There is a particular truth to the use of magic; there is no path to power without sacrifice. Fortunately, it doesn’t specify who is the one that must sacrifice. Blood magic is the art of sacrificing others for your own gain. To be a blood mage is considered an aberration against the natural order of things. To steal the life of others to fuel your own power? Black magic, most foul, a despicable art.

I was forced to become a blood mage by my “father”. He was a weak man, who was squeamish about the messy details. He stole me from a family of victims with the intent to train me from an early age to handle the parts he didn’t particularly like about blood magic.

To be specific, I was his executioner. To use blood magic to drain life from another opens you up to feel their pain, their fear and hatred. Through systematic abuse, my father trained me to become numb to that psychic link, to kill without compassion or hesitation. Then I could feed that magic ripped from my victims to him, so that he need not dirty his own hands with that “discomfort”. 

Small wonder then that I killed him when I turned sixteen. The look of surprise on his face as I ripped out his magic and added it to my own was comical. What did he expect? He’d made me a monster, did he truly think I would fear him too much to turn on him? I have lost the ability to feel much of anything a long time ago. 

So then, what more is left to do? Numbness filled my heart, I do not seek more power, what little magic I used in the days following my father’s murder, I replenished by killing animals. A miniscule power source compared to the torrent that comes from killing a man, but enough to suit my needs as I traveled to the nearest town. I’d lived in a mage tower most of my life, denied access to the outside world. Having stolen all of my father’s wealth along with all his power, I set out to see what this town could offer me. 

Perhaps I would find a path of fulfilment now that I had burned down my past, both figuratively and literally, as I'd set my father's tower ablaze before I left. Maybe I could learn new types of magic? A type that did not require killing? I was filled with a mild sense of optimism when I walked upto the gate.

“Put your hand on the sensing orb.” The gate guard told me, glancing at my red robes and gnarled wooden staff with a raised eyebrow. I did not realize that I wore the traditional attire of a blood mage, had I realized it, I might have paused to dye my robe another color. The guard did not believe that I was what I advertised myself to be, so he was not wary. He felt I was a fool pretending to be something I was not.

This changed when I pressed my palm on the sensing orb. “Blood Mage” appeared in golden letters, floating above the orb. The guard immediately gripped his halberd and pointed it at me, face pale with shock. “Blood Mage!” he yelled, rather unnecessarily I thought, as the panicked reactions of the people around me who’d been waiting to enter the town made it pretty clear that they’d seen the golden letters too.

Of course the point of the yell wasn’t to alert the civilians, but the people up on the city wall. I watched with no small amount of amusement as they rang an alarm bell loudly. Then more and more guards came out and pointed their weapons at me, all of them looking terrified.

I did nothing. Oh I suppose I could have fought them off, I was practically full to the brim with power, other than lighting a few campfires and killing a few rabbits, I had not used my power for anything since I killed my father. But what was the point? I was amused by their antics. Out of politeness, more than anything else, I raised my personal shields, a dim red glow that stopped their weapons an inch away from my skin. I wouldn’t want them to think I wasn’t taking them seriously, after all.

This proved prudent, as a few of the more excitable guards decided to simply attack rather than wait for any orders. They yelled menacingly and stabbed at me with their halberds only to watch the blades fail to piece my barrier. After a few tense moments and a few shouted orders of, “Hold!”. The guards stopped trying to stab me as I stood there watching them with a faint smile. Ah, this trip had been worth it, how amusing the local customs, I thought to myself.

“I take it I am not welcome?” I asked. “Give me directions to the next town over, I shall go see how they react. Perhaps they shall be more hospitable?”

“There's no place for your kind!” A guard yelled at me. How rude.

“Then I shall simply leave,” I told them, turning my back and pushing past them. My shield drove them out of my path, whether they willed it or not, some were even sent sprawling as they tried to brace themselves. One clever guard placed the butt of his polearm in the ground and leveled the point at me, this resulted in the weapon snapping vigorously in half as I casually walked by. Inertia doesn’t transmit through a personal shield like mine, so I was more startled by the sound of wood snapping than anything else. The polearm had offered no resistance to my casual stroll. There were limits of course, but I could have walked through the average locked door with little effort, given how much power filled me. I did notice a slight dip in my power as the energy of the shield was slightly depleted by breaking the weapon, but not enough to worry me.

“Halt or die!” A femine voice told me. Somewhat curious, I turned to look. A beautiful young woman, perhaps a few years older than me, in a blue robe trimmed with gold, pointed her staff at me. 

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I froze not because of the threat, but because I was smitten. This was the first woman near my age I’d ever seen who’s face was not twisted in terror or begging for her life. She was a proud courageous woman, brimming with the glow of wizardry untainted by blood magic, a faint yellow glow to my dim red. She was tall and regal, well endowed, flawless features, with striking green eyes and raven black hair.

I was speechless, so we stood staring at each other in awkward silence. The woman had not really expected me to listen to her demand, now that I was actually standing still, she was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. I could tell because her face twisted in confusion, then consternation. Was she going to attack me anyways?

“Perhaps you meant to say, “Halt and die?”” I finally asked her. “What do we do now that I actually stopped? Will you attack me anyways?”

“I’m not a murderer like you!” She said, shaking her head in anger. “Surrender, and you will be taken prisoner!”

“Do you know me?” I asked, confused, how did she know I was a murderer? Oh, of course, it was the blood magic. You could not be a blood mage without killing more than a few people. “Ah nevermind, you meant I am a murderer because of my magic.” I said, slapping my forehead. “How silly of me to forget.”

“Do not mock me!” She yelled, her staff shaking with anger as red flames licked the end. She was preparing a fireball? It was a poor choice of attack spells.

“You shouldn’t open with a fireball, not while I’m surrounded by so many guards.” I told her, “One might wonder if you also wish to become a murderer like me?” I told her with a grin.

The flames winked out. “How dare you!” She said, stomping her foot in anger. “I will not be made fun of.”

I tilted my head. “I was trying to be helpful,” I told her honestly. “Here, try this:” I pointed my staff at a guard who instantly locked up in agony as his blood turned into a solid mass within his body. “That’s technically blood magic sure, but the transformation of liquid to solid doesn’t actually require that you be a bloodmage to cast. It’s one of the most cost effective killing spells I know; I wrote it myself. I could wipe out everyone here without much effort just by repeating that spell over and over. It’s a great single target attack, hard to counter as it gives your target a massive heart attack as well as paralyzing them. If you use it on me, I probably wouldn't die, since I can control my own blood, but man does it hurt. It’s the spell I used to kill my father, and he was almost as powerful a blood mage as me! Want me to demonstrate it a few more times? It’s not hard to learn…”

I was trying to impress the girl, maybe show my generous side, teaching her a personal spell I’d made myself. Much better than offering her flowers, I thought to myself, remembering seeing that odd custom in one of the few picture books my father had stolen over the years and allowed me to read. For the first time I could remember since I killed my father, I felt a desire to do something. I wanted to woo this girl, get her to like me, make her mine.

Sadly, she didn’t react to my demonstration of affection as I’d hoped. A blast of fire smeared across my shield as her eyes flashed red with anger and fear. She’d just seen me kill someone, I realized, that was all the excuse she needed to join in the fun. I smiled encouragingly at her. This is fun we can have together, I thought to myself. The jet of flames parted around my shields without much effect other than to immediately bathe the guards who were near me with blazing hot magic. They screamed in agony and flailed around in an amusing display. She’d just killed two, no, make that three of them. That third one might still be moaning in pain, but he’d never survive those third degree burns.

“Ah you left one suffering. Mind if I finish him off?” I asked.

She was shaking her head in horror at what she’d just done, her face pale and her hand over her trembling lips. “No, I didn’t mean to…” she whispered.

Like the naive fool that I was, I took the shaking of her head as permission, so I replenished my magic to full by ripping out the life of the mortally wounded guard. To tear life out of a person requires that they first be weakened to the edge of death. It was an art my father had taught me, and I had practised a great deal. As soon as a person’s health fell to a certain threshold, their protective aura dimmed and it was possible to simply finish them by sucking out what life was left. 

This manifests itself as a burst of blood pouring out of every orifice, streaming into a river of blood that transforms or evaporates into a bright red light of raw magic, that then flows into the body of the blood mage. I sighed in satisfaction as the magic filled me, replenishing me back to the upper limit of my stored power. Briefly I felt the pain and agony of the guard, who’s body had been covered in burns, and the terror he’d felt in the last moments of his life. But I was more than used to that pain, and I paid it no mind. The gruesome corpse that remained, dissicated and burnt, reminded me of beef jerky. I chuckled and turned to my the object of my affection and was about to tell her what had amused me, when I saw her collapse.

The sight of what I’d done was apparently too much for the delicate sensibilities of my black rose, for her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted, her staff clattering to the ground. This apparently was the signal the rest of the guards needed to scatter, for they all immediately ran away screaming.

With a sigh, I went over to pick up the unconscious girl. Clearly my demonstration had been too much for her, had she passed out due to her excitement? I dimly recalled reading a romance novel where the gentle damsel fainted away when the hero did something truly remarkable like killing a dragon with a single swipe of his sword. I will have to be careful and restrain myself if she is this excitable, I told myself.

Well, I wasn’t going to let this minor setback stop me. I had a new motivation today, I would win over this beautiful woman whose name I did not even know. First I would need to take her home, though. Carrying her in my arms through the deserted town gate felt right somehow, like I was bringing my blushing bride across the threshold for the first time. I would make sure she knew that I’d made an effort to do things right by her, so I was careful not to grope her as I walked down the streets with her hanging limply in my arms. Although I was a bit tempted, I refrained. I was going to be the perfect gentleman so I could win her over with my charm.