NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Leylin sat alone in the carriage, the soft creaking of the wheels beneath him a stark contrast to the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in his mind.
The fight with the direwolves was still fresh in his memory—the way he had felt his power surge, the awakening of something deep within. That feeling lingered, and with it, the name that kept echoing in his thoughts: Cursed Bloodline Codex.
He frowned, trying to focus. It wasn't just a name he had heard; it was a name he knew. A memory stirred, elusive and hazy, like a dream barely on the edge of his consciousness.
Suddenly, it clicked.
It wasn't a name he had heard; it was a name he had read. His eyes flickered, and the memory swept over him like a torrent.
The scene shifted, pulling him into the familiar yet distant depths of his past.
---
Voldemort stood before the secret chamber, the ancient stone walls surrounding him heavy with centuries of magic. The air was thick with the remnants of long-forgotten spells, arcane symbols glowing faintly in the shadows. He had ventured into this hidden sanctum, following the faint trail of clues left by Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin House.
The chamber was dark, save for the faint light of a single, flickering candle, its flame casting eerie shadows on the walls. A large stone pedestal stood at the center, and upon it lay a single, ancient book—its pages yellowed with age, its cover bound in dark, weathered leather.
Salazar Slytherin personal notes, left for his successor, inheritor of Chamber of Secrets.
Voldemort's breath hitched as he reached for the book. His fingers brushed the cover, and the moment his skin made contact, a surge of power shot through him, very essence pulsing with ancient, forbidden magic.
He opened the first page, and Salazar's familiar handwriting filled the parchment. The words were cryptic, drenched in secrets of bloodlines, rituals, and power beyond mortal comprehension.
"I, Salazar Slytherin, have finally discovered a lost relic of the wizarding world—one that can bind bloodlines together and extract their power. But this relic, this Codex, is not something to be taken lightly. It holds the essence of time itself. The ritual is dangerous, and no one has ever fully understood its consequences. I had almost succeeded..Now, only time will tell if I can harness its power..."
Voldemort's eyes gleamed as he read, the dark promise of power drawing him deeper into the text. His figure transformed as if he turned into Salazar himself entering his body, then the body followed the instructions—carefully, methodically—his magic intertwining with an otherworldly existence, calling upon the powers of Codex's essence. The ritual was long, tedious, and dangerous, but in the end, Salazar bounded with the book for a while.
The power surged through Salazar. Bloodline traits, memories, and abilities, all flooding his mind in an overwhelming tide. Salazar greatest accomplishments and knowledge were thanks to this one encounter with the book.
The ritual was successful, but at a price. The Codex vanished, its existence slipping through time once more, leaving Salazar unable to summon it again in his lifetime.
Afterwards Salazar did many rituals but he was always unsuccessful, his obsession lead him to look towards studying his own bloodline, transforming him.
It made him obsessed with keeping his own bloodline pure in hopes that again in the future one of his descendants would be able to call upon the codex. Salazar studied many ancient secret technique to regain the lost glory but..
He could only leave this burden and opportunity for the future descendants, to use the chamber of secret to cleanse the mudblood and elevate the purebred bloodline, to once again call upon the Cursed Bloodline Codex!
And then, as quickly as it had come, the scenery faded, leaving Voldemort standing in the chamber, Salazar experience lingering like a shadow in the corners of his mind.
Voldemort held in his hands, the notes of many experiments Salazar performed including many dark curses, bloodline transformation rituals and it also briefly mentioned the power that appealed the most of Voldemort then— Immortality, the Horcrux.
---
The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Leylin with a deep sense of understanding. The Cursed Bloodline Codex was not just some random relic; it was a piece of Salazar's past, and a link to Voldemort previous life, to his former world.
And somehow, it had found its way into this world, bound to Leylin's soul, just as it had once been bound to Salazar's.
'But unlike him, Codex have merged with me, my existence and my soul.' Leylin leaned back, his mind racing with the implications. This was no ordinary power. It was a curse, yes, but also a gift—a gift of unimaginable potential.
But the risks were clear. Salazar's notes spoke of the dangers of overuse, the consequences of trying to control such an ancient force.
And yet, the power was his now, and he would learn to master it—at any cost.
But for now, the Codex was silent. Waiting.
Leylin then reached into his bag and retrieved something. In his hands, he held the bottle of blood—thick, dark, and still warm from the direwolf he had slain. He uncorked it carefully, inhaling the metallic scent that carried the lingering essence of the beast's lifeblood.
His fingers tightened around the glass as he reminded himself: This isn't just blood—it's power. Though he lacked the means to perform a full bloodline extraction ritual, the Cursed Bloodline Codex granted him another path.
For low-tier beasts like the direwolf even without complex rituals; their diluted bloodlines could be refined directly into energy, acting as a crude yet potent stimulant.
But unlike the ritual, he can't extract their true strength only a portion and after few use resistance would build, even still blood of a beast with strength of a Knight is good enough for the current him.
Leylin hesitated only for a moment before bringing the bottle to his lips. The thick liquid rolled down his throat, warm and slightly viscous, leaving behind a coppery aftertaste. Almost instantly, an unnatural heat surged through his body, like fire spreading through his veins. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched, and his entire being trembled as the Codex awakened, greedily extracting what little essence the blood carried.
A sharp pain erupted in his chest. His fingers dug into the wooden floor, his neck muscles straining as a guttural growl escaped him. His veins bulged, crimson tendrils pulsing beneath his skin, and his body flushed red as if feverish.
He clenched his teeth, enduring the agony while immediately activating his Knight Meditation Technique, a calculated response to temper the raw, volatile energy flooding his system.
The pain persisted for minutes, stretching unbearably long before his body finally stabilized. He exhaled slowly, sweat trickling down his forehead.
'Twice the speed...' Leylin noted with exhilaration. His breathing was steadier now, his body brimming with newfound vitality. Where he could previously train only once a day, he now sensed he could push for another session within the next eight hours.
A dark gleam flickered in his eyes as he stared at the bottle in his grasp. This is just the beginning.