Status
Information
Attributes
Name
Dracul Vespasian
Health
500/500
Economics (ECN)
0
Military Strength (MS)
0
Race
Dragon/Dino-Human Hybrid
Stamina
215/600
Religion (RGN)
0
Commerce (COM)
0
Level
【 EXP 】 0 / 1,000
Mana
9/14
Technology (TCH)
0
Thaumaturgy (THA)
0
【 STR 】 75 (0)
【 ATK 】44 (25)
【 DEF 】 95 (0)
【 VIT 】100 (0)
【 AGL 】 89 (0)
【 PER 】75 (0)
【 INT 】 120 (0)
【 LCK 】60 (0)
Traits
Versatile Human Biology | Diplomacy | Dragon Force | Wrathful | Immense Magical Pool | High Magical Ability | Alpha Male | Spark of Divinity
I. Sovereign Points (SP): 0
II. Research Points (RP): 0
III. Moral: 0
IV. Education: 0
V. Population: 0
VI.Crime: 0
VII.Prestige: 0
VIII. Culture: 0
IX. Income: 0
Main-Capital
None
Cities: 0
Towns: 0
Villages: 0
Bases: 0
Class
None
Power Plants: 0
Academies: 0
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Temples: 0
Arcane Hut: 0
Empire: 【 EXP 】 0 / 1,000
Specialization: Imperialism
No Allies
Basic building (Tent) Construction | Basic Engineering | Basic Sorcery Engineering | Basic Spellcrafting | Basic Alchemy Engineering (Innovator) | Basic Enchanting Engineering |
A decade had passed since Dracul found himself reincarnated in this uncanny world—a perplexing blend of magic, cutting-edge tech, and affectionate, if overbearing, parents who had yet to learn the concept of 'personal space.' But Dracul had adapted, twisting life's anomalies to his favor. What choice did he have?
His eyebrows furrowed, pondering. "Magic. Can I wield it?" He asked the duo.
"Why not, big guy?" Dashi quipped, his wings fluttering excitedly. "You've got the mojo; now use it!"
Deav, hovering with mechanical grace, added in his stoic, butler-like tone, "I concur with the black dragonfly. Your latent power is considerable for one so young."
Dashi's glow shifted to a fiery red, incensed. "Hey, flyswatter, I was here first! Back off!"
Dracul raised an eyebrow, his expression a blend of amusement and mild surprise. The surrealism of having a dialogue with a vibrant dragonfly and a robotic fairy had yet to wear off. Legend dictated that dragons paired with dragonflies were destined for greatness, akin to the likes of Hakram and Saphira. Faes, on the other hand, aligned themselves with prodigious Dinosaurs and Kaijus—creatures like Monster Zero and the King of Monsters.
Dashi, with his blue eyes and wise-cracking demeanor, had introduced himself with a flair. Deav, robotic and reserved, had been formal, almost stiff, in his introduction. Dracul tilted his head, silently contemplating the lore and the entities now bound to him.
[https://i.imgur.com/7L0kzDi.jpg]
Dracul paused, his weapon hovering mid-air as he sensed the sudden, unfamiliar presence of Dashi and Deav. He was amidst his rigorous training, breaking trees and dummies as if they were paper, all in preparation for the upcoming tournament. Intrigued yet slightly annoyed by the interruption, he cast them a sidelong glance. His face remained neutral, but his eyes glinted with a mix of caution and curiosity.
He was in one of his family's many gymnasiums—vast, sprawling facilities scattered throughout their castle estate, boasting equipment that ranged from archaic to futuristic. The current space was aptly named the Vespasian field, equipped with archery targets, rotating dummies, and a vast array of medieval weaponry.
As he aged, Dracul had access to more specialized facilities—gravity chambers, hologram rooms, time dilation spheres, gun ranges, and even mech suit arenas. Yet, despite this embarrassment of riches, one element remained ever-crucial: magic.
Physical prowess was just the tip of the iceberg. To thrive in a world where even a D-rank monster could easily tear you apart, understanding and harnessing mana was vital. This ethereal energy, as ubiquitous as air yet as intricate as a spider's web, was what fueled all magical abilities. It could be manipulated through direct casting, known as Maji, or controlled by incantations and talismans in a method called Batay.
(Understanding mana is like unlocking the periodic table of elements, yet it defies every natural law I knew from Earth.) Dracul thought, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
His pondering took another tangent. Emperor skills like his consumed a different kind of mana, listed separately on his stat screen. His Emperor Weapon, for instance, needed five mana points to summon and one stamina point to maintain its form. It was odd, but it was the only magic he had had the time to practice. Between his family's relentless training schedules and his preoccupation with understanding his unique skills, he'd scarcely had the opportunity to delve into the mystical arts. It was a gap in his arsenal, a missing puzzle piece, that left him feeling incomplete.
Primera and Xera, his parents, never seemed to grasp the gravity of it, leaving him to figure it out himself.
Shaking off the nagging thoughts and ignoring the magical beings that hovered nearby—beings that would surely send his mothers and sisters into another ecstatic frenzy—Dracul reconsidered his physical state.
Is this really a ten-year-old's body?...
He was taller than he'd ever been in his past life, resembling more a teenager than a child. His physique was toned, and supple, courtesy of a strenuous daily routine of running, lifting, and myriad other exercises. Perhaps it was simply good genes, or maybe it was the relentless training, but this wasn't a child's body by any standard. His muscles could withstand extreme stress, and his wounds healed at an almost supernatural rate.
With a final, deep breath, Dracul lowered his weapon, allowing it to disappear into the ether from whence it came. His eyes met those of Dashi and Deav one last time before he turned back to his training dummies, his thoughts shifting to the present task. His face remained impassive, but anyone looking into his eyes would see a storm of ambition and unanswered questions swirling in endless torrents.
(This body is a mystery. Dragon or dino-kaiju DNA notwithstanding, I still can't wrap my head around its capabilities.) Dracul mused as Dashi and Deav continued their banter.
"Heh, at least we're not floating around saying, 'Hey, listen!' We've got standards, buddy," quipped Dashi, floating in a zigzag pattern around Dracul.
"Standards are subjective, sir," Deav responded, his tone flat but impeccable, like a seasoned butler attending to an eccentric master.
Dracul rolled his eyes. (They're not letting up. Time to delve into magic then.)
Although he hadn't practiced magic per se, Dracul was no stranger to its theory. His voracious reading had taken him from alchemy to astrology, from elemental spirits to occult mysteries. Now, it was time to put that knowledge to the test.
Breaking his customary silence, Dracul uttered an incantation. "'Spirit of Water.' Time passes, and people come and go... Like the sway of an ocean, it never ceases... At this moment, I call forth a refreshing, burbling stream thereof here and now: Basen Dlo."
As he spoke, he felt a surge of energy ripple through his body, traveling from the tips of his claws, surging through his veins, and culminating in his outstretched palm. With a burst of focus, a ball of water materialized before him, roughly the size of a melon.
Plop.
It splashed onto the ground unceremoniously.
Okay, that's not how it's supposed to work.
Dracul steeled himself for another attempt. This time, he imagined the casting process like beating a tough level in a video game—nail-biting, intense, but ultimately rewarding. Like facing a boss with no save points and your health bar dwindling to nothing.
He stretched his hand out once more. "Basen Dlo."
The spell's activation felt identical to the first, but this time, the water sphere that appeared was the size of a watermelon. His eyes narrowed in focus, holding his breath in anticipation.
Plop.
Again, the waterball fell and splattered onto the ground.
Damn. So much for being overpowered.
Dashi floated over, chuckling. "Hey, buddy, you're getting there! You've got the right idea, just need a bit more oomph, ya know?"
"Practice makes perfect, sir," Deav added, his robotic tone as calm as ever.
Dracul sighed, not saying a word but letting his body slump ever so slightly, a silent admission of his own disappointment and determination to try again. After all, the path to mastering magic—or anything, for that matter—was never straightforward.