They stepped back, fear rising in their eyes, but he didn't elaborate. After a tense moment, the old man turned to one of his companions and whispered urgently.
The man ran out. Minutes later, he returned with a palm-sized container. The old man cut his hand, letting blood flow into it, then slid the container toward Eiran across the wooden plank.
The reaction was instant. The moment the blood container moved forward, it began to bubble violently.
As it drew closer to Eiran, it vibrated like water in a scorching pan.
Eiran raised his foot toward the container. Immediately, the blood evaporated completely.
Gulp.
The sound of nervous swallowing spread among them. No longer was there mere fear in their eyes—now there was horror.
"Interesting. I'm not just your antithesis, but your absolute end!"
Eiran was more shocked by the reaction than anyone. He hadn't even tried to control the blood, yet it behaved this way.
A realization struck him—these people were remarkably resilient to even stand before him without completely collapsing.
Perhaps the environment itself provided protection, or their vitality was extraordinary. Eiran could have grasped their full morphology, but that would have caused more deaths.
"Do you have a bottle?" he asked, his tone now deadly serious.
"Cursed One, you look surprised. Didn't you expect your presence to have such a negative reaction?" The speaker was Gole, the one who hand held the handle that can make Eiran fall into Hollow Fell.
Eiran looked at him and smiled without saying a word.
One of them ran off again, returning minutes later with a glass vial. The old man dropped blood into it, then threw it to Eiran, who caught it mid-air. The vial immediately began shaking and vibrating in his grip.
Eiran had never concentrated on observing blood like this before. Normally, information about blood—even while still in someone's veins—would flow into him without command.
That hadn't changed, but facing these people, he had held back once he saw their condition. Now he focused on the blood in the vial, trying to feel it.
Chaos was all Eiran perceived.
What was apparent was that he was like heat, and the blood boiled in his presence. He focused only on gaining the passive information that all blood naturally submitted to him, before making the conscious intention to grasp more detailed information.
Burst!
The vial shattered, the blood evaporated, and Eiran stood in a trance for ten minutes.
'What happened?' the old man wondered. 'Was he harmed by the blood explosion?'
'Did he want to test if our blood is good enough for consumption?' Gole thought. His assumption was that Eiran consumed blood, and the blood rain he had released was meant to prepare them for a feast.
"This is interesting!" Eiran said aloud. There was no longer excitement in his eyes, only thoughtfulness, before realization dawned.
'The scent of that Annihilator is inside their blood!'
Eiran had expected this was all part of the trial—he came as a curse to them and had to work to find their solution. But now he saw there might be interference.
The Prince called Robin had created an Annihilator meant to counter him. And Eiran had felt its presence as his blood began to dry until Nyara sped up and took him to safety.
'Maybe they worked fast and created this. There's no doubt about it.'
Eiran frowned. From the blood's reaction and his brief reading, he grasped that the blood would function in three ways:
First, it would cause pain and devastation whenever he was close or tried to affect it.
Second, his presence would give them heightened strength and resistance to his influence, along with slight mental hatred toward him.
Third, their emotions would explode negatively against him, and they would lose all reason, attacking him mindlessly.
Each effect would make his trial with the people harder, or cause him to fail completely in reasoning with them.
Eiran smiled softly. "I have seen what I need for now. And congratulations—I have the cure!"
He took slow steps forward as they moved back. "Move back!" they all growled, but Eiran's movement was unhurried as he stepped onto the land.
Of course, he bet on the fact that they wouldn't dare release him if they wanted to be healed.
He stood on the plank where it met the ground and stopped there. But their wariness and collective will caused chains to rise from the ground and bind his neck. He was yanked down to his knees.
This gave them peace of mind.
Because the rest of the people's sight was not on him, his influence that made them hesitant was limited. They had long desired that he be bound.
More chains wrapped around his hands, waist, and thighs, holding him firmly in place. He was well contained.
Eiran felt irritated for the first time. The bonds stopped all his joints—only his eyes could move. Even with his strength vein glyphs, he couldn't shake the hard stone chains.
He didn't show his discomfort. "Now, who will be your volunteer to test my cure?"
They all moved away, looking at each other. None wanted to come first until the old man stepped forward and sat on the ground.
"W-what do you want now?" He was shaking, trembling, but resolute.
"Remove your shirt. Stare into my eyes." Eiran commanded. The man obeyed and calmed down after a few seconds. "Close your eyes and follow my voice."
He did.
"Listen to your heart."
He did.
Eiran's next words weren't audible to the others, but reached the man's subconscious mind directly.
"Hold on to your blood flow."
Under normal circumstances, it wasn't easy for a regular human—or even someone with control over blood—to grasp their own blood without training or tools. But Eiran knew every secret of blood and could guide ordinary people to do it with ease.
The man felt a sensation he'd never experienced before, like his hand was touching something—that's how his senses perceived the flow of blood.
Eiran then directed him to shift some focus of the blood flow to certain areas, increasing it in some places while commanding the brain to stimulate blood vitality.
Even to Eiran, this was an experiment to test how it could be done, and it was working perfectly.
Inside the people's blood was something—Eiran couldn't identify what, but it caused their violent reaction to him. What he was doing now was making the man and his body expel the substance by teaching him Blood Art: Vein—Minor Blood Purification.
He had just conceived the skill on a whim to help them.
The man's body became reddish. Some of his veins bulged and turned red, forming visible glyphs. He shook violently, sweat pouring from his body, before some of the bulged red veins burst open and blood spat out.
Then wiggling blood seeped from his nose, eyes, and even his skin.
He stopped trembling, swayed, and fell down. His heartbeat slowed.
"Father!" Rol ran to him and checked. "He's unconscious!" he shouted, his anger directed at Eiran.
The man's body returned to normal, and Eiran ordered, "Pour water on his body." There was a delay, but they brought water—unclean by Eiran's standards—and poured it on the old man.
He trembled before beginning to move. Supported by his son, he sat up. His eyes were confused as he looked around, then at Eiran.
He quickly stood and stared at him with a frown, breathing deeply before walking toward him.
He stopped one foot before the chained Eiran. Nothing happened to him.
'He seems to remember something. And his attitude has changed,' Eiran noted, the flow of passive information already beginning.
The old man walked back to his people, skepticism and hope warring in their eyes. "It worked," he said, his voice free of fatigue and uncertainty, his eyes firm with confidence like he was a different person.
Even his people noticed the change. He then ordered his son to be next.
"Wait. Are you sure you're not being controlled?" Gole asked.
"If you're skeptical, you can stay out," the old man replied. His son was already sitting, and others went to fetch water.
Eiran guided him through the process. Due to his younger body, his reaction was subtler—his veins didn't burst open, but blood did seep out of him.
A water washing removed the expelled blood, freeing him to move. "Yes, I'm cured!" he shouted, coming close to Eiran to confirm. "Haha, I feel stronger too!"
Hope increased among them, but so did wariness. Gole no longer held the handle—he came and sat. Minutes later, he was cured.
"I see better and think better. Like a cloud removed from my head!" he muttered. He too had changed.
Each showed desire to be next, but Eiran told them he could help them all at the same time.
---
They stood staring at Eiran, still bound, as they contemplated the situation. There was no fear in them now, only wariness.
"We let him go, or we make people come in groups to be cured," Gole said excitedly.
The old man glanced at his son. Rol moved, blade glinting, and drove it into the unsuspecting Gole.
"Wh-what..."
Three more grabbed Gole, passed Eiran, and threw him into Hollow Fell.
They walked back and stood among themselves.
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," the old man said casually, "we'll get Salon..." He began listing people who should be cured.
A chuckle escaped Eiran's lips. "Interesting turn of events!"
His second sigh came and closed his eyes, tilting his head downward.
Most people were oblivious to what had happened, but a select few among them could see from atop tall buildings from the settlement where they watched.
They might not have seen everything, but a voice reached them and they were startled and their blood grew agitated, but they listened.
"I have cured them. They are stronger than before they were ill. They killed Gole and are refusing your cure."
He became silent before continuing. "Let me cure you. Call others—I can aid those I can see."
The few people ran up and down, calling to others.
Eiran used Celestial Voice to do this, making sure none of those close to him heard. He opened his eyes, saw the additional people, and closed them again to guide them through the process.
"I'm not your curse—I'm your blessing!" he added after curing them.
Only a few people could come to the rooftops at a time. But then he noticed that the shift in their demeanor after healing made them reluctant to call many others.
Eiran became confused. Rewinding through his memory, especially those dramas, to find answers, he came to a realization.
'Humans are really complicated.'
He had proven himself as their cure, their blessing, but those healed were unwilling to share with others. Instead, they hoarded it to control the masses.
Eiran changed tactics immediately, targeting someone who was inside a building, peeking through windows.
A group of people came to the gate. After conversing with them, the old man was horrified. "He can send his voice over distances!"
As they looked at him, more chains rose and bound his face and mouth.
Now he couldn't even move his neck.
His crimson eyes stared at them for a moment before he closed them.
"Now we can use the beetle and see if we can find a cure ourselves. We must also find a way to bind him in a way to do our bidding."
"But we must be careful. We still don't know what else he can do," said Salone, one of the few Eiran had healed from the distance, but turned out to share the same mindset as the old man.
They left Hollow Fell, sealed the gate, and posted guards. As they passed people, they were stopped and asked about the alien.
The old man drew himself to attention and said, "We have tricked the alien into healing us. But then he got angry and killed Gole. He desired to control us, enslave us, and devour us."
People became afraid but were also skeptical.
"Do not worry. We have the cure with us, and everyone will have it. No exceptions. Come to the ancestral ground tomorrow morning."
Saying that, he went ahead while the rest followed him toward the largest building in the settlement.