Chapter 966 – "Queens, Princesses, and Warnings"
As for the dragons, they found themselves helpless.
They searched high and low, sent emissaries into hidden valleys and volcanic peaks — yet the trail of their princess led to only one place. Alex's house.
Reyne, the proud Dragon Princess with white-lavender hair and blazing purple eyes, had already chosen to live with him. Her fire and void aura was unmistakable, her presence gone from their citadels and treasures. When they demanded answers, her father's voice thundered across their council:
"Do not meddle. She has chosen. And you do not know what might happen if you dare to cross him."
The dragons fell silent. Not out of loyalty, but out of fear. They all remembered the man with black hair and black eyes.
As for the vampires, they didn't even attempt to ask.
For the Vampire Queen Ileana, silver-haired and crimson-eyed, had already spoken. Elegant and regal, she carried herself like the night incarnate. And though she made no declarations, her mere acknowledgment was enough:
"Yes. He has many harem members."
That was all it took. Her word was law.
The vampire lords, who had long whispered about her bond with Alex, bowed their heads. They had known for years, and it no longer shocked them. In fact, some even smirked quietly — because in their eyes, a queen who loved such a man was no weakness, but a mark of destiny.
Her daughter, Princess Mircella, was even more open. Silver hair and ruby eyes shining, she clung to Alex with playful affection, never hiding her fondness. She laughed at the idea of competition and said openly:
"He already has so many lovers. So what? I don't mind. I have him, and that's enough."
Her words silenced any who might have dared to complain.
But it was in Alfheim, the kingdom of the elves, that things reached their peak.
Dozens of noble families approached Princess Vira, the emerald-haired high elf with golden eyes. Once, she had been pride incarnate — looking down on all races. But now, she had become something more. The aura that radiated from her suffocated even the most arrogant families. Her presence was heavy, divine — as though she stood at the threshold of godhood.
When they came to her, begging, pleading, hinting at Alex's fortune… she cut them down with a single cold glare.
"I know what you are here to ask," she said, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "Do not think it. Do not speak it."
The nobles froze, trembling as if their very lungs were being crushed.
"If any of you dare to ask me again," she continued, her tone sharper than a blade, "I will order your execution. Alex is mine. His fortune is not yours to covet."
The hall fell silent. No one dared to breathe. And from that day, none in Alfheim questioned her again.
For all her pride, Princess Vira's love was absolute. She adored Alex with all her heart, cherished his children, and even delighted whenever little Yuka called her "Vira-mama." She accepted his harem, but never without reminding them:
"I am above you all — except for Ciel, whom I call my sister."
Her collar and leash, her devotion and pride, were hers alone to give to Alex. And the rest of Alfheim knew better than to dream otherwise.
Beyond the vampires, elves, and dragons, even the divine realms had already tied themselves to Alex.
The Shinto gods of the eastern lands and the Asgardians of the north were both on good terms with him. Their bonds with Alex were not of fear or rivalry, but of alliance and respect. Because of that, they never sought to interfere in the chaos of mortals and lesser races scrambling for his fortune.
For Alex, these relationships were simply a part of life. He thought little of it, as though being welcomed by gods was nothing worth mentioning at all.
Alex crossed the veil of night to a place where shadows were thick and the moon's glow shone crimson. The vampire courts were already in silence, their nobles whispering but daring not to speak his name aloud.
In the heart of the ancient citadel, he was greeted not by guards, nor by attendants, but by the Queen herself.
Ileana, the Vampire Queen, stood in the grand hall. Silver hair cascaded like moonlight, her crimson eyes carrying the calm weight of centuries. Dressed in black velvet lined with blood-red silk, she radiated elegance so absolute that even kings of other races would bow instinctively.
But when she saw Alex, her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"You rarely come here yourself," she said softly, her voice echoing like music through the chamber. "It seems tonight, I am fortunate."
Her daughter appeared soon after.
Mircella, silver-haired and ruby-eyed, carried none of her mother's regal restraint. She ran to him without hesitation, her playfulness shining through as she clung to his arm. "You came!" she said, her voice bright, affectionate, as if she were greeting her lover after a long day apart. "I was just about to complain you'd forgotten me."
Alex chuckled faintly and stroked her hair, and the princess leaned into his touch, her earlier pout melting into warmth.
The court nobles who saw this lowered their gazes. For them, this was confirmation. The Queen acknowledged him, the Princess adored him — their entire race had long since accepted it, but to see it openly left them trembling in reverence.
Ileana approached him slowly, each step deliberate, until she stood close enough to meet his eyes directly. Her elegance never wavered, but her words were simple, intimate:
"You know they whisper about you again. About fortune, about power, about your harem. I told them the truth: yes, you have many. And yes, I remain."
Her hand brushed lightly against his chest, as if to remind him that even queens could bow their pride when it came to him.
Mircella, still clinging, giggled. "They'll never understand. I don't mind sharing. Not when it's you."
The Queen, the Princess, and the man they loved stood together in the hall of night. Outside, the vampire lords dared not breathe a word — for in their eyes, this was not Alex visiting them.
It was their queen and princess welcoming him home.
Once the formal greetings ended, Ileana gestured lightly with her hand. The grand hall emptied in silence; attendants, nobles, and guards vanished into shadow. Heavy doors closed with a deep echo, leaving only the three of them together.
The suffocating weight of courtly presence dissolved, replaced by a gentler air.
"Finally," Mircella sighed, tugging on Alex's sleeve like an impatient child. "You never visit just to see us. You're always busy fixing the world or playing with your other lovers." Her pout was exaggerated, but the affection behind it was real.
Alex smiled faintly and reached out, brushing his fingers through her silver hair. "You were on my mind."
Her crimson eyes lit up, and she leaned into his chest with satisfaction.
Ileana, watching, moved gracefully closer. Without her queenly mask, she was quieter, warmer. Her hand found Alex's arm, resting there lightly. "You know," she said softly, "they may see me as their queen, untouchable and eternal… but with you, I feel more like a woman than a ruler."
Her gaze lifted, deep crimson meeting his black eyes. "And that, Alex, is why I stay."
Mircella laughed gently at her mother's words. "See? Even she admits it. You make us forget titles." She hugged him tighter, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "When you're here, we're not queen or princess. We're just yours."
Alex held them both, his hands steady and warm. The contrast between them struck him, as always — Ileana with her timeless elegance, Mircella with her playful affection. Yet in this quiet chamber, both belonged to him fully, their pride surrendered not out of weakness, but out of choice.
The night outside was endless, yet the chamber felt small and intimate, like a secret kept between only the three of them.
For Alex, it wasn't about vampires, courts, or titles.
It was simply about the two women before him — a queen and a princess who chose to share their eternity with him.
The silence of the chamber shifted. What had begun as tender words soon thickened with heat.
Mircella was the first to move — she tilted her face upward and kissed him, not shy, but sweet and lingering, her lips tasting faintly of wine. "Don't leave so soon," she whispered against his mouth. "You owe us more than just words."
Before Alex could reply, Ileana stepped closer. Her hand touched his cheek with slow, regal grace, and then her lips followed — cooler, deliberate, filled with the centuries of restraint she never showed to anyone but him.
One daughter playful, the mother elegant — both yielding to the same man.
Alex's arms tightened around them, pulling them against him. Mircella giggled as her body pressed to his, while Ileana sighed softly, surrendering the poise of a queen to the hunger of a woman.
Clothes loosened, fell, forgotten on the floor. Pale skin gleamed in candlelight, silver hair spilling like rivers across the sheets when he carried them both to the bed.
Mircella was eager, playful — she straddled him boldly, crimson eyes shining with mischief as she lowered herself onto him, gasping at the stretch. "Mmm… it's too much, but I missed it…" she murmured, clinging to him as her movements quickened with desperate affection.
Beside her, Ileana joined with quiet dominance — her fingers guiding his hand to her breast, her lips finding his throat. "Don't forget me," she whispered, her usually regal tone trembling with raw desire. When he shifted to claim her too, her composure finally cracked into soft, shuddering moans.
The rhythm of their bodies filled the chamber — Mircella's playful cries, Ileana's elegant sighs, and Alex's steady strength binding them together.
For hours, the bed became their throne — the queen abandoning her crown, the princess abandoning her play, both giving themselves fully to the man who had already conquered their hearts.
By the time the night waned, they lay entwined around him, Mircella curled like a satisfied kitten on his chest while Ileana rested gracefully at his side, her fingers idly tracing his skin.
Mircella's voice was soft, drowsy. "Don't wait so long before visiting again…"
And Ileana, regal even in exhaustion, whispered simply:
"You are ours — as we are yours."
The night stretched on, and in the queen's chamber, time seemed to lose its weight.
Mircella was the one who demanded attention first, playful and unashamed. She shifted against him with girlish boldness, riding him with needy gasps, her laughter mixing with moans. She whispered little confessions in between breaths: "I don't care how many lovers you have… I just want to be the one who makes you smile the most."
Her words weren't a challenge, but a plea — affectionate, possessive in her own gentle way. Each time Alex moved within her, she clung tighter, silver hair falling wildly around her flushed face.
Beside them, Ileana was different. She didn't compete with her daughter, didn't rush. She kissed Alex's hand softly, pulling it to her lips, then guided it down her body, regal even as she trembled with want. "Slowly," she murmured, her crimson eyes locked onto his. "Let me feel you as a woman, not as a queen."
When Alex entered her, Ileana closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, as if she were savoring the very moment of surrender. Her movements were measured, elegant, her body curving against his with grace — but when pleasure overtook her composure, her voice broke into helpless, beautiful cries.
Mircella teased her through it, her laughter soft and mischievous. "Mother… you sound like me now."
Ileana flushed, but did not rebuke her. She only held Alex tighter, whispering against his ear, "Don't stop. Make me forget the weight of eternity."
Hours passed in shifting rhythms — Mircella's playful hunger, Ileana's regal surrender, Alex's steady dominance binding them both together. He gave them what they craved, not as separate women, but as lovers entwined by the same truth: they belonged to him, and he to them.
When exhaustion finally softened their bodies, Mircella curled up against Alex's chest, smiling faintly even in her half-dreams. Ileana lay on his other side, regal composure returned, though her eyes were softer, warmer than any throne room had ever seen.
"Tonight," she whispered, "I was not a queen. I was only yours."
Alex kissed her forehead gently, and her fingers laced with his. Mircella's hand reached out too, slipping into theirs with sleepy affection.
In the quiet of that private chamber, beneath the veil of night, a queen, a princess, and their chosen man lay together, hearts beating as one.
Dawn crept slowly across the sky, pale light filtering through the heavy curtains of the queen's chamber. The world outside was silent, as if the night itself dared not disturb what had transpired.
Mircella stirred first. She blinked against the soft light, then grinned lazily as she found herself still pressed against Alex's chest. Her silver hair was a tangled halo, her lips curved into a playful pout. "Mmm… I could wake up like this forever," she murmured, pressing a kiss against his skin before burying her face against him again.
Ileana rose more gracefully. Even with her hair tousled and her body bare, she carried herself with quiet dignity. She adjusted the sheets lightly around them, then looked down at Alex with a serene smile. "You never fail to remind me," she said softly, "that there is joy in being a woman, not just a ruler."
Alex brushed a hand through her long silver hair, his expression calm, affectionate. For a moment, the three of them shared nothing but silence — the kind of silence that needed no words, because it was filled with understanding.
Mircella peeked up at them, her crimson eyes sparkling mischievously. "So… when are you visiting again?"
Alex chuckled low in his throat, the sound making both women's hearts stir. "Soon," he promised.
The promise was enough. Ileana leaned down to place one last, tender kiss on his lips, while Mircella hugged him tighter, humming happily.
Thus the night ended, and the morning began — not with crowns or courts, but with the quiet intimacy of a queen, a princess, and the man they had chosen to share their eternity with.
Chapter 967 – "The Taste of Fortune"
The morning passed in quiet comfort. The Queen's chamber had shed its heat from the night before, replaced by the calm ritual of tea.
Alex sat with Ileana and Mircella at a low table, steam rising gently from cups carved of obsidian glass. Ileana sipped with her usual elegance, her posture flawless even in such intimacy. Mircella, in contrast, swung her legs under the table, cupping her tea with both hands as she leaned against Alex's shoulder, affectionate as ever.
It was a simple moment — but one that felt rarer than any treasure.
The serenity was broken only when the doors opened. A tall figure entered, bowing deeply until his forehead nearly touched the floor. It was one of the vampire lords — a man whose name carried weight in the blood courts, yet who now stood humbled before his queen.
"My Queen," he said respectfully, voice steady. "I have returned from the border. There is little disturbance. What is your command?"
Ileana set her cup down gently. "Do as I have already told you," she said simply, her tone calm but final.
The lord bowed again, relief flooding his face at the simplicity of her order. "At once." He turned and made his way out, moving with the brisk purpose of one eager to fulfill his queen's will.
But before he could cross the threshold, Alex's voice cut through the air.
"Wait."
The vampire lord stopped at once, turning back with wide eyes. To be addressed by him directly was not something any lord had expected.
Alex rose slowly, his black eyes fixed on the man. "Would you mind if I tried something?"
The silence in the chamber grew heavy. Mircella tilted her head in curiosity. Ileana's crimson gaze lingered on Alex, calm but attentive.
The vampire lord straightened his back, respect written in every line of his body. "My lord," he said firmly, though his voice carried the faintest tremor. "What is it you wish to try?"
Alex's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "I want to test the method I used before — the one that bestows luck."
The lord's eyes widened. For a moment, he was struck silent, but then he dropped to one knee, head bowed low in reverence.
"If it is your will," he said solemnly, "then I shall gladly accept."
The room grew still. The queen, the princess, and the vampire lord all waited, as Alex prepared to test once again the mysterious gift that had shaken the entire world.
The vampire lord remained kneeling, head bowed in reverence. The chamber was so silent that even the faint clink of Mircella setting her cup down seemed loud.
Alex's tone was calm, almost casual, but the weight of his words filled the room.
"The last time I granted luck," he began, "it was to a simple man — an ordinary worker by your standards. I asked him to test it. He gambled, wandered, made choices without fear."
Mircella's crimson eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Ah, the man from the news? The one who won the lottery and stumbled into treasures?"
Alex gave a faint nod. "Yes. If I had to compare it to something measurable, I would call it… Level Three. Enough to bend events, enough to make the improbable seem natural. But still within the realm of chance."
The vampire lord looked up slightly, his breath catching. Level Three had already changed the fate of an ordinary mortal so drastically that it became a story told across nations.
"What," Ileana asked softly, her voice calm but steady, "do you intend now?"
Alex's black eyes fixed on the kneeling lord. "I want to know what happens when I push it further. If Level Three can move a man to stumble into fortune… what would Level Four look like?"
The lord swallowed hard, his voice respectful but firm. "If it pleases you, then use me as your test."
Mircella leaned closer to Alex, whispering playfully against his ear. "Careful… if you make him too lucky, he might trip over a mountain of gold and forget who it came from."
Alex smirked faintly at her teasing. "That won't happen. Even with fortune, people never forget the source."
His fingers rose, poised. The queen and princess both watched intently. The vampire lord braced himself, bowing even deeper.
"Then," Alex said softly, "let's see what Level Four looks like."
The air itself seemed to tighten in anticipation.
The tension in the air broke with a simple snap.
Alex lowered his hand, his expression calm, as though he had done nothing at all. But the ripple of power that followed was undeniable — subtle, invisible, yet so heavy that even Ileana felt it brush against her immortal senses.
The vampire lord shivered, though no pain touched him. It was as if the world itself had leaned ever so slightly in his favor.
"Rise," Alex said.
The lord obeyed, standing tall but with his head still bowed in respect.
"Your luck will last two days," Alex continued. "But don't seek out miracles. Don't chase treasure or gamble it away. I want you to live as you normally do — as a lord, with your duties, your daily paths. That is how I will see what this level truly does."
The vampire lord placed a hand over his chest and bowed deeply. "As you command. For two days, I will live my life as I always have. If fortune finds me, I will accept it with gratitude — and return to you with the truth of what I encountered."
Mircella leaned back with a smile, her crimson eyes glittering. "Ooooh… this is exciting. Like watching a story unfold."
Ileana's gaze remained steady on Alex, her lips curving ever so slightly. "You're testing fate itself… and using one of my lords as your subject."
Alex met her eyes without hesitation. "If fortune can bend reality for an ordinary man, then I want to see how it changes the course of someone who already lives in privilege and power. That will tell me what I need to know."
The vampire lord bowed once more before taking his leave. His steps were firm, but as he crossed the threshold, the faintest smile touched his lips — a rare thing for a vampire of his stature. Even he could feel it: the weight of fortune wrapping itself around him.
The doors closed behind him.
"Two days," Alex murmured. "Let's see what happens."
The vampire lord returned to his estate, resolved to live exactly as Alex had commanded — nothing out of the ordinary, no gambling, no treasure hunting, no change in routine. He sat in his study, attending to reports, expecting nothing unusual.
But fate had already begun to stir.
In the halls of his mansion, a servant was sweeping the high balconies, dusting the shelves where relics and old books were kept. His broom slipped, knocking loose a panel in the woodwork. Something small and heavy tumbled out, clattering against the marble floor.
The servant bent down, frowning, and brushed the dust away.
A glimmer of ancient runes shone beneath the grime.
"...My lord," the servant stammered, rushing into the study. "Forgive the interruption, but I believe… I believe I have found something."
The vampire lord raised an eyebrow. He took the object into his hands, its weight instantly familiar. With slow care, he wiped away the centuries of dust and cobwebs.
His crimson eyes widened.
It was a relic from his family's earliest days — an ancestral artifact said to have been lost forever. Forged in the age when their bloodline first rose to prominence, it carried not only prestige but power, bound to his blood by ancient wards.
For generations, it had been considered gone, swallowed by time. Yet here it was, resting in his hands, discovered not through search or battle… but by the simple act of a servant dusting the house.
The lord's fingers tightened around it. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed awe.
"…We thought this would never be seen again."
The servants around him whispered in disbelief. The relic was more than history; it was proof that his lineage remained unbroken, blessed, chosen.
The vampire lord lifted his gaze toward the high windows of his estate, where the dawn light filtered through. He remembered Alex's words: Live as you normally do. Let fortune find you.
And now, on the very first day, fate had delivered him a treasure he had once mourned as lost.
The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly.
"This… is only the beginning."
Barely an hour after the rediscovery of the ancestral relic, another knock came at the doors of the estate. This time it was hurried, urgent — one of his captains, breathless with news.
"My lord," the captain said, kneeling. "We bring word from the borderlands. The outlaw who stole from your vaults years ago — he is dead."
The vampire lord's crimson eyes narrowed. "Dead? By whose hand?"
"No one's, my lord. His own." The captain's voice carried disbelief. "He attempted forbidden blood magic, a reckless ritual that turned on him. His followers found his body broken, his blood consumed by his own spellwork. And with him…"
The captain gestured, and servants entered carrying chests, each heavy with iron locks. When they were opened, the contents glittered.
The stolen treasures.
The very artifacts the outlaw had once taken — weapons, heirlooms, and jewels. Every piece cataloged in the lord's memory was here.
But there was more.
Piled within the chests were riches that had never belonged to him: trinkets, stolen treasures from dozens of raids the outlaw had committed during his years of exile. Artifacts of neighboring families, relics from ruined temples, even rare materials coveted by blood sorcerers.
The captain bowed low. "All of it has been returned to you, my lord. His followers abandoned it the moment they saw your crest upon the vault. They said it rightfully belongs with you."
The vampire lord stood in silence, staring down at the recovered wealth.
First, the ancestral artifact long thought lost. Now, the stolen treasures not only restored but multiplied. Two strokes of fortune in a single day, each delivered without effort, without bloodshed, without schemes.
He thought of Alex's words: Two days. Live normally. Let fortune find you.
His fingers tightened on the relic in his hand, and for the first time in centuries, the vampire lord felt something he had nearly forgotten.
Not power.
Not pride.
But awe.
"This luck…" he murmured, almost to himself. "…is terrifying."
Chapter 968 – "The Weight of Fortune"
By evening, yet another messenger arrived at the vampire lord's estate. This one bore the seal of the royal court. The servants bowed deeply as he entered, for to carry such a seal meant the message was dire — or significant beyond measure.
The lord accepted the scroll, unrolling it slowly. His eyes moved across the words, and his lips curved in disbelief.
It was news of his greatest rival.
The rival's corruption had been exposed at last — bribes, misuse of resources, secret dealings with outlaw factions. The kind of crimes that had been whispered for years but never proven. Yet somehow, today, the evidence had surfaced in full. Irrefutable.
The Queen's judgment had already been passed.
Demotion.
Stripped of his current rank.
Forced to step down in disgrace.
And in his place, the decree named the rival's successor — a man close to the vampire lord, an ally who had long supported him quietly. A man the lord knew he could trust to act in ways beneficial to his own household.
The chamber filled with murmurs as his advisors read the decree themselves. Some were stunned, others elated. But the lord only sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled, his crimson eyes unreadable.
In a single day, he had regained his family's ancestral artifact, recovered treasures thought lost, and now seen his rival undone by the queen's hand.
He thought again of Alex's words: Two days of fortune. Live normally, and let it come to you.
The weight of it pressed against him now. This was no coincidence, no string of accidents. This was fortune at a level so absolute that even politics bent beneath it.
Murmurs spread among his servants: Was this destiny? A sign of divine favor?
The dawn of the second day came with a sense of restless curiosity. The vampire lord had slept little, his mind circling around the events of the first day. The relic, the treasures, the downfall of his rival… it was almost too much to accept. Yet Alex's words rang clearly: Two days. Live normally.
So, he did.
That morning, he traveled to the human world, to the city where one of his personal enterprises operated. Unlike most of his kind who kept to shadow, he had a taste for mixing among mortals — a reminder that fortune and history often hid in plain sight.
The company he owned was a pharmaceutical firm, prosperous enough, but not his primary wealth. It was a tool for research, for expanding knowledge, and, in secret, for funding expeditions into old ruins and forgotten places.
Most of the staff were human, with a few vampires serving as trusted overseers. When he entered, every head turned. Humans bowed slightly, vampires lowered their eyes. Respect followed him like a shadow.
"Good morning, my lord," his secretary greeted, a sharp, efficient woman in her thirties. She carried a stack of reports but looked visibly eager. "The excavation team just returned with a shipment. Among their findings… there were some artifacts. Strange ones. I thought you'd want to see them immediately."
The vampire lord raised an eyebrow. Normally, such expeditions yielded fragments — pottery, broken tools, the occasional trinket of minor value. Nothing beyond a collector's amusement.
"Artifacts?" he repeated.
"Yes." The secretary handed him photographs, freshly printed. They depicted objects dug from beneath ancient stonework — bronze plates etched with runes, a mask shaped like a beast's face, and most curious of all, a crystalline shard pulsing faintly with light.
Even through the image, his instincts stirred. This was no ordinary relic.
"I've already had the items transferred to the secure vault in the lower wing," the secretary added. "The team believes they're far older than anything we've cataloged before. Possibly pre-civilizational. They said the crystal reacted to their touch."
The vampire lord's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. He knew better than to leap to conclusions — yet he couldn't ignore the truth.
Yesterday, fortune had returned what was lost and brought down his rival. Today, it was delivering the impossible into his hands.
Artifacts that may not just be history, but power.
He folded the photographs carefully, his voice calm but laced with quiet anticipation.
"Take me to them."
And so, on the second day of Alex's gift, fate continued to open its doors — this time not with wealth or politics, but with discoveries that could reshape the future itself.
The vault was deep beneath the building, shielded by layers of steel and runes. When the vampire lord entered, the air inside was cool and dry, thick with the faint scent of ancient dust.
On a long obsidian table lay the artifacts the expedition had recovered: bronze plates, the beast-mask, fragments of stone engraved with symbols that scholars could spend decades trying to decipher. But it was the crystal shard that drew every eye.
It pulsed faintly with a rhythm — almost like a heartbeat.
The lord approached it slowly. His servants stood back, instinctively wary. Even the humans present, though ignorant of magic, felt the unnatural pull of the shard.
He extended his hand. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the shard flared with light. Crimson, deep and resonant, the same shade as his bloodline.
Gasps filled the chamber.
The shard vibrated violently, and before anyone could react, it dissolved into streams of energy that coiled around his arm, seeping into his veins.
His body stiffened. Power surged through him, raw and overwhelming, burning like fire and freezing like ice all at once. His crimson eyes flared brighter, his aura expanding outward in a wave that pressed everyone present to their knees.
Servants clutched at the ground, unable to rise. Humans fell flat, trembling, while even the vampires nearby struggled to breathe beneath the sudden pressure.
And then — it stabilized.
The lord straightened, his chest rising and falling as the energy settled within him. His aura no longer belonged to a high noble. It was something greater, deeper, dangerously close to the threshold of divinity.
Not a god. Not yet.
But close enough that the gap could be felt with terrifying clarity.
The vampire lord opened his hand, staring at his palm. His blood sang with new strength, his body heavier with power than it had ever been.
"...It recognized me," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. "Only a vampire of my line could have awakened it."
The servants exchanged shocked glances. The humans bowed lower than ever before, trembling in awe.
The lord looked toward the vault doors, his thoughts echoing with the weight of realization.
First an ancestral relic. Then his rival's downfall. And now this — a discovery that had not only returned to him but elevated him to heights he had never dreamed possible.
Chapter 969 – "The Two Days of Fortune"
Two days passed like a dream.
From the moment Alex snapped his fingers, fortune clung to the vampire lord like an invisible crown, bending the flow of events around him. What began with a rediscovered relic and a rival's downfall only escalated further.
Everywhere he went, luck followed.
On the third night, his carriage was delayed by a broken wheel. By all accounts, it was an inconvenience — until word arrived that assassins had been lying in wait on the road ahead. The delay had spared him and his retinue entirely.
During an inspection of his estates, a worker stumbled through a collapsed tunnel and revealed a hidden chamber filled with forgotten scriptures — contracts, titles, and deeds that bolstered his family's claim to lands long contested. Within hours, his influence had doubled without bloodshed.
In the markets, a merchant attempting to swindle him instead handed over a crate mislabeled as worthless. Inside, beneath layers of straw, was a sealed jar of blood essence — pure and ancient, the kind that could strengthen even a noble vampire's lineage.
And when he attended a formal gathering, the queen herself unexpectedly called his name, singling him out before the court. She praised his vigilance, his restored treasures, and his loyalty. That single acknowledgment raised his standing higher than decades of schemes ever could.
Two days.
Two days, and his life had shifted more than in the past two centuries. His rivals were crippled, his lineage elevated, his treasures restored, and his very blood surged with newfound strength.
But more than power or influence, one truth burned in his mind with clarity.
This was not fate.
This was not destiny.
This was Alex.
And when the second day ended, when the invisible tide of fortune slowly receded, the vampire lord found himself kneeling alone in his private chamber.
He placed the recovered relic before him, bowed his head, and whispered words no servant would ever hear:
"My loyalty is yours. From this day forth, everything I am belongs to you."
It did not take long for whispers to spread.
The vampire courts were creatures of observation, and no shift in power went unnoticed. Rival houses, jealous nobles, and opportunistic lords all kept their eyes on him. And in the span of just two days, what they saw left them unsettled.
Ancestral relics thought lost, suddenly recovered.
Treasures stolen decades ago, restored in full.
A rival stripped of rank by the Queen herself.
Artifacts unearthed in the human world, bound to his bloodline.
And whispers of the Queen's praise echoing in the halls.
The other lords could not stay silent.
By the evening of the second day, they gathered at his estate. Their carriages lined the streets, their servants swarming the courtyard. Crimson-eyed nobles filled his audience chamber, each one pressing the same question with thinly veiled suspicion.
"My lord," one said cautiously, "fortune seems to follow you."
"Too much fortune," another muttered darkly. "No man recovers so much, so quickly, without reason."
At last, the eldest among them spoke, his voice sharp:
"What secret have you uncovered? What bargain have you struck?"
The vampire lord sat upon his chair, the ancestral relic resting in his lap. He listened to their demands, their envy, their suspicion. And when silence fell, he answered with calm finality.
"There was no bargain. No scheme. No hidden plot."
He rose to his feet, his aura pressing down upon the chamber. His eyes glowed crimson, and his voice cut through the room like a blade.
"It was Alex."
The name alone silenced them. A ripple of unease spread through the gathered lords.
He continued, his tone unwavering. "Two days ago, he looked upon me. He said he wished to test something. He snapped his fingers and gave me fortune. Level Four — that is what he called it. He told me to live normally. Nothing more."
The chamber stirred with disbelief. "Fortune? Bestowed?" one whispered.
The lord lifted the relic in his hand, its runes burning faintly in resonance with his blood. "This was no accident. No coincidence. Every stroke of fortune, every shift of fate — it was his will."
Gasps filled the chamber. Some recoiled in awe, others in fear. One or two dropped to a knee without realizing, as though the very weight of Alex's unseen presence pressed upon them.
The vampire lord looked across them all, his voice ringing out with a mixture of pride and reverence.
"You want to know why I was so lucky?" He tightened his grip on the relic.
"It is because Alex chose me."
The chamber fell silent. None dared speak further.
For in that moment, every lord understood: it was not luck alone they sought.
It was the favor of the man who had already conquered queens and princesses — and now, fate itself.
The silence didn't last long. One of the younger lords, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, stepped forward with a frown.
"Wait a moment. You said… Level Four? Are you implying there are levels to this fortune?"
Whispers rippled instantly through the chamber. The others leaned in, eyes sharp, desperate for any explanation.
The vampire lord nodded once, his expression calm. "Yes. That is what he told me. Level Four. Nothing more, nothing less."
Another lord scoffed nervously. "So… there are other levels?"
The vampire lord's lips curved faintly. "Perhaps. I did not ask. It was not my place to question, only to obey."
But then his tone softened, his crimson eyes lowering in thought. "It may also be because of… timing. When I went to report before the Queen, I believe he was already considering this experiment. Perhaps it was chance — or perhaps it was his will, disguised as chance."
He let out a quiet breath, remembering the exact moment Alex had turned his gaze on him. "He simply said: 'Let me try something.' I did not understand at the time. But now… it is clear. He had already decided."
The chamber erupted in hushed debate.
"Level Four…"
"Does that mean there could be higher?"
"If even a single snap can change so much, what would Level Five do?"
"Or Level Ten?"
The vampire lord cut through their voices with one sharp word:
"Enough."
They fell silent at once.
"You may speculate," he said, his tone cold, "but none of us can grasp the truth of his power. Do not cheapen it with your questions. Do not call it chance, or accident, or trickery. What happened was simple: Alex looked at me, and fortune followed."
He placed the ancestral relic down on the table, its crimson glow casting shadows across their stunned faces.
"That is all you need to know."
And with those words, the room fell silent once more — a silence born not of ignorance, but of awe.
Chapter 970 – "The Strand of Fate"
The chamber of lords had grown restless, thick with whispers and speculation about "Level Four." Some argued in hushed tones, others sat in stunned silence.
But then one of the sharp-eyed nobles froze, his gaze fixed on the vampire lord at the center of it all.
"My lord," he said carefully, pointing toward the lord's arm. "There is… something on your sleeve."
The vampire lord glanced down. At first, it looked like nothing more than a fine thread glinting in the torchlight. He brushed it gently, and the truth became clear.
It was a hair.
Long, black, and perfectly smooth — a strand that pulsed faintly with vitality, almost alive.
The room went utterly silent. Every vampire present knew the rumors. Alex's hair. A treasure sought by kings and billionaires alike. A single strand worth empires.
The lord's crimson eyes narrowed. He turned the hair carefully between his fingers, treating it with reverence. "It must have… clung to me," he murmured. "Blown by the wind… or caught on my sleeve when he was near."
The weight of what he held pressed on him harder than any relic.
The lords stared, their expressions shifting between awe, envy, and terror. None dared speak, but all knew what that strand represented.
The vampire lord, however, did not hesitate. His mind was already racing.
With this…
He could craft an alchemical potion, one designed to draw out the essence of what remained within the hair. It would amplify his strength and mana beyond their current limits — and perhaps, if fortune smiled again, it could even awaken new affinities.
His fingers curled protectively around it. "It must have been here for days," he thought, recalling the two-day tide of fortune. "Clinging quietly while the world bent itself around me. Perhaps this, too, was part of the gift."
The other lords leaned forward, hungry to speak, but none dared. The pressure of his aura — newly strengthened by Alex's bestowed luck — warned them to stay silent.
He tucked the strand carefully into a sealed vial, locking it away within his robes. His decision was already made.
This will not be wasted. I will distill it, refine it, and let his essence flow into me. If fortune itself can bend at a snap of his fingers, then even a fragment of his being must carry power beyond comprehension.
The vampire lord looked up, crimson eyes blazing.
"My fortune," he said quietly, almost reverently, "is not yet finished."
That night, the vampire lord sealed himself within the deepest chamber of his estate — a laboratory hidden from even his closest servants. The walls were lined with shelves of ancient tomes, vials of blood essence, and alchemical instruments that glowed faintly in the dark.
He placed the vial before him. Inside, the single strand of black hair shimmered faintly, as though alive.
He lit the circle of runes, and the chamber filled with the soft hum of magic. Carefully, he prepared the base — a mixture of purified blood essence, crystallized mana, and rare herbs harvested only under a blood moon.
Finally, he opened the vial. The strand of hair floated gently into the cauldron.
The reaction was immediate.
The mixture hissed, glowing crimson-black. Runes along the floor blazed to life, shaking the entire chamber. The lord's eyes widened as the hair dissolved, releasing not just energy, but presence — a fragment of Alex's overwhelming essence.
The potion settled into a liquid darker than wine, thicker than blood. Power radiated from it, so potent that his hands trembled as he lifted the cup.
"This is it," he whispered. "The will of fate, distilled into form."
He drank.
The liquid burned like fire and ice, searing his veins, rewriting him from within. His body convulsed, his aura flaring violently. He dropped to one knee, clutching at his chest as his blood screamed, shifting, reshaping.
Then — silence.
He gasped, lifting his head slowly. His crimson eyes glowed brighter than ever, deeper, darker. His aura flooded outward, so heavy that the wards of the chamber cracked under the pressure.
And then he felt it.
A resonance within his veins.
A new truth carved into his soul.
Blood Affinity.
The rarest gift of their kind. An affinity so rare that in all of vampire history, only three individuals had ever borne it. One was the legendary founder of their race. Another was Ileana herself, the Queen. The third, whispered in rumors, was a forgotten ancestor of the old bloodlines.
Now, he was the fourth.
The vampire lord's lips parted in disbelief, then curved into a trembling smile. "Blood Affinity…" he whispered. "I… I carry it now."
He raised his hand, and with a mere thought, the blood essence stored in the chamber trembled, swirling toward him like obedient servants. His veins sang with power, his will resonating with the very core of what it meant to be vampire.
He sank back against the wall, his breath heavy with awe.
"This is beyond fortune," he murmured. "This is ascension."
And yet, he knew — none of this came from his own hand.
It was all because of Alex.
The vampire lord sat in the quiet of the laboratory, his body still trembling from the transformation. Power thrummed in his veins, every heartbeat stronger than the last, his will resonating with the blood essence stored in the room as though it were part of him.
He clenched his fists slowly, feeling the weight of his new gift.
Blood Affinity.
The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine. In all of their history, only three vampires had ever borne it. Now, he stood as the fourth. A lord elevated to a level that rivaled the greatest legends of his kind.
But with that realization came caution.
If the other lords discovered this truth, jealousy would consume them. Ambition would ignite wars. The fragile balance of the court would collapse under the weight of their hunger to take what was his.
"No…" he murmured, his crimson eyes narrowing. "This cannot be known. Not yet."
He extinguished the glowing runes, sealing the remnants of the ritual. The shattered wards were repaired, the cauldron hidden, the evidence destroyed. Not a trace of the transformation would remain for anyone to discover.
Only two would know.
He lifted his gaze, thinking of the Queen and her daughter. Ileana, who already bore the same affinity. Mircella, who would one day inherit her mother's throne. They alone could understand what this meant, and they alone had the right to share in his truth.
"I will tell no other," he whispered to himself. "Not the lords, not the servants, not even my closest allies. Only the Queen and the Princess will know. Until the time is right, this power will remain mine alone."
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. The chamber was silent once more, but within him, the blood roared like a tide.
The fortune Alex had given him was not just luck — it was transformation.
And now, he held a secret that could change the fate of the vampire race itself.
The vampire lord's sealed message was sent by the most secure channel, reaching only two recipients: the Queen and her daughter. Within it, he laid out every event of the two days of fortune — the relics, the downfall of his rival, the artifacts, and at last, the truth of the Blood Affinity awakened from Alex's single strand of hair.
In the Queen's private chambers, Ileana and Mircella read the report together. Their crimson eyes narrowed as they absorbed each word, their expressions cool, regal, but touched with quiet satisfaction.
"He was wise," Ileana said softly, setting the parchment aside. "Keeping the Blood Affinity secret was the only correct choice. If the lords knew, chaos would devour the courts."
Mircella leaned back lazily on the velvet couch, twirling a lock of her silver hair around her finger. "Mm. He's not a fool. Loyal, too. I suppose Alex's luck chose well."
Ileana nodded once. With a flick of her finger, the parchment dissolved into ash, leaving no trace. "It ends here. He will hold his secret, and only we will know. For now, that is enough."
Mircella grinned mischievously, her crimson eyes flashing as she looked at her mother. "You know, though… it doesn't surprise me. Alex has always been like this. Ever since the first night, he's been changing us, piece by piece."
Her tone turned playful, shameless. "I've lost count of how many times I've had him already. I can still feel his touch when I think about it."
Ileana's lips curved faintly — the rare, subtle smile of a queen reminiscing not as a ruler, but as a woman. "Yes. The nights are countless. And with each one, the depth of his essence takes root. Even without intent, he reshapes us."
Mircella rolled onto her side, propping her chin on her hand. "Between the two of us, we've nearly touched every element, haven't we? Fire, water, wind, earth… light, shadow… our bodies are overflowing with affinities. It's ridiculous."
"Not ridiculous," Ileana corrected, her voice smooth, reverent. "It is the natural consequence of belonging to him. What others would call miracles, we call ordinary nights."
They shared a look — mother and daughter, queen and princess, both bound to the same man. Their bodies and powers had been transformed again and again in his arms, until they stood far above the rest of their kind.
And now, another lord had tasted that fortune, even if only briefly.
Mircella smirked, stretching lazily. "Well, at least this proves it. Alex doesn't just bless us. He blesses anyone he chooses. Gods, queens, or lords — it makes no difference. Once he decides, fate bends."
Ileana's gaze softened, her thoughts lingering on the countless nights, the countless times. "Yes. And that is why we remain his. Always."