My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines

A cloud of black bats passed through the closed window of the military office as though the glass did not exist. The small shapes spread across the ceiling, circled the shelves, and spiraled down in front of Serafall’s desk, sending several reports flying with the displaced air. The General of the Vampire Empire did not stand. She merely kept the pen between her fingers, watching the bats gather until they formed Rakshasa’s body in the chair before her.

Rakshasa completed the manifestation already seated, crossed one leg over the other, and adjusted one sleeve of her hanfu, acting as though she had entered through the door after announcing her arrival. Asura was not visible, but Serafall knew that did not mean the sword was far away. With someone like Rakshasa, the absence of a weapon only meant she did not need to display it.

Serafall slowly closed the document she had been reading.

"What matters do you have to discuss with me?"

Rakshasa rested one elbow on the arm of the chair and supported her face with her hand.

"What do you have in mind for dealing with the werewolves?"

Serafall raised an eyebrow. That was not the question she had expected to hear, especially from someone who had entered her office without permission and scattered bats over confidential military documents.

"What does that have to do with you?"

"More than it did yesterday."

"Explain."

Rakshasa glanced toward the map pinned to the wall behind her. The markings from the latest attacks were still there, as were the points connected to the Bramford laboratory and the possible escape routes used by the clans involved. She did not appear especially interested in the details, but she recognized the scale of the problem.

"Starting today, Victor is in isolated training."

Serafall’s pen stopped over the paper.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"No, it does not sound like anything." Serafall placed both arms on the desk. "My son returned yesterday from a mission, spent a night trapped with those two, and now you appear saying he has entered isolated training. Isolated where?"

Rakshasa shrugged.

"Still at the mansion, for now."

"For now?"

"He accepted me as his master." Her smile grew with obvious satisfaction. "I am going to treat him like a rough diamond and polish him until he becomes the most beautiful jewel in the world."

Serafall stared at her.

Rakshasa continued smiling.

The silence lasted long enough to make it clear that the general had not liked the metaphor, the situation, or the excessive happiness with which she spoke about Victor. The pen began moving between Serafall’s fingers again, rotating from side to side while she controlled the urge to cross the desk.

"Why are you here?"

Rakshasa looked away and scratched her cheek with one finger.

"I sort of asked my father for his blessing to marry."

Serafall’s face distorted.

It was not merely a change of expression. A dark spiral seemed to appear behind her eyes while the vampiric energy released from her body altered the space around the desk. The papers began to float, the wood creaked, and the office walls seemed to move several inches farther away, as though the entire room were trying to escape the possessiveness that had just awakened.

Rakshasa remained seated.

For several seconds, she stared into the abyss that had formed on Serafall’s face and seemed to seriously consider whether she had gone too far.

"Damn," she murmured. "What a possessive mother."

The pen stopped rotating.

Serafall tilted her head slightly.

Rakshasa raised both hands.

"I am joking."

The distortion around the office did not disappear immediately.

"Explain the joke."

"I did not ask for any marriage blessing." Rakshasa released a short laugh and settled more comfortably into the chair. "I only brought the old man to teach Victor a few things. My father was visiting, Victor needed someone capable of putting him in his place, and I thought it would be a productive use of everyone’s time."

Serafall’s energy began to recede. The papers slowly descended, the walls returned to their proper positions, and her face recovered something closer to a normal appearance, although her eyes remained fixed on Rakshasa.

"You brought the Heavenly Demon into my son’s mansion."

"Yes."

"Without warning anyone."

"I am warning you now."

"After he already entered."

"You were busy."

Serafall took a deep breath.

"And what exactly is your father doing to Victor?"

"Teaching him humility."

"That did not answer the question."

Rakshasa thought for a moment.

"Probably breaking something."

Serafall began to stand.

"Relax. Victor is alive." Rakshasa made a simple gesture with one hand. "My father will not kill him. He is only showing him that possessing many powers does not mean knowing how to use any of them."

Serafall remained standing behind the desk.

"My son only just received his abilities during the ritual."

"I know."

"He should be resting."

"I know that too."

"Then why did you let your father beat him?"

"Because Victor does not listen when the person speaking is someone he wants to fuck."

Serafall fell silent.

Rakshasa smiled.

"I tried teaching him gently. He kisses me, makes some provocation, and decides he understood everything. My father does not have that problem."

The general sat again, although the decision seemed to have been made only to stop herself from crossing the desk at that moment. She picked up the pen again and tried to reorganize the scattered documents.

"If he dares hurt Victor more than necessary—"

"He will not."

"And if you dare use this training to get closer to him in a way I do not approve—"

"Too late. I already belong to him."

The pen creaked between Serafall’s fingers.

Rakshasa ignored the sound.

"Anyway, these things happen, right?" She casually spread her arms. "A good man is surrounded by beautiful women, and I am exceptionally beautiful."

"You have a great deal of confidence for someone sitting inside my office."

"I have reasons."

"You also possess an impressive ability to irritate people."

"That is another quality."

Serafall observed her smile, trying to decide whether the visit truly had the purpose of discussing the werewolves or whether Rakshasa simply wanted to provoke her. It was probably both. That woman seemed incapable of choosing one reason when she could cause several problems at once.

"You asked what I intend to do about the werewolves," Serafall said. "Why?"

Rakshasa lost part of her playful expression.

"Because while Victor is training, he will not participate in any missions."

"I did not intend to send him immediately."

"You intended to consider him."

Serafall did not deny it.

"He found the laboratory."

"And nearly turned his own body into disposable material to finish the fight." Rakshasa crossed her arms. "Victor needs to stop for a while. Not because he is weak, but because he is trying to grow too quickly and confusing survival with mastery."

"He does not like standing still."

"I am not asking for his opinion."

Serafall raised an eyebrow.

Rakshasa held her gaze.

"Until my father decides he has an acceptable foundation in swordsmanship, Victor will not leave to hunt werewolves, hybrids, or anything else."

"You are imposing that on my son?"

"As his master, yes."

"Did he agree?"

"Not exactly in those words."

"Then he did not agree."

"He will after he manages to stand up."

Serafall tightened her grip on the pen.

Rakshasa smiled again and stood. Her body began to dissolve at the edges, transforming into small bats that spread around the chair.

"I came to warn you out of camaraderie," she said while part of her face still remained formed. "That boy is going to have many women. I hope we will not become enemies."

Serafall did not answer.

Rakshasa tilted her head.

"You do not look convinced."

"Get out of my office."

"That was almost polite."

The rest of her body dissolved. The cloud of bats spun over the desk, passed far too close to Serafall’s head merely to provoke her one more time, and then crossed the window in the same way it had entered. Within a few seconds, no sign of Rakshasa remained except the faint fragrance lingering in the room.

Serafall continued staring at the window.

The pen in her hand snapped in half.

Dark ink ran between her fingers and fell across the military report, but she did not even look at the stain.

"Oh, yes. Camaraderie."

The energy around her hand reduced both halves of the pen to dust.

"Let us see your camaraderie when I hang you to death and turn your body into grape juice, you fucking bitch."

"I HEARD THAT!" Rakshasa shouted.

...

Victor had already lost count of how many times he had repeated the Executioner’s Step. The training field was covered with marks from his feet, small cracks, and bloodstains that began on one side of the room and ended in front of the chair where Yu Jin Cheon remained seated. The Heavenly Demon had found a comfortable chair, a small table, and even a kettle. While Victor crossed the same space over and over again, he drank tea and corrected every movement without showing any sign of fatigue.

"Your foot is crooked."

Victor stopped before completing the cut.

"How much?"

"Two centimeters."

He returned to the starting point, repositioned his foot, and tried again. Lilith remained in her simplest form, a straight sword of blood without ice, fire, or electricity. Yu Jin Cheon had forbidden any alteration to the blade. Victor also could not accelerate his circulation, use the refinement rings to increase his strength, or allow the weapon to correct his balance on its own.

He needed to execute everything with his own body.

He advanced, turned his hip, and cut.

"Your shoulder rose."

Victor took a deep breath.

"How much did it rise?"

"Enough for me to see."

"That is not a measurement."

"For someone who wants to survive, it is."

Victor returned once more. The muscles in his legs were already torn in several places, not because of the strength required, but because of the constant repetition of a movement Yu Jin Cheon kept forcing him to interrupt. Whenever his regeneration closed an injury, the old man slightly changed the position of his feet and made Victor use a different part of his body.

He advanced.

Yu Jin Cheon raised his cup.

"You thought about the cut before the step."

Victor stopped the blade a few inches from the floor.

"How do you know what I thought?"

"Your arm moved first."

"It was a minimal difference."

"It was a mistake."

Victor tightened his grip on Lilith’s handle. The sword reacted to his mood and became denser, but the Heavenly Demon noticed immediately.

"Control your weapon."

"It is controlled."

"The blade became heavier because you are irritated."

"That does not interfere."

Yu Jin Cheon extended one finger.

Lilith lost its form and fell to the floor as a pool of blood. Victor looked at his empty hand, then at the old man, who returned to drinking his tea.

"Form it again."

Victor pulled the blood back and rebuilt the sword. There was no smile left on his face. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained deep, but now they were accompanied by sweat, dried blood, and an irritation he no longer tried to hide.

"Again," Yu Jin Cheon said.

Victor assumed the stance.

The first hour had only been exhausting. During the second, the old man began striking his knees whenever the step came out wrong. During the third, he started touching Victor’s shoulders, elbows, and spine with enough force to dislocate the joints. When Victor tried to use his regeneration to ignore the injuries, Yu Jin Cheon began attacking the same points before the recovery finished.

It was not a fight.

It was correction through violence.

Victor advanced and felt his right foot touch the floor at the correct angle. The force rose through his leg, passed through his hip, and reached his spine. His shoulder remained relaxed, his breathing did not stop, and Lilith advanced in a clean line.

Yu Jin Cheon moved his head a few inches.

The blade passed beside his face.

Victor felt a brief satisfaction.

Then two fingers touched his chest.

He was thrown backward, crossed half the training field, and struck the wall. His ribs broke, one lung was pierced, and his spine twisted. Victor fell to his knees, coughed blood, and began standing while the bones returned to place.

"Why?" he asked.

"You became satisfied before the strike ended."

"You dodged."

"I allowed it to come close."

"What is the difference?"

"The difference is that, if I wanted, you would have died believing you were about to accomplish something."

Yu Jin Cheon placed the cup on the table and pointed toward the starting position.

"Go back."

Victor remained still for several seconds. Part of him wanted to cover Lilith in White Fire and attack with everything he possessed. Another part knew the result would be the same as before. The old man would dissolve the sword, dismantle his powers, and point out another twenty flaws before Victor understood how he had been defeated.

He returned to the beginning.

The training continued.

Yu Jin Cheon corrected the position of his fingers on the handle, the distribution of his weight, the rhythm of his steps, and even the direction of his eyes. Victor discovered that he moved his chin before diagonal attacks, held his breath when he intended to accelerate, and tensed his thumb whenever Lilith changed density. None of those problems were significant on their own, but together they turned every attack into a sequence of warnings.

"You fight while announcing everything," Yu Jin Cheon said. "An ordinary person does not notice because they are slow. Against someone experienced, your body tells the entire story before the sword moves."

Victor repeated the step.

"Then I need to stop showing intent."

"No. You need to stop lying to yourself."

The sword cut through the air.

Yu Jin Cheon struck the side of the blade with his fingernail. Lilith left its line, pulled Victor’s arm, and opened his guard. The old man touched his abdomen with his palm, interrupting the muscles and dropping him in place.

"You tried to hide the target, but you still had not decided where you wanted to cut."

Victor used the sword to help himself stand.

"I am deciding during the movement."

"Then you are already late."

"And if the enemy changes position?"

"You change the execution. Not the decision."

Victor breathed slowly. His entire body hurt, although his regeneration prevented any injury from remaining for long. The greater problem was the accumulated fatigue. Healing muscles, vessels, and bones repeatedly consumed blood and energy. The second refinement stage helped maintain circulation, but Yu Jin Cheon interrupted any attempt to use it beyond what was necessary.

"Again."

Victor advanced.

"Hip too slow."

Again.

"Step too long."

One more time.

"Too much force in the arm."

The repetition continued until the light outside changed. Victor no longer knew how many hours had passed. Yu Jin Cheon’s tea was replaced twice, several servants left bags of blood near the entrance, and no one dared remain to watch.

At some point, Victor stopped answering the criticism.

The irritation still existed, but it no longer occupied his movements. He returned to the starting point, corrected the mistake, and advanced again. When he was struck, he stood without provoking. When Lilith was dissolved, he rebuilt the blade without complaining.

Yu Jin Cheon noticed the change, but did not comment.

Victor assumed the stance once more. He did not think about speed, strength, or the man seated in front of him. He chose a simple line between the blade and the target’s neck. His foot advanced. His body followed as a single structure, and Lilith completed the cut without any part moving ahead of the rest.

Yu Jin Cheon rose from the chair.

The sword passed through the space he had just left.

Victor remained in the final position, breathing with difficulty. His arms trembled, his legs were covered in blood, and his face showed no satisfaction. He merely looked at the old man, waiting for the next criticism.

Yu Jin Cheon examined the mark left on the floor.

"Bad."

Victor closed his eyes for an instant.

"But this time," the Heavenly Demon continued, "it was a real strike."

Victor opened his eyes.

Yu Jin Cheon dragged the chair several steps backward and sat again.

"Do nine thousand more."