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VoC: B1 — 26. Caged Potential
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 22:52:56 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Damon (Our Dhampir MC!)
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Fifteen minutes.
Damon had been sitting in this stone cell for exactly fifteen minutes, and the weight of his situation was finally settling into his bones like lead. He flexed his fingers, feeling the phantom burn where the Holy Emperor’s mark had branded itself around his wrists—not physical shackles, but something far more binding. A divine oath that would follow him wherever he went.
I’m…in a jail cell. In a fantasy world… I’m ten years old. Well, I can still look twenty-four, so there’s at least some silver lining. We didn’t need to fight, which…I should probably look into that about now. Huh, bud? he said with an internal laugh at his cub, looking up at him, seemingly trying to puzzle something out. What power do I have?
His body tightened, jaw easing together as a spur jabbed into the back of his gums, his fingers slowly curled inward. Inside? A heart full of pain, a head full of stress, and a handful of anger held in his chest.
Dammit, Ashcroft! Titania, I don’t know how many times I’ve prayed to you throughout the day, and I know I have to trust your plan…because I asked how you would choose your start. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say… I just want to have a clear win. One. Perhaps it reaches a point where I have to get dirty with the people spreading the dirt.
Taking a deep, controlled breath, he closed his eyes, envisioning the green-eyed, auburn-haired gem that was his goal. I have nothing to gain from ranting. It isn’t going to save Sophia. Focus. Direct the struggle, fear, and hate…
A soft, wet nose pressed against his skin, making Damon smile as he opened his eyes to see Copper resting his head on the back of his hand, looking up at him.
“No use in feeding the whirlwind inside my head, bud, is there? That’s how you get paranoia… A face inside your brain, pulsing beneath your skin. Yes. People distrust me because of what I am…but that doesn’t mean everyone is against me. These fangs, though…”
A sharp pain in his gums made him wince as Copper rubbed his head against his arm with a low, concerned note.
“I’m okay, bud,” he mumbled, probed the area with his tongue. His sharp, more prominent canine teeth were immediately shaped in his mind. The ache was worsening, a gnawing sensation that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. “Just a new body…”
“What are you muttering about, dark ears? Bah! I can’t beat his score…”
Damon sighed, glancing toward the corner table, outside his cell, and a distance away, where one of the underworld guards sat. A deck of strange playing cards was spread in front of him, and he kept flipping them over in specific patterns before cursing his luck.
“Nothing, just a toothache.”
“Humph.”
It’s probably [Gnawing Thirst], he reasoned to Copper, stroking his neck before moving to his ears; his mood improved as the cub put his full weight against his pressure, urging him to scratch harder. Itchy, huh? Or just wanting a little attention to make me feel better? Yeah, Aria is going to freak about you… But what am I going to do about my vampire heritage? I don’t know anything about it.
He sat back against the cold, perfectly chiseled wall of his cell, casting his gaze around. If I’m stuck here for a time, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to really start digging into what I can actually do… Roman dwarves. Wow. This world is unique.
The hunger was subtle but persistent, not quite physical pain but something deeper. Something that whispered that blood would make it all go away, would unlock abilities he couldn’t even imagine yet, that tickled in the back of his mind.
He ignored it.
The craftsmanship of his prison was remarkable, even if he lacked the technical expertise to fully appreciate it. One of the foremen on one of his former job sites would have gone ballistic over the artwork carved into every surface—the seamless blend of Roman architecture with dwarven craftsmanship.
The stones fit together with mathematical precision, each block perfectly shaped and mortared with what looked like liquid silver that had hardened into nearly unseen seams.
Beautiful work for an underground corruption den, he thought bitterly, running his fingers along the smooth walls. Even the criminals here have standards.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. Above ground, Tenebrin presented itself as a beacon of lawful-good governance, where justice flowed from divine mandate and corruption was supposedly rooted out by zealous paladins. Yet, here he sat in an illegal prison, captured by guards who probably accepted bribes from the same nobles who publicly condemned such practices.
Pulling Copper closer to help ground him, his gaze and mind continued to wander now that he really didn’t have a lot to do. Maybe he needed to just…process everything for a bit. He had to come to terms with where…what he was now.
The same system that had branded Damon a criminal for possessing a stolen coin, let alone threaten his life, just for the circumstances of his birth, had allowed Uncle Stephen to arrange that meeting with his mother through what had to be a complex web of favors and coin changing hands. It had allowed a disgraced princess—his mother—access to her condemned son through the right connections.
How you use that broken system really can change the framing, can’t it? Damon mused, absently touching the spot where his fangs ached. Yes, I haven’t seen any poor people who were in a bad place, including in the Garden District…but that doesn’t mean there isn’t rot.
The thought should have been more disturbing, but in a strange way, it was almost comforting. Corruption, he could understand and navigate. It was the rigid, inflexible justice that had nearly gotten him executed that truly terrified him.
Looking into Copper’s big, brown eyes, Damon released another long sigh to relieve the pressure in his chest. We need to make it back to Aria before dinner, bud. So, we’d best start planning and figuring things out. I can already see her face, stuffing stew and bread into her mouth, laughing about how she thought she would be the first one behind bars.
His sister didn’t know he was imprisoned, didn’t know he’d been set up by Lady Ashcroft—let alone know who she was. Her street-smart brother had been out-streeted by a noble woman. Aria would never let that go…and worse, it would harm her own security in his ability to keep them grounded.
The ache in his fangs intensified, and he found himself opening his status window to distract himself from the discomfort, pulling Copper against him to face it.
Alright, no more complaining and crying. I have to keep that image in Aria’s mind, so that even when I’m not with her…I’m there inside her mind, keeping her feet on the ground.
The blue interface materialized in his vision, and he began picking apart aspects that vaguely filtered through his mind, like shapes in fog that gradually became clearer.
Colors were the first thing that snagged his attention with the Feats; Stephen had tried to explain it to them half a year ago, but those memories were far more blurry than his former Earth life. The mind of a child, which focused on everything but the subject they were supposed to be learning.
This system is a lot more complex than any of the ones I saw Aria working with, he muttered to Copper. I suppose when it’s the actual real world, things can get really complicated… So, there are two types of progression for Feats: Grades and Tiers.
Grades were the big indicator, displayed by highlighted color, showing the rarity and base level, while the Tier provided smaller, incremental upgrades to it.
His [Gnawing Thirst] vulnerability was marked with a deep purple glow that seemed almost ominous against the interface’s blue background. D-tier, but purple. Not the white he might have expected for a basic vulnerability.
Not as complicated as I first thought. Sure, maybe in the vast amount of Feats there are, but it’s pretty obvious at first glance…
He scrolled through his abilities with new eyes, comparing and contrasting. Most of his basic stats showed white, but scattered throughout were blues, yellows, and more purples than he’d expected for a Level 1 character—even a red. However, pearlescent was clearly the top of the top, indicated by his [Double Feat Points], [Rapid Growth], and [Shared Experience].
It makes sense that Titania would want me to have EXP-linked Feats. Aria talked about a few of her favorite protagonists having similar abilities in her books… 300% per kill and A-tier is insane. And if B-tier [Party EXP] gives 100% across a party of five, then what does S-tier do? Interesting, he hummed to himself, using his mind to move between tabs or scroll while stroking Copper.
Damon’s focus fixated on one particular Feat that provided a few Feats in itself: [Dhampir Ancestry].
He internally read the description with growing fascination:
The user is descended from a highborne vampire, becoming a dhampir of the lowest tier of nobility within the lineage.
Being the offspring of a highblood vampire grants the user almost full vampiric traits without some of the typical vampire weaknesses, such as salt or running water.
A highborne dhampir has the following vulnerabilities: [B-tier Sunlight Sensitivity] and [D-tier Gnawing Hunger].
Stephen’s argument about there not being a single law regarding dhampirs resurfaced in his mind.
Both are purple, which is pretty high up on the scale… I have the hunger, but not the need for blood. Eating can curb the pain, but I’ve lived with it since I was a child, and with [Strong Spirit] granting me [Indomitable Will], it basically counters it.
Way to go, Titania. Efficient…but my vampire Feats do have a cost… I have to have drunk blood in the last hour to access abilities like [Vampirism], [Creature of the Night], and [Syphon]... I advance the lineage by drinking live blood? Hmm. And what is [Syphon]? I guess we’ll get to that in a minute, but races themselves get unique Feats…and Vulnerabilities, like Aria’s [Sun Elf Pride]. A double-edged sword.
Let’s see what else I’ve been carrying around without realizing, he thought, as he dove into his dark-elf-specific heritage, blooming before him like a treasure chest he’d never properly examined:
[Meditative Sleep] - C-tier, Blue. No need for actual sleep, just four hours of trance.
[Stealth] - E-tier, Blue. Enhanced ability to avoid detection.
[Perception] - F-tier, White. Basic sensory enhancement.
[Darkness Magic] - F-tier, Yellow. Innate control over shadow magic.
[Cursed Fae Magic] - F-tier, Yellow. Limited light magic tainted by dark heritage.
...
The yellow coloring on his magic school was interesting. He was starting to think that they weren’t about rarity, and more about refinement.
...
[Darkvision] - C-tier, Blue. Perfect vision in natural darkness and minor magical darkness penetration.
[Magic Initiate] - D-tier, Blue. Access to multiple schools of magic.
[Athletic] - D-tier, White. Enhanced physical capabilities.
[Drow Weapon Proficiency] - E-tier, Blue. Enhanced use of: Long Knives, Rapiers, Short Swords, Hand Crossbow, Scorpion Chain.
[Fae Charm] - F-tier, Blue. Natural allure and persuasive abilities.
[Elven Blood] - F-tier, White. Increases Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma by +1 of user’s choice: Intelligence.
[Silent Cast] - F-tier, Purple. Cast spells without verbal components.
...
He sighed upon seeing [Drow Weapon Proficiency]; it was useless to him as a Unity Tamer. However, his brow furrowed upon seeing [Silent Cast] crossed out, or overridden by a stronger Feat. The page flipped forward, showing the full breakdown of not a purple, but a red-outlined Feat: [Instant Cast].
Cast all E-tier spells on instinct or desire, and up to three D-tier spells a day? I guess that’s good for my fae and darkness magic… Huh.
Returning to his Vampiric Heritage, he opened up the more detailed sheet:
[Vampire Ancestry] - F-tier, Purple.
Every single vampiric ability was purple. Not just rare, but uniformly rare across the entire bloodline. The thought slowly ebbed up within the recesses of his mind:
I know she was bitten by a noble vampire. My Feats confirm that. She has the mark that Aria saw…but that still doesn’t explain my birth. Vampires convert the host… Mom isn’t a vampire. How…did Mom give birth to me?
The unbidden thorn jabbed at his brain, numbers adding, fractured memories linking. Vision fading out, a clawed hand slowly encircled his heart.
Thirteen years old… How do you make a dhampir?
Copper’s low growl at his turbulent internal wrestling match caught the guard’s attention, making him grunt but ignore them. Damon’s focus was entirely on the expanded dhampir sheet and information block, though.
The process isn’t shown, but the catalyst is… A dark ritual. Mom was brainwashed by vampire nobility and made the subject of a ritual. That…can’t go without being addressed and corrected eventually. Titania turned Mom’s trauma into a blessing in her eyes…Aria and me. She disrupted the vampire’s plot in a way he could have never expected…
The convoluted sensations rolling through him were so tangled he didn’t know how he should feel, but one thing was for sure. His angel of a mother earned every right to be called his mom. In every way. Period.
Thank you for protecting my mom, Titania… That gives me faith for Sophia, that you’re watching over us, and that you can even turn a tragedy into a blessing. So…thank you.
If that’s the case. I’m not alone in this cell…but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to do my part. I’ll need to ask Uncle Stephen about that. I’ll use everything I can to my advantage in this world, though… I have to.
Refocusing on his vampire abilities, a sacrifice his mother had given him, he had to show a small, thankful smile:
[Noblesse] - C-tier, Purple. Natural charisma and resistance to fear.
[Heart Life] - E-tier, Purple. Near-immortality through mystical anchoring.
[Misty Escape] - E-tier, Purple. Become intangible when near death.
[Place of Rest] - E-tier, Purple. Bind to a location for resurrection.
[Creature of the Night] - E-tier, Purple. Enhanced abilities after feeding.
[Vampirism] - F-tier, Purple. Bite attack with stat-draining properties.
[Siphon] - F-tier, Purple. Steal 5% of target’s stats for 30 minutes.
I’m immortal… Yes, with conditions, and typical vampire fashion, but…this is critical. Even in death, Sophia and Aria can have hope that I’ll return for them. It also means I can push myself—hard. Sophia, I’ll find you.
Sure, some of the active vampire traits were locked behind blood, and with an hour countdown from consumption, but that could also mean magically frozen blood or monster blood. Hey, they were going into a monster pit, whatever that meant. If he needed to suck some creature’s blood to survive? No hesitation for his sister and girlfriend.
However, as he flipped to his Magic Tab, one purple Feat snagged his eye and shoved everything else out of his mind. He had four magic schools in total, which was all [C-tier Magic Intuition] allowed for him. Two he’d already identified from his race, but the other two, Titania had selected for him, the yellow [Enhancement Magic] was more than intriguing, but the purple was what punched him between the eyes: [D-tier Spatial Magic].
I can teleport.
His fangs gleamed in the dull light as his smile grew, expanding it to see three tiers of only a single spell he could use, each with increased MP cost: [Displacement]
F-tier - 15 MP - Teleport to a random location within 2 meters of the activation point.
E-tier - 25 MP - Teleport to a random location within 5 meters of the activation point.
D-tier - 50 MP - Teleport self or target within 2 meters to a location within 6 meters of the target location.
Six meters, with a maximum of 420 MP? Aria might have some Feats regarding mana that I can copy with my Tamer Unity Feats, as well, he calculated, glancing at the cell bars. No, six meters is more than enough to get outside.
He could escape. Right now, if he wanted to. Snag a bit of blood from the guard, maybe with [Stealth], some fae magic trickery, or darkness magic, blinding him. Drain him to unconsciousness, then just walk out of this underground prison and disappear into the city above.
His mind was kicked outside of his mental fantasy as Copper wiggled against him, eyes lighting up, likely at the internal excitement he felt.
No, bud, I don’t think I can really escape with you involved…which means it isn’t the plan, he sheepishly chuckled at the confused cub as he rubbed his ears. Besides, I’m bound to that contract as much as Ashcroft is… We have to get into the betting, not escape it.
Patience, he told himself, though every instinct screamed at him to use the spell immediately. Let’s see how this plays out first. Thinking about it, the burden of the contract is currently on Ashcroft. It’s her coin that got me into this mess. If we did have to go to court in front of…say the Holy Emperor himself, with this seal, I’m confident I’m clean.
Titania really did give me everything I’d need to build a powerful party, you included, little guy, he mused, getting to stretch left and right, working out his stiff muscles. Adorably, the cub actually got up on two legs, trying to mirror him…utterly failing and collapsing to his butt. Keep practicing, bud! But I think we don’t just have good abilities… They’re foundational. Game-changing, as Aria might say.
His smile fell as the sound of voices from the corridor interrupted his planning. The guard who’d been stationed in the corner suddenly straightened and began gathering his cards.
“—remove your cloak,” a gruff voice was ordering. “Standard procedure, lady. We don’t know what you’re hiding under there.”
“Of course,” came a woman’s reply, musical and confident. “Though I should warn you, I’m rather well-equipped for a snow elf. I’m not the stereotypical magic nut of my species. Should I…take off all of my magical items? I don’t want to appear resistant!”
Well-equipped? Damon pressed closer to the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever they were bringing in. Copper once again mirrored him, forcing Damon to snatch one of his paws and help him press them against the steel before he fell on his butt again. Snow elf sounds unique.
The race seemed to strike the guard at the table because he repeated the name, mumbling softly, “Snow elf? Damn, they’re non-existent south of the northern border… That’s huge profit in the indentured service institute if she doesn’t have any money and can’t pay the tax… My luck is flipping!”
“Right, just…put everything on the table,” the guard’s voice continued, but there was something different in his tone now. Nervous. “Rings, jewelry, weapons, everything.”
“Certainly.” The woman’s voice remained pleasant, almost amused. “This might take a moment… Do you have another chest? Should I take the items out of my cloak, too? It sort of doubles as my backpack—spatial affixes.”
“O-Oh, no…just as long as it’s in the cloak itself, it should be fine.”
The soft clink of metal on wood continued for what felt like minutes, far longer than any simple frisk should have required. Each item that hit the table seemed to hum with its own energy, making the very air in the detention area feel charged and making the guard at the table more nervous. And then…
“Those tattoos. Is that tattoo of…” the guard’s voice was strained now, trailing off.
“Uh, yeah, those would be a lot harder to remove… Sorry, we just don’t have the space. We could go outside, but it might draw a lot of attention we both don’t want.” Another clink, and not a single peep from the guard, was deafening. “I did mention I was well-equipped. Didn’t I? I don’t think there are many other places I can hide anything…unless you want me to remove more?”
Tattoos, huh? Interesting detail, Copper, Damon noted, seeing the cub nod fervently beside him, still pressed against the bars, face fitted between them. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone with a tattoo here. You think it’s a snow elf thing?
Copper pulled back, head tilting.
Yeah, I don’t know either. Oh, wow… Now, that is fantasy. Aria would probably faint.
The group came into view around the corner, and Damon got his first look at their new prisoner. When the guard ordered her to remove her cloak, Damon expected to see another unfortunate caught up in the underground’s web of corruption.
What he got instead made him understand why the guard at the table’s face had drained of all color at the mention of tattoos. The woman was not what anyone would call conventionally beautiful, but she commanded attention in a way that made conventional beauty irrelevant.
Her snow elf heritage was evident in her pale, almost luminescent skin, which seemed to hold its own inner light, and in her hair, spun platinum, that fell in a practical braid down her back. Her eyes were the pale blue-white of glacial ice, sharp and calculating as they took in her surroundings.
But it was her build and attire that truly spoke to who she was. Where most women might try to appear smaller or less threatening, she was clearly comfortable taking up space. She stood nearly six feet tall, with the lean, corded muscles of someone who had lived through constant physical challenges. Her arms and shoulders showed the definition that came from years of wielding heavy weapons and surviving in hostile environments.
Her clothing was practical to the point of being stark—what amounted to a backless leather sports bra that left her entire back and shoulders exposed, paired with fitted leather pants and boots that had seen serious use. But it was what the exposed skin revealed that had the guards’ attention.
Not just decorative artwork, but living tattoos, pulsing with their own inner light, and his thoughts instantly went to the gossip he’d heard in the Garden District.
As she did a slow spin, taking in the space, the centerpiece between her shoulder blades came into view, behind her swinging braid. It was impossible to miss:
A massive wyvern that spread its wings across her entire back, rendered in such intricate detail that Damon could see individual scales. The creature’s eyes glowed with amber fire, and as he watched, he could swear he saw the wings shift slightly, as if the beast were breathing.
Merana Thorn, the Wyvern Reincarnate, Damon told Copper as her youthful, sparkling eyes fixated on him with a charming smile. Yeah, this is no coincidence. She’s not a captive… She allowed herself to be caught…to get to me. Well, things have gotten more complicated, bud.
He could literally smell it in the air, feel it in his bones, and sense the resonance within his soul; she was a Unity Tamer, and she wasn’t alone…far from it by the number of tattoos on her skin.
She can’t do anything about that tattoo…because then they’d have a full freaking wyvern inside their tunnels. She’s a walking national disaster, and they’re now realizing it after she removed her cloak. They’re no longer the predators.
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