The noble vampire race had ingested blood ever since their creation several millennia past. In their early days, vampires could only drink blood directly from their prey. This was both inefficient, and severely lacking in elegance for the proud race. To combat this inefficiency, several old vampires performed various research until they created the [Dawn Pelmut] skill. This skill solely served to absorb large amounts of blood from their prey.
While, it would have been more efficient to harvest blood directly from living creatures, the conscious lifeforce prevented them from seizing control. Hence, vampires could only control either the blood of the deceased or blood separated from its original owner.
[Dawn Pelmut], this basic skill, soon became the foundation of all future Blood Arts.
However, although Dawn Pelmut seemed simple, that was only on a small scale. Vampires were the most feared creatures on large battlefields for a reason. Their lethality was akin to a snowball tumbling down the mountainside.
Once the ball started rolling, it could no longer be stopped. A tiny snowball would inevitably balloon into a giant unstoppable ball.
“I-Impossible!” At the moment, the Primate facing Syèl finally understood a vampire’s true terror!
Tens of thousands of dead clones exploded in unison, causing a torrent of bloody rain to fall from the sky. Shockingly, those millions of droplets paused midway, and then rapidly coagulated to form hundreds of three-meter spheres.
Syèl looked at the hundreds of floating spheres with a snarky grin. Normally, he would never be able to control this much blood, but the Greed floor boosted his control over blood to insane levels in an attempt to satisfy his insatiable ‘greed.’
Syèl only admired his handiwork for a brief second before he flicked his finger downward. Following this benign action, the blood spheres shot down towards the Primate’s clone army with blinding speed.
The Primate’s clones did not sit idly by. They quickly launched all sorts of attacks at the blood spheres. Ki-blades, elemental attacks and more shot towards the incoming projectiles. The spheres may be fast, but they fell on a straight line. The Primate strongly believed he could destroy or at least weaken a vast majority before they fell.
Unfortunately, he could not have been any more wrong!
Whoosh! The Primate stared in shock as the blood spheres suddenly performed evasive maneuvers, dodging the opposing projectiles with shocking ease. The Primate stared at the distant Syèl with fear and shock in his eyes. He could tell that the vampire was a manually controlling the spheres – but that was impossible!
No hume should be able to independently control so many things at the same time!
How could the Primate have known that Syèl’s brain was far from normal. The augmented young man could control dozens of gladiator mechs to engage in combat. Compared to the gladiators’ complex visual, auditory and sensory overload, controlling a bunch of balls to dodge left and right was like rocket engineering to basic addition and subtraction.
Syèl faced no difficulties at all!
Realizing this, the Primate wanted to order a portion of his clones to charge at the vampire. Unfortunately, due to the vast distance between them, the clones would never make it in time. The Primate’s timewasting tactics firmly bit him in the butt!
Syèl, oblivious to the Primates’ frustrations, grinned when the spheres finally fell in the clones’ midst. Due to the spheres’ liquid nature, there was no massive explosion or crater. In fact, only a few dozen unlucky clones died on impact from being swallowed by the spheres.
Syèl did not give the Primate a chance to ponder. He balled his palm into a fist and muttered, [Thorn Forest!]
Blurksh! The blood spheres exploded! Several spike-like tendrils shot out from the spheres and stabbed into the nearby clones. Moments later, the clones visibly shrunk and their skins rapidly turned white and dessicated. Sure enough, the blood spheres completely drained the clones’ blood in a matter of milliseconds.
The spheres’ thorns did not stop there though. Several thorns shot out of each pierced body to stab even more clones. Sometimes, the blood thorns would hit another, and then merge before continuing onwards in search of more bodies. In the blink of an eye, a massive network of interconnected thorns spread cut across the battlefield.
Panicked clones rapidly took to the skies in an attempt to dodge the spreading forest. Unfortunately, the thorns seemed to sense these escaping clones and shot towards the sky. Pained cries rang out as the thorns found their targets, mercilessly impaling and then draining the fleeing clones.
Atop his castle, the Primate’s eyes widened in fear. His shivering hands crushed sections of the battlement as he squeezed in disbelief. What was this!? What was happening!? 100,000; 80,000, 40,000, 5000, 200. The Primate felt the connection to his clones rapidly dwindle, until…
“Zero…” The Primate weakly muttered the unbelievable number. “Zero… There’s no one left.” The Primate seemed to age one hundred years as he stared feebly at the forest of blood thorns that slowly surrounded the castle on all sides.
Krshhh… The squirming thorns eerily pulsated like a beating heart as the grew over, and then connected above the castle, firmly blocking all escape routes.
“Hehehe, what do you think? Don’t you wish you killed me quickly now?”
The Primate shivered as he looked down at Syèl, who at some unknown point now stood less than one hundred meters away from the wall. Looking at the vampire’s cocky grin, the Primate was filled with regret. Why did he try to prolong the time!? He should have overwhelmed the vampire with numbers the first chance he got!
The Primate could not be blamed for his miscalculation. Only a handful of vampires rarely appeared on Destia since the Calamity. As a result, information on their true powers and terrors were scarce to the point of non-existence. Against anyone else, the Primate’s timewasting tactics would verily likely have seen some success.
Unfortunately, ignorance was no excuse, and there was no pill for regret.
Fortunately, the Primate noticed that Syèl’s haggard appearance as the latter neared. The vampire’s skin stuck to his bones. And his excessively pale and sallow complexion revealed he was not in the best of shape.
Suddenly, the Primate sensed hope! Had that skill completely drained Syèl? It made sense. No ordinary hume could control that amount of blood and come out unscathed!
Ptlch! Just as the Primate began to plan his attack, his eyes trembled as one of the thorn branches suddenly stabbed into Syèl’s back.
What happened? Did the vampire lose control of his spell?
Although the Primate desperately wished for this outcome, he intuitively knew it was impossible. As if to confirm his foreboding thoughts, Syèl continued walking despite the blood thorn stabbing into his back.
The Primate’s eyes twitched as color rapidly returned to the vampire’s skin with every step. The vampire ravenously devoured blood from the forest, causing his body to quickly return to its peak state, and even beyond.
Syèl’s eyes flashed as power swelled in his muscles. Within a few seconds, he reached full saturation, and was unable to absorb any more. This was not surprising. After all, this was the blood of hundreds of thousands of Primate-level clones. He would explode if he attempted to absorb it all.
However, this did not mean that Syèl had to abandon the rest. He absorbed the energy into his Blood Arts comprehension. He hoped this massive amount would kickstart his ascension to Vampire Lord.
Syèl’s eyes twitched when he sensed the rate of comprehension. At the current rate, all of this blood would barely reach 1% of the required energy. Now he could understand why he was told to prioritize quality over quantity, and also why there were only a handful of Vampire Lords in all of recorded history.
The amount of energy required to ascend to the next level was insane! Syèl estimated that he would have to absorb the entire planet’s population if he wanted to reach his goal. Of course, it was not like the world would just sit back and let him do that.
Syèl shook his head to clear his mind, and then smirked as he looked up at the shivering Primate. Unsurprisingly, the Primate’s face had gone pale with despair.
Syèl smirked. He would have enjoyed toying with the poor man some more, but he was on a deadline. So, with a regretful smile, he waved his finger. Immediately, over half of the blood cage gushed out and charged towards the Primate.
“I surrender!” Sensing his impending doom, the Primate did not hesitate to cry out in terror. What a joke! That blood tsunami contained the energy of several thousands of himself. He would take the temporary humiliation in exchange for another chance.
Following his proclamation, the Primate’s body immediately turned immaterial, causing the blood wave to harmlessly pass through him before shattering the castle to pieces.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The Primate’s eyes trembled as he looked at the destruction. He then glared at the grinning vampire. “My name is Holmberg Tran. I will remember you.”
“I would forget you if I could,” Syèl snapped back as Holmberg slowly disappeared. For what it was worth, Oni Hill’s protection services were indeed top-notch.
With the guardian gone, Syèl soon felt a dimension pull about to suck him out of the realm. He swiftly used the bulk of the remaining blood to supplement his Blood Arts Mastery, and then condensed the rest into a basketball-sized globe that hung by his side. Fortunately, Oni Hill recognized the vampire’s blood receptacle as a part of him, so the dimensional pull also worked on the ball.
Syèl relaxed upon realizing the blood receptacle would also work on him, and thus allowed himself to get transported from the realm. Hehe, he could not wait to see the look on Shokō’s face. Everyone must have faced the same thousands of guardians, right? Would they be shocked that he still finished it so quickly?
Syèl chuckled as he realized the his thoughts’ strange direction. “Did I say I was greedy for blood? Who am I kidding?” As the young man disappeared, he cast a glance at the ruined castle. “Being a ruler? What use is that? I’m greedy for time. Just a little more time to spend with those idiots. I’ve already gained so much, but this little greed should be fine, right?”
Whoosh~
Unfortunately, only billowing winds answered the vampire’s question as he formally exited the third Sin Floor. A little greed isn’t always a bad thing…right?
***
Clop! Clop! Clop! The sounds dashing hooves echoed in the chaotic forest as a group of adventurers thundered their way through. Shockingly, however, these group’s path seemed to be headed towards Oni Hill’s battlefield despite the majority of other groups focusing on looting abandoned dungeons and graves.
“Are you certain you are up for the task? This will be difficult, even for me. It is not too late to pull out.”
At the head of the group, Stryke, riding on Hogosha’s back, frowned at the rink. Absalon’s concern made sense. This was a near suicide mission, but he needed to, and could accomplish this mission, so he had no doubt in his mind.
“I’m sure, Absalon-san. Isn’t it just eliminating a Lich Boss? We can handle it. Isn’t that right, Gosha?”
“We will do our best to complete the mission, Absalon-san,” asserted Hogosha. But, he then playfully added, “At the very least, I will ensure Stryke does not throw his life away.”
Stryke rolled his eyes. “Hmph, remind me who saved you from getting chopped up in that dungeon?”
“Just as soon as you recall who prevented you from stepping on that false plate. I hear lava does wonders on hume skin.”
*cough* Absalon interrupted the two’s back and forth with a light cough. “I’m glad to see you two get along so well. Stryke, how did the dungeon diving go? Did Kashi’s leads pan out?”
Stryke’s eyes brightened as soon as the question popped up. “We got one hell of a haul, Absalon-san! You won’t believe your eyes when you see the loot later. I don’t think we need to worry about the guild’s vault for a few months at least. Kashi’s pockets really came in handy! I feel sorry for all the other guilds. Our base inventories can’t possibly sufficiently loot the dungeons.”
“But…” Stryke paused and then tentatively asked, “Can you get Kashi to change the name? Pocket gets confusing sometimes. We don’t even have to change the name that much. Since they’re pocket dimensions, why not call them pokedimes? Do you think Kashi would go for that?”
“I don’t know… Pokedime sounds just about nonsensical enough to be right up Kashi’s alley. We can discuss this at the end of this battle.” Absalon paused, possibly interrupted by something. A few moments later, a slightly out-of-breath Absalon quickly said, “Hah… I have to go. Remember, you do not have to kill the Lich. Just annoy it so much that it can’t interfere with this battle. Also, if you can find some volunteers to pincer the undead from behind, we’ll really appreciate it.”
Stryke frowned. “I don’t know about that last one. Everyone is too caught up in looting right now. I can’t think of—” The young man suddenly froze, his gaze turning frosty and tense. After a moment, he coldly muttered, “Sorry, Absalon-san. I’ll have to call you back.”
Sensing Stryke’s tone, Absalon quickly uttered, “Good luck,” and then cut the call.
Stryke returned the rink to his inventory as he called the march to a halt, and then gazed coldly between the trees. “Come out. You did good following us this far, but my friend’s nose is a bit sharp.”
Below Stryke, Hogosha’s eyes turned grave. He was the one who smelled the unfamiliar scent. Though the scent was brief, he had smelled it a handful of times during their march. He thus knew that someone or something had been following them for a while and promptly warned Stryke.
“Should I say ‘As expected of the Hopeful Maggots,’” a gruff voice chuckled as its owner emerged from among the trees. The hulking Renark Ragelock revealed a small, but arrogant smile as he gazed at Stryke and the rest. “I should have known I would not be able to spy on you for long.”
Stryke immediately entered a combat state upon seeing the towering orc. Although he did not know the whole story, Leila already briefed him on the possibility of encountering hostile orcs.
Stryke dared not take the threat lightly. There was a reason orcs were known as war machines. Just a single one already had Stryke’s blood pumping fast! Despite his unease, the experienced dungeon raider maintained his composure. “What do you want?”
“That Pokedime thing you just talked about; our people could use it.”
“And? Do you expect me to just hand it over?”
Renark shook his head. “Nothing so unreasonable. Despite what the rumors might have you think, we orcs are more than brutish meatheads. No, I will offer our services in exchange for your pokedime.”
Stryke had a feeling Renark kept using the ‘pokedime’ moniker to flatter him, but he could not help but admit it did feel nice to hear his suggestion being used. However, appreciation was one thing; practicality was another. “Sorry, we only have one pokedime. I can’t give it to you.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to give it to me, either. I know how important such an invention must be.” Renark waved his hand and a bony orc wielding a wooden ceremonial staff also stepped out of the shadows. “This is Quanu Octruk, one of our shamans who learned a rare spatial skill.”
Stryke observed the orc shaman, Quanu. Despite his thin appearance, the orc’s eyes were sharp and powerful, belying his terrifying powers. His right hand gripped the staff with a death grip like he would rather perish than ever let go. Stryke instinctively felt he could not afford to underestimate the old shaman. He revealed a thin, wary smile as he politely greeted, “Nice to meet you, Octruk-san.” He then glanced at the leading orc as he asked, “Sorry, I did not catch your name?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Renark apologized. “I assumed you would already know me. You may call me Ragelock. Renark Ragelock. No need for the honorifics.”
“As you wish, Ragelock.” Stryke nodded and then looked at Quanu. “You know spatial magic?”
“Yes, I do.” Perhaps due to his age, Quanu’s voice was slightly hoarse. “I stumbled on a mage scroll a few years ago. Most of it was damaged, but I managed to gleam a few rudimentary arts after years of study.” Quanu reached out and ‘stabbed’ his hand into the air.
Shockingly, a tear truly appeared in the air, revealing a dark vacuum beyond.
“With my rudimentary skills, I can temporarily create a void space such as this one to store items.” Quanu removed his hand, and the void tear collapsed. “However, it is unstable, and prone to self-implosion. At my current mastery, I cannot keep items in there for too long.”
“That is a powerful skill,” Stryke honestly praised. “But I do not see how that change the situation. I still can’t lend you our only pokedime.”
Quanu shook his head and once again tore open the void. This time, however, he pulled out a massive glowing axe. He then quickly spoke before the Maggots got the wrong idea. “We aren’t asking to borrow your dimension storage device.” Evidently, Quanu found it beneath his status to promote the childish pokedime moniker. “We have already plundered loot from a few dungeons and gathered them here. We just want you to keep them safe for us until the battle is over. I do not know how long until the void space I created inevitably implodes. We need to move our loot before then.”
Stryke furrowed his brow. “What was your plan before you heard of our pokedimes?”
This time, Renark offered an explanation. “Honestly, pray the space holds out until this is over. But why rely on chance when you have certainty?”
‘Then, my next question: why did you follow us?”
“I am intrigued by the Maggots,” Renark once again answered. “We may have cause to seek out your guild for cooperation in the future. So, we sought an opportunity to rescue you from dire straits to leave a good first impression.”
Stryke’s brow twitched at Renark’s candor. How could he get mad at an honest person. It was so dissatisfying! “What made you change your mind?”
“Like I said, why rely on chance when there is certainty before you?” Renark crossed his arms as he stated. “Rather than an opportunistic rescue, let our first interaction be a fair trade with our entire loot as collateral.”
“What do you want to trade?”
“You store our loot, and my orcs will play the pincer role your general seeks. You can not trust any other group in this forest to carry out this task.” Renark paused and then pointed himself. “Also, if you will have me, I shall join your mission to take out the Lich.”
Stryke frowned. “I saw your orc regiment. You are not that many in number? The pincer role will surely result in large casualties.”
“You underestimate us,” Renark countered with a ferocious glare. With fervent burning passion, he added, “Also, orcs do not fear death—especially in a grand battle. I assure you, your general will be more than satisfied with our efforts.”
Stryke felt uncomfortable under Renark’s intense gaze. He could not understand why the orc seemed adamant on forging a relationship with the Maggots. However, after running multiple simulations in his mind, he could not find any good reason to reject their offer.
The pokedime still had plenty of space left, so the Maggots did not suffer any loss. Also, since Stryke stored the pokedime in his inventory, Residents like Renark could not steal it no matter how hard they tried. Furthermore, the orcs volunteered for the dangerous pincer job which even Stryke dreaded.
In the end, Stryke sighed and then held out his right hand. “Alright. Let’s do as you suggested. I look forward to a successful cooperation.”
Renark cracked the faintest hint of a smile as he clasped the tiny hand. “…To the future.”