Red eyes.
Red, like the blood that won't stop pouring from Lyon's chest and mouth. His thick blond hair is completely soaked in it.
Lyon is only sixteen. He's in the prime of his youth: captain of his town's soccer team, top grades at school, and he even does pretty well with girls.
What more could a guy his age want from life?
The answer is simple: to live.
He knows that path like the back of his hand — he'd walked it hundreds of times, every night after practice.
A dirt road that cuts through a small patch of woods, connecting the soccer field to his house.
It's a freezing December night, and snow blankets the ground in white.
It had snowed until that morning, and if it hadn't stopped, practice would've been canceled.
Fuck, I hope it stops soon!
That was his first thought as soon as he woke up.
In hindsight, if that snowfall hadn't stopped, maybe he'd still be alive.
But you can't predict the future.
How could he have imagined that a man, seeing him walking alone, would try to rob him? And that when Lyon fought back, the cold blade of a knife would rip his stomach open?
Red eyes — red like blood.
They're fixed on him, almost amused.
In the shadows, he makes out the figure of a woman with long hair blacker than the night, swaying in the wind.
She's wrapped in a black fur coat, high heels sinking slightly into the snow.
Who is that woman? And what does she want from me?
His blood seeps into the snow, staining it a vivid red.
The cold seizes his body — first his feet, then his hands. Even his lips won't respond anymore.
«I'd give anything not to die,» he'd murmured just moments ago, tears in his eyes.
It wasn't a prayer, not even a plea — just a statement.
And like a sinister spell, those words had summoned that woman. Since then she has done nothing but stare at him, not lifting a finger to help him.
«Anything?» the woman asks. Her voice is deep and sensual, but also dripping with mockery.
What kind of question is that? As if saying yes could really change anything...
And yet, a faint spark of hope flickers in Lyon.
When you're a step from death, nothing matters more than your life. And if it means staying alive, you're willing to believe anything — no matter how absurd.
The woman's words make him think she might be able to save him, but her tone makes it clear she wants something in return.
He knows well that whatever that mysterious woman wants, it can never be worth more than what she seems to be offering — a second chance.
Pff… all the blood I've lost must've completely messed with my head…
How can I think she can do anything to save me? It's absurd…
If anything, that bitch even looks like she's enjoying this. I don't get what's so damn entertaining about watching me die…
Lyon grows weaker and weaker.
The pool of blood beneath him spreads wider. The snow grows redder.
The figure blurs more and more. His eyelids grow heavier and heavier, ready to close forever.
«Anything…» Lyon whispers with what little breath he has left in his body.
Lyon slowly opens his eyes. His eyelids feel heavy, as if they'd been sealed shut for centuries.
W-What… what happened?
As soon as he tries to remember, a sharp pain stabs through his head.
His memories are a blur, and every cell in his body screams in pain.
And yet, he's still alive.
More than that — he feels like he's been overloaded with energy. Like he could run a hundred miles without getting tired.
Finally, he opens his eyes all the way, and…
Where the fuck am I?
He's lying on a huge canopy bed with black, semi-transparent curtains and matching sheets. And he's wearing nothing but underwear.
Could this be heaven? No… judging by the creepy atmosphere, it's more like hell… What the fuck did I do to deserve eternal damnation?
«You're finally awake, sleepyhead.»
A sweet, melodic female voice drifts from behind the curtains.
Lyon pulls the curtain aside and… he sees her.
Sitting in an armchair not far from the bed is a naked girl, her legs elegantly crossed. She sips from a goblet of red liquid that looks like wine.
Her long, straight black hair falls over her breasts, and her eyes glitter with a sinister crimson light.
«W-W-Who are you?!» Lyon stammers, yanking the sheet up to cover himself.
She sets the goblet down on the armrest and rises with grace.
The shadows in the room coil around her and shape themselves into an elegant black dress.
«Forgive me, I forgot that in the human world nudity still makes people uncomfortable. Your way of thinking is so outdated…»
The human world? And that shadow trick she used to create a dress? Yeah, she must be the devil, and this is definitely the lobby of hell.
She walks up to the bed and sits beside him.
«Let me introduce myself. My name is Ayra Volkom, twenty-one years old. I am the sixth daughter of Viktor Volkom — the ruler of the kingdom of Mildelar. And I am a vampire.»
She says it like it's the most normal thing in the world.
«I'm Lyon—»
But he freezes mid-sentence as soon as he realizes what she just said.
«Wait… WHAT?!»
The princess of a kingdom of vampires? What kind of bullshit is that?
«Lyon… Volkom. Yeah, it sounds pretty good.»
«My last name isn't Volkom!» he snaps. «Anyway… don't you think you owe me some explanations?!»
He tries to stay calm, but it's hard in a situation this surreal.
And above all… she's insanely sexy — way more than anyone he's ever seen in his life.
And no matter how hard Lyon tries not to look like a pervert, his eyes keep dropping to Ayra's very prominent breasts.
«Before you died you said you'd do anything to save yourself, right?»
«Yeah… I think so. Maybe I said something like that.»
The memories begin to surface little by little.
First, the woman with black hair and red eyes staring at him as he lay dying in his own blood.
Lyon has no doubt: that woman was Ayra.
He also feels something wet on his lips. He rubs his thumb over them… and it comes away stained with blood.
What the hell…?
«As you can see, I granted your wish. I saved you from death and brought you here, to Elyndra — a parallel world to the one you come from.»
«Then tell me… why go through all this trouble to save me? And more importantly… why do I have blood on my lips?!»
«To put it simply, the price of your salvation was becoming my familiar. In other words, my servant. To make it possible, I made you ingest drops of my blood, so my magical energy could flow through you. This process is called the Bonding Ritual and, as our millennia-old tradition dictates, I passed you the blood through my mouth. As my familiar, you will have two main duties: serve as my source of nourishment when I need blood and — more importantly — fight for me in the Blood Games.»
Lyon is frozen in shock. And yet, despite the flood of absurdly disturbing information, one thing in particular catches his attention.
Wait… she said she made me ingest the blood through her mouth… so basically that supernatural piece of ass kissed me… and I was too passed out to remember it?! Life is so damn unfair!
«Fight for you…? Blood Games…?»
«The Blood Games are the main form of entertainment for the vampire nobles. Each vampire sends their human familiar to fight the others. That's it. Simple, right? It's not that different from the combat sports of your world.»
«So, in other words… I'm just your toy?»
«Exactly. I see you understand quickly.»
«Not a chance!»
«Do you really think you're in a position to disobey your mistress, huh? Remember, the same way I saved your life, I can take it away just as easily. But I suppose in cases like this, facts matter more than words.»
Lyon's eyes go wide with terror when he sees a deep wound open on Ayra's palm. A torrent of blood gushes out, and yet… it doesn't drip to the floor. It spirals around her hand, floating in the air. Then it changes shape. It stretches, then turns solid.
And now Ayra is holding a sword made from her own blood, pointing it straight at Lyon's throat.
«I-I was joking, I'll do whatever you want, mistress.»
The words come out with difficulty. He feels completely suffocated by fear and by the shock of what he just witnessed.
D-Damn it! This whole situation… is really fucking awful! And to think I was afraid I'd ended up in hell… but now I'm scared I've landed somewhere even worse!
«I'm glad you understand who's in charge, Lyon. You're a smart boy.»
Then the sword turns back into liquid blood and gets reabsorbed by the same wound it was formed from — a wound that seals completely a moment later.
«Get ready, my dear familiar. Your first match will begin shortly.»
In an instant, Lyon is hurled into a colossal arena. Of course, Ayra didn't leave him in his underwear. She gave him a blue tunic, which will be his familiar uniform from now on.
All around him, thousands of vampires fill the stands.
But he didn't reach the arena by walking.
He and Ayra used a teleportation station the vampires call a Nexus. The entire kingdom of Mildelar is dotted with them at its key points, and this network of Nexus is called Venae.
A Nexus looks like a green circle filled with runes and magical symbols, and it lights up red every time it's used.
The creation of Venae dates back to the founding of Mildelar, millennia ago, and it was made possible thanks to ancient magic from a race that no longer exists.
In front of Lyon stands a man twice his age and twice his size, wearing the same blue tunic.
Lyon looks around frantically.
No swords, no guns, not even a stick.
Does Ayra really expect me to fight bare-handed against that giant?! Is she insane?!
«Listen to me, Lyon! Don't you dare make me look like shit, or it'll be worse for you!»
Ayra's voice echoes through a small red sphere Lyon uses as an earpiece.
«Did you even see him?! That guy's got arms bigger than me!!!»
«Strength isn't measured only by physical power. What really matters is how you control your magical energy! The Bonding Ritual didn't just make you my familiar! It also unlocked the dormant magical power inside you! So get moving and don't disappoint me!»
Lyon lets out a long sigh.
«Alright, fine. Then tell me how to use this magical power.»
«Well, uh…» Ayra's voice falters. «…I don't know…»
«Are you fucking with me?!»
«Watch your tone when you speak to me! Remember I'm your mistress, and a princess! Improvise something — just don't make me look bad in front of my little sister!»
«Your little sister…?»
«Your opponent is my little sister's familiar — Priscilla Volkom, seventh daughter of Viktor Volkom. She only got her first familiar recently, so he should be pretty weak too. Beating him shouldn't be too hard.»
Judging by her shaky tone, even she doesn't really believe I've got much of a chance.
So encouraging…
«Ugh, fine. I'll come up with something…»
«Y-You'd better! And anyway, I promise that if you win… I'll give you a very special reward!»
A special reward? I'm almost afraid to ask what it is… M-Maybe she'll kiss me… but this time while I'm awake?
Or… something even dirtier?!
Since my opponent is a newbie too, it won't be that different from a normal old-school brawl.
I'll use the speed that made me captain of the soccer team to knock him out! Or at least, I'll try…
«Lyon Volkom, familiar of Princess Ayra Volkom, and Gerard Volkom, familiar of Princess Priscilla Valakys, take your positions at the center of the arena!»
The announcement booms amplified by something that sounds like an unseen speaker system.
He and his opponent start walking toward each other. Seeing him this close, Lyon is even more intimidated.
Fuck… he's a walking mountain of muscle! If he grabs me, I'm done! But with all that mass, he can't be that fast… right? I hope…
«So you're the rookie? You're a twig. Hope I don't hurt you too badly,» Gerard taunts, cracking his knuckles.
«Last I checked, there are two rookies here,» Lyon shoots back with fake swagger.
At opposite ends of the arena are their mistresses.
Behind Lyon sits Ayra. Behind Gerard, Priscilla.
She's dressed like a loli cosplaying as a succubus. Her fuchsia hair is short and curly. She's wearing a shiny black dress, complete with a tail and wings that look like plastic. In her hand, she holds a red whip.
«Don't you dare lose again!» Priscilla screams furiously, snapping the whip against the floor. «Otherwise… a hundred lashes on your knees on broken glass! No, a thousand!»
Ayra is the opposite — she radiates an aura of composure and cold indifference.
But it's just an act.
Through the red earpiece, Lyon hears her muttering prayers to some dark vampiric deity.
«Hear that, kid? Too bad for you, I have to get serious,» Gerard grins.
The announcer's voice rings out again.
«Let the match begin!»
Alright, Lyon. Focus. Remember: use your speed! Use your sp—
He doesn't even have time to finish psyching himself up… when Gerard is already in front of him. And on top of that, his body is wrapped in a faint aura of blue energy.
W-What the fuck…?!
Gerard winds up a punch, but Lyon can only catch his movements in snapshots, like his eyes and brain can't process that kind of speed.
A second later, he's collapsed on the ground.
A sharp pain tears through his stomach, and he coughs up jets of blood.
F-Fuck! He must've punched me in the gut… but I didn't even see it coming! And this guy's supposed to be a rookie?!
Priscilla bounces with joy like a kid on Christmas morning.
«My endless losing streak is finally about to end!»
Then she turns to her sister and starts slapping her own butt.
«Kiss my ass, Ayra!»
«Lyon, what the fuck are you doing?! They're humiliating us in front of all Mildelar's high nobility!»
Ayra's alarmed voice explodes in his ears through the earpiece.
«W-What do you think I'm doing…? I'm getting slaughtered, can't you see?!»
That bitch said strength isn't everything… but that guy's fists don't seem to agree!
«What's wrong, kid… you done already?» Gerard grins.
Lyon clenches his fists in a desperate attempt to stand, but the pain pins him to the floor.
«And now, the finishing blow!»
Gerard leaps into the air with a jump that would make a pole vault champion jealous.
Seriously, he's more than five meters off the ground… how the hell did he do that?! And those blue flames swirling around him… could that be the famous magic extracted from humans through the Bonding Ritual?
Gerard's massive silhouette casts a menacing shadow over Lyon.
He's about to come down on him like a meteor crashing into a fragile straw hut.
«Lyon, move! Are you going to react or not?!»
Ayra's shrill voice drills into his ear again.
God, I can't stand her anymore…
I hope Gerard's punch sends me to the other world once and for all.
All this vampire and human-fighting crap has already worn me out.
Lyon closes his eyes, resigned. He's ready for what will probably be the most painful hit he's taken in sixteen years.
«Lyon! Do you want to touch my boobs or not?! Then get up and take Priscilla's familiar down!» Ayra yells, this time more desperate than angry.
Boobs? Did she really say… boobs?! Her beautiful, round, huge boobs? So big my hands wouldn't even be able to hold them all?!
So… that's the special reward she meant?
I… I can't die without groping Ayra's boobs first!
Lyon's eyes snap open.
What is… this strange feeling running through my body…?
It burns inside me like a fire spreading from my chest to the tips of my fingers! I can't… contain it… it's about to explode!
WHOOM!
A sudden wave of blue-and-red energy erupts from Lyon's body. It slams into Gerard and hurls him to the edges of the arena.
A stunned silence falls over the spectators.
Everyone holds their breath, in disbelief.
Lyon gets up without effort. The pain from Gerard's punch is gone, like he never hit him. And his body is wrapped from head to toe in that two-toned aura of energy.
«T-The winner is Princess Ayra's familiar — Lyon Volkom!»
The announcer's trembling, stammering voice echoes as he officially declares Lyon's victory.
Gerard, meanwhile, lies unconscious on the ground.
Wait… what the fuck just happened?!
A crowd of journalists and high-ranking nobles fills the conference hall.
Of course, all the praise goes to… Ayra. And Lyon doesn't take it well at all.
No, wait… I take the hits, and she gets the glory?!
«Princess Ayra Volkom, how does it feel to have completed a Bonding Ritual with your Predestined Familiar?» a reporter asks.
Predestined Familiar — Ayra mentioned it as they were leaving the arena.
«In short, vampires' magical energy is called Sanguis, and it's red. Humans' is called Vis, and it ranges from light blue to deep blue. During the Bonding Ritual, it can happen that my energy merges with yours, which explains that red and light blue energy, called Visanguis. It sounds like a trivial thing, but it's so rare that most vampires live their entire lives without ever seeing even a single one.»
«Isn't it obvious? I carefully selected my familiar after years of relentless research. Unlike Priscilla, who just settled for the first dying man she found! An extraordinary princess like me deserves an equally extraordinary familiar!»
Ayra's answers to the barrage of questions are a mix of self-praise and jabs at her little sister — it's clear they don't get along.
After two hours that feel like an eternity, Ayra retreats to her bedroom, more euphoric than ever. Lyon goes with her too.
«Ayra, satisfy my curiosity. Some journalists said vampires can't know in advance whether a familiar is predestined or not. So… how did you know?»
«Well…» A smug smile lights up her radiant face. «…I didn't know. It was just luck.»
I don't know why, but I figured as much…
«What?! Then what was all that talk about years of relentless research?!»
«Oh, that part is true. Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of having a super hot familiar — virile, with magnetic eyes, a statuesque body, and refined manners. Basically, someone worthy of a princess…»
Lyon lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, fired up by those words.
Knowing that an insanely sexy vampire princess like Ayra thinks that of him makes him feel pretty damn smug.
«…but after years of pointless searching, I lost hope and settled for you.»
The sound of Lyon's heart breaking echoes like a plate shattering on the floor.
«You're really cruel…»
«And you're really weird! As far as I know, fear is the most effective way to push a human to release their energy, but you…»
Ayra's face flushes red.
«…you unleashed your power after I told you I'd let you touch my boobs! You're a seriously perverted familiar. But… a promise is a promise, and a true princess always keeps her word.»
Ayra lets the straps of her long black dress slip down, and her huge breasts are revealed in all their magnificence.
«G-Go on… touch them. You earned it…»
Her voice trembles, and she looks away in embarrassment.
Lyon swallows nervously.
Seeing Ayra's imposing breasts this close nearly intimidates him.
Lyon brings his trembling hands toward her chest with agonizing slowness.
«L-Lyon… hurry up… this is really embarrassing…»
A drop of cold sweat slides down his forehead. His fingers are about to close around her soft, heavy breasts when… he pulls his hands back at the last second.
«I-I can't…» Lyon whispers. An immeasurable regret is clearly audible in his voice.
Am I crazy? Maybe.
Will I regret it? Absolutely.
But I have my reasons.
«W-What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you not find my body attractive?! How dare you feel disgusted by your mistress's body?! That's unforgivable!»
«T-That's not it!» he cuts her off. «Y-You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen. I mean it, but…»
He hesitates for a moment.
«From what you said, my power was triggered by the desire to touch your boobs. But if I actually do it… isn't there a risk I won't be able to use Visanguis anymore?»
A faint smile curves her lips. Then, with a surprisingly gentle gesture, she pats his head like he's a puppy.
«You're smart, for a human!»
No, she's the one who's way too careless for not figuring that out on her own! And thank God she's supposed to be the expert between the two of us…
«By the way, Lyon…»
A grin stretches across Ayra's face.
«…I just came up with a brilliant idea to make the most of your perversion!»
I've got a terrible feeling…
«Et voilà — welcome to the Volkom family's exclusive training ground!»
Lyon is more than a little disappointed.
For the royal family's exclusive training center… this is really pathetic! I was expecting something incredible, and instead it's just a small, completely bare dirt arena. There's only a heavy metal door, but I'm guessing it's just for show, since we got here by teleporting with the Nexus.
«Yeah, absolutely magnificent…»
His tone drips with sarcasm, even if he tries to hide it. But judging by Ayra's irritated expression, he didn't do a very good job.
«Lyon, do you remember what old Marius Dulcar told you about Blood Manipulations?»
«Of course I remember. I'm way too young to have Alzheimer's, you know.»
Just before the press conference, an old vampire named Marius Dulcar stopped them.
«Listen, young man. Now that you possess Visanguis, you must study Blood Manipulations thoroughly to honor your mistress's name.»
From what Lyon understood, Blood Manipulations are the vampires' spells. Basically, vampires' magical energy — Sanguis — is contained inside red blood cells. That allows them to manipulate their own blood and move it at will. That's how Ayra generates her solid-blood sword.
«Perfect, then…»
Ayra's clothes vanish as black smoke swept away by the wind, leaving her… completely naked.
Lyon's eyes practically pop out of his skull, and his tongue nearly rolls onto the ground.
The first time he saw her, she was naked too, but he was barely conscious.
But now… he sees everything.
Her gorgeous breasts he's already hopelessly in love with, her toned thighs, her perfect hips, and… everything else — not a single trace of hair.
W-What… what kind of training is this supposed to be? Is this her genius idea?! Staying naked?!
Not that I mind, obviously… but this won't make me stronger… it'll just make me hornier!
But in that moment, he starts to feel… something.
Something powerful pressing under his skin, something he can't hold back.
And no, it's not just his erection — it's the exact same energy that exploded during the fight with Gerard. And now it feels even stronger.
«Looks like my idea paid off! I'm a true genius,» Ayra exclaims.
Without him even noticing, a dense aura of light blue and red energy has begun to hang around his body.
«Open your eyes wide, Lyon. Memorize every single curve of my body, every detail. The way my hair falls down my back and over my breasts, the shape of my hips, my thighs. Everything has to be burned into your memory!»
As if that weren't enough to drive Lyon's hormones insane, she starts posing like a nude model in front of a camera.
«Y-Yeah… I'm memorizing everything...»
«Good. Now that you've managed to bring out your energy, we can move on to the real training. First of all— »
BOOM!!!
The heavy metal door bursts open and slams shut again with a deafening bang, and Priscilla Volkom makes her entrance riding her faithful steed — her familiar, Gerard.
And no, that's not an exaggeration.
Gerard is on all fours, and Priscilla, in her usual loli-succubus outfit, is riding him.
But more than that bizarre entrance, Lyon can't help noticing the countless bleeding wounds still open all over Gerard's body... and blood even spurts from his nose when he notices Ayra is completely naked.
He must've had a rough time after our fight, poor guy… looks like the threat of a thousand lashes wasn't a bluff.
«Y-You, bitch! What the fuck are you doing here?!» Priscilla screams at Ayra.
«That's what I should be asking you! The nerve to act tough after I humiliated you!»
But their bickering gets cut off by the glow of the Nexus. Someone's arriving.
After a red flash, two more figures materialize in the arena.
The first is an elderly man — short, thin, with distinctly Asian features.
Beside him, a red-haired bombshell with her hair tied into a long ponytail. She's wearing a tight, extremely short, extremely low-cut red dress that shows off her massive breasts, much bigger than Ayra's.
«Ugh, all we were missing was Sasha…» Priscilla mutters.
«Yeah — as if you weren't already too much…» Ayra adds.
Sasha smirks, amused.
«Oh my. Looks like the training ground is pretty crowded today.»
«Not for long. I don't intend to spend one more minute with two annoyances like you!» Priscilla snaps.
And in the blink of an eye, she leaves the training ground on Gerard's back. She even whips his ass to make him go faster and get out of there as soon as possible.
Ayra stays, but she's anything but thrilled.
Sasha Volkom, twenty-six years old, fourth daughter of Viktor Volkom. She introduces herself like that, offering her hand to Lyon for a kiss.
The old man beside her is her familiar — Dorje Volkom.
«So you're the famous Predestined Familiar…» Sasha murmurs in a warm, sensual voice. «You know, it's been almost six hundred years since the last one appeared… I'd say I'm pretty lucky. Even if not as lucky as my little sister Ayra.»
«As you can see, this area is already occupied,» Ayra growls.
«I know, little sister, don't worry. Even though Father's rules are clear — whoever has the stronger familiar has priority — this time I'll turn a blind eye. To be honest, I'm really curious to see how you do as an instructor, considering it's your first time. And above all, to see our dear Lyon in action.»
Lyon stays reverently silent while the two sisters bicker.
Ayra's relationship with Sasha seems even worse than with Priscilla. There are two possibilities: either Ayra's sisters are unbearable… or she is.
«Lyon, stop staring at that bitch with those pervy eyes!» Ayra snaps.
«I-I didn't do anything!»
In reality, his eyes haven't left Sasha for even a second. The way her breasts bounce as she walks has literally hypnotized him.
And it gets worse when Sasha steps away to let Ayra start the training.
Lyon's eyes practically lock onto her ass, but you can't really blame him. Her red dress is so short it leaves half her cheeks exposed.
«Alright. Before we start with proper Blood Manipulations, we'll begin with the basics.»
Ayra extends her arm forward. A wound opens on her palm, and the blood that pours out of it hardens into a completely red sword.
«Simple, right? Now you try.»
Lyon imitates her, stretching his right arm forward, and… that's it. He has no idea what else to do.
«Lyon, are you an idiot or what?! I just showed you how to do it a second ago! Do you even listen when I talk?!»
«Oh, little sister… blaming your familiar for your incompetence as a mistress isn't very princess-like.»
«Mind your own fucking business!»
But Sasha doesn't pay attention to her sister's words.
She walks toward Lyon, swaying her hips like a runway model, and comes up behind him.
«W-What do you think you're doing to my familiar?!»
«Simple. I'm showing you how a REAL mistress behaves.»
And before Lyon even has time to understand what's happening… he feels something pressing against his back. Something big — very big — and very soft.
Sasha's breasts.
A sensation that paralyzes every muscle in his body — except one.
He even gets goosebumps when he feels Sasha's hands sliding over him. One runs along his right arm until it closes around his still outstretched hand. The other stops on his abdomen.
Finally, she rests her chin on his shoulder — cheek to cheek.
«G-Get your hands off my familiar, you filthy slut!»
But Sasha ignores her completely.
«For a vampire, manipulating the Sanguis energy contained in your blood is as natural as breathing. For a human, I imagine it isn't quite as easy. But my inexperienced little sister can't possibly know these things.»
Sasha's warm, reassuring voice brushes Lyon's ear like a gentle caress.
«Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Inhale… exhale… yes, like that…»
Sasha's hand, resting on Lyon's abdomen, moves up and down with the rhythm of his breathing.
«Keep your eyes closed and focus on the flow of blood in your veins. Now it's an integral part of you… you can move it at will like it were an arm or a leg. Ayra's Sanguis energy is inside you. Her blood is your blood. And if that useless sister of mine can do it… then you can too. Can you visualize it, Lyon?»
«Y-Yeah… I... I see it…»
Lyon's breathing goes completely still, sinking into what feels almost like a trance.
«Now imagine that flow gathering from every part of your body. It runs down your arm, reaches your hand, and…»
Lyon's eyes snap open, struck by a searing pain. His hand is wrapped in blood flowing out of a wound that has opened on his palm, burning unbearably. It feels like the cut was made with a red-hot knife.
The blood has already started taking shape in his hand. First the hilt, then the blade stretching out inch by inch... but the pain is unbearable.
F-Fuck, it hurts... it hurts too much! I... I can't do it...
Lyon collapses, and with him the not-yet-fully-formed sword. It turns liquid again and falls to the ground like a bucket of blood.
«Not bad for a first attempt,» Sasha comments with genuine surprise. «You're still a rookie, so it's normal your pain threshold is pretty low, but you'll get used to it. Just keep in mind that your regeneration and blood production aren't those of a true vampire, so if I were you I'd go easy with Blood Manipulations. Anyway, I can't wait to watch your next fight. If I'm not mistaken, it'll be in two days. See you soon, dear Predestined Familiar.»