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[Villain] Book 2 - Chapter 9: Blood Cultivation
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 02:02:58 +0000 UTC“With the political malarkey out the way, it’s time to study! So wake up, sleepyhead!”
The bundle of bedsheets groaned. “Five more minutes…”
Damien frowned. “I thought you loved magic?”
In a voice so small he almost missed it, Fay whispered, “I can’t feel my legs.”
Damien surveyed the rest of the trashed room, which still stank of sweat, blood, and sex. “Oh, I see… Well, I will be out in the courtyard when you are ready.”
A small snow-white hand emerged from the mound of sheets and waved him away.
Turning on his heel, Damien strolled through the castle’s ancient hallways, closely resembling a ruin rather than a livable home. Peasant maids scurried around cleaning the massive fortress, but progress was slow due to the lack of cleaning products like bleach or electronic appliances like vacuums. So instead, the maids had to get down and dirty on their hands and knees and clean everything with wet rags.
Cracks filled with moss and mold, faded carpets, bare walls, and a crumbling ceiling were all on the list for repairs, but expecting to find skilled labor and materials in this barren land was unreasonable.
“Maybe I should tear it down and build again from scratch.” His voice echoed within the cold ruin, “No, there are higher priorities on my list. What use is a magnificent castle when its ruler is weak?”
Damien scowled in frustration. “How do those protagonists in novels just power level all the time? Am I just lazy? No, I just have different priorities. Right?”
He kicked up dust as he stepped into the bare courtyard. The four walls cast shadows and made the open space feel relatively sheltered, giving him enough room and freedom to practice.
He closed his eyes; it helped him focus. His B-grade mana control flared to life as he flexed his magical muscles. The mana density is so thin here! It’s like trying to download a game with one bar of 3G. Although I guess it’s still possible to train magic, it’s an absolute waste of time. Or is that me just being lazy again? Sigh.
The thin mana filtered through the Psychic mana circuit; it was about time he added aerokinesis to his repertoire. As with any spell, he could learn it as long as he met its requirements. All kinesis spells were within the Psychic magic category and were considered D-grade. The list of potential kinesis skills was near limitless, but there were a few Damien needed to have at high levels, such as aerokinesis.
Damien’s mind began affecting the real world with spectral limbs. Like an octopus, tendrils of psychic power spread out in all directions. Usually, these limbs would control metal cards, but Damien had to approach it a little differently to unlock the aerokinesis spell.
He could not make wind; only a Wind mage could do that. Instead, he could only direct or push the existing wind on a different path. So as a slightly chilly breeze blew by, Damien intercepted it with as many tendrils as possible. He smiled as he felt his control over the wind increase. Of course, the difference was negligible, but it was enough to unlock such a basic D-grade spell.
Aerokinesis [F] (New) - The ability to direct wind with the mind.
After confirming the spell on his pocket watch, he strolled through the courtyard and onto the bridge. This time he slammed his spectral limbs into the lake. The water barely rippled despite the force and mana he poured into the attack.
Hydrokinesis [F] (New) - The ability to move water with the mind.
Feeling insulted, Damien activated hydrokinesis, and the spectral limbs shimmered with a new light. He tried to pick up a pebble lying on the bridge, yet the tendrils passed straight through. However, when he smashed the tendrils into the lake, a meter-high wave emerged and traveled across the sunlit lake before slamming into the opposing shore.
Damien lamented, “Even the water is so devoid of mana. I can’t believe I caused a meter-high wave with F-grade hydrokinesis… How sad.” Feeling his motivation plummet, he finished walking across the sandstone bridge.
He turned to look at the castle gates. “I guess Fay will take a while to recover after our night of fun.” He turned to the right with a shrug and walked down a grass-covered embankment. The grass was a beautiful shade of green, waving softly in the wind as if inviting him to take a nap.
And he obliged with a flimsy justification. “I can’t train geokinesis without contact with the ground anyway.”
Getting comfortable with his hands behind his head, he listened to wildlife and the wind’s rustling. After a minute, he got bored and began to direct his tendrils to hammer into the ground beside him.
Progress was slow. Geokinesis is like trying to dig a hole with a toothpick.
Geokinesis [F] (New) - The ability to move earth and stone with the mind.
As the skill unlocked, Damien ceased his efforts and let his calm mind drift off. Then, for the first time in a while, he entered the land of dreams and memories.
***
“Brother?” A feminine voice echoed through the prison of gray stone.
“Vanity?” a hoarse and pained voice answered alongside the clink of chains. They were crude and smelled of humankind, yet they could hold him back.
Because he was weak; everyone agreed so.
“Don’t you find it strange, dear brother? Father is dead, and our bloodline is in full decline, yet Karpov beats you black and blue and locks you away in the deepest depths?”
Damien barely lifted his pounding head, and a blurry form of Vanity appeared. Her curious and playful scarlet eyes met his; she was so close he could feel her breath on his lips.
“I have a confession,” she whispered. “You aren’t weak.”
Damien croaked out with all his strength, “But Karpov and the other Elders told me—”
A delicate finger on his lips silenced his ramblings. “Brother, oh brother, what a tragic fate that has befallen you. Our bloodline is few, and our power is weak. Think, brother! You were always smart; you should notice the faults in this situation.”
Damien scrunched up his face in confusion; he hadn’t fed in weeks and was so thirsty he could hardly think. His body had run dry of vitality long ago, and he felt death just around the corner.
A hand colder than the shackles that bound him gently caressed his cheek. “If you are weak, why are you bound? Shouldn’t you be helped? There are only three of us left, yet you sit here on the brink of death? It makes no sense unless…you are a threat.”
Damien’s head fell, and he snarled, “Me, a threat? Karpov is the strongest of the younger generation…”
“Yet he fears you.” Vanity’s soft voice brushed his blood-stained ears. “Remember when you visited the Nightshade citadel and stood upon its walls? What did you feel?”
“Warmth.” Damien reached out a shackled hand and met Vanity’s stone-cold skin. “I felt warmth for the first time.”
Vanity smiled. “Did the sunlight make you weaker—”
“Stronger,” Damien said with certainty. “I had never felt so alive.”
Vanity threw her head back and cackled like a crazy person; her long white hair swung across her naked back as she strode around the cell. “I knew it! Hahahaha!” She laughed and laughed; if a vampire could cry, there would be tears in her eyes. “That bastard sits on his throne as a fake! His expression is well trained, but I could tell.”
“Tell what?” Damien slurred, his strength all but depleted.
“You may not know this, my dear brother, as you are still young, but most vampires fear the sunlight, not embrace it. We are but a rare breed! Descendants of an angel, hence our beauty and white hair, but most importantly, our resistance to the sun god’s wrath!”
“Get to the point already,” Damien hissed as his vision blurred.
Vanity poked his nose. “Ignorant brother, how can you not understand? You inherited the most from our dear mother; you are the Daywalker. Not Karpov. That’s why he fears you. He could never dethrone you if you both reached the same power level as the sun would always have your back.”
Damien felt pressure on the shackles before they exploded into a thousand pieces; Vanity had set him free. He fell into her open arms, and she caressed his hair. “Silly brother, take a drink.”
Her slender neck pressed against his fangs; it smelled delicious, succulent, enticing, fresh.
Yet his weak arm pushed her away. “Sister, your blood is precious and pure; allow me to feast on a slave instead of sullying you.”
Vanity giggled. “Same as always, brother; you are the only vampire I know that refuses to devour the blood of the strong.”
Damien weakly smiled; his head rested on Vanity’s petite shoulder, and his knees scraped the stone below. “You wish for me to feed so I can become mad like Karpov and Father? Even you show disturbing tendencies sometimes, sister.”
Her tone turned cold. “What I do is none of your business”—her hand grabbed a tuft of his hair—“dear brother.”
A timid female human, likely a vassal of Vanity’s, tried to hide in the corner during their embrace. Her eyes met Damien’s, and she shuddered while gripping her knees, attempting to blend into the cell’s darkness.
“Blood slave, present yourself,” Vanity whispered, and the human obliged despite the terror in her eyes. “Do you like my gift, brother? I fattened her up just for you.”
“Sister is so thoughtful.”
The woman shuffled over and presented her neck. Damien responded in kind with two fangs to an artery.
She screamed and howled as blood flowed like a fountain, but the blood contract kept her from fleeing.
Damien drank his fill, and his wounds healed, his dizziness subsided, and his mind cleared.
He felt alive again.
As the human body slumped to the floor like a lifeless husk, Damien asked his sister, “Won’t Karpov be mad you are here?”
She nodded. “If he finds out.”
“Court?”
“Yes. It has been going on for weeks. They are dividing the land between the houses, so I have a few years to spare with you. Now, enough of that. Let me teach you how to grow stronger.”
“Here?” Damien looked around the tiny cell he had spent the last year in.
Vanity frowned. “Yes, anywhere else, and there will be eyes and ears. I may hate living, but I don’t wish to die just yet, especially in Karpov’s hands. Now pay attention!”
Damien hated it when she lectured him, especially about vampire cultivation.
“As you already know, since I have told you a thousand times,” Vanity began, pointing an accusing finger, “yet you never listen, I shall impart my wisdom upon you once more.”
She sat cross-legged on the stone floor, her flat chest puffed out with misplaced pride. “Vampires devour the vitality and mana from the living and absorb it into ourselves. However, if all you do is absorb and allow the power to run freely throughout your body, it is wasted!”
“The dream of every vampire is to replace their body with a body of Ichor blood, the blood of gods. To reach such a stage, one must condense their blood thousands of times. Once the blood is so dense that a single drop has the mana of a thousand spells, only then can you begin the Ichor ascension.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know all of this, but condensing blood drives us mad with blood lust and destroys our sanity; few ever reach the threshold of godhood with a functioning brain. You can only take so much from this world before it fights back.”
“The weak shouldn’t talk back.” Vanity’s fist came faster than Damien could perceive; the shock sent him tumbling back and—
***
Damien opened his eyes to a calm night sky and a gorgeous woman lying beside him on the grass. Her sleeping face was peaceful and snoring away on his chest. Her raven-black hair swayed slightly with the nightly winds.
Damien pulled hair strands away from Fay’s mouth and set them behind her ear. He then recollected everything he had learned from the dream. Noble vampires feared the sun, Karpov feared him, and he feared blood.
Clenching his fist, he decided. It was time to become a true vampire. He needed to cultivate Ichor blood.
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Owen Taylor
Tftcs
