The two little octopuses crouched on the ground, looking like two blobs of sticky jelly, yet their voices echoed clearly inside Draven's mind.

  He hadn't yet recovered from their claim of being descendants of the Holy Spirit when they spoke in a very serious tone:

  "Our ancestors were attendants of the Beast God."

  "Dedicated to brewing the finest wine for Him!"

  Draven couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "So, you're bartenders? Or brewers?"

  "No, we are wine attendants!"

  "Blessed personally by the deity!"

  As they explained, a distant and blurry image gradually appeared in Draven's mind.

  It seemed to be a world from long ago, perhaps ten thousand years or more in the past. Back then, the land was not ruled by empires and kingdoms but protected by several true gods. Among them was one known as the Beast God — a boisterous and easygoing entity who loved his drinks.

  He didn't care about human prayers or wars; all that mattered to Him was whether He could enjoy the perfect wine every day.

  "So the Beast God created your ancestors personally to have good wine to drink?" Draven asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

  "Yes, He shaped two wine attendants with His divine power."

  "They were born with a special ability to make any wine taste better."

  The little octopuses spoke proudly, as if that history still flowed through their veins.

  "At that time, there weren't many wine attendants. They were rare beings who served only the gods."

  "Our clan, bestowed with the name ‘Holy Spirit,' was favored by the deity."

  Draven listened, gradually fascinated. He had never imagined such things really existed in the world.

  "And then?" he whispered.

  "Then came the war."

  The tone of the two little octopuses suddenly grew gloomy, as if touching on painful memories.

  In that ancient era, the balance between gods was broken. An evil god descended, bringing destruction and chaos. The entire continent fell into fear.

  During a sudden conflict, the ancestors of the wine attendants were killed protecting the Beast God's wine cellar. The Beast God was gravely injured and finally chose to fall into a deep slumber to preserve His divine essence.

  "The Beast God fell asleep, and our ancestors died."

  "But our people never gave up."

  Over the following thousands of years, this clan did not perish. They quietly hid in various places, searching the world for the finest wines, all waiting for the day the Beast God would awaken to offer Him His favorite drinks once again.

  Hearing this, Draven asked, "Then why are there only the two of you left now?"

  "Because our clan grew weaker."

  "Our powers gradually faded, and our bloodline was no longer pure."

  "In the end, we had no choice but to seal ourselves along with the stored wines in an underground chamber."

  "But the seal was discovered."

  "By the elves."

  The elves found the sealed chamber and thought they had discovered some ancient creature. At first, they were just curious, but soon they noticed that the blood of these little beings seemed to alter the taste of the wine.

  "They misunderstood."

  "They thought it was our blood that made the wine more fragrant."

  Draven's face changed. He already guessed what would come next.

  "They began capturing us to extract our blood."

  "Many of our people died, some even soaked alive in wine."

  At this, Draven felt his stomach churn. He hadn't expected that these soft, adorable little creatures had such a bloody past.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "The elves' actions triggered a curse."

  "That was the last protection the Beast God left for our clan."

  "Anyone who harms the Holy Spirit will be cursed."

  Draven squinted. "Then why didn't the elves all die?"

  "Because our bloodline is weakening."

  "The curse's power is no longer fatal; it only causes mutations."

  "Their temperaments changed strangely, some went mad."

  "This in turn caused panic among the high elves."

  To eliminate the threat, the elven queen ordered the slaughter of all Holy Spirits, not sparing even the infants.

  "We are the only eggs secretly hidden away."

  "We waited a long time until you hatched us."

  As the two little creatures spoke, they rubbed their tentacles against Draven's fingers as if saying, "Thank you for saving us."

  Draven sighed softly. Although he never saw himself as a savior, these two little beings were now caught up in his fate.

  "But you just hatched — how do you know so much?" he couldn't help but ask.

  "Bloodline inheritance!"

  "We began receiving memories inside the eggshell!"

  "Like downloading files," one of them said, shaking its body, "we're born with tutorials!"

  Draven laughed. He gently poked their heads with his finger and said, "So how do I feed you? Do you need seawater?"

  "Wine, wine, wine!"

  "We don't drink seawater!"

  Draven paused, then couldn't help laughing out loud. "You drink wine right after birth? Aren't you afraid of getting drunk?"

  "We don't get drunk. We're born for wine."

  Draven pointed to a few jars of wine not far away. "How about those?"

  "Yes!"

  With that, they transformed into two red streaks of light and vanished in the blink of an eye, disappearing near the wine jars.

  Draven hurried over to check. The jars were intact, their lids untouched, as if the little creatures had passed straight through the ceramic into the inside.

  Draven gently tapped the surface of the wine jar, causing the liquid inside to ripple slightly. He wasn't quite sure if those two little octopuses had actually crawled in.

  But the moment he tapped it, the two creatures suddenly popped their heads out from the surface of the jar.

  Their bright red tentacles swayed like mushrooms sprouting from the liquid, with an eerie yet comical feel.

  "No bottle can hold the descendants of the Holy Spirit."

  "The bottle is our home."

  The two little guys spoke almost in unison, their voices light and delicate, like bubbles bursting underwater.

  Draven stood there stunned, as if something had knocked on his brain. His worldview seemed to be rearranged at that moment.

  "Alright then, since you consider yourselves part of the wine, I won't bother where you live," he shrugged helplessly.

  The little octopuses seemed to understand, blinking their big eyelid-less eyes, looking both proud and innocent.

  Draven didn't ask too many questions after that, only a few details — about their abilities, their lifespans, and how exactly they came to recognize him.

  The answers were even more ridiculous than he had imagined. They said they had received their inheritance while still in their eggs, including history, knowledge, faith, and the will to acknowledge a master.

  Draven finally relaxed and signaled that they could safely return to the wine jar. In a flash, the two little creatures dove back inside.

  Leaning against the stone wall, Draven stared at the quietly standing wine jar, his feelings a complex mix. He realized then that these two little creatures were not just adorable pets.

  They were the last descendants of the Holy Spirit, a nearly extinct lineage continuing through them. And now, they had chosen him.

  Not through any contract or ritual, but simply because they deemed him worthy of their trust.

  That didn't ease his mind — rather, it felt like a heavy stone pressing down on his chest. He was no deity, just a stranger kicked by fate onto this continent. Yet now, he seemed to have become the inheritor of some legacy.

  "Feels like I've been entrusted with a charge," he muttered.

  He finally understood why the Blood Elves couldn't hatch these two little ones — their bloodline had been tainted by a curse.

  The gods had once bestowed the Holy Spirits with the power of the curse, to protect them from misuse. But now even the curse had weakened, only able to drive the perpetrators to madness and personality changes.

  Even so, these two newly hatched creatures still possessed an almost divine power.

  They could enhance the quality of the wine — not just the taste and aroma, but the energy contained within.

  What did that mean?

  Draven knew all too well. In this world, energy-infused wine was rare.

  If its quality could be improved further, it could undoubtedly give rise to new fighting strength, healing power, and might even become a breakthrough in alchemy and magical research.

  The only cost was consuming some ordinary wine.

  "I really hit the jackpot," Draven chuckled, shaking his head.

  In that moment, he thought of the failed Blood Elf, Gareth.

  "Gareth, you're not a failure at all. You're an angel sent to bring me money."

  Blood wine, the wine jar, the storage ring, the longbow, the sword, and these two legendary descendants of the Holy Spirit.

  He laid those items out on the ground and studied them carefully but couldn't make much sense of them. So he handed them to the two little octopuses, who all shook their heads in unison.

  "Alright, if we don't understand it, let's just put it away for now," Draven sighed, packing everything back into the storage ring.

  After tidying up, he instructed the two little guys to stay inside the wine jar and never show themselves unless he called for them personally. The two nodded obediently.

  Only after all this did Draven finally call for Rurik.

  "Come down!"

  Rurik hurriedly slid down from above, looking anxious.

  Draven didn't mention the Holy Spirits or Gareth's last words. He only said he found a bunch of corpses and wine jars below.

  But even that little information made Rurik overjoyed.

  Rurik carefully touched every wine jar, his eyes shining as if he'd found a legendary treasure.

  "Boss, I'm going to live here from now on!" Rurik's eyes sparkled, sincere. "Unless I'm dead, nobody else is allowed in!"

  "Don't be silly," Draven laughed, rubbing the hair on his head. "I have other plans. No need for you to risk your life."

  Though disappointed, Rurik didn't insist. He knew Draven never joked about such things.

  Afterward, they busied themselves again, finding a whole piece of animal hide to wrap the body that was partially decomposed. It was Gareth — the most respected person in this story.

  They carried the body outside and placed it atop the pile of slave corpses. Torches were lit, and roaring flames illuminated the night.

  The corpses were already dried out, and the fire burned fiercely, turning everything black in moments.

  Draven looked at Gareth in the firelight and softly said, "At least it's a decent farewell. Much better than what you endured while alive."