Bloodbath

A scream ripped through the air. Hector moved, his sword flashing through the air— blood spurting out the hot crimson liquid pouring onto the ground.

Hector moved as the corpse fell; his blade snaked through the air; a step back, the clang of steel echoed out as he parried a strike aimed at his chest.

The valley turned into a bloodbath as trainees fought to the death. Hector had never put his practice into a real fight, but he had spent nearly a decade practicing with a combat instructor. His father had abhorred the idea of a man who couldn't fight, so he had required the lessons.

This was one thing his father did that Hector was actually thankful for. He moved with practiced grace, his blade deflecting any strikes aimed his way.

Thankfully, most trainees he encountered were in a similar boat to himself, trained but with no real experience. They also lacked his unique traits.

Despite being reborn as a human, Hector could still feel his command over blood. Vampires couldn't control the blood of others, but they could manipulate their own blood. Hector controlled the blood within himself and increased his physical abilities by speeding up the transport of nutrients and oxygen via blood to all parts of their body, thus improving his energy and power. It was not a drastic change, but it put him a solid step above the average trainee.

He ducked under a blade, the steel weapon slicing the air above his head. A breath, a tensing of his muscles, then he moved. Bursting forward, he grappled the man's arms and lunged for his neck.

His enemy screamed out in surprise, but those screams were soon drowned in his own blood. Hector's teeth sank into the flesh of the man's neck and ripped through it, the thick, rich liquid pouring down his throat and spilling out the corners of his mouth.

The sweet taste of the man's blood invigorated Hector, the blood filling him with a burst of euphoric energy, his eyes slightly dilating from the experience.

He moved without hesitation, tossing the corpse towards an approaching trainee who screamed in horror. "I surrender! Please don't eat me!" before falling to his knees.

Hector paused, his eyes returning to normal, losing the crazed edge they had moments before possessed.

He glanced around the area around him, realizing that everyone else had run away after his fearsome display; he stared down at the man who surrendered and was now quivering in fear. "Please don't eat me," he muttered, his voice wavering as he stared at the ground.

Hector turned to the head instructor and pointed at the man. The Head instructor thought momentarily before nodding to another instructor to remove the man from the competition.

Hector turned to watch the bloodshed with a deep interest, observing the more skilled combatants to see where he stood against them. He found that his skills were superior to most of the trainees present, with a few notable exceptions.

Yumi and Hothrian were both stronger than himself. From what he could tell, it seemed these two were both already able to utilize the strange power of cultivation. There were also another few other students like those two who clearly were already cultivators. These were likely the scions of the various major powers in the sect.

He then turned his attention to Zahara Cheonma and was stunned by the sight. She stood surrounded by over a dozen corpses, bodies having been carved apart. It was as if they had been tossed into a blender, their bodies having been shredded to bloody bits. Standing in the center of the bloody scene, Zahara wielded an absurdly long Odachi greatsword; the blade was slightly curved and razor-sharp. The fearsome girl wielded a terrifying weapon.

Blood covered her body from head to toe, and her soft golden-brown skin glowed under the setting sun. Contrasted by her snow-white hair, which was braided into a series of intricate woven patterns. Hector was mesmerized by her. For the first time, he saw her fully.

Her face was calm and cold, but her amethyst eye glowed passionately. Her figure was every bit as beautiful as he had first guessed, and her masterfully woven hair dangled around her like a curtain hiding a valuable treasure.

With thick and powerful thighs that were larger than her waist, and lean well-toned muscles, she somehow still possessed a feminine beauty that surpassed anything his imagination could have tried to replicate. She was an Amazonian goddess of war.

She turned and met his gaze as he stared at the beautiful woman. Hector froze momentarily before relaxing and allowing a smile to break onto his face. It seemed that he had been caught.

'Errr. Sorry? You were just too pretty,' he muttered.

Instead of speaking, he peeled his gaze away from here, turning and walking towards a rock to sit on and wait for the competition to end. Judging by the corpses, it was about to.

As he turned away, the image of the beautiful warrior goddess was seared into his mind. It took all his efforts not to allow a blush to dominate his face. The thought of her sent chills down his spine and made his heart thunder in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself stop thinking about her.

For the first time in his life, Hector had a crush.

What was there not to love? A powerful woman with incredible thighs and a figure that combines mass with elegant beauty. He turned his head in her direction, catching her wide hips swaying from side to side, showing off her sizeable perky ass.

At this moment, Hector wanted to slap himself. He scolded himself for his lecherous thoughts, but he couldn't stop his imagination. Thankfully, the Head Instructor stopped the competition, forcing Hector's attention away from Zhara.

"Enough!" he roared, his voice booming throughout the valley.

Everyone stopped, many sheathing their weapons or staring down at the people they had killed, sick inside.

Hector watched those who were struggling with what they had just done. Some even puked at the horrid displays in front of them.

Unfortunately, he found himself unable to sympathize with them. It was unfortunate to kill other living people, but this world was built on blood and death. Even in his past life, he had killed more than his fair share of people. Death was not new to him.

The Head instructor gazed down at the surviving two hundred students with a strange smile.

"Congratulations! You all are now officially trainees of the Sacred Flame Cult! This is your first step into the world of cultivation. Remember that your development depends solely on your own efforts in these caves. If you leave this Cave and still fail to obtain the strength you desire, then you have no one to blame but yourself."

The speech lit a fire inside Hector, his passion and excitement growing with every passing moment. It had only been a matter of days in this new world, and he was already experiencing things he had only dreamed about in his last life.

His heart burned with passion; his future laid out before him, ready to be seized. The blood from the man he killed dripped down the corner of his mouth. He whipped it away with a finger before licking it clean, enjoying the simple flavor.

The head instructor finished his speech with a grandiose roar, "Go now! Head into the cave! Praise the Heavenly Demon, Praise the Sacred Flame Sect!"

The cacophony of voices that thundered back was a powerful wave of young voices filled with enthusiasm. "Praise the Heavenly Demon, Praise the Sacred Flame Sect!"

Without hesitation, Hector sprinted towards the opening of the Demonic Cave and lept inside.