When John woke up the next day, a sharp knocking on the door pulled him from his sleep. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and called out, "Please, come in."
On this particular morning, the maid who walked in to deliver his daily glass of blood was different. She wasn't a vampire like Elena. Instead, she was one of the human maids who worked within the castle walls. John watched her closely as she approached.
"You are a human, right?" John asked.
The maid placed the glass of blood on the table with a steady hand. Her expression was neutral as she gave a simple answer. "Yes, Young Master."
John wanted to confirm it because something had changed. As he sat there, he realized he could actually smell the difference between a vampire and a human being. The scent was very faint, almost like a distant memory, but it was definitely there.
John thought to himself, "This is weird. Why am I able to smell the difference between human and vampire all of a sudden? Is this some kind of new ability or what? I guess my power is probably slowly developing on its own."
"Does Master have more questions?" the maid asked. She stood completely still, her posture stiff and formal.
"No, you can leave. Thank you," John replied.
He watched her walk out, thinking about how strange the human maids acted. They were so different compared to the vampire maids he was used to. He sat there for a moment, wondering why they were so robotic, but he eventually discarded the thoughts. He had a long day ahead of him. John drank the glass of blood, feeling the strength it provided, and headed to the bathroom to get a quick shower. He needed to be fresh before heading down to the training grounds where Reina was already waiting.
When John arrived at the grounds, Reina was standing in the center of the field, holding a thick wooden stick. She checked the time as he approached. "You are late, John."
John gave Reina a wry smile, reaching up to scratch the back of his head nervously. "Sorry, Aunt Reina. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
Reina gave a slight, tired sigh, but her eyes remained sharp. "It does not matter. To make up for the lost time, you are going to start jogging until your legs break. When they finally give out and you recover, you are going to do it all over again, but this time while carrying a 30 kg bag."
John stood there, shocked. He stared at her, wondering if this woman truly thought he was some kind of robot that didn't feel pain. But looking at her serious face, he knew she wasn't joking. In the end, he could only grit his teeth and nod. He had made a promise to himself. If this was the path to becoming stronger, he would walk it until he couldn't walk anymore.
John did as he was told and ran until his legs gave out and fell to the ground exhausted, when John recovered, he then picked up the 30 kg bag and started to jog again until his leg gave out, John was in so much pain that he wanted to cry, but drinking blood slowly helped his legs to recover. After 2 hours of running and recovering, he was then ordered to spar again.
John then said "Before I spar aunt Reina, I bought elemental stones and I would like you to teach me on how these stones work". Reina walked up to John "all you have to do John is absorb the energy in the stones and release it through your hands, but I have a way to make the learning a little bit easier"
Reina stepped forward, her expression unreadable as she raised her hand. She pressed her index finger firmly against the center of John's forehead. In an instant, a sharp jolt of information flooded his mind, feeling like a massive rush of memories and mental blueprints for channeling energy. John's eyes snapped open as the connection broke, his head spinning slightly from the weight of the new data.
He took a steadying breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out the single fire elemental stone he possessed. It was a rough, unrefined white stone, jagged at the edges, but at its translucent core, a small flame flickered like a trapped campfire. Knowing he had to make this count, he gripped the stone tightly. He didn't just rely on Reina's advanced mental map; he recalled the humble shop and the raspy voice of old man Clarence. He remembered the circular hand gestures Clarence had used while explaining that the stone would do the work for him if he just held it and let the energy seep in.
John decided to trust the old man's simple logic to anchor Reina's complex instructions. He relaxed his grip and stopped fighting the stone. Almost immediately, he felt it. A small, steady stream of fire energy began to seep into his palm, exactly as Clarence had promised. It felt like warm honey flowing through his veins, traveling up his arm and settling in his chest. With Reina's mental "gates" now open, he knew exactly how to direct that heat.
"That's it... now focus and release it through your hand," Reina commanded.
John opened his hand slowly, pushing the heat toward his fingertips with a single, sharp thought. In the center of his palm, a small, vibrant flame ignited, mirroring the one inside the stone. The orange light reflected in his wide eyes, and he could feel the actual temperature of the magic radiating against his skin. He couldn't hide his excitement, his modern humor bubbling over.
"Yo, I'm actually doing it!" he shouted, laughing as he struck a dramatic, wide-stanced pose. "I am now the fire lord! Bow before me, hahahaha!"
"Calm down, little fire lord," Reina said, a hint of a challenge in her voice. "Now try to shoot that fire from your palm. Practice on those dummies over there."
John turned toward the wooden targets, feeling like he could take on anything. He tried to thrust the flame forward, but the fire fizzled out before it could even leave his hand. He failed a second time, the flame simply dying as he lost his focus. On the third try, he channeled the "release" Clarence had mentioned. He shot a ball of fire that soared across the yard and set one of the dummies ablaze. Encouraged, John practiced relentlessly for an hour and a half, throwing flame after flame until the internal fire in the white stone finally flickered out. The rock grew cold and brittle, finally turning into fine dust that slipped through his fingers.
Reina watched the remains fall to the ground. "Now I want you to spar against Nate and Tip. I want to see how much you progressed."
Nate and Tip stood inside the training ring, their eyes locked on John. Nate stepped forward, deciding he would be the first to test the new and "improved" John.
John took a wide stance, his adrenaline still pumping from the fire practice. "Come on," he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he beckoned Nate closer. "Come get this fade."
Nate paused, his expression shifting to pure confusion. He glanced over at Tip. "What fade?"
Tip just shrugged, equally lost, but then his eyes widened as he saw John blur into motion. "Look out!" Tip cried.
Nate snapped his head back toward John, but it was too late. John had closed the distance in a flash, throwing a straight punch with every bit of speed he had left.
Bam!
The punch landed square on Nate's jaw. Nate stumbled back, his eyes wide with genuine shock. He hadn't expected John to be that fast after a two-hour run. He quickly recovered his footing, wiping his mouth as he looked over at Reina standing on the sidelines. She gave him a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Nate's confused look vanished, replaced by a sharp, competitive grin. "It's on then."
He lunged forward. Nate didn't hold back, throwing a heavy punch that whistled through the air. John managed to bring his arms up just in time to block it, but the sheer force of the blow vibrated through his entire body. His bones felt like they were rattling.
Damn it, I'm not gonna last long, John thought, his lungs already beginning to burn again.
The two of them sparred for thirty grueling minutes. John was moving faster than before, but Nate was more experienced. Every time John thought he had an opening, Nate was there to shut it down.
"Move your head more, you dummy!" Reina's voice barked from the side.
John tried to focus on her instructions, attempting to weave and bob, but his exhaustion was making him sloppy. He zigged when he should have zagged, and Nate's fists began finding their mark. He took several sharp punches to the face, the skin around his eyes and jaw starting to swell and throb.
After fifteen more minutes of being a human punching bag, Reina finally called it. "Stop! You have twenty minutes to get yourself together. Then Tip will take over."
John slumped to the ground, gasping for air and trying to let his vampire healing deal with the swelling. When the time was up, he forced himself back onto his feet to face Tip. Hoping to end it quickly, John charged forward, aiming a lightning-fast punch at Tip's face.
Tip didn't even flinch. He simply stepped into the space and delivered a powerful front kick directly into John's stomach.
The impact was like being hit by a sledgehammer. The air was forcefully ejected from John's lungs, and he collapsed onto the dirt, clutching his midsection. He laid there for thirty seconds, the world spinning as he struggled to remember how to breathe.
Damn, that shit hurt, he thought, his vision slowly clearing as he stared up at the sky.
John laid on the ground for thirty seconds, the world spinning as he struggled to remember how to breathe. Every rib felt like it had been kicked by a horse. But then, his fingers dug into the dirt. Slowly, painfully, he forced his body to obey. He dragged himself back up to his feet, swaying slightly as he faced Tip again.
"Come on, you piece of shit," John said out loud, his voice raspy but defiant.
Tip's eyes narrowed, surprised by the sudden flare of aggression. He came forward instantly, launching a brutal 1-2 combo that snapped John's head back. John tried to make space between them to catch his breath, but Tip stayed glued to him, not giving him a second to recover.
As Tip closed in, a memory flashed through John's mind, hours spent on the couch with his father, watching MMA takedowns on the TV. It was a human move, something a vampire warrior wouldn't expect.
John suddenly dropped low, diving beneath Tip's guard. He grabbed Tip with both hands on his thighs, locked his grip, and used every ounce of his strength to lift Tip off the ground before slamming him hard into the dirt.
Tip's expression was pure shock as he hit the ground. John didn't waste the opening; he pinned him and began repeatedly punching Tip. On the side of the ring, Reina watched, her eyebrows shooting up. She was genuinely impressed by the move.
However, because Tip hadn't been using his full power, he was eventually able to find his leverage and push John off. Tip scrambled up, breathing a bit harder; John had clearly done some damage.
Tip smiled at John. "Young master, you impressed me... but now I am going to get a bit serious."
Before John could even blink, Tip surged forward. He buried a punch into John's stomach, and as John doubled over, Tip ended the fight with a massive uppercut that sent John into total darkness.
Later that day, when John finally woke up, Reina was standing nearby. "You did good, John. I am impressed with the last technique you did. Go rest for the day."
John nodded weakly and began the long, painful walk back to his room. His mind was heavy with thought. I did a little progress today, even if they did not use their full power. But one of these days... I will force them to.
====
In a mansion far removed from the Crimson estate, the sounds of rhythmic music echoed through a lavish ballroom. A man and a woman were locked in a dance, moving through the sharp, synchronized steps of the cha-cha.
The man was Carlos Decker, a powerful vampire who maintained a complex business relationship with Leonidas. His partner was a human woman, her face pale and drenched in sweat. They had been dancing for hours without a single break. The woman's movements were becoming heavy, and her slippers were stained red where her feet had begun to blister and bleed against the polished floor.
"Master... I am really tired," the woman gasped, her voice trembling. "And my feet... they are hurting so much. Can we please take a rest?"
Carlos Decker stopped moving. He looked down at her and offered a smile that seemed warm, almost fatherly. "Of course, dear," he spoke in a soft, gentle tone.
He reached out and cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. For a fleeting second, the woman looked relieved, but then she saw the coldness in his eyes. Her expression shifted to one of pure terror, but before she could utter a single word of plea, Carlos twisted his hands with a sickening crack, snapping the woman's neck.
He let her limp body slump to the floor without a second thought. "Guards," he called out calmly.
One of his men entered the room immediately, bowing his head. "Dispose of this body, will you?" Carlos commanded, as if asking to clear away a broken glass.
"Yes, master," the guard replied. He hoisted the woman's body over his shoulder and disappeared from the room.
Not long after, another servant entered. "Master, we have a guest."
Before the servant could even finish his sentence or leave the room, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was a woman, ancient and withered, her skin a map of deep wrinkles. She was draped in a heavy, black hooded cloak that seemed to swallow the light around her. She moved with a slow, deliberate pace toward Carlos.
Carlos didn't seem surprised. He walked over to a side table and began pouring himself a glass of whisky. "So, do you have anything for me, Vivian?" he asked, the ice clinking against the glass.
"Yes," Vivian rasped, her voice like dry parchment. "I found the magical scroll. The one that can help you take down the Crimsons once and for all."
Carlos Decker paused, a dark light gleaming in his eyes. A slow, evil smile spread across his face. "Good. Very good."