"What do I need to do to become a mage? Absorb Mana?"
Zelrec asked, his eyes gleaming with a curiosity that bordered on obsession. Hope, a feeling he rarely indulged, burned hot in his chest. His dream was finally within reach.
"Luckily for you, your nature is a paradox," Foxy began, his voice a low, instructional hum. "Most of your cells aren't fully vampiric. Normally, mana would incinerate demonic cells. For you, it will be a trial by fire. The mana will burn away the vampiric aspects, but the core of your being—the part inherited from Zenith—possesses a regenerative power that eclipses the destruction. The fire will stoke the forge, not consume it."
The old mage crossed the room to a stand near the entrance of his office and retrieved a wooden box.
"Wait," Zelrec interjected, a line of worry creasing his brow. "My regeneration is weak. Weaker than any true vampire I've read about. From what I know, mana destroys demonic cells at an astonishing rate. How can I possibly out-heal that?" He wasn't about to be vaporized because of a misunderstanding, even if he was Zenith's son. He had inherited none of his father's legendary might.
A small chuckle escaped Foxy's lips. "Ah, is that what you're worried about? Fret not. The most potent vampiric cells within you are dormant. They lie sleeping, waiting for a catalyst. The instant raw mana touches you, they will awaken with explosive speed, enhancing your regeneration and physical capabilities by a margin you cannot yet imagine. At that point, your body and soul will be primed to refine that raw energy into your own essence. I suspect it will become Blood Essence, but given your unique lineage, it might be something entirely new. We can only wait and see if my speculations are correct."
With that, Foxy stood before Zelrec, holding a cubic wooden box adorned with intricate golden engravings. He lifted the lid, revealing a bed of clear blue crystals of various shapes and sizes. A palpable aura of power washed over Zelrec, so potent it felt like a physical pressure. These were Mana Crystals.
He'd only ever read about them, though he knew they were the lifeblood of Eldoria. They powered the transportation arrays, the kitchen appliances, and even the colossal protective barrier surrounding the Crimson Spire. But those were Tier 0 crystals, their energy so faint he could barely sense it, easily ignored like the trace mana in the air that his spider-silk clothes repelled.
The crystals before him now were a different beast entirely. The energy leaking from them was so dense it was visible, shimmering like heat haze. These were high-tier crystals, oversaturated with pure power.
Zelrec's vampiric instincts, honed over a lifetime to avoid mana, screamed at him. Danger. Flee. Death. He had read of a full-blooded vampire who was instantly vaporized just by touching a Tier 1 crystal. If he, a far weaker specimen, were to touch one...
But he didn't run.
"Pick one," Foxy said, gesturing to the box.
Is this old fox insane? Zelrec thought, his gaze flicking from the lethal crystals to the calm, almost ethereal expression on Foxy's face. No. He wouldn't dare harm me with Zenith as my father. Then what does he mean?
"You want me to... pick one up?" Zelrec asked, needing to hear the insane command one more time.
"Yes. Please, do not worry," Foxy said, his golden eyes meeting Zelrec's. "I know what you're thinking, but you will not die. Your dormant power will awaken. And even if it doesn't, do you truly think I would let anything happen to you? You are in the presence of Brenthwick Smegon, a 9-Star Mage, the strongest currently in existence. I will not allow the Blood King's son to perish under my watch."
The mage's confidence was infectious. Zelrec let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Guess I have to trust the old fox. Ugh. Who in their right mind trusts a fox?
Steeling his resolve, Zelrec reached for a crystal near the top of the pile. His hand screamed a silent 'no', but it was his to command.
As his fingertips neared the crystal, his skin began to hiss and turn red, as if held over an open flame. A searing agony, unlike anything he had ever known, shot up his arm. It wasn't just heat; it was a feeling of unmaking. He recoiled instinctively, snatching his hand back just in time.
The pain was a shock. As a vampire, pain was a foreign concept. He'd harmed himself in the past out of sheer boredom, testing his regeneration, but never felt a thing. This was real.
He looked down at his scorched palm, and then watched, astonished, as the blackened skin sizzled and knitted itself back together at a speed he'd never witnessed before.
"You see?" Foxy said, his gaze fixed on the perfectly healed hand. "I was right."
Zelrec stared at his pristine palm. A flicker of something more, some deeper power, had stirred within him for just a moment. Foxy was right. His dormant cells were awakening.
He took a steadying breath and reached out again. This time, he did not hesitate. He wrapped his hand around a jagged blue shard.
Pain. Unbelievable, all-consuming pain. His hand felt like it was being dipped in lava. But this time, he noticed something else. The true agony wasn't just the burning; it was the frantic, violent regeneration that followed. It was the feeling of his very cells being torn apart and forcibly stitched back together, over and over, in the span of a microsecond.
He could have let go. He should have. But in this new body, fear was merely a distant memory from a past life. He could acknowledge the pain, but he refused to be ruled by it. His hand smoked, flesh charring and healing in a gruesome, rapid cycle.
"Can you feel it?" Foxy's voice cut through the haze of agony. "The raw energy inside. That is Mana. Now, do not fight it. Command it with your will. Pull it into your body. Guide it to your chest. Then, refine it. Make it yours."
As a novel enthusiast from his past life, Zelrec knew the theory. But feeling it firsthand was a revelation. He ignored the irritating throb of pain and focused inward. He felt the mana inside the crystal—pure, raw, and strangely refreshing. He focused his will, not just his mind, and pulled.
The raw energy surged from the crystal, a torrent of liquid starlight flooding his arm. It felt ethereal, divine, a stark contrast to the brutal, physical power of his vampiric cells. He now understood why it was called soul energy; it resonated with the very core of his being, a core his body had always rejected.
As the mana suffused him, the pain receded, becoming a background hum he could ignore. He was one with the mana, his body now just a conduit.
Effortlessly, his soul began to weave the energy. It resonated with countless possibilities, but his innate nature guided him toward one specific outcome. He focused his intent, weaving the constant flow of mana into a vibrant, blood-red essence.
With the first drop of Blood Essence formed, he felt something else taking shape within him. In the spiritual space of his chest, a new vessel was being born. A vortex of crimson energy coalesced, solidifying into a hollow, blood-red sphere—a Soul Core. The newly formed Blood Essence trickled into it, swirling like a nascent galaxy.
Five minutes passed in what felt like an eternity and an instant. The crystal in his hand crumbled into weightless dust, its power completely drained. The last of the mana was woven into Blood Essence and deposited into his core. He was disappointed, however, to see that the total amount was just a single, lonely drop in the vast, empty ocean of his new Blood Core.
Zelrec broke from his trance. He looked down. His hand, and a large portion of his arm, was a blackened, charred ruin. His expensive silk suit was burned away from his hand to his chest. The mana had been converted so quickly that his accelerated regeneration hadn't been able to keep up.
Foxy watched him, his expression stern, but his golden eyes burned with the fiery passion of a scholar who had just witnessed a miracle.
Without a word, Zelrec reached into the box and picked up another crystal. This time, he didn't refine the mana. He let its pure, cool energy wash over his ruined arm, using it as a balm. The flesh sizzled and reformed, skin and fabric mending until both were perfect once more.
He leaned back in the chair, his head resting against the plush leather, and stared at the glowing blue ceiling. It was satisfying. He had done it.
I never expected this to be more than a fantasy, he thought, a slow smile spreading across his lips. But if this is possible... then returning to Earth to settle my old scores is no longer a madman's dream. It's a goal.
The normally talkative Foxy remained silent, studying his new, unique specimen.
Vampire Mage, Zelrec mused. Lord Zelrec Bloodbane, the 9-Star Vampire Mage. It still doesn't sound as grand as Blood King Zenith Bloodbane, but... it's a start. Still, at this rate, it'll take an eon to become a 9-Star. I have no idea what my lifespan even is. Father is immortal, but a normal vampire lives for 500 years... too many variables.
He pushed the thoughts aside, a newfound determination solidifying in his soul.
No one can convince me this life isn't a million times better than my last.