Blood and Dominion
The wind carried the metallic scent of death, mingled with the ash and grime that clung to the ruins of the city streets. Lucian's boots crushed shards of broken glass as he walked, the weight of the night pressing down on him. The hunger gnawed at his insides like a starving beast, relentless and savage. No matter how much blood stained his hands, it was never enough.
The vampire beside him strode with effortless grace, his coat billowing in the cold breeze. His crimson eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "You're thinking too loudly," he said, breaking the silence.
Lucian's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"
"Your thoughts are practically screaming." The vampire glanced at him with a grin. "Regret, guilt, hunger. You're drowning in them."
Lucian clenched his fists. "What do you care?"
The vampire's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "If you can't control yourself, you'll be a liability. And I don't have time to babysit fledglings who can't handle the change."
Lucian's temper flared. "I didn't ask for this."
"You keep saying that," the vampire said, his tone sharp. "But you're here now. So either adapt or die."
Lucian stopped walking, his breath steaming in the frigid air. The fog clung to the ground like a living thing, obscuring the twisted remains of buildings and shattered streetlights. His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, hunger. But beneath it all was something colder.
Determination.
He met the vampire's gaze, his voice steady. "I won't die."
The vampire's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good."
A sudden chill swept through the air, prickling Lucian's skin. His senses sharpened, instinct screaming a warning.
"We're not alone," he said, his voice low.
The vampire's smile widened. "You're learning."
From the fog, shadows began to shift and coalesce. Figures emerged, their movements fluid and predatory. Witchers. Their dark armor gleamed with faint silver runes, and their weapons glowed with an eerie light.
Lucian's heart raced. The memory of his last encounter with the hunters flashed through his mind—the blood, the pain, the desperation. But this time was different.
He wasn't the same.
[Bloodbound Skill Activated: Predator's Step]
The world sharpened into vivid clarity. Every detail was magnified—the glint of steel, the flicker of muscles tensing for an attack, the faint sound of boots scuffing against pavement.
The lead witcher raised his sword, his voice cold and commanding. "By the authority of the Order, you are sentenced to death, abominations."
Lucian's lips curled into a savage grin. "You'll have to try harder than that."
The witchers charged.
Lucian moved, his body a blur of motion. He ducked under a blade, the edge slicing through the air where his neck had been a heartbeat ago. His claws extended, gleaming with a dark crimson light.
The first witcher fell, his throat torn open in a spray of blood.
The system's voice echoed in Lucian's mind:
[Witcher Defeated: Bloodbound Skill Progression 60%]
Another hunter lunged at him, twin daggers flashing. Lucian caught one of the blades with his hand, ignoring the searing pain as silver burned his flesh. He twisted, snapping the witcher's wrist and driving his claws into the man's chest.
[Witcher Defeated: Bloodbound Skill Progression 75%]
The remaining witchers hesitated, their confidence wavering.
Lucian's eyes gleamed with a feral light. The beast inside him roared, demanding more. He could feel it clawing at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to consume him.
"Don't lose control," the vampire warned, his voice sharp.
Lucian snarled, his voice guttural. "I know."
But the hunger was relentless. It gnawed at his mind, whispering dark temptations. Blood. Power. Dominion.
The last witcher made a desperate charge, his sword raised high. Lucian met him head-on, their clash reverberating through the fog-drenched street.
The witcher was skilled, his movements precise and disciplined. But Lucian was faster, stronger, and fueled by a savage hunger. He parried the witcher's strikes with brutal efficiency, his claws raking across armor and flesh.
The witcher's eyes widened in fear. "Monster," he whispered.
Lucian's lips twisted into a cold smile. "You're right."
With a final, savage blow, he drove his claws through the witcher's chest. Blood sprayed across his face, warm and intoxicating.
[Witcher Defeated: Bloodbound Skill Progression 100%]
[New Skill Unlocked: Crimson Dominion - Bend lesser minds to your will through blood manipulation.]
Lucian stood over the fallen witchers, his breath heavy. The system's voice faded, replaced by the faint hum of power coursing through his veins.
The vampire approached, his expression unreadable. "You're getting better."
Lucian wiped the blood from his face, his voice cold. "Good."
The vampire's eyes gleamed. "But you're still holding back."
Lucian met his gaze. "What are you getting at?"
"Power," the vampire said, his voice low. "It's not just about strength. It's about control. Dominion."
Lucian's mind flashed to the system's words—Crimson Dominion.
"How do I use it?" he asked.
The vampire's smile was razor-sharp. "You'll figure it out. But remember this—power without control is just chaos."
Lucian clenched his fists, the weight of his new abilities settling on his shoulders. The road to becoming the King of Vampires was long and treacherous. But he was ready to walk it.
The night was far from over.