[There are more arts to find in other cities, but in this one (Noctaris) there are two]:
Blood Moon Arts:
The city of Noctaris never slept. Its streets, bathed in neon light, hummed with life, shadows slipping between hovering vehicles and flickering advertisements. But in the quiet of the night, beneath the surface chaos, a hidden war raged—one that ordinary citizens never saw. It was a war of power, of skill, of survival. And at the heart of it were two forces: Blood Moon Art and Moon Art.
Blood Moon Art was an ancient system, one that had awakened only in select vampires across generations. Unlike ordinary vampiric strength, it was not simply physical. It was manipulation—control over life itself, the very blood that coursed through the veins of the living and the dead. A Blood Moon artist could move blood as a weapon, reshape it into shields, spikes, or blades, or even force it into allies' veins to heal and strengthen them.
The most dangerous aspect of Blood Moon Art was precision. Every motion of blood required focus; every strike consumed stamina and mental energy. Overextend, and the consequences could be fatal. The art was tied to a system that monitored the user, a silent interface that tracked vitality, regeneration, and overall combat potential. Points were earned through experience and mastery—tiny increments for minor successes, significant rewards for overcoming true threats. But for those who relied purely on instinct and brute force, the system was merciless, keeping them stagnant, trapped at low levels while their peers advanced.
The levels themselves were more than numbers. A Level 1 Blood Moon artist could survive extraordinary encounters, but their attacks were often insufficient to dominate. Level 50 users, by contrast, could wield their powers with devastating finesse, slicing through steel or overwhelming entire squads in a matter of moments.
For every Blood Moon artist, there existed an opposing yet complementary force: Moon Art.
Moon Arts:
Unlike the vampiric system, Moon Arts were human in origin, born from the natural alignment of energy within an individual and the phases of the moon. Moon Art did not manipulate blood—it absorbed energy, redirected it, and channeled it with precision. Its users were not inherently stronger than their vampiric counterparts, but they possessed something equally valuable: the ability to turn an enemy's strength against them.
The interactions between Blood Moon and Moon Art were complex. Vampires wielding Blood Moon Art held immense destructive potential but depended on their own and others' blood for both power and survival. Moon Art users, meanwhile, could exploit openings, redirect attacks, and manipulate the battlefield in ways that raw force could not anticipate. In combat, victory often went to the one who combined timing, creativity, and observation. The numbers mattered—but so did the mind behind the strike.
Training in these arts was grueling. Blood Moon practitioners had to push their bodies beyond natural limits, often fighting fatigue, pain, and the paradox of regeneration. Healing erased damage, but it also erased the physical stress that would naturally strengthen them. To grow, they had to endure controlled damage, challenging themselves beyond what their regenerating bodies could recover. Moon Art users followed a different path. Their challenge was mental and energetic: observing attacks, predicting movement, converting energy, and mastering the subtleties of timing. Their growth was less visible but no less vital; a single mistake could render their Moon Art useless—or even dangerous.