Chapter 140: The Red Aura
Jake whispered, "Brother is bad at comfort."
Brant nodded without thinking, then realized Lucard had heard him and became stiff.
Lucard ignored it. His attention remained on Peter. The man’s blood had finally stopped fighting the change. The modified white blood cells moved through him in steady patterns now. They were still rough. Still new. Still hungry for weakness. But they no longer acted like wild dogs tearing through a body. They had become guards walking patrols inside Peter’s veins.
That was good.
But the work was not finished.
Lucard crouched beside Peter and placed two fingers on his wrist. Peter’s pulse jumped once when Lucard touched him, but he did not pull away. The trust in that small reaction was useful. Pain had not made Peter reject him. It had made Peter understand the price.
"Your body is open," Lucard said.
Peter looked at him. "Open?"
"Your aura path is cracked. If we wait too long, your body will try to heal the crack in a safer shape. That will still make you stronger, but the path may narrow again."
Brant frowned. "You mean he can still miss Rank Four?"
"Yes," Lucard said. "The body likes survival more than greatness. It will close dangerous roads unless someone forces them to become useful."
Peter tried to push himself up. His arms shook at once.
Jenny pressed his shoulder. "Do not move."
Peter looked at Lucard. "What must I do?"
Lucard said, "Learn."
Peter blinked. "Now?"
"Now."
Jenny frowned. "Lucard, he just survived three days of torture."
"Which means his body is still soft enough to carve."
"That is a terrible way to say it."
"It is also accurate."
Brant looked troubled. "Young Master, even if the aura path is open, a knight needs a technique to guide the aura properly. He has his old Vardros sword method, but that method was only enough for Rank Three. If he tries to force aura through a weak method, he may damage himself."
"I know," Lucard said. "That is why I will give him another one."
The room became quiet.
Peter stared at him. "Another sword technique?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"A guard sword."
Peter’s eyes changed.
Lucard understood why. Peter did not want a sword art made for glory. He did not need a beautiful noble technique meant for tournaments. He did not need a battlefield style made for slaughtering strangers under banners. His desire was simple. He wanted to stand before Jenny and Jake and not be pushed aside again.
So Lucard had shaped the technique for that desire.
"In my old memories," Lucard said carefully, "there was a sword art used by blood guards. It was not the strongest killing art. It was not the fastest. It was created for men who stood in front of someone and refused to move."
Peter listened with every piece of strength he had left.
Lucard continued, "I will change it for this world. Your body cannot carry the full form. Your aura is not born yet. Your blood is still human. So you will receive only the first layer."
Brant’s expression became serious. "A blood-related sword art?"
"Yes."
"Will it harm him?"
"All useful things can harm fools."
Jenny sighed softly. "Lucard."
He looked at her. "It will suit him."
Peter’s voice was rough but firm. "Young Master, please teach me."
Lucard placed one hand on Peter’s forehead.
Peter became still.
"This is not ordinary teaching," Lucard said. "If I explain every movement with words, it will take months for you to understand the shape. Your body may close the chance before then. So I will send the pattern directly into your mind through blood memory."
Peter’s eyes widened slightly. "Can the mind survive that?"
"It depends on what is sent. I will not send everything. Only stance, breathing, blood rhythm, sword path, and aura route."
"What is the name?" Peter asked.
Lucard paused for half a breath.
A true divine technique had names that could shake bloodlines if spoken in the wrong place. This lower world did not need such names. Peter did not need them either.
"Crimson Guardian Sword."
Peter repeated it softly. "Crimson Guardian Sword."
"The first layer is called Blood Standing Before the Door," Lucard said. "Remember the meaning. You are the door. The people behind you are the house. If you fall, the enemy enters. If you stand, the house breathes."
Peter’s eyes became wet again.
Lucard pressed his fingers harder against Peter’s forehead. "Do not become emotional. Emotion opens the gate, but control decides where the power goes."
Peter took a shaky breath. "I understand."
"You do not. But you will."
Lucard closed his eyes.
A thin thread of blood power moved from his finger into Peter’s forehead. It did not pierce the skin like a needle. It entered through warmth, pulse, and blood sense. Peter’s body shook as the first image entered his mind.
A sword held low.
Feet planted like roots.
Breath drawn into the chest, then pressed down toward the stomach.
Blood moving with the breath.
A line of red power rising from the heel, passing through the legs, gathering at the spine, crossing the shoulder, and reaching the sword hand.
Peter gasped.
The second image came.
A guard standing before a gate while arrows fell.
It was not moving. A blade meeting another blade. It was not chasing. It was a step taken only when the protected person moved.
A cut made only when the enemy crossed the line.
The third image came.
Blood inside the body answering will.
It was not magic. It was not a spell. It was not rage.
A knight’s own life heat becomes an aura.
Peter’s fingers curled against the blanket.
Lucard sent the sword art deeper.
Peter saw the first stance. Then the second. Then the third. Each stance was simple outside but difficult inside. The body had to breathe in a strict rhythm. The blood had to move with that rhythm. The muscles had to tighten and loosen at the correct moments. The aura path had to open not by force alone, but by duty.
That was why Lucard chose this technique.
Peter’s will was not greedy.
It was protective.
The sword art would use that.
Peter’s mouth opened, and a rough sound came out. It was not a scream this time. It was pain mixed with understanding. His body wanted to sleep, but his mind was forced to watch the images again and again until they carved themselves into memory.
Lucard spoke slowly. "Do not memorize with thought. Memorize with blood."
Peter’s breathing changed.
In.
Hold.
Press down.
Move through the spine.
Out.
Release into the arm.