Chapter 64: Rank-Eight Blood Adept

At this point Nathan had no idea how to explain anything—and Septima had already walked off. Chasing after her just to clarify this one thing would obviously be inappropriate.

Wren's eyes danced; the bashfulness of a moment ago was gone, her crafty, mischievous air fully back. She said to Nathan: "We've both skipped school today anyway—why not go to the Greyhaven Wardens' Office and get your bond-power rating tested, settle your bond-power rank?"

Nathan thought it over and agreed. He'd already cut class—two more periods or two fewer, no real difference.

The Greyhaven Wardens' Office was right on Lombard Row, so there was no need for any transport: arm in arm, the two of them walked straight down Lombard Row toward the Old Palace.

Only after a few hundred meters did Nathan realize he and Wren were actually holding hands. He couldn't remember who'd reached out first, him or her. It felt improper—but shaking off a girl's hand at this point would feel even more improper, so he just played oblivious.

Wren knew the Greyhaven Wardens' Office inside and out. Once they reached the Cloudhall, the paperwork was done in no time, and someone escorted Nathan and her to a spacious testing ground.

All Nathan had to do was sit in a high-tech chair, get metal pads stuck to his wrist and forehead, and then drive his bond-power for all it was worth.

The bond-power tester on the side had been relaxed and breezy the whole time—but the moment Nathan started driving his bond-power, the man's eyes went round. The numbers leaping on the testing rig smashed through the bottom of his expectations again and again.

"Eight thousand six hundred forty-one! How is that possible? That's Rank-Eight bloodborn warrior territory! There are barely a hundred-odd bloodborn in all of Greyhaven at Rank Eight or above. This damn machine's glitching again—wait here a moment, I'll go get someone from maintenance."

The tester hurried off. Wren was astonished too; she looked at the testing rig, then at Nathan, and couldn't resist muttering under her breath: "Don't tell me... Nathan, you really have bond-power this strong?"

Nathan wasn't clear on his own strength either. He scratched his head and asked: "How is the bloodborn warrior grading calculated? How many bond-power points makes a Rank-Eight bloodborn warrior?"

Wren pointed. Only then did Nathan spot the huge stone stele at the edge of the testing ground, carved clear with the bloodborn warriors' bond-power rating scale:

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Rank-One bloodborn warrior: 0–50. Rank-Two bloodborn warrior: 50–150. Rank-Three bloodborn warrior: 150–300. Rank-Four bloodborn warrior: 300–500. Rank-Five bloodborn warrior: 500–1000. Rank-Six bloodborn warrior: 1000–3000. Rank-Seven bloodborn warrior: 3000–5000. Rank-Eight bloodborn warrior: 5000–9000. Rank-Nine bloodborn warrior: 9000–infinity.

He felt a secret jolt, and asked: "So Rank-Nine bloodborn warriors are the strongest bloodborn there are?"

Wren snorted a laugh: "How could that be? A bloodborn warrior, however strong, is still just a bloodborn warrior. Without condensed Decan bloodways, you're forever at the bottom layer of demonhood. Only condensing the Decan bloodways lets you ascend to Blood Lord—and a Blood Lord stands high above, looking down on every ordinary bloodborn."

Nathan remembered Sebastian bringing up condensing the Decan bloodways—had even told him that if he ever managed it, he'd best pick up a method for forging a Starborne battle garment, so he wouldn't wreck his clothes every fight and have to keep replacing them. At the time Nathan hadn't thought much of it; he barely knew anything about bloodborn then. Only now, with his hands actually in this world, did he understand what Sebastian had meant.

Nathan gave a light cough and asked: "If bloodborn warriors are just the bottom layer, why can a Rank-Nine bloodborn warrior's bond-power rating go to infinity?"

Wren said, grinning: "In theory, a bloodborn warrior's bond-power rating can climb without limit! Some genius or other breaks the bloodborn warrior record practically every year—though each bump is only a few points. But the gap between a bloodborn warrior and a Blood Lord usually runs several times over, even ten-plus times. The bloodborn warriors' ceiling rating gets broken year after year, and in all these centuries it still hasn't come anywhere near the minimum bond-power standard for Blood Lord-tier."

Only then did Nathan get the rough shape of it. He nodded to show he understood.

Maintenance arrived in a hurry, but after a full round of checks found nothing wrong with the rig. The tester ran Nathan through the test again and still got eight-thousand-plus. After several more tries, deeply suspicious of the machine but bound by the rules, the tester had no choice but to assign Nathan a Rank-Eight bloodborn warrior grading.

He grumbled a bit and said: "The machine's broken, I'm sure of it—but by the book, I still have to grade you Rank-Eight. Best you don't take that grading as gospel, and don't go messing with people graded below you either. The Concord has rules; nobody's going to risk breaking them to touch you. But those Four Hosts and the Eighteen Towers types don't play by such niceties. Those people run brutal—plenty of them will kill you the moment they lay hands on you."

Nathan thanked the tester for the goodwill. Just as they were about to leave, the man added: "Shame you never awakened a lineage inheritance—otherwise you could apply for a platinum sigil ring right now. Platinum card holders can all apply to be lifetime employees of the Concord. Even if you do absolutely nothing, that's a subsidy of ten-odd thousand starlings a year."

Nathan's heart beat faster at that—but after thinking it over, he decided to pass on the temptation and keep his awakening of the Titan Godslayer Canon and the Ennead Crucible to himself. That secret mattered to him, more than a ten-thousand-Coin annual subsidy.

The tester took Nathan's gold sigil ring and rewrote his data. Wren was even more worked up than Nathan, circling him several rounds and saying, practically buzzing: "Who'd have thought you're even stronger than Septima! You've been hiding your light deep, haven't you? Let's go somewhere and fight—how about it? I want to see what exactly you've got!"

Wren was like a kid who'd just found a brand-new toy, itching to go. Nathan had zero interest in trading blows with her—he didn't like fighting, period. The boy refused flat-out: "I do NOT want to fight anybody. Wren, you're usually so ladylike—why does the second anyone mentions fighting, you light up like this?"

Wren wrinkled her cute little nose and squeezed out a smile, a touch sheepish: "I always loved fighting when I was little. It's just that grown up, hardly anyone's willing to spar with me, so I've been easing off the hobby. Why are you scared of a fight? It's not like I'd hurt you."

Nathan refused several times, but Wren's nagging and pestering wore him down, and he finally had to agree to a spar with the bloodborn girl. The Cloudhall had training grounds, but they weren't open to the public—so the two planned to rent space at a training academy on Lombard Row.