My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines-Chapter 44: The Vampire King has terrible taste.

Chysis let out a long sigh as she walked through the wide, silent corridors of the palace, her steps echoing firmly on the polished floor while her gaze remained fixed ahead, filled with a contained impatience that only increased as she approached her final destination. The place was grand, excessively ornate, full of symbols of ancient power and unquestionable authority, but none of it truly impressed her anymore, not after all she had seen and experienced throughout the centuries.

The soft lighting reflected on the carved stone walls while ancient flags fluttered slightly in almost imperceptible currents of air, creating a heavy atmosphere, laden with history and decisions that shaped entire generations. Chysis did not slow down for a moment, maintaining a steady pace, like someone who was there not by choice, but by obligation, which, in practice, was exactly the case.

As she approached the entrance to the throne room, two women stood motionless on either side of the door, clad in refined armor with completely neutral expressions, like living statues existing only to fulfill their function. The moment Chysis stopped before them, both bowed their heads in silent respect, immediately recognizing who stood before them without the need for words.

Before any direct interaction could occur, a voice echoed from within the room, clear and formal, carrying the weight of tradition and hierarchy.

"Chysis Valentine, current Marshal of the Royal Army."

The doors slowly opened, revealing the interior of the throne room, a vast and imposing space where every detail seemed to reinforce the idea of ​​absolute dominion over everything that existed within that kingdom. Chysis entered without hesitation, her eyes immediately turning to the figure occupying the center of that room, without any attempt at unnecessary formality.

"Why do you want to speak with me?" She asked directly, without beating around the bush, without any trace of exaggerated reverence, her firm voice making it clear that she wasn’t there for political games or empty ceremonies.

The answer came in a rough, tired voice, laden with an ancient weight that seemed to surpass any physical appearance that might exist.

"You’ve always been direct, Chysis."

Before any further conversation could begin, the sound of the door opening again interrupted the natural flow of the conversation, and the presence that entered the room made Chysis close her eyes for a brief second, like someone who already anticipated exactly the kind of irritation it would bring.

"Ah... so you’ve arrived," said the new voice, light, almost too carefree for the environment.

Chysis turned her face slowly, staring at the newcomer with an expression that didn’t hide her contempt.

"Of course he’s here..." she murmured, her tone laden with genuine irritation. "The current little toy."

The vampire who had entered didn’t seem bothered by the comment; on the contrary, he only smiled slightly, leaning back in a relaxed manner as if completely comfortable in that environment, his impeccable appearance contrasting with how Chysis clearly perceived him.

"You’re always so kind to me, Marshal," he replied with an amused smile.

"And you’re always so useless," Chysis retorted immediately, without even looking directly at him this time, as if she had already lost interest.

The air in the room adjusted again when the King’s voice echoed once more, bringing attention back to the main subject.

"Enough."

The simple command was enough.

Chysis looked forward again, focusing once more on the central figure.

"The events involving the werewolves have increased," the voice continued, paused, calculated. "Twenty percent in the last two years."

Chysis showed no surprise.

"Short term for us," she replied emotionlessly. "Irrelevant."

There was a brief silence.

"My concern isn’t just that," the voice continued. "My daughter is directly involved as General."

Chysis tilted her head slightly.

"And?" she asked.

"Do you trust her?" came the question.

Chysis didn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

The answer was direct, absolute, without any room for doubt.

"Serafall will handle it," she continued, her firm voice carrying a certainty that needed no justification.

Another brief silence followed.

Then the voice replied:

"Then I leave it in your hands."

Chysis simply nodded slightly, as if that were already expected.

"Now..." the voice changed slightly, taking on a different tone. "Your grandson."

Chysis frowned.

"...Victor?" she asked, genuinely surprised by the sudden change of subject.

"How is he?" came the question. Chysis crossed her arms.

"He must be fine," she replied, maintaining a firm posture. "He has a long road ahead of him."

But before she could continue—

A new voice invaded the room.

"Oh, please..."

The tone was heavy with disdain, with artificial superiority.

Chysis froze.

Not out of fear.

But out of immediate recognition.

She turned her face slowly.

The woman who had entered walked with exaggerated elegance, a cruel smile plastered on her face as her eyes assessed Chysis with clearly malicious interest.

"Are we really pretending that boy matters?" she continued, her voice dripping with venom in every word.

The air in the room changed.

Heavy.

Dense.

Chysis didn’t answer immediately.

She just looked.

The woman laughed lightly.

"Your grandson..." she tilted her head. "That bastard with defective blood..."

Her smile widened.

"He’s going to die anyway, isn’t he?"

Silence.

Absolute silence.

And then—

Chysis disappeared.

There was no visible movement.

No preparation.

Just absence.

And reappearance.

Directly in front of the woman.

Chysis’s hand pierced her chest.

Without hesitation.

Without warning.

Without any restraint.

The sound was grotesque.

Flesh tearing.

Bones giving way.

Blood exploding from her body as the woman’s eyes widened in utter shock, her mouth opening to try to speak something that would never come out.

Chysis held her still-beating heart in her hand.

Blood trickled down her fingers.

Hot.

Thick.

Alive.

For a second—

The woman was still conscious.

Still feeling.

Still trying to process what had happened. Chysis slowly brought her face closer.

Her eyes were cold.

Completely devoid of any hesitation.

And then—

She shoved the heart into the woman’s mouth. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Forcefully.

Pushing.

Forcing the jaw open beyond its natural limit while the organ still pounded against the teeth, partially crushing itself in the process, blood gushing out as the woman gasped, trying to breathe, trying to exist.

There was no mercy.

Chysis held her face with her other hand.

And pulled.

With brutal force.

The sound was even worse.

The neck muscles tearing.

The spine being ripped out.

The body collapsing.

The head separated from the rest of the body in a violent movement, blood splattering in all directions as the lifeless body fell to the ground with a heavy impact.

The head remained in Chysis’s hand. Still with her heart in her mouth.

Still with her eyes open.

Empty.

Dead.

The silence in the room was absolute.

Heavy.

Almost suffocating.

Chysis let go of her head.

It fell to the floor with a damp sound.

She wiped her hand slowly.

As if she had just finished something trivial.

"You’re not going to do anything, are you?" she said calmly to Vlad.

"You’re not going to do anything, are you?" she said calmly to Vlad.

There was a small pause.

His voice came again, heavy, laden... but not surprised.

"She was going to be queen."

Just like that.

Without real emotion.

Without indignation.

Without anger.

Just a fact.

Chysis tilted her head slightly, as if considering it for a second... and then shrugged.

"Then you have a pretty serious problem with judgment," she replied, completely indifferent to the weight of it. "Maybe you should stop hanging out with random hookers."

The vampire leaning against the wall chuckled softly, clearly amused by the situation, even with blood still dripping onto the floor beside him.

"Cold as always..." he commented, crossing his arms.

Chysis didn’t even look at him.

Her gaze remained fixed on the throne, as if that comment didn’t even deserve to exist.

"She talked too much," Chysis continued, as if justifying something trivial. "And worse, she talked about something she doesn’t understand."

Silence returned to fill the room.

Heavy.

Dense.

But completely stable.

"Your grandson..." Vlad’s voice came again, lower this time. "He seems to be... a sensitive spot."

Chysis didn’t answer immediately.

She just turned her face slightly, looking at the body on the floor for a second.

Then she returned.

"No," she said.

The answer was dry.

Direct.

But there was something there.

Something small.

Something almost imperceptible.

"He’s an investment," she continued. "And I don’t like it when someone tries to damage something that hasn’t finished growing yet."

The vampire beside her let out another small laugh.

"An investment, is it?" he tilted his head. "You call this an investment?"

Chysis finally turned her gaze to him.

And his smile disappeared.

Instantly.

"Want to test it?" she asked.

There was no increase in tone. There was no explicit threat.

But the air... grew heavy.

Very heavy.

The vampire raised his hands slightly, still smiling, but now with much more evident caution.

"No, no... I’ll pass," he replied.

Chysis looked forward as if it were all over.

"Great," she said.

Another pause.

Then she continued:

"If there’s nothing else, I have more important things to do."

Vlad’s voice took a few seconds to respond.

"...You may go."

Chysis didn’t bow.

She didn’t offer a formal farewell.

She simply turned her back and began walking towards the exit, her firm steps echoing through the hall as blood still slowly spread behind her.

As soon as she left...

"Seriously... how many future queens has she killed just because of her arrogance?" Vlad sighed as another woman entered to replace the one who had died.

"You seem tense, my dear," she murmured.

"Of course, darling, of course..."