The next day, Draven sighed internally.
> I know I said I wasn't gonna do shit in this life… but apparently, my old man didn't get the memo.
His father had insisted—if he couldn't use magic, he had to learn self-defense.
They stood in the training courtyard, sunlight slanting across the polished stone.
Kaelen, the vampire king himself, asked, "So, which weapon would you prefer?"
Draven blinked.
> Huh. Never really thought about that before.
In my last life, I mostly used guns. Not exactly an option here.
I dabbled in boxing. Knew my way around a knife. But honestly...
He looked down at his own hands.
> I think I'd rather just use these.
"I'll use my hands," Draven said.
Kaelen gave a nod. "Alright then. Let's begin."
---
Even though he was a half-breed, Draven knew he could regenerate.
> Still not sure about the limits though, he thought. Like, can I regrow a whole arm? Not that I'm eager to test that.
Missing a hand kinda ruins the whole 'easy life' plan I had going.
He exhaled, squared up, then rushed forward, throwing the first punch.
His father blocked it effortlessly, a faint smirk on his face.
"Try harder," he said, voice calm, almost amused.
> Damn, the old man's strong, Draven thought. Even if I went all in, I doubt I could land a scratch.
He grinned anyway. "Okay then… Old man here I come!"
He launched a barrage of punches—fast, wild, sharp. But Kaelen blocked and dodged every one with ease.
"Is that all?"
Before Draven could answer, his father added, "Okay. My turn."
Kaelen struck.
Draven managed to block it, but pain exploded in his arm.
> Shit. My hand's broken.
Kaelen chuckled. "Come on. You're still a vampire, even if you're a hybrid. A few broken bones won't kill you."
Draven winced, flexing his busted fingers. "Old man… you for real right now?"
Kaelen cracked his knuckles. "Of course. If you don't want to get your ass kicked, you'd better step it up."
> So much for self-defense. This feels more like a beatdown.
Still, he kept going—throwing blow after blow until the sun dipped behind the horizon.
---
That evening, sore and exhausted, Draven found himself with his mother, Elliana, deep in the woods outside the castle.
She crouched low, her silver hair gleaming under the moonlight.
"Now," she whispered, "stealth and escape. Quiet your breath. Watch the shadows."
> First I get my bones snapped by dad, now I'm learning how to sneak around like a damn ninja?
Man… what the fuck is this? I was lookin' for peace. Instead, I got thrown into boot camp from hell.
> This ain't the easy life I wanted. Ain't nothing easy about this shit.
He stumbled through a patch of leaves and cursed under his breath.
> Low-key, maybe it's a blessing I can't use magic. If I could, they'd probably have me out here casting spells in Latin or something.
Nah. I'm good.
Still, despite all the bruises, soreness, and frustration… there was something else. Something warm.
His parents—deadly as they were—cared.
They showed it in their own weird, violent, vampire-elf way… but it was real.
Later that night in his room, lying on his back and staring up at the moon through the window, Draven let out a breath and smiled.
> Alright. I'll give it a shot.
But I'm still gonna complain the whole damn time.