As the dark room materialized once more, Cedar stood alone before Len. No Ivan, no grimoire—just the oppressive weight of his vampire master's presence.
"Yes, Master?" Cedar greeted, his voice steady and respectful.
Len stepped forward, his dark eyes gleaming with ancient authority and a sharp undercurrent of impatience. His long black cape trailed behind him, a shadow accentuating the aura of dominance he exuded. Though his expression was calm, the power radiating from him felt suffocating.
"I've observed your progress," Len began, his tone cold and direct. "Compared to Ivan, you're slower. That's expected. He's a descendant of Asterius—his bloodline gives him an edge. You, on the other hand, are a bloody vessel. Your strength doesn't come from talent or inheritance but from bloodshed and power seized by force. Your path is more brutal, more dangerous—but it can also lead to heights even Ivan cannot reach."
Cedar listened in silence, his face composed, though Len's words stung like salt on an open wound. He knew Ivan's B-rank mana core gave him a natural advantage. Cedar's own D-rank core—a mark of mediocrity in the mage world—meant he had to claw his way forward with sheer will and cunning.
"I don't think I have enough mana to handle anything beyond the basics. My mana core is only D-rank," Cedar admitted, his tone steady, free of self-pity. "Fireballs, lightning bolts, shields—those I can manage. But anything more complex is out of reach for now."
Len's lips curved into a faint smile, both condescending and amused. "Ah, the ranks—D, B, S... Arbitrary labels created by mortals to quantify what they barely comprehend. The magic system you cling to—circles, runes—is but a pale reflection of what once existed. Did you know the runes you etch are imitations of demon magic? And the circles you draw? They mimic the natural mana flow of dragons. Simplified, diluted, repackaged—for humans too fragile to grasp the true essence of magic."
Cedar stiffened. His entire life, he had been taught that the circle system was the pinnacle of magical understanding, the universal standard. But Len's words shattered that illusion.
"There were hundreds of systems in the era of Old Magic," Len continued, his tone almost wistful. "Each more unique and powerful than the last. The circle system is impressive, yes, but it's a cage for those like you. That is why I will teach you something far older and far more potent—blood magic."
The air grew heavier at the mention of blood magic, a term that carried weight and infamy. Stories of corruption, madness, and destruction surrounded it. It was the boogeyman of magic, whispered in fear even among experienced mages.
"Blood magic?" Cedar's voice was calm, though a flicker of apprehension danced in his chest.
Len's smile widened, a sharp glint in his crimson eyes. "Even in the Old Magic era, it was feared. Not because it was evil, but because of its power. Blood magic requires sacrifice. It taps into the essence of life itself, using blood to fuel spells, to strengthen, to control. But it demands respect. Recklessness will lead to corruption and, ultimately, your own destruction. Even I—an emperor vampire—am not immune to its dangers."
Cedar's mind raced. The promise of power was undeniable. With blood magic, he could transcend the limitations of his D-rank core, and seize strength that no conventional method could provide. But the risk was equally clear—one misstep could cost him everything.
"How do I even begin?" Cedar asked, his voice steady, his resolve clear.
Len raised his hand, letting a thin line of blood seep from his palm. It twisted and writhed like a living serpent, bending effortlessly under his control. "Blood magic doesn't rely on mana as your circle system does," Len began, his tone almost conversational, though his crimson eyes gleamed with purpose.
The blood serpent coiled in the air, its movements hypnotic. "It draws from life itself," he continued after a pause, his fingers guiding the blood in intricate patterns. "To begin, you must master the flow of your own blood. Feel its rhythm, understand its connection to your magic."
Len let the serpent dissolve into a fine mist, his gaze sharp as it locked onto Cedar. "Only then," he said with quiet intensity, "can you hope to manipulate the blood of others."
The blood serpent coiled and uncoiled, its movements mesmerizing yet unsettling. Cedar watched, transfixed, as the blood seemed alive, bending effortlessly to Len's will.
"But remember," Len said, his voice like a blade cutting through Cedar's fascination, "the more blood you manipulate, the more power you access. And the more power you draw, the closer you come to losing control. Blood magic is merely a tool—a dangerous one. If you fail to control it, it will consume you."
Cedar met Len's gaze, his resolve hardening. He had always known his path would be darker, more perilous. The circle system would never be enough for him. Blood magic—feared and forbidden—was his way forward.
"I understand, Master," Cedar said, bowing his head in submission. "I will learn blood magic. And I will wield it wisely."
Len's smile returned, sharp and approving. "Good. Then let us begin."
The darkness around Cedar seemed to hum with latent energy, as though responding to Len's ominous words. Deep down, Cedar knew this path was neither easy nor safe.
Blood magic was dangerous and forbidden—its very essence reeked of sacrifice and temptation. But it was the only path forward, the only way to shatter the chains of his D-rank limitations.
With Len's guidance, he resolved to master it, no matter the cost.
The initial steps were harder than Cedar imagined. The art of controlling his own blood—the life essence coursing through his veins—felt alien and unruly.
No matter how hard he focused, the magic slipped from his grasp, like trying to tame a storm with bare hands. Each attempt left him more drained, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior.
Len observed him in silence, his piercing gaze never wavering. It wasn't the look of disappointment—it was the scrutiny of a predator gauging the strength of its prey.
Finally, after another failed attempt, Len spoke, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Perhaps the issue is not your magic," Len said, his tone cold and measured. "It's your inexperience with true blood. A mere Magloth is nothing more than a stepping stone."
Len's gaze softened slightly, a rare break in his unrelenting demeanor.
"No matter," he said, stepping back with a sweep of his cape. "You are not ready for that part yet. Instead, we will focus on something even more essential—the control of your mind."
His crimson eyes fixed on Cedar, the intensity in them unmistakable. "Blood magic is dangerous because it does not merely draw on mana or willpower. It feeds on your deepest instincts—your bloodlust, your hunger for strength, your desire for domination. Without absolute control, these instincts will consume you. Bloodthirst can twist your mind, overwhelm your soul, and turn you into nothing more than a beast, enslaved by your own power."
Cedar nodded slowly, taking in every word. "I understand, Master."
Len's lips curled into a faint, approving smile. "Good," he said, his tone low and measured. "Then listen closely. Blood magic begins with mastery—not of the magic itself, but of you. Your mind must be fortified, your will sharpened to a fine edge. Chaos and doubt have no place here."
He stepped closer, his crimson gaze piercing through Cedar. "This magic demands clarity, not confusion. Your emotions, your desires, your fears—they are weaknesses blood magic will exploit without mercy. If you cannot control them, the magic will control you, twisting you into something unrecognizable."
Len's voice hardened, sharp and deliberate, as if cutting through Cedar's resolve. "Discipline is your shield. Without it, you'll destroy yourself before the magic even has a chance to."
"This is not unique to blood magic. All magic requires balance. A mage who is ruled by panic, anger, or ambition will fall—if not to their enemies, then to their own spells. In battle, a mage must be calm, composed, and unwavering. Without this foundation, no power you wield will save you."
Cedar's jaw tightened, his determination hardening like steel under Len's words. He understood now—power wasn't just about spells or strength. It was about mastery over oneself. And if he wanted to rise above his limitations, to carve his own path forward, he would need to temper his soul like a blade in fire.
"I will learn, Master," Cedar said with quiet resolve. "Teach me how to build that foundation."
Len's smile grew slightly, a flicker of pride glinting in his crimson eyes. "Very well," he said. "We begin now. Sit, breathe, and prepare yourself—for this is the first and most important step on your path to true power."