With a sky-tearing scream, Dracul plummeted into the Mirkwood forest. Trees, fortified with bark tougher than steel, splintered and snapped under his descent as if made of mere paper.
Crash!
He finally collided with an ancient Mirkwood oak, a towering behemoth of nature that had survived millennia of wars and weather. Yet, the oak bore the shape of a humanoid from the many impacts of Dracul's body, almost as if it had resigned itself to this recurring fate.
"OWWWWWW!" Dracul groaned; he swore and slammed into another small oak tree."Son of a bitch! That hurts!" He gasped as he slammed into the ground and skinned across the forest floor, scraping his skin bloody and peeling back, gasping out blood.
"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. You've done this like, what, a hundred times?" Dashi interjected, hovering around to inspect Dracul's injuries.
"Fuck," He hissed, and his injuries started to heal slowly. "Shut up, Dashi! My skull's cracked, and it has to heal, or it won't heal at all." Dracul commanded, and the dragonfly nodded. Dashi winced at the sight of bark piercing through his master's head and at his side.
There was a palpable tension in the air as Deav and Dashi exchanged worried glances. The dragonfly's eyes widened upon seeing the shards of bark impaled on Dracul's skull.
"Damn, those are deep, Dracul."
"No shit, Sherlock," Dracul grumbled, his words dripping with pain and frustration. His skin began to mend, albeit slower than usual. "Pull 'em out."
A radiant glow emanated from Deav, who prepared to use his telekinesis.
"Are you mad? You'll bleed out!" Dashi exclaimed, his voice tinged with genuine concern.
Ignoring him, Dracul clenched his jaw. "Do it! And Deav, make sure you get every damn splinter."
Grimacing, Dashi gripped the splinters with his four arms and yanked. Blood sprayed as Dracul nearly passed out, his head slumping forward.
"That felt worse than getting kicked by a damn donkey," he muttered, his eyes half-closed from the agony.
"W-why aren't you healing up?" Dashi stammered, his voice tinged with panic.
"Chemical compound for puberty," Dracul muttered, pausing to catch his breath. "Focusing on growth more than wounds. Hybrids are bullshit."
Dashi latched his four arms onto Dracul's shoulder and pulled. More blood sprayed on him, and his eyes widened in shock. The Vespasian boy nearly passed out from the wound, and his head hung low.
"That hurts worse than a donkey kick to the groan..." He muttered, and Dashi gulped, quickly and steadily grabbing the other piece. Deav telekinetically moved all the leftover shards of wood while Draucl bit his tongue so hard that it started to bleed. Then, Dashi yanked and yanked the piece until it slowly moved out, and the dragonfly tossed it aside, causing blood to pour down from his multiple wounds.
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Warm blood splashed onto his axe, coating the Silverite steel in red and soaking the ground beneath. The dryvern, a grotesque meld of drake and wyvern, shrieked as the war axe crushed its chest. Its reptilian eyes faded to blank white, life ebbing away.
"You know..." Dashi began, hovering beside him.
“Not a single word, Dashi,” Dracul preempted, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.
Evading a lash from another dryvern, Dracul retaliated with a potent right hook that unhinged the creature's jaw. His axe descended swiftly, adhering to the rule: no second trophies from past kills.
"Master, that marks the hundredth dryvern," Deav announced with precision. "You are aware..."
“Yes, I know,” Dracul cut him off, just as he had with Dashi, and unsheathed his hunting knife to begin the harvest.
An hour later, the trio departed the shattered nest, laden with dryvern hides, meat, and bones.
"Are you any closer to besting Wrex?" Dashi inquired, scanning the area for potential targets.
“Not even close,” Dracul admitted, his voice a mix of frustration and annoyance. Wrex, that cunning crocodile, had evaded every attempt at a hit. Such basic combat training was maddeningly difficult.
Plunging deeper into the dim Mirkwood, Dracul brooded over his prior life's training. Though of limited utility now, it hadn't been completely useless; his intrinsic sense for energy detection and manipulation was as instinctual as breathing. Daily training was imperative—not just for physical endurance and magical prowess, but sometimes to escape the smothering affection of siblings who were too keen on doting over a younger brother.
Brushing aside these memories, Dracul focused on the task at hand. Another night alongside the Troll Vipers was not an option.
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He initiated the spell with a whispered incantation, “Deteksyon batman Kè.” True to its name, the spell cast out a pulse of mana with sonic vibrations, adept at picking up the magical signatures emitted by enchanted objects and creatures.
This spell, while not infallible, complemented its sonic reach with a magic sense. A renowned tool among the Vespasians, it was reserved for the most trusted kin, undetectable to foes and frugal in its draw of magic.
After they learned of this talent, Mother and Mum nearly smothered him in affectionate embraces.
Simplicity belied its mastery; honing "Heart Rate Detection" to expand its precision and reach was a challenge. The sensory overload could skew one’s perception, intensifying the senses to overwhelming levels. Dracul could attest; tasting the presence of every hog within the woods was an experience best forgotten.
It had taken over a month to filter out the invasive flavors.
Dracul cast the spell carelessly, assured by his command over the forest that few could threaten him. His mana manipulation was admittedly rough-hewn, its range limited to mere two kilometers amidst considerable noise.
His sisters’ superior skill with the spell did not spark envy in him—claims of his pouting were unfounded fabrications.
“Help!”
The plea snapped Dracul out of his reverie.
"Did you hear that?" Dashi inquired, his acute magical senses alert. “I also sense a fire elemental nearby," the dragonfly's quartet of wings finely tuned to the mana disturbances.
"Vocal pattern analyzed: 106% match, primeval female... Dragon," Deav interjected with a clinical precision.
Dracul used Heart rate detection to gauge the forest's disturbances. Intruders were unlikely; the woodlands were under his sisters', Xeith and Xee, strict jurisdiction, off-limits to all during his tutelage. Normally, a cry for help would be disregarded, but this was no ordinary plea.
The magical footprint was significant, albeit feeble compared to the behemoths of his mother's tales, yet far surpassing any lowly beast’s signature.
“I got a new head…” Dracul’s voice was a low murmur as he sprinted northwest, covering the 1.5 kilometers rapidly. Battling a formidable foe might just unravel the secret to landing a blow on Wrex.
He soon came upon the creature, discerning it to be a Draliger or an Orciod — large, but its size was no measure of its might.
It doesn't matter if they are as big as his family or small as a mouse; if a monster's mana reaction has a dense mana density, the stronger they will be in battle. Judging from the scale of this mana reaction, he found something to bring back to that stupid crocodile.
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"This is bad..." Cynder whispered, her keen eyes sizing up the monstrous Orciod with both fear and a strategist's discernment.
"You had to see if he was cute, didn't you?" Cynder chided, her tone dripping with sarcasm, though a thin vein of anxiety pulsed beneath her words.
“Shut up, sister, and damn well help your big sister out here!” Rumi snapped back, her accent sharpening in the face of danger.
Amid their hurried exchange, an imposing figure emerged. "That's my game! Don't get in my way!" The boy's voice was laced with an unfamiliar yet striking drawl.
"Help!" Rumi's call for aid broke off as the boy sprang towards her. For once, her characteristic boldness wavered, overtaken by an urgent glimmer of hope.
[https://i.imgur.com/DTHzELD.png]
Thud.
The primate monster's head tumbles to the forest floor.
"Tsk... not impressive... Let's scram," the boy spoke to the younger twin. Just as Dracul made to leave, Rumi interjected.
"Hold it!" Rumi called out to the boy who was about to leave. She demanded insights from this enigmatic Primeval who effortlessly dispatched a Rank D monster sans mana. Though the twins were versed in mana since their early days, they couldn't detect the approach of this brash newcomer.
Typically, Primevals are tested at fifteen to gauge their worthiness as sellswords. Children of the Dragon and Deva Houses are exempt from this until their Bloodline Primeval Ceremony, during which they're forbidden from mana or arms.
Rumi had little regard for the traditions keeping the main houses dominant. But there was one house that flouted the Dragon Kingdom and Dinosaur-Kaiju Republic's statutes.
"Are you Dracul...?" Rumi approached, her smile demure yet her eyes glinted with a hint of playful guile.
Cynder merely rolled her eyes, knowing her sister all too well.
"Do I know you, darlin'?" Dracul asked, shaking hands with the striking dragoness. How rare and refreshing to meet a peer rather than family.
Later, he would wish their paths had never crossed.
"Huh?" he glanced at his hand, aglow with a vibrant green. Nine rings of light nestled in his palm, seemingly wrought from his own mana.
'Isn't this my Empress rings? Why now?'
He knew nothing of this...why hadn't his family warned him?
The boy outstretched his hand, perplexed by the luminescent rings. 'Is this supposed to happen?' But the astonishment on the other twin's face suggested otherwise.
"Not typically?" Cynder inquired. “I'm Cynder, and the one eyeing you like you're prey is my twin, Rumi.” Her reaction was delayed, but her blue eyes soon lit up with curiosity.
"What use are you then? Get lost!" Dracul retorted, Cynder's shock evident.
She snapped back, "What did you just say?"
"Do I need to repeat myself? Isn't it clear?"
"Sister, seems he's implying you're both blind and dim." Rumi's chuckle was mischievous as she nudged Cynder's wing, inciting her.
Cynder, provoked by Rumi’s jest, snatched the rings from Dracul's grasp. "You dare..."
"Fine, I'm out. Keep the rings; they're worthless anyway.” Dracul scaled the tree in a single bound. "I'm Dracul Vespasian, offspring of Primera and Xera. Now beat it..."
With a bound, he vanished into the foliage.
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Cynder's mood was as dark as a stormy sky.
"Insolent boy!" she fumed, replaying Dracul's dismissive words in her head for the umpteenth time.
Rumi, on the other hand, was contemplative. "Auntie's prowess is no secret, but her son's power... that's surprising. He's not bad on the eyes, either."
She teased Cynder by peering at her through the ring's center. "Lighten up, will you?"
"I'm not sulking," Cynder retorted. "And cute? Hardly!"
"Revenge can be a dish served at the ceremony," Rumi mused, twirling the ring on her finger. "He'll likely compete early."
Their banter paused as Cynder's gaze settled on a particularly captivating ring.
With curiosity edging her caution, Rumi slipped the ring onto her finger. Instantly, it erupted into a dazzling display of green light.
Cynder's heart leaped; for a split second, she envisioned catastrophe. But as the light receded, Rumi remained whole, an ornate ring adorning her index finger, her expression a mix of bewilderment and awe.
"That's... unusual," murmured Cynder, caught by the warmth in Rumi's smile.
"Sis? Are you okay?" she asked, a note of concern threading her words.
Rumi's skin tingled with newfound power, an energy that seemed to resonate with her essence. "I feel... transformed!" she exclaimed. Her claws grew sharper, intricate tattoos weaving across her skin like living art. "Incredible!"