In the annals of time, as the blood clan lay convalescing, their strength gradually revived like a wounded beast licking its wounds. Their forebears, wise and visionary beyond measure, gazed upon them from the ethereal realm, their spirits filled with both pride and trepidation.
Among the seven second-generation blood descendants, Frey, a figure of noble bearing and unwavering loyalty, stepped forth, his eyes ablaze with newfound fervor. With a voice that echoed through the chamber, he declared, "Father, Frey willingly offers his life in your service!"
His declaration ignited a spark within the blood clan, awakening their dormant spirits. They rose to their feet in unison, their voices rising in a chorus of unwavering support. "We pledge our allegiance, Father! We shall fight for you, body and soul!"
Under the spellbinding influence of Morgen's words, the blood clan's spirits soared, their hearts aflame with renewed purpose. Morgen, watching this transformation, felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. Whatever the future held, this was a promising beginning.
"Excellent," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with authority, "You have not disappointed me." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled throng, "Continue to adhere to the instructions I imparted yesterday. Frey, you shall guard the Holy Land with unwavering vigilance. All other blood clan members are forbidden from engaging in activities that inflict harm upon humans. I shall compile a set of regulations and post them outside the hall for all to memorize and obey."
Turning to Odis, he commanded, "Begin the cleanup of the Southern District today. Ensure that all blood clan members relocate to their designated areas. Henceforth, the Southern District shall be a haven for humans, a place where they can dwell in peace and harmony."
Morgen's voice carried an undercurrent of unwavering determination, his words painting a vision of a transformed blood clan, one that would coexist with humans as allies rather than adversaries. "My children," he intoned solemnly, "the trajectory of our blood clan will undergo a profound transformation from this day forward. Humans are our invaluable allies, and I will not tolerate any senseless acts of violence against them. Now, disperse and carry out my orders."
As the crowd dispersed, Morgen sank into contemplation, his brow furrowed in thought. The most critical phase of his grand plan had been set in motion, yet he knew that altering the ingrained beliefs of an entire race would be an arduous and protracted undertaking. However, fortune seemed to smile upon him, as if the goddess herself had brushed against his garment, bestowing upon him a glimmer of hope.
The ancient castle, currently devoid of human inhabitants, stood as a symbol of the impending change. The preparations he had diligently made were intended to welcome the arrival of humans, eager to embrace a new era of coexistence.
The influx of refugees into Green City during this period served as a stark reminder of the ongoing conflict between the Nolan Empire and the Orc Empire at the distant southern mountains. Each year, as winter's icy grip descended, orcs from the barren wasteland would descend upon the border of the Nolan Empire, driven by their insatiable hunger. This invasion had become an annual ritual, a relentless cycle of violence and displacement.
However, this year, the war had unexpectedly erupted prematurely, catching the Nolan Empire's army off guard. Millions of civilians living along the border were forced to flee their homes, seeking refuge from the relentless onslaught.
In the grand scheme of things, the lives of these ordinary people mattered little to the powerful and influential. It was in this dire situation that Morgen saw an opportunity. The castle, strategically positioned, could avoid the Green City army and venture to the border to bring back a small number of refugees – a conservative estimate of five thousand, with a maximum of ten thousand.
Morgen understood that Rome was not built in a day. The growth and development of any force required a gradual process, from small to large. It would be foolhardy for the ancient castle to attempt to absorb an excessive number of humans at once. With only 200 members of the blood clan, a larger population would threaten their dominance.
Therefore, the acquisition of the population was destined to be a protracted process, demanding meticulous planning and preparation. Food, winter clothing, agricultural tools, and other necessities were essential items that Morgen needed to secure in advance.
The survival of the blood race was inextricably linked to humans. The blood clan viewed humans as a source of sustenance, but Morgen believed that this was a superficial and outdated interpretation. In his opinion, the current blood clan was more akin to a group of parasites, incapable of surviving without humans.
Although this parasite was a powerful higher race, and every member possessed inherent magical abilities, this fact did not alter their parasitic nature. Unfortunately, Morgen was one of them, but as a modern individual, he refused to allow his subordinates to continue their savage ways.
As long as there were enough humans, they could adequately sustain the blood clan. Could a million humans not support ten thousand blood clan members? On average, one hundred humans could sustain one blood clan member, and only a small amount of blood would be required each month for survival.
Morgen had devised numerous strategies to ensure that humans would willingly donate their blood. Additionally, the existence of the Holy Spirit allowed blood to be preserved for an extended period, making the plan for humans to sustain the blood clan highly feasible.
He had spent countless hours considering various scenarios, weighing the risks and potential rewards.
After a long while, Morgen rose from his throne, took a deep breath, and surveyed the empty hall. Let this be the beginning, he thought to himself, the beginning of a new era for the blood clan.
...
Following their departure, the blood clan immediately began carrying out Morgen's orders. The blood clan members residing in the Southern District began vacating the designated urban areas, their hearts filled with both trepidation and anticipation.
The ancient castle had been designed to house a maximum of twenty thousand humans, so space was plentiful. Situated at the mouth of a gourd-shaped basin, towering mountains loomed to the east and west, forming natural barriers that provided protection and security.
The mountain peak with its three thousand blades was impassable even for a giant dragon, effectively serving as an impenetrable city wall. Moreover, the ancient castle was divided into three distinct districts. The North District, where the city wall was located, was built between two peaks and had always been the primary activity area for the blood clan.
The central area was where the blood clan resided, housing the council hall and Morgen's manor. The Southern District, constructed for humans during the blood clan's peak, was the largest residential area in the entire castle.
The rear of the Southern District comprised a vast expanse of undeveloped fertile land, which gave Morgen confidence in his ability to feed mankind in the future. The Southern District that Morgen tasked Odis with clearing out could accommodate less than twenty thousand people, making it the largest residential area in the entire castle.
It featured two-story houses, wide streets, and a comprehensive drainage system. There was even a structure that astounded Morgen – a septic tank for managing waste. Even Green City only installed such facilities in the districts inhabited by the most powerful nobles, significantly improving their quality of life.
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In the slums of Green City, excrement could be seen strewn about the streets, creating a foul-smelling environment. Morgen had assumed that even if the ancient castle was well-maintained, it would not surpass Green City in terms of amenities. However, he was pleasantly surprised to discover such comprehensive living facilities.
This revelation filled him with optimism for his upcoming plan. No one would resist a high-quality living environment. If one were accustomed to clean streets and a safe environment, who would willingly return to a filthy, foul-smelling street where death could lurk around every corner?
A bitter smile twisted Morgen's lips. The memories of his human life were vivid, a searing reminder of the trials and aspirations of his kind. He understood the gnawing hunger that twisted stomachs and the desperation that fueled petty crimes. Yet, a deeper sigh escaped him, for the plague of inequality seemed to transcend worlds. He'd seen it before, in the gilded halls of human nobles and now in the cold marble chambers of the Aethel.
Here, the poor were not just ostracized, they were ghosts haunting the fringes of society. In the haughty pronouncements of the dignitaries, they were born serfs, their poverty a preordained shackle. Their lives, it seemed, were deemed fit only for the dank alleys and stinking hovels, a stark contrast to the opulent splendor enjoyed by their supposed superiors. The very notion of sharing the city, the air they breathed, the streets they walked, was met with disdainful sneers and pronouncements of “contamination."
A wry smile played on Morgen's lips as he surveyed the ragged crowd huddled at the city gates. Their eyes, hollowed by hardship, mirrored the desolate cityscape behind them, refugees of a recent conflict seeking refuge within the blood clan's domain.
"In this case," he murmured, the weight of responsibility settling on his broad shoulders, "it falls upon me to accept these poor souls.”
He envisioned them not as burdens, but as potential assets. With proper training and integration, their resilience, honed by hardship, could bolster the clan's defenses. Their diverse skills, born from necessity, could spark innovation and growth within their walled city. It was a gamble, yes, but one Morgen was willing to take.
…
The blood race, renowned for its exceptional prowess, possesses the innate ability to augment their strength and abilities over time, even without rigorous training or engaging in relentless battles.
With the passage of time, any member of the blood clan, through perseverance and dedication, can ascend to the esteemed rank of beta-level warrior. In contrast, humans, despite their diligent efforts and remarkable talents, must endure arduous training and possess exceptional abilities to attain the same level of combat prowess.
Morgen, a visionary leader with an unwavering commitment to the prosperity of the blood clan, devised a strategic plan to harness the skills and labor of humans to support the growth and advancement of his people.
Faced with the pressing need to secure ample food supplies, Morgen recognized the urgency of the situation. While the blood clan's dietary requirements were relatively modest, their consumption patterns resembled those of humans, indulging in bread and milk as snacks rather than relying on them as essential sustenance.
The wheat and flour reserves stored within the castle were insufficient to sustain the needs of the 200 inhabitants for even a month. With a clear plan in mind, Morgen resolved to lead the blood clan to the borderlands once the residential area was cleared. This strategic region, situated between the Nolan Empire and the Orc Empire, had become a battleground, resulting in the displacement of countless civilians. These individuals would serve as the vital human labor force for the ancient castle, contributing to its revival and prosperity.
To ensure the success of his ambitious endeavor, Morgen understood the importance of securing sufficient food supplies from Green City, thus avoiding any potential shortages. The approaching winter season posed a significant challenge, as it would inevitably hinder food production.
Over the course of its 200-year history, the blood clan had amassed considerable wealth, a testament to their foresight and resourcefulness. Upon returning to his manor after concluding the meeting in the grand hall, Morgen delved into the memories of his blood clan ancestors, retracing their steps to the secluded master bedroom on the third floor.
Standing before the antique blue-hearted maple wardrobe, Morgen remarked with amusement, "The ancestor of the blood clan concealed this money well enough." However, upon opening the wardrobe, he found no trace of the coveted Kimpke coins or any other hidden treasures.
With unwavering determination, Morgen closed his eyes and released his potent mental strength throughout the wardrobe, meticulously scanning every nook and cranny. His keen senses detected the presence of a concealed magic array inscribed within the mezzanine. Upon touching it with his spirit, a distinct click echoed through the room, revealing a hidden stone door adorned with intricate alchemy traps.
With unwavering patience and meticulous precision, Morgen employed his mental strength to gradually disable each trap, one by one. The secret door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber illuminated by faint magical lights.
The sight that unfolded before Morgen's eyes left him momentarily stunned. Ten sturdy oak boxes filled to the brim with golden Kimpke coins lined the room, representing the accumulated wealth of the blood clan over two centuries. Morgen's heart quickened with excitement as he realized the magnitude of the fortune concealed within this secret chamber.
Each oak box held a staggering 2,000 Kimpuck, a testament to the blood clan's financial acumen and prudent resource management. Recalling the memories of his blood clan ancestor, Morgen confirmed the contents of the boxes, marveling at the vast fortune amassed over generations.
In all of Green City, even a baron with a lineage spanning 200 years might not possess such immense wealth. Morgen mused, "The blood clan may have their shortcomings in other aspects, but their insatiable desire for wealth rivals that of the most avaricious dragons."
With a contemplative sigh, Morgen released the handful of Kimpuck he held, allowing the coins to fall back into the oak box with a crisp metallic sound. He recognized that wealth, in its tangible form, only realized its true value when put to use. Accumulating vast riches and hoarding them away served no purpose.
While this concealed wealth storage method might provide a sense of security against unforeseen risks for ordinary nobles, Morgen believed it exhibited a lack of foresight and strategic thinking for a force as formidable as the blood clan.
In addition to the gold coins, the hidden chamber housed a treasure trove of exquisite gold and gemstone items. Ruby-encrusted necklaces, pure gold sculptures, pearl jewelry, and an array of other luxurious objects adorned the room, their combined worth matching that of the gold coins.
Indeed, the blood clan ancestor had amassed a vast fortune over the course of two centuries. However, a practical dilemma confronted Morgen: how to transport such a treasure trove? Each oak box filled with Kimpuck weighed over 100 pounds. As the blood clan ancestor, he could hardly carry such heavy boxes in front of his people without raising questions.
At that moment, a thought flickered in his mind, piquing his interest - the Mage's Hand. This fundamental spell, taught to all mage apprentices, was not only remarkably simple, requiring only five spell nodes, but also highly versatile, proving invaluable in mitigating the risks associated with various magic experiments.
Mage's Hand: Condense an invisible giant hand using magic.
This spell allowed mages to perform dangerous experiments indirectly, but it also possessed an unexpected utility: carrying objects.
Morgen decided to test the spell, selecting the oak box in front of him as his target. With focused concentration, he mobilized his magic, activating the spell model. Casting this spell was among the simplest of all D-level magic, demanding minimal spell nodes and magic consumption.
Despite his limited experience in spellcasting, Morgen approached the task with confidence. He channeled his magic, guiding it through the spell model with precise control. As the final spell node activated, a colossal hand, three times the size of an average person, materialized in the secret chamber. Translucent and pulsating with magic, it awaited his commands.
Morgen couldn't help but grin at the successful casting of the spell. Each instance of using magic filled him with excitement and fascination. He felt a profound connection to the mage's hand, an extension of his spirit, mirroring the functionality of his own limbs.
With a mere mental command, the hundred-pound oak box was effortlessly lifted by the giant mage's hand, hovering obediently behind him. Morgen marveled at the wonders and allure of magic, understanding why his predecessors were so captivated by its boundless possibilities.
If not for the pressing need to implement his plan, he would have returned to the mage tower without hesitation, immersing himself in the intricate world of magic, delving deeper into its mysteries. However, for now, he had to set aside his personal desires and focus on the immediate task at hand.
Disregarding the remaining gold coins and gems, Morgen believed that 2,000 gold coins would suffice for his current needs. He exited the secret chamber, carefully monitoring the mage's hand as it carried the oak box, floating effortlessly behind him.
"Have a good day, First Ancestor."
A guard stationed at the door greeted Morgen with a respectful bow.
Morgen nodded in acknowledgment. "Summon Dylan for me."
"Yes, sir. Please wait a moment."
Morgen waited patiently as the blood clan member transformed into a bat and took flight. He then turned and returned to his room, lost in contemplation.
It was early October, and winter was still weeks away. The fireplace in his room remained unlit, while oil paintings adorned the stone and brick walls, adding vibrant colors to the austere interior.
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted Morgen's thoughts.
"Father."
The door opened to reveal a stern and heroic figure clad in full armor - Dylan Kachar, the sole warrior among the seven second-generation blood descendants and currently at the beta level.
Dylan held significant responsibility as the manager of the magic bats, unique warcraft possessed by the blood clan and classified as alpha-level. Adult magic bats possessed incredible wingspans of up to 6 meters and combat effectiveness surpassing that of blood clan members of the same level. The castle housed over 400 magic bats, primarily utilized for transporting goods and, in times of war, serving as formidable soldiers, showcasing their remarkable versatility.
Within the hallowed archives of the blood patriarch's memories, a tapestry of recollections unfurls, each thread imbued with profound contentment. Dylan's name echoes through these recollections like a melodic aria, evoking a symphony of admiration and acknowledgment. The blood patriarch beheld in Dylan a rare fusion of inherent prowess and unwavering resolve, a potent alchemy that ignited hope in the hearts of all who witnessed his exploits.
Dylan's capabilities, honed through rigorous training and tempered by the fires of battle, were a source of awe and inspiration for the blood patriarch. He moved with a grace and fluidity that defied the constraints of physical limitations, his every action a testament to his mastery over his craft. His instincts were razor-sharp, allowing him to anticipate and adapt to the most unpredictable of situations with lightning speed and uncanny precision.
But it was not merely Dylan's combat prowess that elicited the blood patriarch's contentment. Beyond his physical abilities lay a tapestry of virtues that elevated him above mere warriors. He possessed an unyielding sense of loyalty, unwavering in the face of adversity, and a fierce protectiveness toward those under his care. His indomitable spirit, refusing to yield even in the darkest of times, served as a beacon of hope for his comrades, inspiring them to feats of valor and resilience.
"Arrange six magic bats for me. I'll need them tonight."