Draven, bruised but defiant, stood facing his father.
"Brat, don't tell me that's all," his father said, a wide smile spreading across his face.
"What the hell are you talking about, old man?" Draven shot back, a grin splitting his own face. "I'm just getting started!"
Aldric and Lyriana watched the brutal exchange unfold.
Aldric's thoughts raced: That brat's physical abilities are far beyond what I expected—his raw strength, his speed, even the way he moves.
Now I understand what the King was talking about.
A flashback flickered in Aldric's mind—his own sparring session with Draven's father.
Aldric swung fists, launching attack after attack, but Draven's father moved subtly, effortlessly dodging every blow.
"You're surprisingly slow—it's laughable that you're a high-ranking vampire," the King taunted.
"Your attacks are weak, your movements sluggish, and your strength nonexistent. Honestly, your physical abilities are pathetic."
Aldric clenched his teeth, throwing blow after blow, but Draven's father dodged them all with ease.
"You're downright weak for someone who's supposed to be a high-rank vampire," the King concluded.
The flashback ended, snapping Aldric back to the present.
Draven charged toward his father, wild smile blazing.
"Now that's more like it!" his father exclaimed, charging as well, swinging a fist that rapidly approached Draven.
Still grinning, Draven reacted swiftly—ducking, dodging the punch, then countering with a blow to the stomach that pushed his father back slightly.
Draven didn't waste a second. He charged again, left hand swinging.
His father moved subtly to his right, dodging the swing, then threw a punch of his own.
Draven looked dazed for a fleeting moment, but a smile quickly returned.
Pushing off the ground, he twisted his body, dodging the punch and swinging his leg in a kick aimed at his father.
His father caught the leg easily, gripping it tightly with a smile.
They continued their brutal clash, exchanging blow after blow.
After two hours of bones breaking and regenerating, the floor was stained with blood.
Draven was sent flying backward by a powerful punch, but he managed to stay on his feet.
His right hand, used to block the blow, was broken but quickly began to regenerate as he skidded to a stop.
His hand already healed, his body covered in bloodstains, and his white hair slightly disheveled, he raised his right hand to scratch his head.
Damn, I'm really hungry now... and starting to get tired. Need to get something to eat.
He looked at his father.
"Hey, Dad, it's been over two hours now. Don't you think it's about time we stop? I'm tired."
His father smiled.
"I guess you're right. Let's stop here."