The preparation for the succession ceremony began before dawn, long before the estate had fully settled from the previous night.
The courtyard of the D'Arcel estate had been transformed overnight.
Stone platforms were raised from beneath the ground using old spatial architecture carved into the estate itself. Circular runic patterns spread outward like veins across the marble floor, each line inscribed with a purpose older than most of the attendees present. Floating lanterns hovered without chains, suspended by controlled mana flow that reacted to the presence of the heirs.
The structure had originally been built only for succession ceremonies, but over the centuries it had been reshaped into something meant to be watched as much as performed.
The D'Arcel succession ceremony had never been a political gathering in the way other houses treated it.
It was a necessity masked as tradition. A process that ensured continuity through absorption, memory transfer, and survival of the strongest vessel.
The heirs stood at the edge of the central platform, already gathered. Each one accompanied by their supporting retainers, families, and chosen affiliates. Not everyone arrived with equal presence. Some walked in surrounded by applause. Others in silence. And some under whispered tension that never fully settled.
One by one, the heirs were introduced by the attending heralds of the estate. Each name carried weight, and each weight carried history.
A tall boy stepped forward first, dressed in layered black armor stitched with bone-threaded enchantments. His family stood behind him like a rigid formation. His Birthright manifested briefly as he raised his hand.
Hemomancy as well.
Blood manipulation in its most refined form, compressing and shaping it into weapons that reacted to intent, just like his father.
He had been responsible for suppressing three rebellion outbreaks within northern vampire clans. His supporters clapped once. Then stopped. He stepped back without ceremony.
A girl followed.
Calm.
Precise.
The next heir to step forward was Soline D'Arcel, Marielle's eldest daughter. Unlike most within the family, she had never looked at Theodore with the same quiet disgust reserved for his Bareblood lineage. Whether out of indifference or understanding, even Theodore himself never figured out.
Her branch family carried a reputation for their absurd way of fighting, spouting bones from their bodies and their enemies and using said bone to fight throughout the vampire territories. As Soline pressed her fingers lightly against the ground, her Birthright activated.
Osteomancy. Bone manipulation.
Bone shifted beneath skin with an audible crack. Sharp white structures forced themselves outward from her forearm before reshaping into layered armor around her body. More skeletal growths emerged along her shoulders and spine, forming an exoskeletal frame built for direct combat rather than defense alone. Several guests visibly looked away at the sound alone.
Osteomancy has always been infamous for that. Every user described the process the same way despite vampiric regeneration, It hurts.
Constantly.
Soline didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. If anything, the widening smile on her face suggested she enjoyed the feeling once combat started.
Just like her mother once was.
She flexed one clawed hand once before the bone structures withdrew back beneath her skin.
No applause followed. Only acknowledgment before she calmly returned to her place among the heirs.
A boy from one of the older mixed-blood branches stepped forward next, his lineage carrying traces of werebat ancestry strong enough to manifest as a Birthright of its own.
Dark wings unfolded sharply from his back as the muscles along his frame tightened slightly, though the rest of his body remained unchanged. No monstrous transformation followed. Only heightened senses, lighter movement, and the unnatural agility associated with predatory bats.
His nails lengthened subtly into sharpened black claws as he flexed his hand once.
The Birthright was known for speed rather than brute strength. Rapid aerial movement, precise strikes, and sensory tracking that made hiding nearly impossible once he locked onto a target.
He had led aerial extermination operations throughout the Outer Territories alongside several scouting units.
The wings folded back behind him moments later as he returned calmly to formation.
Another heir stepped forward soon after, belonging to one of the quieter D'Arcel branches known less for direct combat and more for influence within political circles.
His Birthright belonged to an illusion-type lineage, though its effects leaned closer toward persuasion than visual deception.
No visible transformation followed its activation. Nothing dramatic appeared around him at all. Instead, the atmosphere around the platform shifted subtly enough that several people only realized something had happened after a few seconds had already passed.
For a brief moment, his presence simply felt… agreeable. Trustworthy. Familiar in a way that was difficult to explain. Even the tension within the crowd eased slightly before the effect faded.
The Birthright specialized in emotional distortion and persuasion rather than outright mind control, allowing its user to guide conversations, manipulate impressions, and quietly alter decisions before others fully realized they were being influenced at all.
His accomplishments reflected that perfectly. Much of the D'Arcel influence remaining within Bareblood political circles had reportedly been maintained through his negotiations alone, keeping several agreements favorable toward vampire interests without open conflict ever erupting.
Once the effect disappeared completely, he gave a small bow before stepping back into formation.
The introductions continued after that. Some heirs carried accomplishments tied to military campaigns, while others stood backed by political influence gathered over decades through their branch families. One had negotiated ceasefires between rogue vampire territories who still cling to the Scarlet Floret's ideals without spilling blood once. Another specialized in containment operations involving rogue supernaturals beyond Nocturne's outer districts. A few demonstrated Birthrights only briefly before stepping back into formation, confident enough that reputation alone would carry the rest of the explanation for them.
And through all of it, Theodore remained at the end of the line.
A shift moved through the crowd before he even stepped forward.
Not an announcement.
Recognition.
Whispers traveled faster than speech.
The weak heir, the frail one, the Bareblood descendant. Those were just some of what they said amongst the crowd.
And then—
Something else.
The boy who had been seen beside the White Calamity. The boy who had survived what others did not return from. The boy is rumored to have wiped out an entire flock of magical beasts during a sudden massive growth of them at North's Watch. Even the tone of the crowd changed. Interest replaced both respect and disbelief, settling over the crowd as something quieter but sharper.
Aurora stood at the side of the platform, arms loosely crossed, leaning slightly against Charlotte's presence beside her. Emilia stood nearby, watching quietly.
Aurora smirked.
"White Calamity… hehe"
Charlotte did not respond. But her eyes stayed on Theodore. He stood among them. Among the heirs who had trained since birth for this moment. Among bloodlines that had defined regions of vampire society for centuries.
And yet—
He felt nothing.
The kind that came when expectation stopped mattering. He had been mocked before.
Doubted.
Dismissed.
And yet, standing here now, none of it reached him anymore. Not because he had grown stronger. But because it no longer connected to anything inside him.
Inside his brooch, a faint presence stirred.
A soft giggle from Lilith.
"You're very quiet today," she murmured inside his mind.
Theodore didn't answer. More like, He couldn't. Even he doesn't know why he's quiet. He wanted to prove himself to his family but…. He doesn't feel a smidge of what he felt before.
Far above the courtyard, within the upper chambers of the estate, Lucien D'Arcel stood alone.
The office was silent but not empty.
Memories pressed at the edges of his awareness like familiar weight returning after a long absence.
Inheritance.
The same thing the ceremony would soon formalize. He approached the window overlooking the courtyard.
Below, the heirs were already assembled. He saw them all.
And then—
He saw Theodore.
Lucien's hand rested briefly against the edge of the desk.
For a moment, something in him hesitated.
The system was functioning exactly as it should.
And yet—
Something about it no longer felt absolute.
He exhaled then turned away.
It was time.
Lucien stepped onto the elevated platform. Silence followed immediately from everyone in the courtyard.
His presence alone stabilized the space. The ceremony began without formal introduction.
"The succession begins," Lucien said calmly.
And the platform responded.
With the help of witches the family had employed, mana lines ignited throughout the stage.
The heirs stepped forward.
Birthrights ignited almost at once the moment Lucien initiated the ceremony.
People spectating the first ever public ceremony all anticipate the upcoming event. They want to see how it works.
The first collision came from Hemomancy against Osteomancy—blood shaped into bladed constructs crashing against layered bone defenses that rose directly from flesh and ground alike.
Each impact sent sharp bursts of red mist and shattered calcium fragments scattering across the platform.
Above them, the werebat-blooded heir took to the air, wings snapping open as he cut through rising bone spires with high-speed arcs, his sharpened nails striking in rapid, precise bursts before vanishing upward again into motion.
Illusion-type Birthrights fractured the battlefield next. The space itself began to split—figures multiplying, shifting, overlapping—forcing strikes to land on afterimages instead of bodies. Even perception became unreliable, with distance and position no longer fully trusted by anyone watching.
The courtyard ceased to behave like a single arena. Multiple engagements unfolded at once—ground, air, and distorted perception stacking over each other in unstable alignment.
People who were watching the ceremony for the first time found themselves caught between awe and disbelief. It was nothing like the controlled, ritualistic duels held in the Lunarium, where every exchange followed form, etiquette, and restraint with the HP system.
Here, there was no such structure to lean on. The battlefield did not respect turns or spacing. It was a massacre on everyone on the field. Attacks did not simply land or miss; they collided across shifting bone, blood, illusion, and flight. What would have been considered a duel in the Lunarium looked almost static by comparison.
Even those familiar with combat found it difficult to track. For outsiders, it felt less like watching individuals fight and more like witnessing multiple duels happening simultaneously in the same collapsing space.
Marielle's children pushed forward first.
Aggressive.
Overconfident in their inherited birthright.
It worked at the beginning. Blood constructs pinned movement. Bone barriers fractured illusion layers. One of them even forced a werebat heir out of the air with a compressed strike that cracked the platform beneath impact. But momentum did not hold.
They were not overwhelmed in a single moment. They were simply outpaced.
When the third of Marielle's children was forced down onto one knee beneath a collapsing bone frame that locked around their movement, a sharp tongue-click echoed from the sidelines.
Marielle leaned slightly forward.
"Honestly…"
Another of her children was forced back a few seconds later, barely avoiding a blood construct that detonated where they had stood.
She exhaled through her nose.
Then—after a pause—her expression eased. The irritation left her voice as quickly as it came. She raised one hand and gave a single clap.
"Good effort."
And just like that, she stopped watching them and focused on her eldest.
By that point, only three heirs remained standing in active contention—Soline, Renard, and Theodore.
The battlefield had narrowed into its final state, pressure compressing around the last participants as everything else fell away.
Before the next exchange could properly form though, Soline suddenly raised a hand and called out toward the mediator, asking for a brief halt in the proceedings. Without waiting for approval or reaction, she turned and briskly made her way off the platform toward the estate corridors. The explanation was never formally given, but the direction was unmistakable, the toilets as she was holding her stomach as speed through the place.
The abrupt exit left a beat of silence over the platform. The White Queen simply stepping away mid-ceremony was not something anyone had accounted for.
After a moment of stunned hesitation, the ruling observers confirmed her disqualification due to voluntary withdrawal from the field. Only then did attention fully settle on the remaining two and Marielle just slapped her forehead with how her eldest just acted.
Renard D'Arcel stepped forward. Heir of a more aggressive branch. His Birthright activated immediately. Hemomancy but not in a way like his father has used it. Blood flowers bloomed across the battlefield.
Explosive ones.
Each blossom detonated on command, scattering pressure waves of condensed blood force.
He smiled when he saw Theodore.
"You really showed up."
Theodore tilted his head slightly but didn't respond.
The fight began without warning. Explosions followed instantly. The pressure escalated quickly. Too quickly. Theodore was forced back from the amount of explosives that kept detonating.
With how slow his regeneration, he couldn't keep up as he kept blocking the explosions, one after the other.
People couldn't watch the one sided slaughter. Blood leaking from all the open wounds from Theodore. Then he countered back but couldn't. All his attacks keep getting destroyed with the explosions. His blood threads couldn't get near but only stayed near, defending, barely.
Then, he lost an arm, an eye, as wounds keep hitting him.
Aurora and Emilia almost jump towards the platform just to save him but a gate appeared in front of them, sending them back to their seats. Charlotte had stopped them. Before they could argue, they saw the intense mana pulsing around her.
She was mad.
They could even hear her teeth grinding beneath her smile.
"Girls… Behave."
She say smiling as she gritted her teeth.
The Beaumont, especially Eleanor and Seraphine felt it and could only watch as Theo take all the hits.
Then—
Something shifted.
The moment Renard felt he was already winning, even going as far as taunting Theodore around the place, the brooch pulsed.
Lilith shoots herself outward.
And then she emerged.
Fully.
A mature, bat-winged form with frilled elegance that felt almost out of place in the battlefield.
She smiled gently.
Controlling every blood spilled in the field and taking it all in, drinking it.
Renard could only stand frozen, waiting for what's to come.
With blood curling screams from Lilith, she used Theo's signature hemomancy technique, the blood threads to pierce Theodore's chest.
Gasps erupted across the platform but was interrupted by Renard's shout immediately.
"Disqualification! Ref!!! Do something!!"
He shouts as Theodore rises from the air, regenerating every wound. His lost eye, hand, and all the wounds closing up.
A judge's voice cut through instantly.
"Denied. That is classified as his Birthright. His Eidolon works as a symbiotic relationship with his Birthright."
The mediator sighs. As he stares towards Theodore, he too can't help but to think if it still could be counted as Birthright. But to be fair, it's still counted as an item. Regardless if it has a mind of its own.
Renard froze.
"Bullshit!"
Theodore's body moved. But not by him. Lilith controlled it like a puppet as she hovered behind him, menacingly.
"Cruor. It's what I called it. A last resort," Theodore muttered.
And the blood responded. His movements accelerated beyond normal vampiric limits.
Each step warped space. Each punch carried condensed force far beyond physical expectation.
Renard tried to counter but to such speed, he couldn't.
A single strike shattered Renard's defensive formation. As he flew from the hit, Theodore was already waiting for him to send another hit. Another sent him across the platform. Then another. And another. Renard was being punched around the platform. He couldn't even touch the ground. He was just… like a ball being thrown around.
People could only watch. If the start of the battle royale between heirs was a massacre, then what was this?
Despite healing from the punches, the intense amplified to the absolute limits with his blood, Renard's bones cracked and regenerated but the amount of hits hitting him, his body couldn't keep up.
The fight ended faster than anyone expected.
Cruor had ended and Lilith returned to her bat form and returned to the brooch as she exhausted all of the blood in her system.
If Cruor had not ended, people could have seen a bloodied Renard in their sights.
The Renard himself? The one who's regarded to win the succession, lost?
Lucien's hand twitched slightly. Barely visible. The only sign of strain from what just happened.
Two D'Arcel elders immediately moved to help Theodore's collapsing body as Lilith's form weakened and to give Renard medical attention as his regeneration hadn't kicked in with all the punches he suffered.
The battlefield quieted.
Then—
Laughter.
Not cruel but something amidst like disbelief.
"Did that child just get puppeted by his own Birthright?"
"Absolutely absurd."
Marielle laughed lightly despite herself.
The final tally was close. But clear.
Theodore D'Arcel. Winner by margin.
A new wave of murmurs spread.
Uncertainty, confusion, and expectation.
Lucien stepped forward again and goes towards the platform, laying by a stone coffin to finalize the succession.
But Theodore spoke first with his crumbling and overexerted body.
"I refuse."
The courtyard went silent. Not instantly. But as if reality had to catch up to the sentence.
Even Aurora stopped smiling and just let her mouth agaped. Charlotte's gaze sharpened slightly, confused as to why he would say that. Emilia blinked.
Lucien did not react immediately.
"…Repeat that," someone said.
Theodore exhaled.
"I said I refuse."
Lucien ruffled his head from the stone coffin he lays. Smiling, not wanting to burden the child with a heavy responsibility and sigh in relief that he rejected the idea of consuming him.
Though, with his rejection, the ceremony wasn't canceled but transferred. The elders needed it and Lucien knows it too. He's dying and in need of passing the family's blood.
Marielle's eldest daughter arrived moments too late.
Soline D'Arcel.
After a successful toilet escapade, now she stood at the edge of the chamber.
Confused.
"I thought I asked for a halt? Is it already done?"
Theodore sees Soline, her half-sister, and decided on the whim.
"I want her to be the one to take the ceremony."
Lucien looked at her and nodded once towards Theodore.
Everyone, shocked with the development, just stared at the sudden shift in rulership.
Lucien's body dissolved into nothing but blood as the stone coffin dissolved his body.
Soline stepped forward and the blood flowed throughout her body.
And Lucien D'Arcel ceased to exist as a singular vessel.
Silence returned.
Marielle approached Theodore immediately afterward.
And without explanation—
She hugged him.
Tightly.
Like a mother reclaiming something she thought she had lost.
Theodore froze.
Couldn't resist and just took the hug.
And for the first time in the entire ceremony—
He looked confused.
No one agreed on what they had just witnessed. But everyone agreed on one thing. The current leader had just changed.
And it had changed through someone who refused to inherit it.