My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines-Chapter 32: Strength, Focus, and Blood!

Eleonora Thorne.

From what little Victor remembered of the future... that name was not common. She wasn’t just another powerful noblewoman lost among the countless clans. She was someone who, sooner or later, would become an absolute problem for anyone who dared to stand in her way. And the most dangerous thing... was not even close to her peak.

At some point in the future, Eleonora would experience a traumatic event. Something big enough to break limits that, until then, seemed natural even for someone of her level. And it was precisely at that moment that her magic evolved.

Gravitation.

What was already a rare ability... would become something absurd. Total control of gravity, manipulation of invisible forces, distortion of space around her own body... and, at higher levels, something that shouldn’t even be possible within the normal rules of magic.

Magic, in general, wasn’t exclusive. Any being in that world could use it... provided two factors existed.

Compatibility.

And energy.

Without compatibility, magic simply didn’t flow. It was like trying to force water through a solid rock. Without energy, even with talent, the most one could achieve would be weak and useless tricks.

Vampires, however, possessed an absurd advantage in this system.

Their energy came from blood.

The older the vampire... the more blood they accumulated over the centuries. More energy. More raw power. This was directly reflected in their magical capacity, making ancient vampires veritable walking calamities when they took it seriously.

But Eleonora... didn’t quite fit this rule.

Her magic wasn’t just something she learned. It wasn’t a study, nor a technique refined over time.

It was blood.

Literally.

Gravitation was a trait of the Thorne bloodline. Something ingrained in her from the moment she came into existence as a vampire. There was no real cost. There were no conventional limitations.

She didn’t "use" magic like the others.

It existed within her.

And that meant something very simple...

As long as she was alive... she would only grow stronger.

Homeless.

Without clear limits.

Victor looked at the woman.

"An illustrious presence." Victor spoke with a slight smile, analyzing every detail of her without averting his gaze. There was something there... dangerous, but useful. "But I think nothing will change. With or without a judge." He finished, directly, without beating around the bush.

Eleonora’s smile didn’t waver. On the contrary... it deepened subtly, like someone who already expected exactly that kind of answer. Calm. Precise. Confident to the point of bordering on the absurd.

"Don’t be like that..." she replied softly, tilting her head slightly. The cup spun between her fingers with almost hypnotic elegance. "If you don’t trust me... we can make a ~contract~."

The way she emphasized the word wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t just a suggestion.

It was an invitation.

And that smile...

That wasn’t an ordinary smile. It was a weapon. A promise. A trap wrapped in charm. Something that made even those who didn’t understand its weight... feel that danger was there.

The effect was immediate.

Silence.

The entire arena seemed to freeze for a second.

Because her current nickname carried weight... Devil’s Contractor.

If she made a contract... she fulfilled it.

No exceptions.

No excuses.

No loopholes.

Even if it meant putting her own life on the line. And worse... If the contract was broken... She would collect. And not with words.

Victor analyzed the situation. He saw that she wouldn’t give up when he met her with that red gaze contrasting with her light purple hair.

"What do I get out of this?" Victor said dryly.

"Hm... that’s a good question." She feigned innocence, but she already had something in mind.

"Let’s make a deal," she said smiling, and continued, "I’ll guarantee that the Cross Family never touches anything related to you." She then smiled, "If you kill him in the most brutal way you can."

Her smile was so cold that Ethan’s face turned pale. He could see that she was nothing more than a madwoman who was genuinely interested in this.

And why? What did she gain from it?! Exactly, NOTHING!

’She gains nothing from it... what does she want to prove?’ Victor wondered internally; she really didn’t gain anything.

This was the worst-case scenario: someone you don’t know offers you something too good to refuse and wants nothing in return? How strange, but...

"Okay." Victor agreed; he saw there was no way out.

Her smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Great!" She clapped happily, looked at Ethan, and waved, "Bye Bye, you’re dead~" she hummed.

Victor just looked and couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing that she was truly radiating happiness from this simple thing.

She then went to Sable, who was crumpled on the floor, and crouched down close to her. "I don’t know who sent you here, but you received a suspension this morning. Being here is breaking the rules. I’m preventing you from being punished and executed. But remember this: someone in your family plotted for you to be killed as soon as this is over." She whispered as she deactivated the gravity on Sable’s back.

Sable’s face went white. Hearing that, she had a small feeling that things had finally connected.

She slowly stood and nodded, bowing apologetically and disappearing into a cloud of bat smoke.

Eleonora smiled and clapped her hands. "Very well, I declare that now. A Blood Armageddon will take place." She spoke smiling and then... "Victor Valentine vs. Ethan Cross Valentine."

"Begin!!"

A single word echoed throughout the coliseum and... simply broke the rhythm.

Ethan didn’t even have time to breathe properly.

A shiver ran down his spine—pure instinct, that kind of warning that only appears when death is literally staring you down—but it was too late.

Something passed by him... A quick, silent, clean cut. For a mere second... nothing happened.

Then... SHHHHK.

Ethan’s right arm simply... disappeared.

The cut was so perfect that the blood took an instant to even follow the movement. The blade had already passed, the body had already been separated... and only then did reality "realize" what had happened.

The jet of blood exploded.

Ethan’s eyes widened, staring at the emptiness where his arm should have been.

"W—" He didn’t even finish.

In the air, still rotating, his own arm slowly spun.

Ethan reacted purely by reflex, taking a step forward and grabbing the limb before it touched the ground. The blood was already boiling inside him, the vampiric power activating regeneration at maximum speed. He pressed his arm back against his shoulder... and the flesh began to reconnect, muscle fibers intertwining, bones adjusting, skin stitching as if it had never been cut.

But his eyes...

They were different.

It wasn’t pain.

It was... shock.

He looked up.

Victor was already there.

Standing.

Sword in hand.

Calm.

As if he had just done something trivial.

"How..." Ethan murmured, his voice coming out lower than he wanted. "...how did you get so strong?"

Victor smiled, and it wasn’t an arrogant smile. It was worse. It was a simple smile... almost amused.

"Pure cheating." He smiled, and then he disappeared.

It wasn’t an ordinary advance.

It wasn’t physical speed.

It was... mist.

Victor’s body dissolved into a dense, dark mass, evaporating into thin air as if it had never been there. The mist spread in a short radius... and in the same instant... reappeared.

Behind Ethan.

Without a sound.

Without warning.

The sword was already in motion.

Ethan turned reflexively, raising his newly regenerated arm to block— Too late.

SHRAAAK.

The cut slashed diagonally across his back, tearing flesh, ripping muscle, and almost reaching his spine. The impact was so strong that his body was thrown several meters forward, dragging his feet on the ground until he managed to steady himself.

Blood dripped.

The wound was already beginning to close...

But not fast enough.

Ethan gasped, turning his body and staring at Victor with a completely different expression than before.

It was no longer contempt.

It was... tension.

Victor didn’t give him time.

He advanced again.

This time, without disappearing completely, but using short, precise steps—a strange, almost irregular movement, as if the space between him and Ethan was being artificially shortened.

One step.

Two.

And he was already in front.

The sword descended from above with absurd force.

Ethan crossed his arms, creating a layer of hardened blood as a shield—

BOOM.

The impact cracked the defense.

The ground beneath his feet sank slightly with the pressure.

Ethan clenched his teeth, pushing back, trying to resist... but Victor’s strength was... wrong.

It didn’t make sense.

It was too heavy for someone of that age.

Victor twisted his wrist.

The blade slid across the blood shield, shifting off course and cutting laterally in a fluid and technical movement—a clearly refined style, not brutal.

Carmilla.

Ethan tried to retreat—

Victor wouldn’t let him.

One side step.

Horizontal slash.

Ethan ducked—

Direct kick to the stomach.

THUD.

The impact caused his body to double, air being expelled even without a real need to breathe. Before he could react, Victor was already spinning his body again—

Another cut.

Deeper.

Faster.

Ethan recoiled several meters this time, sliding across the ground, his body full of cuts that were still struggling to fully regenerate.

He looked at Victor.

Breathing heavily now.

"...This doesn’t make sense..." he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "You were just a nobody... a few weeks ago..."

Victor tilted his head slightly.

"And you’re still the same," he replied calmly.

And then... he advanced again.

But this time... something changed.

The fog didn’t just appear around him.

It... dominated the field.

A dense layer began to spread across the ground, rising slowly, obscuring vision, distorting perception and depth. It was as if the environment was being swallowed by that skill.

Ethan gritted his teeth.

"Cheap tricks—" His voice faltered.

Victor appeared... to the left.

Attack.

Ethan blocked.

Victor disappeared.

Reappeared to the right.

Another attack.

Faster.

Heavier.

Ethan tried to keep up... but was always one step behind.

The fog wasn’t just visual.

It interfered.

It confused.

It delayed reactions.

Victor appeared in front.

Direct strike.

Ethan blocked instinctively... but the force partially pierced the defense, opening another deep cut on his shoulder.

He tried to counterattack—

Victor was no longer there.

Behind.

Another cut.

Blood.

Another one.

And another.

It was a technical massacre.

There was no wasted movement.

Every step Victor took was calculated.

Every blow had purpose.

Every opening was exploited without hesitation.

Ethan began to realize... too late...

He wasn’t fighting someone stronger.

He was fighting someone... better.

Much better.

The difference in experience... in control... in execution...

Was overwhelming.

"SHIT!" Ethan roared, releasing a burst of blood around his body, creating a pressure wave to push away the mist and force space.

For a moment... it worked.

The mist receded.

Victor appeared a few meters ahead.

Standing.

Observing.

Calm.

As if he were... testing.

Ethan was breathing heavily now, his body covered in marks that regenerated slowly, but not fast enough to keep up with the pace of the attacks.

"You..." he began, his voice heavy with frustration and disbelief. "...what did you do?"

Victor raised his sword.

The blade was still dripping blood.

"I trained," he replied simply.

But there was something behind it.

Something Ethan didn’t understand.

Something no one there fully understood.

Victor advanced once more.

This time... slowly.

Without disappearing.

Just walking.

Step by step.

The pressure in the air increased.

The intent to kill... dense... heavy... suffocating.

Ethan felt it.

For the first time...

Real fear.

Victor stopped a few meters from him.

He twirled the sword slightly in his hand.

And smiled.

"Now..." he said, with a calmness that didn’t match the chaos around him. "...let’s see how long you can last, you bloodsucking bastard."