[Condition: Kill your Sire]
[Completed]
[Ascending…]
Race: Fledgeling Vampire → Lesser Vampire
[Establishing Vampiric Clan…]
[Clan Varn Created]
[Special Clan Ability Granted]
Bloodfracture – disrupts or reverses the blood-connection effects of other vampires (15 units)
The system's mechanical chime echoed in Corven's skull, like divine scripture being etched directly into his brain. His vision wavered for a moment, then sharpened—as if the world itself had suddenly gained a second layer of clarity.
He could feel his body shifting. Not externally, but deep within.
Veins throbbed with unnatural force, pumping richer, heavier blood through every artery like molten iron. His bones vibrated softly beneath his skin. His heart—once a slow, unnatural tick—was now a pounding war drum.
An evolution.
A rebirth.
"So I'm a lesser vampire now, then…" Corven exhaled with a dry laugh, disbelief dancing across his glowing crimson irises. A slow, eerie smile curled his lips.
But his attention snapped back to the corpse before him.
The headless vampire—the one who once mocked him—lay in a pool of his own thick, glistening blood. The scent in the air was overpowering. Metallic. Darkly sweet. Almost intoxicating.
Corven crouched, the earth crunching beneath his boots. His fingers reached out, curled tightly around the severed head. It was still warm. Still dripping.
Blood poured freely from the neck.
He didn't hesitate.
He opened his mouth—and let it spill in.
Thick rivulets of vampiric blood flowed past his lips, coating his tongue, his throat. It was unlike any prey he had consumed before—no iron tang of human blood, no gamy rawness of beast. It was richer. Denser.
Meat-like.
"It's almost like… meat," he muttered, savoring the primal flavor as it lingered on his tongue. It felt as though the blood was alive even now, crawling through him, whispering secrets of power with every drop.
- Blood (29 Units)
His eyes widened slightly.
"Woah…" he murmured. "So a vampire's worth… ten units of blood?"
Almost as if in response, the Codex pulsed again:
[Foreign Vampiric Blood Detected]
[Absorbing into Blood Codex…]
[New Ability Gained]
Marrowbind – manipulate and weaponize the skeletal structure of oneself and others (5 units)
Corven's smile returned. It was wider now. Sharper. Hints of fang glinted in the moonlight.
"And another ability, huh…" he said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A flicker of satisfaction cut through the trauma still lingering at the edge of his mind.
It didn't erase it.
But it reminded him why he kept going.
"With this power… I can keep my promise," he whispered under his breath, voice low with conviction. "But that doesn't mean I'll let responsibility shackle me."
His gaze hardened. A glint of old pain flashed behind his glowing eyes.
"I'm not repeating my mistakes… from my past life."
He rose to his full height and surveyed the grim landscape before him. The graveyard still churned with motion—skeletal fingers piercing soil, hollow eyes glowing in the dark. Vampire spawn continued to claw their way out of cracked coffins and shattered tombs.
And all of them?
Marching toward the distant village.
The flicker of torchlight on the horizon made the threat all too real.
Corven inhaled deeply, centering himself.
"Time to test out my new powers, then," he said, exhaling through his nose.
'Bloodfracture.'
- Blood (14 Units)
The moment he willed it, a pulse surged through him—like a second heartbeat made entirely of magic. The vampire blood inside his body reacted immediately, vibrating in harmony with the Codex.
A signal radiated from him, unseen and unheard by human senses—but it spread like a curse carried by wind.
The effect was instant.
The vampire spawn froze mid-step.
Every single one.
A grotesque tableau of halted corpses.
Corven could feel them.
No—command them.
He smirked, something dark and amused dancing in his gaze.
"Well. That solved the village invasion problem…"
The blood-bound undead were now his to command. An army of tireless, fearless creatures with no will of their own—just hunger, rage… and now, obedience.
"Now then… time to utilize the undead," he mused aloud, stroking his chin.
Possibilities raced through his mind. Scouting. Construction. Blood harvesting. Warfare. The strategies bloomed like flowers in a long-dead field.
But rather than rush to a decision, he made the first logical move: take inventory.
"Back to the graveyard," he ordered.
And they obeyed.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of vampire spawn reversed direction, returning to the soil that birthed them. The ground trembled under the weight of their synchronized movement.
Corven turned, eyes scanning the cemetery. "Let's not forget to be efficient," he said, almost to himself.
Another command flowed from his thoughts.
Bring prey.
Animal corpses. Anything usable for feeding.
The undead scattered, some crawling on all fours like beasts, others shambling upright with grotesque elegance.
And Corven?
He sat down on the damp earth, right atop a cracked tombstone, crossing his legs with practiced ease. The graveyard wind stirred his coat, his aura calm now—but far from passive.
Like a lord seated atop a throne of dirt and bones.
He leaned back slightly and let out a small, sly chuckle.
"Looks like I did manage to get lucky again…"
The night was still long.
And now?
He was just getting started.