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Over 800 years ago, Akamana destroyed the Seafaring Nations\' armies, forcing the rulers to surrender and become tributaries of the Angra Theocracy. The threat of death is often a powerful deterrent, and faced with the choices of becoming food for fishes or vassals and lapdogs for the Angra Theocracy, that generation of Seafaring Lords opted to bend the knee—a wise but ruinous move in hindsight.

The protection of the Angra armies enabled the Seafaring Nations to become the number one naval power of the region, in control of all the major ports, enclaves and trade routes.

55% of the city-states\' profits went into Akamana\'s private pockets however, plus an extra 30% for the Angra Theocracy\'s treasury--leaving only 15% for the 36 city-states, who had to split the profit equally despite not necessarily having made equal contributions.

It\'s therefore not surprising that over the years, the Lords of the Seafaring Nations and their successors bore a grudge with the Angra Theocracy, a grudge that passed on from one generation to the next, deepening while the Angra lined their pockets with the Seafaring Nations\' various technological breakthroughs.

The grudge peaked in this generation, brought to unprecedented heights by the noblemen and women of the Angra Theocracy purchasing the city states\' lands, estates, and assets en masse, weakening the local rulers and destabilizing their economies while growing fat on all the money they made through cheap acquisitions.

The foreigner-engineered inflation had gotten so bad that minor lords and successful business magnates of the Seafaring Nations could no longer afford to purchase estates in the 36 capitals—priced out in their own states!

And to add insult to injury, the lords and ladies of the Angra Theocracy started building vacation homes and resorts in the Seafaring Nations, enjoying a higher quality of life there than in their own territories.

All the conditions for a generational revolt had been met, a fact that Cassandra noticed immediately, smelling in the Seafaring Nations an opportunity to make Mithras a lot of money.

But if challenging the Angra Theocracy was that simple, they wouldn\'t have managed to replace the Great Blood Empire as overlords of the Purple Dawn, staying in control for thousands of years with no external threat being able to shake their foundation.

To take that risk, the 36 Lords needed significant bait—an offer they couldn\'t refuse. And that\'s exactly what Mithras put at their feet, sending 36 of his blood brothers to make the Marquesses and Dukes the offer of a lifetime.

"Become…a Warghest? But doesn\'t that mean…I will lose my sanity?" The first target, the Duke of Rastaria, also known as the wealthiest native of the Seafaring Nations, considered the brother\'s offer.

"Be not afraid, one cannot judge my prince\'s blood on the same standards as that of the Blood Aristocracy.

My prince\'s blood is perfect and carries none of the defects of Fylkirs and Blood Nobles. Feel free to choose three men you trust to receive the Sacrament of Death, and you will see for yourself the might of my prince," the brother said, his poised and articulate words leaving the duke with mixed feelings.

The Blood Aristocracy recognized two types of Blood Conversions:

The Blood Oath, which turned the human-blooded into Blood Nobles. And the Sacrament of Death, which converted the recipient into a Warghest—mindless entities of war and slaughter bound only to their progenitor\'s will.

Standard Warghests possessed the Blood Nobles\' templar skills and Dark Rites, including perks such as eternal life, high regeneration speed, shadow walking, polymorphism, and a variety of physical boons. They just didn\'t have access to the Blood-Smelting Art and related abilities.

And as only members of the fourth generation and below could create Warghests, the average Warghest\'s potential put most Blood Nobles to shame.

The sanity loss, monstrous appearance, and rabid bloodthirst were the only drawbacks. Dire drawbacks that made even the most ambitious of men think twice before accepting the Sacrament of Death.

What\'s the point of power and immortality if you don\'t even get to enjoy the perks? Most of the Warghests were forcefully made by the Fylkirs to wage war on the monsters that used to dominate the Purple Dawn. Few would become Warghests by choice.

But with Mithras, things were different. Because Mithras\' blood didn\'t carry the side effects of standard Blood Nobles. Or so he claimed. But how to know for sure? Even if Mithras let the Seafaring Lords test the Sacrament with their trusted followers first, who was to say there wasn\'t a luck component to the conversion\'s success?

Who was to say Mithras couldn\'t or wouldn\'t just erase their minds and turn them into mindless puppets anyway?

No one! No one could tell for sure!

The Duke of Rastaria pulled in a deep breath, taking a long hard look at the brother of Mithras. The intensity of that man\'s aura didn\'t make logical sense—comparable to a Golden Palace templar despite not having a particle of Sid flowing through his veins. The duke was knowledgeable enough to recognize that this was by no means a standard Blood Noble.

but a freak of nature who could give the leaders of the various theocracies a run for their money—with the exception of Akamana and Elektra, of course.

Heaving a deep sigh, the duke snapped his fingers, summoning three men of diverse shapes and sizes who aligned before the brother of Mithras. Three blood chalices flew towards them, and they drank without hesitation, reeling in violent spasms before falling face-first.

A moment of silence followed, after which the three braves rose anew, their skins taking a pale-gray shade as their bodies grew taller and more toned. Their ears changed as well, stretching into elven shapes as their eyes turned sanguine red.

The three braves\' auras erupted, and from Inner Accumulation templars, they directly reached…the Golden Palace!

Better, to say nothing of losing their sanities, their minds had never been clearer, filled with light and a divine fervor that prompted them to worship Mithras\' name!

"Praise the Sun! Speed, strength, power…endless power is coursing through my veins! My lord…what are you waiting for?! The gates of the Astral Paradise are staring you in the eyes!" The youngest of the braves couldn\'t contain his excitement, urging his lord to join him in this new world of divine light.

The result was indeed astonishing, leaving the duke speechless and thirsting for the Sacrament!

"If I may ask…where do you rank in the prince\'s entourage, and how will that…affect my future?"

"3,456th. But my position is irrelevant. Your compatibility with our prince\'s blood is all that matters here. But do remember that Warghests created by the brothers of Mithras possess king to saint-class potential by default.

Not only will you finally be able to reach Great Expansion, but in the future…going all the way to Blood Authority and beyond…is a serious possibility," the 3,456th brother said, and seeing how even his subordinates directly reached the Golden Palace, the duke no longer hesitated, falling to his knees…and receiving his share of the brother\'s blood!

The Sacrament of Death imprinted on the duke\'s soul, and as his body underwent Blood Conversion, his soul ascended to a new plane of existence, where winged celestial beings sang and danced in a world of blinding solar rays, flaming chariots and golden wheels racing through the sky, with dragons at the front, and glowing stars at the back!

Mithras\' figure appeared in the heavens, beckoning for the Duke of Rastaria to embrace the light! Find additional tales at m,vl-em,py-r

"The prince honors me…and my life is his!" The duke made an eternal oath of allegiance, the same scene replaying in the 35 other states as the dukes and marquesses all surrendered to Mithras—becoming the first generation of Warghests…of the new Blood Aristocracy!

Meanwhile, Belphegor and Zagan reached the Seafaring Nations borders, dispatched by Akamana...to suppress the rebellion in blood!