Hours had passed, and Bruno was still training, exhausted, keeping his vitae flowing constantly. Every movement demanded extreme effort, every attempt seemed to draw a piece of his very essence. Flávia, sitting at a distance, no longer wore her playful smile; concern was evident on her face—not just from seeing Bruno struggle against the mountain and fatigue, but from witnessing the obsessive way he threw himself into each exercise.
Worried… Bruno knew no limits when he trained. He immersed himself in absolute effort, pushing past physical and mental barriers, almost to the point of madness. Every drop of vitae channeled carried intensity, passion, and a fervor that was almost palpable. For some reason, he was intense in everything he did, as if the very world depended on his dedication.
Sitting in a near-lotus position, Flávia spoke softly, almost a whisper that cut through the heavy air of the mountain:
— Bruno… that's enough. But training like this will wear down your Blood Star and could even harm your ability to use vitae.
Her gentle voice pierced through Bruno's exhaustion. Absorbed in his inner energy, he felt his eyes slowly return to normal upon hearing Flávia. When he turned to look at her, he noticed her unusual posture: a gesture with her hand indicating that he should come closer and lie down, as if inviting him to surrender to calm.
Calmly, Bruno approached. Without any shame, he rested his head in her lap. Instantly, he felt all the weight and pressure he had carried dissipate, as if a wave had swept away every worry, allowing him to rest by a quiet, serene beach.
As she stroked his hair, Flávia looked deeply into his eyes and spoke, her voice full of sincerity and concern:
— Bruno, my love… you are too intense…
Confused, Bruno furrowed his brow. Too intense? We hadn't even been very close over the past few days because of the relentless training.
Flávia noticed the palpable confusion in his gaze and continued:
— It's not about us, darling. You're intense in everything you do. When it comes to us, that's fine—that's how it should be. But in your training, in fights… you push yourself to a dangerous extreme.
As she lightly brushed his face, Bruno listened carefully, unsure of what to say. He loved Flávia with every fiber of his being and couldn't bear to see her sad because of his actions.
— So… what should I do? — he asked, looking into Flávia's eyes, clearly full of doubt and vulnerability.
— Trust.
— Trust?
— Yes. Trust, Bruno. Trust me, trust Selena, my mother, Valessia, Nerys. We are here to guide you. Your dedication is valuable, but it seems you don't trust us and prefer to rely solely on your own determination.
— So I'll say it again, Bruno: trust us. Let us guide you. Your effort is welcome, but within acceptable limits. Don't rush to become stronger. Even with intense training, it will still take time.
— When you reach a strength similar to mine and Selena's, each step will be slow. I myself could have been considered a near-Count for at least ten years, and even so, surpassing this level without the 500-year barrier is extremely difficult. Even with intense training, without great risks or opportunities, it's almost impossible.
— Near-Count? — Bruno interrupted, surprised. — I thought you had the strength of a king or even an elder.
Flávia laughed at his innocence:
— My mother must have forgotten a few details she considers irrelevant. But above the Baron level, the difference is enormous. Without reaching 500 years, advancing is almost impossible.
Curious, Bruno continued:
— Serapynhe, your mother, said this sequence of levels is somewhat meaningless… How should we refer to them then?
Flávia smiled and answered patiently:
— Bruno, let me clarify. Training affects your battle capacity, not your level. As you've seen, there are many ways to improve your skills. The 500, 1000, and 1500-year barriers represent the condensation of powers, and each level marks the limit of battle capacity. Up to 500 years, it's near-Count; up to 1000, near-Elder; 1000 to 1500, Elders. Above 1500, they are called Primordial Elders, like Lord Dracula.
— But beyond 1500 years, there's no more condensation. Vampires grow stronger slowly, constantly training. An example is my mother, who has never stopped developing.
Flávia watched Bruno carefully, assessing if her explanation had calmed his mind. It seemed so; he looked more serene. Within minutes, he had fallen asleep across her lap.
Vush.
Through the smoke, a figure appeared atop Mount Influir. Its grave voice reverberated in Flávia's ears:
— You are too soft with him, Flávia. Even with limits, the more he trains, the stronger he will become. Getting him used to this routine is ideal.
It was Serapynhe, observing Bruno asleep.
— Leave him. He always exerts himself too much, and I don't like seeing him obsessed with everything.
— Let him rest for a few hours. He deserves it — Flávia replied, stroking Bruno's cheek gently and tenderly.
Humf.
The figure vanished with a puff, silently. Satisfied or dissatisfied, only she knew the reason.
Looking at Bruno lying in her lap, Flávia thought: What a wonderful and troublesome man mine is… sweet dreams. Dream of me.
She then placed a soft kiss on his forehead, letting him sleep peacefully… until training resumed.
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