Isa's brow furrowed, her vibrant smile dimming into a hesitant frown. Morgen sensed her struggle to articulate her thoughts and offered a warm, reassuring smile. "Speak your mind, Isa," he encouraged, his voice laced with gentle wisdom. "Unexpected situations demand quick decisions, but remember, the weight of every choice lies with you."

He leaned closer, his gaze sincere. "Weigh the consequences carefully, child, but never falter in owning your choices, good or bad. Mistakes are stepping stones, not stumbling blocks. They are the lessons that shape you into the woman you will become - a woman capable of facing any challenge."

Betty, a silent observer from the corner, felt a whirlwind of emotions stir within her. She watched the tender exchange, a stark contrast to her own childhood memories. Days spent hunting snow wolves in the biting cold, battling monstrous pythons in the icy embrace of glaciers - those were the lessons etched into her soul.

A pang of longing, perhaps even a touch of envy, flickered in her eyes. Isa's sheltered upbringing, nurtured by Morgen's guidance, stood in stark contrast to the harsh realities Betty had faced alone. Yet, she couldn't deny the wisdom in Morgen's words. Each choice, each consequence, had shaped her into the formidable warrior she was today.

After a brief respite, Morgen announced to his followers that they would be embarking on a journey to a new city, which would serve as their future home. Betty, intrigued by the prospect of discovering a vampire's castle, eagerly anticipated what awaited them. She had never encountered a vampire's nest during her travels across the North, and her imagination ran wild with thoughts of dark caves, airtight chambers, and the eerie sound of bats fluttering overhead.

A wry smile played on Morgen's lips as he witnessed Betty's fiery spirit. It reminded him of Ariel, the elven archer he'd met outside the Elvis Tavern. Both women possessed a wildness that captivated and intimidated in equal measure.

Ariel, unlike Betty's wildness, embodied an ethereal grace that belied her deadly skill. Every movement flowed with the elegance of a predator, her elven heritage woven into her very being. Morgen couldn't help but imagine the clash between them: Betty, a whirlwind of raw power, and Ariel, a storm of precise lethality.

But the prospect remained a distant dream. He hadn't yet forged a true connection with the elusive elf, and the tavern's dim lights seemed to swallow her secrets whole. Yet, a flicker of anticipation sparked within him. Perhaps, one day, fate would orchestrate their encounter, and he would witness the dance of steel and moonlight between two warriors born of different worlds.

The air crackled with nervous anticipation as Morgen addressed his blood clan and magic bats. The scorched battlefield, still smoldering from the recent conflict, stretched out beneath them like a grim reminder of the battle's cost. But Morgen's voice, though tinged with exhaustion, held a resolute strength. "Take off!" he commanded, and the air erupted with the leathery beat of wings.

Isa, perched on the back of a massive bat, clung tightly to Morgen's arm. A thrill vibrated through her, warring with a flicker of apprehension. This was her first flight on a magic bat, and the wind whipped through her hair, carrying the faint scent of smoke and burnt earth. The bat's powerful wings, leathery and vast, stirred a cloud of dust that momentarily obscured the world below.

But then, the moon, a beacon in the storm-wracked sky, pierced through the dust, bathing the landscape in its cool, ethereal light. As they ascended, the world transformed beneath them. Forests became an endless sea of shimmering silver, mountains rose like jagged teeth against the moonlit sky. The howling wind, a mournful song, swayed the trees, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching towards the heavens.

The horrors of the battle receded, replaced by the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before them. Isa felt a sense of awe wash over her, the raw power of nature eclipsing the brutality they had just witnessed. The wind whispered secrets through the leaves, the moon cast its silent watch, and the vastness of the sky seemed to promise a future beyond the scars of war.

Isa leaned back against Morgen's solid chest, finding solace and security in his embrace. Her eyes crinkled into crescent shapes, a smile gracing her face.

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Betty, seated behind Morgen, couldn't help but feel a sense of boredom. As a member of the Northern royalty, she was accustomed to riding snowy griffins as her mode of transportation. In comparison, the magic bats seemed rather ordinary and uninspiring. However, her curiosity about the vampire's castle remained piqued.

After four long Hours, the swarm of bats finally returned to the City of Dawn. The sight of the city, perched among towering peaks and shimmering with a thousand blades, filled Betty with awe and admiration. She couldn't help but utter, "It truly is a vampire's castle. This is unexpected."

Morgen, upon seeing the city, felt a surge of joy and excitement coursing through his veins. He couldn't contain his eagerness to step foot within its walls once more.

The blood clan, exhausted from the recent conflict, found renewed vigor upon reaching the City of Dawn. Their spirits soared as they let out excited shouts, echoing through the night sky. The atmosphere was electric, filled with a sense of triumph and relief.

As the blood clan disembarked from the magic bats, the security team members on patrol quickly noticed their arrival. Due to the recent deployment of the majority of the blood clan, the security team had bolstered its patrols, ensuring the city's safety.

The sight of numerous injured blood clans and magic bats filled the air with a sense of solemnity. The presence of several corpses placed in the square further heightened the gravity of the situation.

Harrison, the ruler of the City of Dawn, rushed to the scene upon hearing the news. He greeted Morgen with respect and concern, expressing his gratitude for the blood clan's valiant efforts in the recent battle.

Morgen's voice, though firm, carried the weight of their victory's bitter taste. He confirmed the news Harrison yearned to hear, yet the air hung heavy with the price they had paid. "Victory, Harrison," he said, his gaze lingering on the battlefield's scars. "But a victory etched in blood."

He acknowledged the fallen heroes, their names echoing in the silence. "Their sacrifice," Morgen continued, his voice low but resolute, "will not be forgotten. The City of Dawn will rise from this crucible, stronger, more resilient. We honor their memory by forging a future worthy of their courage."

Orders flowed from Morgen, each one a brushstroke painting the aftermath. Harrison received them with a stoicism that mirrored his leader's. The wounded, both blood clan and magic bat, were to be treated at the blood pool, their recovery fueled by the life-giving essence. Pigs, sustenance for the weakened magical creatures, were to be procured with haste. Time was of the essence.

"Two days," Morgen declared, his gaze sharp. "That is all we have to ensure every warrior, every creature, is healed and ready. Upcoming events will demand our full strength."

The fallen heroes weren't forgotten. Their remains were to be gathered with reverence, their sacrifice commemorated in a public ceremony ten days hence. It would be a day of grief, but also a day to celebrate their valor and inspire the living.

Finally, Morgen's gaze fell upon Grot, the stoic Northerner. "Take him to the city hall," he commanded. "The transformation awaits. He will become one of us, a blood descendant, his power bolstering our ranks."

During this exchange, Morgen couldn't help but notice Betty's indifference towards Grot's fate. It seemed that the Northern warrior held no particular significance in her eyes.

Harrison, without hesitation, carried out Morgen's orders, ensuring their prompt execution.

After giving the necessary instructions, Morgen turned his attention to Isa and Betty. He invited them to rest at his manor for the night, as he had other matters to attend to that day. Isa, ever obedient, readily agreed to her teacher's request. Betty, on the other hand, shrugged her shoulders indifferently, expressing her desire to explore the vampire's castle rather than rest.

Once Isa and Betty departed with the blood clan, Morgen made his way to the city hall office. Simultaneously, all the injured blood clans were dibawa to the blood pool for treatment.

With the blood clan's remarkable vitality and regenerative abilities, Morgen was confident in their rapid recovery. The bloodline's inherent strength allowed them to bounce back from severe injuries, as long as they had access to blood. This extraordinary resilience was a testament to the superior nature of the blood clan.

"Prepare ten bottles of magic blood for me."

Harrison promptly carried out Morgen's request.

Morgen then approached Grot, who lay unconscious on the carpet. Without hesitation, he bit the Northern warrior's wrist, injecting his potent blood into Grot's body. The mysterious power coursing through Morgen's veins began to transform Grot's very essence.

Grot had sustained severe injuries during the recent conflict, and his survival was uncertain. However, the resilience of the Northern warriors allowed him to cling to life. As Morgen's blood infused Grot's body, the dark skin began to crack and peel, revealing new skin beneath, much like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Grot's weak breaths gradually steadied, and his life force, which had been flickering like a candle in the wind, began to burn brightly once more.

The transformation process had commenced. Morgen couldn't help but wonder what remarkable changes awaited this Northern warrior as he embraced his new existence as a blood clan member.