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The god of vengeance slowly placed his dark-shrouded palm on Alan's chest. His eyes flickered with an unsettling crimson light, as if peering into Alan's deepest anger and hatred.
"So, this is our covenant," roared the god of vengeance. Suddenly, the diamond-shaped mark representing slave on Alan's hand emitted a piercing crimson light.
Alan felt his heart pierced by a sharp object, a tremendous and intense pain spreading throughout his body. He recalled the past, the family and friends who were abducted, insulted, and killed by the noble the Morgan family, each scene branded into his heart like a searing iron.
"Ah—!" He groaned in unbearable pain, but immediately clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to scream. His sweat poured like rain, each drop seemingly carrying his resentment and agony.
The diamond-shaped mark gradually disappeared, replaced by a dark red holy scar. This was not just a trace, but an eternal brand, engraved deep in his soul. Alan felt a violent force erupting from the holy scar, surging through his veins and into his organs.
His heart beat so violently, as if it wanted to burst out of his chest. Every cell, every nerve in his body pulsated in extreme agony, and then suddenly, the pain transformed into an exhilarating power.
The god of revenge looked at all this, and the red light in his pupils became brighter. "From now on, slave's Alan is gone. You are reborn, you are the vengeful Alan." He declared with thunderous authority, as if the power came from the depths of hell, making it impossible to resist.
Alan felt himself completely reshaped by this incredible power, his organs, muscles, bones, and even every cell seemed to have been reborn. This power was not just physical, it permeated his spirit and consciousness, making him more acutely aware of the anger in his heart.
"This is the power of anger," the god of vengeance said, "It is the voice of the forgotten and oppressed, the truth they dare not face. Now, all of this is your weapon. Use it to destroy those who oppress you, let them feel the pain and anger deep within you."
Alan tightly closed his eyes, feeling the turbulent power within his body. This power seemed to be waiting for an opportunity, a suitable moment to erupt. The stigmata in his palms were no longer bleeding at this moment. A sense of peace surged in his heart, yet it was filled with anger and strength.
"This holy mark is the first gift I give to you," the god of vengeance whispered in his heart, "Your fresh blood is no longer useless liquid, it will become the source of your power. You can transform it into various weapons, and the power of these weapons will depend on the anger in your heart."
Alan was moved, and immediately remembered the heartbreaking moment - the last farewell with his father. At that time, his father held a heavy iron hammer, which he used to repair household items and was also his final weapon against intruders.
The sensation of the stigmata in the palm feels as hot as flames. He further focuses on the surging power, guiding it to the stigmata in his palm. The runic circle embedded in the skin begins to emit a faint glow, as if responding to some kind of summons.
Alan takes a deep breath, concentrating on the anger and thirst for justice deep within his heart. He feels the stigmata in his palm acting like a mouth, absorbing the fresh blood within him. This blood coagulates in his palm, becoming thicker and thicker, as if solidifying.
He felt the fresh blood and anger merge into one, becoming a blazing rune. The speed at which this rune condensed grew faster and faster, until it finally solidified into a fixed shape. Alan opened his hands, and drop by drop, the fresh blood dripped from his fingertips. Before his eyes, this blood coalesced into an iron hammer.
This was no ordinary hammer; it shimmered with a deep red light, as if it had absorbed all of his anger and righteousness. Alan felt an inseparable connection between himself and this hammer, as if it were a tangible expression of his own emotions.
"Very good," the voice of the god of vengeance sounded in his mind again, "You have mastered this power. But remember, the strength of this weapon will depend on the anger and desire for revenge deep within you."
Alan tightly gripped the iron hammer, shaped by blood and anger, and swung it a few times. However, he felt that the grip was not quite right, as if it was different from what he was used to. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, thinking to himself, "There should be a weapon more suitable for me."
The god of anger seemed to sense his dissatisfaction and confusion, and a voice filled with infinite power and authority sounded in his heart: "Listen, Alan, this ability is called 'Blood Armament.' It is formed by your anger and desire for revenge. It is not just a weapon; you can shape it into anything - a weapon, armor, or even other protective gear. If you feel uncomfortable, just focus your thoughts, and it will obey your will."
Alan was slightly surprised, but quickly understood the meaning of the god of anger. He decided to give it a try, so he closed his eyes and focused his mind. He imagined a weapon that better suited his fighting style, one that would allow him to be as free and agile as the wind on the battlefield, while also burning like fire.
He felt the hammer in his hand begin to vibrate, as if infused with new life and energy. The shape of the hammer slowly changed, becoming lighter and lighter until it transformed into a short sword. The blade of the sword gleamed with a cold light, as if thirsting for battle and revenge, much like his own heart.
The God of Anger murmured in his heart, "Very good, Alan. This is exactly what you need as my messenger."
Alan opened his eyes and swung this new form of short sword a few times, feeling more comfortable and natural than before. Every swing, he could feel a strong surge of anger and power, as if this short sword was the embodiment of his anger and revenge.
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