BLOOD AND RESONANCE
Chapter 1: The Echo of the Pulse
The Sanguine Manor was a monument to the quiet power of the pulse. Located on a sprawling estate shielded from the prying eyes of the public, the house was built from dark, obsidian-flecked stone that seemed to absorb the very light of the sun. It was a place of high ceilings, muted colors, and a silence so profound you could hear the blood rushing through your own ears.
To Lucian Sanguine, the silence wasn't empty. It was full of data.
He sat in the Grand Conservatory, a room of glass and iron where the air was kept at a precise 18°C.
Lucian sat perfectly still, his blackish-white hair spilling over a face as pale as a winter moon. One eye, a vivid crimson, was fixed on a medical text; the other, a darker, fiery red, seemed to be staring into another world entirely.
Blood Manipulation
Quirk Name: Sanguine Dominion (often referred to as Blood Manipulation)
Type: Emitter / Transformation
Range: Close to Mid-Range
Description:
The user possesses absolute biological control over the properties of blood—both their own and that of smaller organisms. The quirk operates on a "Pressure and Temperature" system. By manipulating the hemoglobin and iron within the blood, the user can change its physical state from liquid to a diamond-hard solid or a pressurized gas.
Core Mechanics:
Thermal Doping: The user can flash-heat their blood to increase physical output, granting superhuman speed and strength at the cost of extreme internal strain and an "Anemic Crash."
Atmospheric Rupture (The Snap): By snapping their fingers, the user creates a localized sonic frequency that acts as a trigger, causing pressurized blood in small targets (insects/birds) to burst or explode.
Solidification: The user can command blood to harden into weapons (daggers) or defensive tools (spinning shields).
Hemography (Sensory): The user can "read" the vibrations of heartbeats in their vicinity, allowing for perfect tracking of enemies in the dark.
The Alchemist's Kitchen
While other teenagers at UA might be fueled by protein shakes or convenience store snacks, Lucian's biology demanded something far more specific and grueling. In the bowels of the manor, the kitchens did not smell of baking bread or roasting herbs. They smelled of iron, vinegar, and cold salt.
Chef Marrow, a man who had served the Sanguine family for forty years, moved with the precision of a surgeon. He did not use standard culinary tools; his station was cluttered with centrifuges, precision scales, and glass beakers.
To the Sanguine family, food was not for pleasure; it was a chemical necessity to keep their volatile blood from turning against them.
Lucian walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent. He watched as Marrow prepared the morning "dose."
The chef was currently reducing a dark, viscous fluid over a low flame.
"The iron levels in this batch of bovine marrow are slightly lower than last week, Master Lucian," Marrow said without looking up. "I've compensated with a concentrated spinach and pomegranate reduction, fortified with synthetic heme-iron crystals."
Lucian watched as Marrow used a glass dropper to add three drops of a thick, shimmering silver liquid into a chalice. "Is that the mercury-trace catalyst?"
"Precisely," Marrow replied, pouring the dark, violet liquid into the glass. "It helps your blood 'bind' to the external iron faster. Without it, your Thermal Doping would burn through your reserves in twenty seconds instead of eighty."
The "Sanguine Diet" was an exhausting, metallic ordeal. Lucian took the glass. It was cold—the family preferred their nutrients chilled to lower their internal baseline temperature. He drank it in one go. It tasted like coins, wet earth, and a sharp, stinging bitterness that coated the back of his throat.
His quirk consumed iron like a furnace. If he didn't maintain this rigid, metallic diet, his blood would thin until his heart simply stopped beating. He felt the "Iron Hunger" in his bones—a constant, heavy ache that reminded him he was something other than human. He had to be "heavy" to be powerful. Without this iron, he was just a ghost drifting through a dark house.
The Patriarch's Logic
The heavy oak doors of the study creaked open later that morning. Alaric Sanguine stood there, a man of calculated grace. He was a billionaire and a scientist, but today, he looked at Lucian as a father.
"The last hero in our lineage was two centuries ago, Lucian," Alaric said, his voice a smooth baritone. "Great-Uncle Malphas. Back then, it was about duty. Today, heroes are brands. They are the faces that the world trusts."
Lucian didn't look up from his empty glass. "I am not interested in being a mascot for Sanguine Pharmaceuticals, Father."
Alaric walked over, placing a steady hand on Lucian's shoulder. "This is about more than the company, Lucian. This is about the Family Name. For decades, the world has looked at the Sanguines and seen vampires. They see monsters in suits. I want you to go to UA because I want them to see a Protector.
I want the Sanguine name to be whispered with hope, not fear. Do it for the legacy we carry."
"You want me to be a 'Good Monster,'" Lucian drawled, his crimson eyes flashing.
"I want you to be a King," Alaric corrected gently. "Use your 'Magician's act.' Charm them with your elegance. Then, when they are looking at the trick, take control."
• The Light in the Darkness
The heavy oak doors of the conservatory creaked open. Lucian didn't need to look. He knew that light, energetic heartbeat anywhere. It was a skip-and-a-jump rhythm, full of life and a total lack of the "Sanguine Coldness."
"Lucian! You're brooding in the dark again. It's a beautiful day, you know!"
Mia Sanguine burst into the room. She was the polar opposite of her brother—her eyes were bright, and she lacked the sharp, predatory edge that defined their father. She was holding a small, hand-drawn picture.
Lucian's heterochromatic eyes softened instantly. The "Sovereignty of the Pulse" told him she was happy, her heart fluttering like a butterfly's wings.
"The sun is too loud today, Mia," Lucian said, his voice losing its icy drawl. He reached out, and she tucked herself under his arm. To anyone else, Lucian was a monster in the making. To Mia, he was simply her big brother.
"I drew this for you," she said, thrusting the paper at him. It was a drawing of Lucian in a hero's cape, standing on top of a building. It was crude, but the colors were bright—far brighter than anything in this house. "Since you're going to the UA exams, you need to know what you'll look like when you're the Number One Hero."
Lucian looked at the drawing. A hero. The idea was almost laughable. His quirk was built for assassination, for the quiet end of a life. How could a "Vampire" be a symbol of peace?
"Mia, I'm not a hero," Lucian said quietly. "I'm a Sanguine. We don't save people. We... we manage them."
"That's silly," she pouted, poking his cheek. "You saved that kitten from the well last summer. And you use your 'snaps' to keep the mean wasps away from me. You're already my hero. You just have to show the rest of the world."
Lucian looked at his sister. He felt a sudden, fierce protectiveness wash over him—a surge of adrenaline that made his blood hum. He didn't care about UA. He didn't care about All Might or the league of villains. But if being a hero meant Mia could keep smiling like this, he would play the part. He would put on the suit, he would learn the lines, and he would crush anyone who threatened the peace she lived in.
"Okay," he whispered, tucking the drawing into his vest, right over his heart. "For you, I'll be a hero."
The Correction of the Rhythm
Later that afternoon, Lucian walked through the servant's quarters. As he passed, the maids and cooks bowed their heads, their heartbeats spiking in a frantic patter-patter of fear. They knew what he was. They had seen him in the gardens, snapping his fingers and watching the crows fall from the sky like stones.
He reached the kitchen and looked at a young footman who was shaking as he polished the silver.
"You're nervous," Lucian stated. It wasn't a question. "Your pulse is at 95. Your breathing is shallow."
"I-I'm sorry, Master Lucian! I just..."
"Don't apologize for your biology," Lucian said, his crimson eyes glowing. He snapped his fingers—a soft, muted sound.
The footman gasped as he felt a sudden wave of calm wash over him. Lucian had used a micro-dose of Iron Haze, not to cause dizziness, but to slow the iron's vibration in the man's blood, forcibly lowering his heart rate.
"There. Your rhythm is corrected," Lucian said, turning away without another word.
He was a magician of the pulse, a master of the red. But as he looked out the window toward the gates of the estate, he thought of Mia's drawing. He thought of the "Doping" limit he had to break.
The Recommendation Exam was The Next day . The world expected a Sanguine—a cold, calculating aristocrat. They weren't ready for a man who would burn his own blood to keep a promise to a little girl.