SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God Chapter 736 The silent throne

Lysandra observed him intently before responding. "The ancestor's blood is said to grant numerous blessings to whoever takes the throne."

"Just blessings?" Damon arched an eyebrow.

Lysandra grew defensive at once. "Don't look down on it. That drop of blood comes from our founding ancestor. It holds his pure essence. Its power knows no bounds. In capable hands, it could even obliterate a whole world!"

She breathed out steadily and halted before a majestic hall. Damon spotted the throne in the distance. "That's… only in the right hands," she went on. "Your gains will hinge on your own abilities." A flicker of disdain appeared in her gaze for a split second, then vanished.

Damon paid it no mind. He cared only about whether this drop of blood could truly offer him something. So far, memory worlds hadn't given much beyond a tiny memory shard.

Luckily, his extraction ability had let him gather a few skills. Yet it wasn't very effective since most situations didn't demand combat. This memory world stood apart, though. It felt perfectly crafted just for him.

Was it mere chance? Impossible. Damon felt certain. Maybe golden memory storms followed a high-stakes, high-reward pattern. Succeeding here might yield massive rewards, but failure… Necrogod's fate could be his own.

Though losing stats wouldn't hit him too hard, rewards and penalties might be customized for him. He wouldn't rule out the system pulling such a trick.

Huuuu…. Damon let out a breath, steadying his thoughts. Failure wasn't on his mind yet. First, he had to check this blood drop and see if his bloodline could fully merge with it.

Should he pull that off, he felt confident in unleashing the blood essence's maximum might. He scanned the throne room once more, then questioned the silver-haired beauty. "So where's the drop of blood?"

Lysandra lifted a brow right away. "Why ask me? Can't you sense it?"

"Hmmmm?" Damon sensed trouble brewing. "Indulge me. Share all you know."

Lysandra shot him a glance. "Have you already claimed the throne before your coronation?"

Damon eyed the throne. "With war approaching, why bother with ceremonies?"

Disdain crossed the woman's features again. "If you've sat on the throne and the blood essence ignored you, no one can fix it. Questioning me is futile. Neither I nor the elders can assist. You're chosen or you're not."

Damon brushed past her into the grand hall, deepening her scowl. "Think sitting again will help? Pointless. Quit while you're ahead. I must head back to the banquet hall and alert the others. If the blood essence didn't stir for you, we need new plans."

Ignoring his response, Lysandra spun around and strode toward the grand hall's doors, her silver locks flowing behind. The faint hope she'd held was gone, and she refused to stay.

Damon let her go without protest or excuse. He advanced instead, gaze locked on the distant throne. He hadn't taken their words about power in the throne so literally before.

The throne rose on an elevated dais under a towering arched ceiling etched with archaic runes. It wasn't ornate. Ancient and plain, it gleamed solid black. Could this truly be extraordinary?

"So sitting on the throne lets me reach it?" He approached and took a seat.

Briefly, a sensation stirred, and he anticipated some event, yet nothing shifted. No glow appeared. No tremor struck. No force invaded him. The throne stayed utterly dark, bloodless. No grand display, not even a whisper.

"Damn it." Damon had suspected as much, but now it was certain. "Golden rank worlds demand no less, I suppose. But why no reaction at all? My identity? Or the heir's lacking talent?"

Damon pondered the matter for some time. The inner workings of these memory worlds eluded his full grasp. When stepping into one, did he truly become that individual, or did others merely perceive him as such? He remained clueless. The throne—or more accurately, the blood droplet—might have failed to respond for various reasons. Heck, perhaps the heir wasn't even truly of royal blood?

Damon vividly recalled a classic storyline from Earth's online realms. A king had hidden his real heir, with a pretender usurping the throne for decades. When enemies finally emerged and butchered the false prince, the genuine one revealed himself. Maybe this mirrored that scenario?

Or perhaps the man had simply been cuckolded and couldn't face the truth. Numerous possibilities existed.

Damon glanced at the throne once more and released a heavy sigh. A mere drop of blood potent enough to shatter a world? It tore at his heart to abandon such a priceless treasure.

He lingered briefly before summoning a blood avatar. "Why don't you stay here just in case?" Then, he departed the throne room, returning to the banquet hall. All hope wasn't lost. A war loomed ahead, and he aimed to capitalize on it completely.