※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
Magic Ranks: Novice Mage, Adept Mage, Intermediate Mage, Advanced Mage, Grand Mage, Archmage (Void-Breaking), Dark Lord, Demon Overlord...
Warrior Ranks: Body Refinement Warrior, Mind Warrior, True Warrior, Ascended Warrior, Celestial Warrior, Divine Warrior, Martial Sovereign, Warlord (Mythic Realm)...
Vampire Ranks: Thrall, Baron, Viscount, Marquis, Duke (Void-Breaking), Overlord, Elder, Blood Prince, Blood Seraph (Mythic Realm)
Demonist Ranks: Crimson Demonist, Ember Demonist, Golden Demonist, Verdant Demonist, Azure Demonist, Cobalt Demonist, Amethyst Demonist, (Void-Breaking) Argent Demonist, Auric Demonist...
Flame Tiers: Crimson, Ember, Golden, Verdant, Azure, Cobalt, Amethyst, Celestial Gold
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
Bristol, located in the southwest of England, is a ceremonial county and a unitary authority in the South West region. As one of England's eight core cities, it borders the Irish Sea to the west and serves as a key center for aerospace, high-tech industries, and financial trade. It is also home to the Felchiershire family, an ancient and prestigious magical lineage with a history spanning thousands of years.
By the time Olivia and Fanmuir arrived in Bristol, it was already late at night. Since the Felchiershire estate, Cliff Castle, was situated in the suburbs, Olivia suggested they stay in the city for the night and head home in the morning. Spotting a passing taxi, she waved it down, and they got into a sleek black cab. "The OX restaurant," she told the driver.
Well-rested from the flight, Olivia was in high spirits, eagerly introducing The OX to Fanmuir. He soon learned that this Michelin three-star restaurant was a famed culinary landmark in Bristol—and a beloved haunt of Olivia's in her younger years.
They arrived at The OX in no time. Entering through a modest doorway on the ground floor, they passed through a stylish corridor before stepping into the main dining hall. The ambiance was elegant yet mysterious, with soft, ambient lighting accentuating the restaurant's semi-high ceilings and distinct architectural style. The hushed conversations of the patrons and the refined demeanor of the waitstaff underscored the establishment's prestige. As Olivia had described, this was indeed one of Bristol's most sought-after dining spots. Despite the chilly late hour, The OX was nearly at full capacity.
Settling into their seats, Olivia ordered two of the restaurant's signature steaks, along with a main course and a fresh vegetable salad. Fanmuir, a connoisseur of fine drinks, had long been aware of Bristol's classic cocktails—the Old Fashioned and the Negroni. Now, sitting in this refined setting, he ordered both with a quiet sense of anticipation.
He handed the Negroni to Olivia and took the Old Fashioned for himself. Swirling the glass gently, he studied the golden-amber hue, reminiscent of honey. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply—the aroma was rich and inviting. Not bad, he mused. Taking a slow sip, he let the flavors unfold on his palate: a unique blend of fruitiness, intertwined with the essence of honey and evergreen.
As Olivia watched Fanmuir's refined, almost ritualistic approach to tasting the cocktail, her eyes sparkled with newfound admiration.
As they quietly enjoyed their meal, Fanmuir suddenly sensed three faint traces of magical energy coming from behind him. At the same moment, Olivia, who had just been sipping her drink and gazing at him affectionately, suddenly froze, her expression shifting dramatically as she lowered her head. It was obvious that her reaction was directly tied to the presence of the three approaching figures.
At the entrance, three young men of distinct appearances strode in. The first was thin and wiry, dressed entirely in black, which made his already frail frame appear even more slight. The second wore a striking red tailcoat, his skin deathly pale, almost as if he were a living corpse. The third towered over the others, nearly two meters tall, his massive, muscular build covered in thick body hair, a long black coat draped over his broad shoulders.
They swept their gazes arrogantly across the hall, seemingly oblivious to Olivia. However, the slender young man let his eyes linger on her for a moment. Fanmuir could immediately sense Olivia's heartbeat accelerating wildly, her blood racing through her veins. Once the three found a table and sat down not far away, Olivia exhaled in quiet relief.
"Who are they? You seem terrified of them," Fanmuir asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Keep your voice down," Olivia murmured, barely above a whisper. "They each come from powerful factions in Britain. The thin one is Rob Pembroke, a high-level metal-element magician from the Pembroke Magic Family. The one in the red tailcoat is Eddie Ustair, a Blood Clan viscount from the Ustair family. And the tall, burly one is Odd Tanley, a werewolf from the Tanley family."
"Are they really that dangerous?" Fanmuir asked, noting the genuine fear in Olivia's voice.
"Yes. They are among the strongest of their generation within their respective families. Especially Eddie—word has it he's already reached the rank of viscount. A Blood Clan viscount, Fan! That's the equivalent of a high-level magician. We need to finish our meal quickly and get out of here," she pleaded, growing increasingly anxious.
"But didn't you say that Bristol is your family's territory? Would they really dare to stir up trouble so openly?" Fanmuir asked, his brows furrowing in doubt.
"In the past, they wouldn't have dared set foot in Bristol without my family's permission, let alone cause trouble. But now… oh no! Could something have happened to my family?" As the realization hit her, Olivia's face drained of color.
Fanmuir couldn't stand seeing Olivia so distressed. He gently took both of her hands in his and said reassuringly, "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, nothing will happen."
Meeting his steady gaze and feeling the warmth of his touch, Olivia slowly calmed down.
Since she clearly didn't want to escalate the situation here, Fanmuir decided against making a move—there was no need to ruin the refined atmosphere of The OX restaurant.
But trouble has a way of finding those who try to avoid it. Some things simply cannot be escaped.
Rob Pembroke, who had been keeping an eye on Olivia since earlier, downed the rest of his drink, picked up his glass, and walked straight toward her.
Olivia's expression shifted in an instant. She grabbed Fanmuir's hand in an attempt to leave.
Fanmuir, however, was not one to run from trouble. There was no way he'd let himself be dragged away in panic, least of all by a woman. Not that it even mattered—by now, it was too late. Rob Pembroke had just realized that the beautiful woman he had taken an interest in was, in fact, Olivia Felchiershire.
"Well, well, if it isn't Olivia from the Felchiershire family!" Rob Pembroke called out, as if making a grand discovery.
The moment they heard the name, Eddie Ustair and Odd Tanley immediately closed in.
Since last week, the entire Felchiershire family had been trapped inside Cliff Castle. Yet, by pure luck, they had just stumbled upon a stray one in the open. The three men could barely contain their excitement.
At this point, Bristol was swarming with operatives from the Pembroke, Tanley, and Ustair families, and more elite fighters were arriving by the hour.
The Felchiershire family, with its thousand-year history, was once a force to be reckoned with. Their most formidable warrior, Grand Magician Antonio Felchiershire, had passed away, leaving the family vulnerable. But even a declining ancient family possessed unimaginable wealth and rare artifacts.
A starving camel is still bigger than a horse—just the thought of the treasures hidden within the Felchiershire estate sent waves of greed surging through their minds.
"Haha! So there's even a pretty boy here. Looks like I get to try something different today!" Eddie Ustair's eyes gleamed with a sinister red glow, his gaze fixed on Fanmuir like a predator savoring its next meal. His sharp fangs glinted menacingly as he spoke.
"Trash. Get lost—far away. I don't want to sully my hands." Fanmuir didn't even spare them a glance, lazily swirling the Old Fashioned in his hand as he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion.
That single word—"trash"—instantly infuriated the three so-called elites, especially Eddie Ustair. In his mind, humans were nothing more than two-legged livestock, their sole purpose to provide fresh blood for the superior vampire race. Only vampires were worthy of ruling this world. And yet, this insignificant little nobody had the audacity to insult him? He was practically begging for death.
"You wretched two-legged sheep, I've made up my mind—you won't live past tonight." Eddie Ustair growled, his voice dripping with malice.
It was clear he was the leader of the group. The moment he spoke, the other two instinctively took a step back, their expressions cold and indifferent—watching Fanmuir as if he were already dead.
With a chilling smirk, Eddie Ustair lashed out like a bolt of lightning.
Odd Tanley and Rob Pembroke's eyes widened in shock. They knew Eddie was powerful, but they hadn't expected him to be this fast—this overwhelming.
A magician's casting speed could never hope to match the sheer speed of a vampire. By the time Olivia registered the danger and tried to summon her fire magic to counter him, Eddie Ustair had already launched his attack.
Olivia knew Fanmuir was an enigma—his strength beyond ordinary measure. But the fear of vampires had been ingrained in her since childhood, leaving a deep-rooted scar in her heart. Could he really be a match for Eddie Ustair?
A wave of unease washed over her. Her face turned even paler, and for the first time, she felt a stab of regret for bringing Fanmuir to Britain.
The entire restaurant watched in stunned silence as Eddie Ustair launched his attack. His speed and strength were terrifying—but to Fanmuir, it was laughable. Weak. Feeble. Even if that punch landed, it wouldn't so much as leave a scratch.
As his opponent lunged, fangs bared, Fanmuir simply smiled.
For those who dared challenge him, only death awaited.
With the faintest flicker of power, the tide of battle turned in an instant. Eddie Ustair's fist, which had been hurtling toward Fanmuir's chest, suddenly stopped—frozen just inches away.
Fanmuir remained completely still, leisurely taking another sip of his cocktail.
The scene was so surreal that the entire room was left in a daze. Rob Pembroke and Odd Tanley's eyes bulged in disbelief.
Eddie Ustair stood rigid, unable to move, unable to speak. Panic flashed across his face as he realized he had lost control of his own body—paralyzed as if bound by some ghostly force.
Olivia, however, quickly grasped what had happened. Seeing that the punch had failed to land, she exhaled deeply, relief washing over her. The terror in her eyes melted into joy.
"I have no interest in dealing with you today," Fanmuir said calmly. "But deliver a message—anyone who dares harm the Fairchild family will be executed on the spot."
With an air of detached elegance, he reached forward and gently lowered Eddie Ustair's outstretched fist, placing it back in its natural position.
Then, under the stunned gazes of the entire restaurant, Fanmuir made a simple, casual motion in the air toward Eddie Ustair.
A sudden, invisible whirlwind burst to life, wrapping around the vampire.
In the blink of an eye, Eddie's clothes, shoes, and even his hair were stripped away—sucked into the swirling void.
Only his underwear remained.
There he stood, bald and utterly exposed.
Without so much as a backward glance, Fanmuir took Olivia's hand, settled the bill, and walked out of The OX with effortless confidence.
For a long time, the three men sat frozen in shock, struggling to catch their breath.
"We need to inform our clan leaders immediately," Eddie Ustair finally rasped, his voice trembling. "That man… his power is at least on par with a Vampire Duke."
"What? A Vampire Duke?!" Odd Tanley and Rob Pembroke blurted out at the same time, their expressions shifting from doubt to sheer terror.
A Vampire Duke wielded legendary strength. The three of them were considered top talents of their respective clans, yet compared to a Duke, they were mere insects.
Vampire Dukes were ancient, centuries—if not millennia—old.
And yet, this young man—barely more than a boy—possessed power equal to those ancient monsters? How was that even possible?
And yet… they couldn't deny what they had just seen.
Terror took root in their eyes.
This was no trivial matter.
A figure of unimaginable strength had appeared near the Fairchild family's stronghold.
And if he chose to get involved… their entire alliance would be in grave danger.