Draugren

"So, what you're saying is that the more powerful a creature is, the better their blood will be?" Alex inquired. Lysandra's explanation gave him a little hope regarding how things could unfold differently from his initial thoughts.

"Correct. So, for now, all you need to do is hunt strong creatures and drink their blood. Of course, the blood market is always available, but I would rather you gain battle experience and obtain a fresh feed," she replied.

"But how do Energy crystals even fit into all of this? You mentioned that earlier, talking about spiritual energy and the like. So... should I focus on feeding or on these crystals?" Alex asked, recalling their previous conversation.

"Both, of course. Remember what I mentioned about blood—it's the energy within it that's the main attraction. The only thing that sets it apart from energy crystals is the fact that you can't obtain any life force from energy crystals... but you can from soul crystals, which are very rare," Lysandra explained once more.

"Ah, so based on this, vampires could very well live without blood if they had those two things?"

"Indeed, but maintaining that lifestyle would be challenging and quite expensive, especially due to the scarcity of soul crystals. So, you should just focus on obtaining blood."

Suddenly, a thought struck Alex. Could he even drink blood that wasn't a vampire's? He recalled the bitter taste from the blood bag last time. If all blood tasted like that to him, he was in trouble when it came to feeding.

"The last time I fed, I was repulsed by the blood I was given. How sure are we that this won't happen again? And I doubt feeding on vampire blood will be easy or readily accepted. So...?"

"I actually do not know yet either," Lysandra responded.

"What? This is really bad. How am I supposed to—"

"—but I do have a guess about how your next feed might go and why you couldn't drink the blood you were given before, though I'm not 100% certain," Lysandra interjected.

Alex took a deep breath to calm himself. The idea of hunting vampires or becoming an enemy to their race wasn't something he wanted to entertain. The intricacies of blood and life force had become confusing. Everything seemed to point to the fact that he wasn't a normal vampire.

"So, I'm guessing that not being able to drink human blood at first wasn't a bloodfiend trait but rather something specific to me?" Alex inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, yes, but as I mentioned, you aren't entirely a bloodfiend. Don't worry about it too much. Bring out your map. We're going on a trip to the northern wolf forest. It's time to hunt and gauge how far you've come. Afterward, we'll see how well you react to blood," Lysandra suggested.

As Alex contemplated his situation, he couldn't help but feel both anxious and intrigued by the path ahead. The mystery of his unique vampire nature deepened, and he prepared himself for the challenges that lay ahead in the northern wolf forest.

In a different plane, an event was taking place in a large Colosseum. One that would contribute to the wave of change that would undoubtedly affect this era.

On the fighting arena stood a bloodied, shirtless young man. His features alone could only be described as sculpted by a beauty-obsessed god, with a towering height of about 6 feet 7 inches and a physique that rivaled bodybuilders. He stood on the platform, a large long sword in hand. In front of him lay another young man who looked slightly inferior to him in looks and physique, but he lay on the platform without moving, letting out only shallow breaths. Several large sword cuts marred his chest and torso. Just one of these cuts would be enough to end a regular person's life, but that didn't seem to be the case for this injured young man.

"Taka! I wanted a challenge! But you disappoint me. Are you a warrior or a farmer?" The bloodied young man with the large sword bellowed, pointing his blade at the motionless figure. Loud screams and cheers erupted from the audience.

"Weakling!" "Long live Stormblade!" "Ivar! Ivar!"

"I think I would do the entire clan a favor by ending your pitiful life and ensuring that I, Ivar Stormblade, give you a befitting passage to the underworld," the young man suddenly moved with a speed that carried so much force that the spot on which he stood started to crack.

"You deserve death, vermin!"

He swung his sword in a swift motion toward the weak, unmoving figure on the floor.

"Stay your hand!" A loud voice echoed throughout the Colosseum.

Ivar's blade stopped just inches from Taka's body. The momentum he had gathered seemed to have vanished, showing his precise control over his strength.

"Remember the rules, no death."

"Yes, Lord Ragnar!" Ivar replied with a salute across his chest as he faced the podium, where Lord Ragnar and other high lords were seated.

"Winner, Ivar Stormblade!" Lord Ragnar's voice rang out once more, followed by the cheers of the audience. Ivar raised his sword to the sky, basking in the glory of the cheers before walking off the stage with his head held high.

Arena attendants trooped in and carried the fallen Taka away from the stage. Though badly injured and unable to move, he remained conscious. All that ran through his mind was the opportunity he had just missed.

This particular tournament came once every 10 years. It was the period for hot-blooded youth to become stronger and have a chance to be one of the high lords' personal disciples.

This position came with more than just simple pointers—it also provided immense resources that guaranteed one's ability to surpass peers. But something made this particular year different. It was not yet time, but for some reason, it came earlier. The treasure, which took hundreds of thousands of years to appear, emerged prematurely. This treasure was a unique power-up, something extraordinary that would grant its possessor unparalleled strength. None of the contestants were aware of what the treasure actually was though. This was information only probably the high lords were privy to.

Back in the arena, the crowd buzzed with whispers and speculation about the treasure. The anticipation was palpable, and the atmosphere was charged with excitement.

Ivar also became lost in his thoughts he sat in the nursing area with the attendants tending to some of his wounds. He had already received a notification to come to a specific place by the Draugren royal guards, he has proven himself and now his rewards waits.

The people present in the Colosseum were part of the race known as the Draugren—beings possessing immense strength and the ability to grow stronger through combat. They had two hearts, were hard to kill, and had resistance to most elements. The Draugren were renowned for their prowess and feared across the land, and the most scary thing? They got stronger through combat, the more you fought them the more pain in the ass the become. To most races there were known as the number one battle freaks.

In a vast and cavernous chamber, illuminated by ethereal torches that cast dancing shadows along the walls, the Draugren high lords gathered. Their imposing figures were draped in intricate robes, woven with symbols of power and ancestry. As they stood in a circular formation, their presence exuded an oppressing aura that weighed on the atmosphere itself.

In the center of the chamber, Ivar stood flanked by two heavily armored soldiers. His muscular form seemed to resonate with anticipation, his gaze fixed on the crimson pool that lay before the high lords' assembly. This was the culmination of years of training and battles, leading to the pivotal moment of his life.

The ceremony of impartion was about to begin. The pool, its surface as red as fresh blood, reflected the torchlight in an eerie and captivating manner. The high lords' solemn expressions spoke of the gravity of the occasion.

As one, they stepped forward, their robes rustling in unison, and began to speak in a language unfamiliar to mortal ears. The words resonated with ancient power, invoking the very essence of the Draugren ancestors. The pool began to boil, its red surface roiling with a newfound energy.

From the pool's depths, as if emerging from a realm beyond sight, skeletal figures started to rise. A fusion of blood and water coalesced into shapes that resembled warriors, each formed of crimson liquid that held a spectral form. These warriors, born of the Draugren's history and essence, stood at attention with eerie stillness.