My Descendants Are My Power

"Foolish mortals," one of the masked figures sneered, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and frustration. "You thought you could defy me? When I transcend to the next realm, none in Sunshine Mansion will be spared."

He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the ruins of Glory City. Despite his confident words, a flicker of unease danced in his eyes. He had underestimated the Blackwood clan. Their hidden weapons, their fierce resistance, even that shadowy figure who kept reappearing despite being killed multiple times… they had cost him dearly.

Half his fragments were gone, including a Basic Mastery-level incarnation.

Even with his fragments converging from all directions, he hadn't been able to prevent some Blackwoods from escaping.

And to make matters worse, those meddling Druids had sent two of their elders to interfere!

"I should have acted sooner," he muttered, his voice laced with regret. "Perhaps when Michael was eliminated…"

"No matter," he said, shaking his head. "They may have escaped for now, but they won't hide forever. The Blackwoods value loyalty above all else. Let's see if they'll risk everything to save their own."

"And then there's my Psychic Sanctuary," he added, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. "Thirteen Blackwoods trapped inside… my playthings."

With that, the remaining fragments turned and vanished into the sky, leaving behind a trail of destruction and despair.

A lone figure drifted through the air, his body battered and broken, his mind lost in a haze of pain and confusion. He mumbled incoherently, his voice barely a whisper.

"Run… run…"

…

A small fishing boat bobbed gently on the waves near North Sea Coastal Village. The fishermen on board laughed and joked, their faces flushed with the day's success. Their nets overflowed with fish, thanks in no small part to the two handsome young men who soared above them on their swords.

Adam and Alexander, their faces etched with a mixture of pride and concern, descended from the sky, dragging a massive fish behind them, its scales shimmering in the sunlight.

"Look at them, our resident psychics!" one of the fishermen shouted, his voice filled with admiration. "They make fishing look easy!"

"They could be warlords with their talents," another chimed in. "Why waste their time with us simple folk?"

"Let them be," an older fisherman chuckled. "The sea is vast. There's plenty of fish for everyone."

Adam, more handsome than ever, clapped his son on the shoulder, their laughter echoing across the waves. Alexander, now a grown man, had inherited his father's talent for psychic arts and his love for the sea. Together, they were the most renowned fishermen in ten villages.

"Another fine haul!" Adam announced, handing a struggling sea monster to the awestruck fishermen. "This one will grant you long life!"

But as they stood on the deck, their faces turned somber. A sense of unease settled over them, a feeling they couldn't shake off.

"Father," Alexander said, his brow furrowed with worry, "something feels… wrong."

"I know," Adam murmured, his voice heavy. He closed his eyes, attempting to divine the source of their unease, but his rudimentary fortune-telling skills revealed nothing. "Something has happened. Psychics can sense these things. Perhaps a calamity… or a loved one in danger…"

…

"No… it can't be…"

Helen, her youthful appearance unchanged by time, stared at the letter clutched in her trembling hand, her face ashen. The words blurred before her eyes, their meaning a dagger to her heart.

[Blackwood… destroyed…]

She reread the message, each time hoping against hope that she had misread, that it was all a terrible mistake. But the words remained the same, their message clear and devastating.

Despite her self-imposed exile, she had kept tabs on her clan, her heart swelling with pride as their influence and power grew, their name spreading across the Emerald Empire. There had been challenges, of course, but they had always overcome them, emerging stronger and more united than before.

But this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined.

The letter offered no details, only that unknown assailants had descended upon Azure Cloud Blackwood, wiping them out in less than an hour. By the time reinforcements arrived, all that remained was rubble and ash.

"No! It can't be true!" she screamed, her voice raw with anguish. She didn't even know who their enemies were, what they had fought for, what had led to this unimaginable tragedy.

"Mother, I'm back!"

Adam's cheerful voice drifted in from the street below. Helen stumbled towards the window, her gaze falling upon her son and grandson returning from the docks, their baskets laden with fish. A wave of despair washed over her. How could she tell them? How could she shatter their peaceful existence with this devastating news?

She had always greeted them with a warm embrace, but today, she turned and fled into the Forebearer Shrine, collapsing before the ancestral altar.

"Forebearer, please," she sobbed, her voice choked with tears. "Tell me they're alright."

"Forebearer, we've faced impossible odds before. We've always found a way… we've always survived. Tell me this is just another trial, another obstacle to overcome. Tell me they're alive!"

…

Downstairs, Drunken Fool sat in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on the letter clutched in his hand. It was from an old friend, a comrade from their Thunderfire Demon Cave days.

The news hit him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling.

"How could this happen?" he whispered, his voice heavy with grief. "What have you gotten yourselves into, Blackwood?"

He had fought alongside the Blackwoods, bled with them, faced death with them. They had challenged the Azure Cloud Pavilion, battled Felix and Elizabeth, defied the might of Azure Cloud's most powerful factions, even faced the wrath of the Druids.

Time and again, they had danced on the edge of oblivion, emerging victorious against all odds. But even the most skilled dancer could stumble.

"At least the lineage survives."

He watched as Alexander emerged from the inn, his youthful face etched with concern. The boy was on his way to the village's makeshift training ground, eager to share his skills with the local children. A sad smile touched Drunken Fool's lips.

"The Blackwood clan might be gone," he murmured, "but their legacy lives on. And me? I'm a free man once more. But where would I go? What would I do?"

He stood up, his gaze drifting towards the horizon, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

"Perhaps… perhaps I'll stay here," he said, a strange sense of peace settling over him. "What's wrong with guarding their legacy, ensuring their safety? Besides, I'm not convinced they're all gone. Those Blackwoods… they have a knack for surviving."

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Alexander standing before him, his expression a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Master," the boy whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "I've mastered the technique you taught me. Do you… do you have anything more… advanced?"

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