My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines-Chapter 28: Serious threats have begun.

After the torrent of revelations Chysis poured over them, the conversation finally came to an end. There were no final screams, no grand heroic conclusions—just a simple, heavy, and inevitable truth that hung over the room like a sentence.

Become stronger.

Because the consequences would come.

Sooner or later.

Victor accepted this with an almost strange calm. In fact, deep down, it even pleased him. He was still just a student within the hierarchy of House Valentine, a novice on the great political and military chessboard of vampires. Having so much attention focused on him could easily mean trouble... but it also meant opportunity.

Interest.

Pressure.

Expectation.

All of this could be transformed into fuel to climb ever higher.

Especially when it came to the goal he had decided to pursue since he opened his eyes in that second life.

To be the strongest.

It wasn’t just youthful ambition or wounded pride. That goal was born the moment he realized he had traveled back in time—that he had been given a second chance at life.

And there was more than just luck involved.

That woman.

Morgana.

She had been very clear: this was a contract. An opportunity granted, but one that came with expectations. He didn’t know exactly what all the rules of that agreement were... but he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He needed to fulfill it.

At any cost.

Even if the path there was violent.

Even if it was destructive.

Even if it meant plunging headlong into a world of blood, conspiracies, and wars between ancient clans.

Victor had no intention of backing down.

Furthermore, the encounter with Chysis brought another unexpected advantage.

After the existence of Carmilla and Scarlett was revealed, his grandmother—after much complaining, arguing, and declaring her dissatisfaction with her grandson’s "chaotic marital state"—ended up offering an extremely practical solution to the problem. A small magical device.

Discreet.

Elegant.

And absurdly powerful.

The artifact created a layer of magical camouflage that completely suppressed and distorted their presence. It not only concealed their vampiric aura but also scrambled perception around them, as if their bodies simply became irrelevant to people’s senses.

According to Chysis, the effect reached something close to two hundred percent suppression of presence.

In practice, this meant something simple:

Even walking alongside Victor, practically no one would notice Carmilla or Scarlett.

Unless they were creatures of an absurd level.

Something like...

the Vampire King himself.

Otherwise, they could move freely without raising suspicion.

It was convenient.

Extremely convenient.

Too convenient, perhaps.

But Victor wasn’t the type of person who looked at a gift from fate and started asking too many questions.

Finally...

When a demon has already sent you back in time to live another life, complaining about convenient coincidences seems a little pointless.

So Victor simply accepted it.

Without questioning.

Because, in the end, that was—by far—the best possible scenario for him... And so, time began to pass.

Not dramatically or full of grand events, but at the steady and disciplined pace of someone who had finally found a clear purpose.

Victor immersed himself completely in his own development.

If before he was still trying to understand what it meant to be a vampire... now he began to become one for real.

Each day was spent refining some part of himself.

Control of the bloodline.

Control of the blood.

Control of his own body.

The bloodline that had awakened within him was powerful, but it was still like an untamed beast—full of potential, yet brutal and unstable. Victor spent hours upon hours testing the limits of his own physiology, learning to accelerate regeneration, strengthen his muscles through the circulation of vampiric blood, and even better stabilize his senses, which sometimes became chaotic with the increased perception.

He wanted to transform every natural advantage into something controlled.

Something he could consciously use in combat.

Carmilla, in turn, began to help him discreetly.

Not in an obvious or open way—after all, they both still needed to remain hidden—but whenever there was an opportunity, she guided him in small adjustments to the sword technique he had been developing.

It wasn’t a formal school.

Nor a traditional style.

It was something Victor had begun to create on his own, mixing instinct, brutality, and speed.

Carmilla refined it with the experience of someone who had lived through centuries of battles, duels, and wars.

Small details.

Angles of attack.

Economy of movement.

The exact moments when a strike should hesitate... or accelerate.

She rarely praised.

But when Victor landed something perfectly, a small smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

Scarlett helped in another way.

Much more... physical.

She didn’t have the same patience for refined technique that Carmilla had. For Scarlett, the solution was almost always simple:

Train more.

Run more.

Strike more.

Break the body until it rebuilt itself stronger.

She taught Victor brutal exercises that exploited the vampiric regenerative capacity—absurd series of efforts where muscles tore, recovered, and returned even denser. For her, a vampire who didn’t trust their own body was just an elegant corpse.

And Victor... surprisingly... kept up.

Days turned into weeks.

A routine settled in.

Morning training.

Lessons at the palace.

Training again at dusk.

Occasional arguments between Carmilla and Scarlett about who was "ruining his fighting style."

And, little by little, it began to become... normal.

Strangely normal.

Victor grew accustomed to the constant presence of the two women.

To Scarlett’s provocations.

To Carmilla’s sarcastic comments.

To the fact that, technically, he shared his life with two millennia-old vampires hidden by a magical artifact.

Life simply went on.

Quiet days.

No major incidents.

No new conspiracies exploding.

No assassins trying to rip his head off.

For a while...

It seemed that perhaps things could really continue like this.

Until, inevitably...

a problem arose. [... In a place beyond the training grounds]

"I must be getting sick, coming to see you." Said a quiet voice walking with his hands behind his back. "How have you been, nephew?"

[One of the Nine Blood Kings ~ Edgar Valentine]

Jake glanced at him sideways while sharpening his two-meter greatsword, "What do you want, old man?" He replied nervously while smoking a cigar.

"What do I want? Well... how about... Victor Valentine?" He questioned.

Jake’s eyes slightly lifted to meet his. "You worry too much, uncle." He paused briefly, smiling, "Why are you worried about that bastard?"

Edgar looked at him, and saw the blatant lack of intelligence. "In Valentine, few things happen by chance. Like the near extinction of your beloved Sable." He said smiling, "Or do you think the little Clan you love so much will survive?" He questioned with a demonic look.

Jake turned and stood up, bringing himself to his level. "What did you say?"

Edgar shrugged and ignored him, going to the blood bottle and picking it up with a look of disgust, "Chysis Valentine opened an internal investigation, I think you understand what I mean, right?"

He looked at his uncle with half-closed eyes, the cigar still stuck between his teeth as a thin column of smoke slowly rose into the air. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"You’re bluffing," Jake finally said.

"Do you really think I’d come all this way to waste my time with bluffs?" he asked calmly.

Jake exhaled a puff of smoke.

But his expression had changed.

Edgar noticed this immediately.

The man in front of him might seem like a brainless brute most of the time... but Jake hadn’t survived this long in Valentine House being a complete idiot.

He knew how to recognize political danger.

Edgar walked a few steps across the empty field as he spoke.

"Things are... interesting at the council," he said casually. "Marshal Chysis decided to remind everyone she’s still alive."

Jake spat on the ground.

"That old woman has always been crazy."

Edgar chuckled softly.

"Crazy?" he repeated. "Maybe."

He stopped.

And slowly turned his head.

"But she’s a crazy woman with absolute authority within the army."

Silence returned for a moment.

Jake gripped the hilt of his greatsword.

"...Then speak up," he growled. "Where are you going with this?"

Edgar gave a small smile.

"The investigation has begun."

He raised a finger.

"Abuse of authority."

Another finger.

"Manipulation of records."

Another.

"And falsification of charges against a member of the direct Valentine lineage."

Jake felt his jaw clench.

Edgar continued, with the calm of someone reading a shopping list.

"The Cross Clan is already being interrogated."

Another step.

"The Nightshade have lost several members."

Another.

"And the Silverblood are desperately trying to feign neutrality."

Jake smashed his cigar against the whetstone.

"...Enough."

Edgar tilted his head slightly.

"Enough?"

Jake stared directly at him now.

"Stop beating around the bush."

He rested his greatsword on his shoulder.

"...What does this have to do with Victor?"

Edgar smiled.

A thin smile.

Cruel.

"Everything."

Jake frowned.

Edgar took a few more steps closer.

"Do you really think the most dangerous Marshal of House Valentine decided to kill half a dozen clans... because of some random student?"

Jake didn’t answer.

Edgar continued.

"That boy."

He crossed his hands behind his back again.

"...is at the center of all this."

Jake snorted.

"He just got lucky."

Edgar raised an eyebrow.

"Lucky?"

He began to walk in circles slowly.

"First he humiliates a veteran instructor."

Another step.

"Then he survives the punishment."

Another.

"Then the most powerful Marshal of the House shows up in person... and starts an investigation that could wipe out three clans."

He stopped.

And looked directly at Jake.

"That’s no luck."

Silence.

Jake stared at him for a few seconds.

Then he picked up his greatsword again.

"...So why did you come all the way here to tell me this?"

Edgar’s smile widened even more.

"Because you’re my nephew."

Jake rolled his eyes.

"Bullshit."

Edgar laughed.

"Fair enough."

He moved a little closer.

"...I came to warn you."

Jake remained silent.

Edgar tilted his head slightly.

"The Cross family is furious."

Another step.

"The Nightshade want blood."

Another.

"And the council needs a scapegoat to stabilize the situation."

He stopped right in front of Jake. "...Guess who the easiest target is."

Jake let out a heavy breath. "...Victor." Edgar nodded slowly.

"Exactly." The field fell silent for a few seconds.

Then Jake finally spoke: "...And what do you think I’m going to do?" Edgar shrugged.

"I don’t think anything." He started to walk away. "...But if I were you..." He looked over his shoulder. "...I would watch that boy very carefully."

"Why?" Jake frowned.

Edgar smiled.

A strange smile.

Almost... curious.

"Because if he survives all this..." Small pause. "...maybe we’ll have a new monster growing inside Valentine House." He started walking away. "...And it would be a waste not to eliminate it completely before its wings begin to explore the world..."