite Nero. He picked up the vial again, holding it up to the light and studying it with a critical eye.

“The contents of this vial,” Bishop began, his tone shifting into something more clinical, “are a mixture of your own blood and a few other things I won’t mention.” He set the vial down and folded his hands on the desk. “Lyon wanted me to perform a few tests on it. But before that, I’d like to tell you a few things about the history of our empire.”

Nero frowned, his confusion evident. “History?”

Bishop nodded, his expression calm but intent. “Yes. History. Because what you are, Nero, and what you might become, is tied to something far older than you realize.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant, as though looking into the past itself.

“Before the empire, during the Age of Gods, there were thousands upon thousands of smaller kingdoms scattered all around. These kingdoms had their own cultures, which of course made it so that they birthed their own gods. Most of these gods had begun to become terrible entities, demanding human sacrifice and all other unspeakable things. It was not until the Church’s arrival that things began to change…”

Bishop’s voice carried a strange weight, as though each word had been carefully chosen. Nero found himself leaning forward despite himself, drawn in by the calm authority in the man’s tone.

“Some three thousand years before the end of the Age of Gods,” Bishop continued, “the Church began a campaign to unite the kingdoms called The Thorne Crusades. For five thousand years, there were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of battles to dictate the fates of the peoples and their gods. Eventually, the kingdoms fell, and from the ashes of their royalty came the noble families of the empire.”

Nero’s frown deepened. He had heard fragments of this before— particularly mentions of the Church’s role in unifying the lands—but never in such detail. The way Bishop spoke of it made it sound less like history and more like a foundational truth, something that shaped the very bones of the world they lived in.

“The Church noticed,” Bishop went on, “that the genes of most of the noble families of the kingdoms were rather powerful, granting their descendants powerful bodies, incredible minds, and a very delicate attunement with the energies of this world. In short, they were the perfect breeding grounds for the warriors they could cultivate to fight the darkness—the Templars.”

Nero’s breath caught. His mind flashed back to Master Theo’s words in the carriage, the casual dismissal of commoner blood as “unworthy” and “wretched”. He had assumed it was simple prejudice, the arrogance of those who had more looking down on those who had less. But if what Bishop was saying was true, then it wasn’t just arrogance.

Perhaps it was something rooted in doctrine and in the structure of society itself.

Bishop leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes locked onto Nero’s, and for the first time, Nero saw something sharper in that gaze of his.

“I believe you can see where this is going.”

Nero’s jaw tightened. “You’re saying the nobles aren’t just rich and powerful. They’re… different from the rest of us.”

“Precisely.” Bishop picked up the vial again, holding it between them. The red liquid inside caught the light, shimmering like liquid fire. “Lyon suspects that you possess noble traits. But he believes they are recessive, buried and dormant. Hidden beneath the surface of your skin.”

Nero stared at the vial, his pulse quickening. “Why would he think that?”

Bishop set the vial down and tapped a finger against the desk. “Maybe it is because you’ve survived things that should have killed you. Or it is because your body adapts faster than it should. Or perhaps it is because your energy readings are astronomical compared to most recruits, and yet you claim to come from common stock.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “It is rather hard to believe that such things can simply rise from coincidence. Lyon doesn’t believe it, and neither do I.”

Nero’s hands clenched into fists on his lap. He thought of Gor, of his parents— of course they had been common people. Unremarkable people. The idea that there was something hidden in his blood, something that marked him as different from the crowd, felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal of who they were.

But he couldn’t deny the truth of what Bishop was saying. Even ignoring the aid of the Oracle, perhaps there was something strange about him.

Perhaps it was that deep down, he had always known there was something… off.

Bishop’s voice softened. “I want to test your blood, Nero. If I can confirm that you carry recessive noble traits, then there are ways to bring them out.yon says he cannot, for some reason.”

Nero’s throat felt tight. “And if you can’t confirm it?”

Bishop’s smile returned, but it was colder now. “Then all is still well. However if we can, then perhaps your ancestry will be rather intriguing. Who knows? Maybe you are related to the Emperor himself.” Bishop joked.

Nero grimaced, “We shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“I apologize.” Bishop said as he chuckled.

The silence that followed was heavy. Nero stared at the vial, his mind racing.

Finally, he looked up and met Bishop’s gaze.

“Do it.”

Bishop’s smile widened, and he reached for the vial.

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