Five Years Later
We find Draven asleep in his room. He slowly opened his crimson eyes and sat up in bed.
I'm going to turn fifteen in a few days… and I still look like I'm five, he thought, a hint of frustration tugging at his expression.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and walked out the door.
---
A short while later, he reached the training room and found his father waiting.
"You took long enough," his father said.
"It's still early," Draven replied with a shrug.
"The early bird gets the worm," his father countered. "Now, let's begin."
He pulled off his shirt, revealing the chiseled physique of a grown man hardened by decades of combat.
Draven followed suit, removing his own shirt. Beneath his small frame was the muscular body of a seasoned fighter—tight, defined, and surreal for someone who still appeared to be a five-year-old. His six-pack abs gleamed under the soft lighting as he took a boxer's stance. His father mirrored him.
Without warning, Draven launched forward with blinding speed, appearing beside his father and aiming a punch at his side. It was blocked effortlessly—but he didn't stop there. He unleashed a rapid flurry of strikes, each one either dodged or deflected.
I've never landed a clean hit on my old man—not once. Just how strong is he?
His father responded with a counterattack. Draven caught it on his forearm, his stance solid.
His father smiled. He can take my hits now—without breaking any bones.
They continued to spar, exchanging blows in a rhythm only years of training could produce. Finally, Draven slowed, sweat glistening on his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.
"That's enough for today," his father said. "Go freshen up and join us for breakfast."
---
Draven left the training room and returned to his bedroom.
He took a long bath, changed into clean clothes, and made his way to the dining room, where his parents were already seated and eating. He joined them quietly, picking up his utensils.
Turns out pure-blood vampires can eat normal food, Draven mused, spearing a piece of fruit. We can even survive without blood for a long time.
His father cleared his throat and spoke up.
"I think you're strong enough to protect yourself now," he said, glancing toward Draven's mother.
She nodded in agreement. "I think so as well."
Draven furrowed his brow.
I never thought I'd ever stop training…
His mother noticed the change in his expression. "Honey, you don't seem happy about it."
"I'm happy," Draven said quickly. "Just… surprised."
She smiled gently. "So, you still want to continue training?"
Draven shook his head with a nervous chuckle. "No."
She looked a little saddened but quickly masked it with another smile. "Your birthday is coming up soon! I've invited your grandmother and your uncle."
His father added, "My brother will be coming too."
I have uncles? And a grandmother? Draven thought. Why am I only learning this now?
They continued eating in silence for a while. When they finished, Draven wiped his mouth and stood up.
"Bye, Mom. I'll be in the library if you need me," he said, giving her a small wave as he walked off.
---
Not long after, Draven arrived in the vast, quiet library. He browsed the shelves until a thick, weathered tome caught his eye.
It was bound in old black leather, with golden letters faded by time.
"The Holy Hero and the Demon Lord"
Is this some kind of fairy tale? he thought, raising an eyebrow. I can't believe there's a freak going around calling himself a hero.
He opened the book and began to read.