Ash's vision blurred as the bond with Raven deepened, pulling him into the crimson depths of her past.
He floated like a shadow through her memories, witnessing not just events, but the emotions that shaped her— the quiet pressures of an eternal dynasty, the blood-soaked rituals of vampiric nobility, and the vast gulf between the structured kingdoms of Elaris and the boundless power of the Venia Galaxy.
It was like stepping from a child's game of thrones into an ocean where strength was as essential and omnipresent as water itself.
Raven, at 450 years old, was a product of that ocean, the Third Princess of the Eternal Nocturne Clan, a lineage that had endured four cosmic eras, commanding an entire galaxy and thousands of worlds under its crimson banner.
Ash saw Raven as a newborn, cradled in a throne of living blood-crystal within the Nocturne Prime's grand palace—a sprawling fortress that spanned an entire dead star, its halls echoing with the whispers of ancestors preserved in eternal blood-vaults. Unlike the human kingdoms of Elaris, where royalty schemed over borders and rankings like pieces on a board, vampiric life in Venia was a symphony of power.
Clans like Nocturne didn't "rule" through fragile alliances; they dominated entire worlds; their depth of power ran so deep that even Ninth Calamity cultivators were like ants.
Ancestors slumbering in crypts that could awaken to devour worlds if provoked. Raven's birth was celebrated not with feasts, but with blood-oaths from vassal worlds, where billions of subjects offered drops of their essence to "feed" the new princess's aura.
Her family was a constellation of talent.
She had three older brothers—Elias, the firstborn, at the time 450 years ago he was a Fifth Calamity prodigy mastering blood-swords that cleaved space; Liam, the psycho who had a horrendous bloodthirst; and Victor, the silent assassin whose shadows swallowed stars.
Her two older sisters, Riya and Liora, outshone her in courtly intrigue and illusion-weaving, already at Sixth Calamity by Raven's current age. Then came her younger sister, Mira, a playful prodigy who grasped faint illusion manipulation before she even awakened.
Raven's life was power's flow.
While her siblings shone brighter in clan tournaments, galaxy-spanning events where victors claimed worlds and resources, she excelled in the shadows. By fifty, she crushed rival prodigies in bare-knuckle duels, her Silence erasing the sound of breaking bones, Sanguine Mirage creating phantom fists that struck from impossible angles.
Her siblings outshone her in raw talent, but Raven's quiet, relentless growth made her a force none dared underestimate.
"I knew there was something I liked about her," Ash thought as he watched the memories. Even as the least talented in her family, she never let it bring her down or complained—she just got the work done.
"Heh, kind of like me, huh?"
Vampiric culture was alien to human norms Ash knew of. There were no "childhood games" or "light training"; young vampires fed on diluted ancestor-blood to build resonance for future awakened affinities, their "birthdays" were marked by trials where they drained lesser beings to prove dominance.
Ash watched as her beauty was weaponized—Raven's pale skin, long black hair, and bloody eyes made enemies hesitate, a fatal mistake against her silent strikes.
At one hundred, she took on her first solo mission—quelling a rebellion on a vassal world.
The night before her departure, her father, the clan Patriarch and a being who had lived through an entire cosmic era, told her, "Eternal Clans endure because we are water. We flow, we consume, we remain."
Hearing this, Ash felt a deeper understanding of the true cultivation world settle in.
'Though the times are vastly different… the first cycle followed a similar flow,' he mused, memories from long ago surfacing in his mind.
Cultivators in Venia simply existed as power incarnate, their dominion over thousands of worlds sustained by power and ancestors who could rouse from slumber to crush rebellions with a thought.
Raven left with no grand army, just her fists and illusions. She walked into the rebel stronghold alone, emerged hours later with the leaders' heads in a bag of solidified blood.
Time passed in the blink of an eye before Ash.
As Raven continued to grow... Ash came to learn that The Nocturne Clan controlled the Sanguine Galaxy, a domain of ten thousand worlds where vassal races paid tribute in blood-vials, not mana stones.
By two hundred, Raven was Second Calamity, control over Laws and her prowess in creating blood-phantoms that fought with her precision, Silence erasing entire battlefields of sound. She oversaw blood-tributes from thousands of worlds, her presence alone enough to quell dissent.
Life in an Eternal Clan was timeless pressure: ancestors judged through blood-dreams, siblings competed in eternal rivalry, and weakness meant irrelevance.
Raven's quiet strength earned respect, but never the spotlight her siblings claimed.
At four hundred, the mission came.
An elder ancestor awakened briefly, raging over a stolen Third Era artifact—the Elaris Orb, a pocket-world holding ancient blood-essences vital for clan rituals. Two thieves, Fay Sylvaraen and Sia Thorne, had taken it centuries ago. Raven, steady and reliable where her siblings were "too valuable," was tasked with retrieval on Astralis—a Fourth Era world rich for tempering.
She accepted without hesitation.
With main-clan escorts (including Summer, Katherine, Seth, and Connor), Raven left Nocturne Prime for Astralis, her fists ready, Silence and Sanguine Mirage her only weapons.
The memories faded.
Ash opened his eyes back in the present, Raven's past settling into him like another layer of armor.
She was no sheltered princess—she was a product of eternal hunger, forged in silence and blood, steady where others burned bright.
And now, she was his.
He looked at her sleeping form beside him, wings curling protectively.
His Third Princess.
His Raven.
He smiled slightly before focusing on his status. He had gained many things, all of which had already been enhanced while he viewed the memories. This was thanks to his physique's perfect absorption. Still, most of them stemmed from darkness and blood—two areas in which his talents were already considerable.
So, he focused on the things most interesting.
[Talent Acquired: Whispering Apocalypse Fists - The user's fists become the embodiment of silent, infinite unmaking. Each strike unleashes a cascade of 500 layered silent darkness voids, where blood-illusions replicate not just the blow but the entire combat sequence infinitely across all possible timelines within a galaxy.
Foes experience one punch as 500 trillion simultaneous impacts, their blood transforming into eternal illusory chains that bind soul and eve laws itself. (Works up to one major realm higher - Stellar Sovereign Rank]
[Affinities Acquired: Sanguine Mirage, Silence]
[Law(s) Acquired: Illusions 80%, Silence 65%]
[Calamity Law (s) Acquired:
Edict of Silent Sanguine - Within mana sense domain, absolute silence descends, and blood from any source (living, spilled, or ambient) becomes raw material for perfect illusions that feel, bleed, and fight exactly like the original.
These mirages can duplicate entire armies or landscapes, deceiving even Calamity senses. Enemies bleed silently without wounds, their own blood turning illusory and draining life force to fuel the mirages.
Sanctuary of Eternal Silence - Within the user's mana sense domain an indestructible sanctuary of absolute silence and blood-mirage forms around Raven and anything/anyone she designates as "protected."
All incoming phenomena (physical attacks, Laws, and Calamity Laws) are instantly silenced and reflected as perfect blood-illusions that return to the attacker at 100 % original power, while the original strike never reaches the sanctuary.]
[MP Acquired: 8 billion]
Ash's smile widened as he realized his cultivation had risen to the third Calamity, along with gaining her Laws.
"Not a bad gain at all," he muttered, though despite growing stronger, he would much rather forge his own Calamity Laws. He then lay back, resting with the women for a while before going to check on the others.