The miniboss slammed into the ground hard enough to shake the ruins. Dust exploded outward. Alistair’s blade was already glowing, redcrystal humming with heat as he danced past the thing’s claws.

  [Firebite – Active]

  Mana Cost: 2/sec

  Weapon strikes deal +5 fire damage.

  [Warmth] stacks applied on hit.

  Current stacks: 3/5.

  He ducked a swipe and lashed out again, cutting along the creature’s plated side. The blade hissed. Sparks sprayed. The stench of burning flesh hit his nose.

  Gods, that smell never got better.

  The miniboss was some kind of malformed warg, half-stone, half-metal, and 100% pissed off. Spines jutted from its back, each twitching with ambient mana. Its claws had nearly taken off Brimma’s head earlier. She hadn’t appreciated that.

  Brimma barked, “Keep it in the center! My totem’s almost ready!”

  Kael called, “You could use your dragon ability.”

  He didn’t look back. “It has a twelve-hour cooldown.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  “That’s a responsible adult answer.”

  “Since when?”

  The miniboss lunged, a spinning claw aimed for Thess’s gut. Alistair moved without thinking, [Ethereal Phase] would’ve been smart, but instincts had him pivot and intercept.

  His blade scraped the attack aside just barely. His shoulder screamed in protest. A chunk of armor cracked.

  From the top of a nearby ruin, Kael let an arrow fly. The shot nailed the miniboss in the side of the head, not fatal, but enough to stagger it into Brimma’s trap radius.

  “[Thornbloom Totem] active!” she shouted.

  Spiked thorns exploded in an arc from her summoned totem, slamming into the miniboss’s legs. It howled, tried to retreat, and Buddy snarled from his perch, warning of danger but not from above. Just…watching.

  "Hold still, you ugly bastard," Thess growled, fists glowing faintly green as she barreled in from the flank.

  She didn't use weapons. She was the weapon.

  [Thornspike Shell – Passive]

  Melee attackers take minor piercing damage on contact.

  +6 Defense while active.

  The beast lunged for her, teeth wide. She ducked and drove a fist straight into its jaw. A crunch echoed. Thorns erupted from her forearm as she struck, stabbing into its gums. The thing howled.

  Alistair grinned. “I’d marry that punch.”

  “Shut up and flank it!” Thess snapped.

  He obliged, slashing behind its legs. More fire. More [Warmth]. The healing kicked in right after.

  [Bloodcall – Active]

  Target tethered: Steelback Houndspawn

  Draining HP: 21/sec for 5 seconds

  Healing Alistair for 105 HP total.

  Status Applied: [Bloodbind]

  A crimson tether pulsed between them like a heartbeat. He felt the creature’s panic as its strength bled out and funneled into him. Delicious.

  "Five stacks," he muttered. His skin buzzed with energy. Every slash was a little faster. A little deeper.

  “Stop hogging the spotlight!” Thess shouted, diving in again. She landed a spinning heel kick against the creature’s flank, sending it stumbling. It whirled, claws flailing and raked across her side.

  Didn’t even flinch.

  Thorns burst from her skin at the impact point. The miniboss recoiled, bleeding now.

  [Rootbind Grasp – Active]

  Cooldown: 10s

  Target immobilized for 3s.

  She didn’t hesitate, hands to the ground, vines erupted like snakes and wrapped around the miniboss’s legs. It froze mid-motion, bound tight.

  “Now!” she barked.

  Alistair leapt, blade raised and slammed it deep into the beast’s throat. The fire coursed in. [Warmth] capped. [Bloodcall] still ticked. The monster gave a final shudder and collapsed with a wet, sizzling thud.

  [Miniboss Defeated: Steelback Houndspawn]

  [Godkey Fragment – Acquired]

  [Total Collected: 4/7]

  He landed lightly beside the corpse picking up the fragment and gave Thess a cocky grin. “Teamwork.”

  Thess blew a strand of hair from her face. “You mean, I softened it and you stole the kill.”

  Kael called from above, perched like a smug cat. “Would’ve been faster if you used the dragon thing.”

  “Still not using it,” Alistair replied, kicking a chunk of armor off the corpse. “Twelve-hour cooldown. You want me to waste that on budget Cerberus?”

  “I want to see something explode.”

  “I’m right here,” Brimma huffed. “My spells explode plenty, thank you.”

  She was further back, staff in one hand, the other already waving off their bickering. Buddy prowled beside her, head low, eyes tracking the far end of the ravine.

  No enemies. Yet.

  Kael hopped down and nodded toward the corpse. “She just needs one more Godkey,” he said, nodding toward Thess.

  Alistair nodded back. “With this one, I’ve got four.”

  “Four more and we’re done,” Thess said, rolling her shoulder. “That one hit harder.”

  “You hit back harder,” he said.

  She gave him a look. Not quite a smile. Not quite a glare. “You getting sentimental on me?”

  “I think that was a compliment,” Brimma said flatly. “Mark it down. The vampire's growing a soul.”

  Kael elbowed Alistair lightly. “Still think we don’t need protection?”

  Alistair shrugged. “Two champions saw us and ran.”

  “Because of Buddy,” Kael muttered.

  They all looked at the beast. Buddy stood like a statue, watching the horizon with burning eyes.

  Alistair stepped around the smoldering remains and glanced at his party.

  "I thought these were supposed to be getting harder."

  "Maybe it was shy," Brimma said from behind, her voice dry. She leaned on her staff with a grunt. "Or maybe we're getting smarter."

  "Or maybe," Kael added, perched just above them on a slanted slab of stone, bow resting across his knees, "we should be worried that it's been too easy."

  “I say we finish this,” Alistair said. “Before someone grows a spine and tries to jump us.”

  Kael grinned. “One more for Thess.”

  Brimma grunted. “And then you, fang-boy.”

  “Good,” Alistair said, gripping his blade. “I’m getting hungry.”

  Alistair flicked the blood off his blade, but something tugged at the edge of his awareness.

  Huh.

  He blinked, breathing steadying as the battle-high wore off. In the heat of the fight, he’d completely ignored the system pings.

  He brought up the log.

  [LEVEL UP: You have reached Level 25]

  +4 Attribute Points Awarded

  +3 Agility

  +2 Dexterity

  Alistair froze.

  Level… twenty-five?

  He scrolled through the rest of his notifications until he found the one.

  His eyes locked on the glowing message, pulse thudding like a war drum. He scrolled down, fingers trembling slightly.

  There it was.

  [New Ability Gained: Kiss of Life – Vampiric Essence]

  Type: Active

  Cost: 150 Mana + Essence (irrecoverable)

  Cooldown: 24 hours

  Effect:

  You may transform a consenting mortal into a vampire through a sacred blood ritual.

  ? The process requires a full exchange of blood and essence.

  ? Once completed, the target becomes your bloodborn progeny, permanently bound.

  ? Transformed individuals gain vampiric traits, abilities, and weaknesses.

  ? This ability is irreversible.

  Lore: “To grant the Kiss is to carry on the line, to create, to damn, to shape the night anew. Few may give it. Fewer still survive the weight.”

  He stared at it.

  This was it.

  This was everything.

  For so long, he'd been mocked. By his father. His instructors. The coven’s Elders. An heir with no fangs, at least, not the kind that mattered.

  Without this ability, he was nothing more than a parasite in noble robes. A joke. A cautionary tale.

  He remembered his father’s voice, cold, clinical, venom laced with disappointment:

  "A Soulbinder who cannot bind. A vampire who cannot sire. What use are you, Alistair?"

  He closed the notification window, slowly.

  “Alistair?” Thessaly asked, stepping closer. “You alright?”

  He raised a hand, still staring at nothing. “I... need a moment.”

  The others paused. Even Buddy turned his head.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Alistair ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. His limbs felt too light. His chest too tight.

  He’d done it.

  The thing they said he’d never reach.

  The ability that crowned you as a true vampire.

  The Kiss of Life.

  He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh, scream, or sit down and cry.

  Alistair sat down on a half-cracked slab of stone, not caring that it was still warm from the fight. He rested his arms on his knees, blade tip planted in the dirt, and stared at the ground like it had betrayed him.

  Kael dropped down beside him, crouched low. “You alright? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “No.” Alistair exhaled. “Worse.”

  Thess took a tentative step closer. “Is it… bad?”

  Brimma snorted. “If it were bad, he’d be pacing and whining. This is new. This is sulking.”

  Alistair gave her a hollow smile. “I leveled up.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “Right. You’ve done that before. You usually do a little flourish and say something snarky.”

  Alistair didn’t reply right away.

  He just opened his system panel again, stared at the glowing words like they weren’t real.

  “Kiss of Life,” he said finally.

  The others froze.

  Brimma straightened, staff tapping once against the ground. Kael blinked. Thess frowned, thoughtful.

  “That’s the sire ability, isn’t it?” Kael asked, slowly.

  Alistair nodded.

  Thess tilted her head. “I thought only powerful vampires could do that.”

  “They can,” Alistair muttered. “And now I can too.”

  For a moment, nobody said anything. Even Buddy seemed to sense the shift, quiet, watchful.

  “Vampires are divided by blood,” Alistair continued, voice calm but tight. “Born vampires, like me, we're rare. Old bloodlines. Each of us carries traits… Wreaths, sometimes unique, sometimes inherited. Soulbinding, in my case.”

  He looked up, eyes sharp now.

  “Turned vampires are different. They’re made, not born. A pale shadow of the original. They inherit some traits from their sire, but they’re limited. Weaker. And almost always feral, unless properly trained. Most purebloods don’t even bother.”

  Brimma snorted. “Sounds familiar. Elites making copies and then pretending they’re trash.”

  Alistair’s lips curled upward, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I’ve never been able to do it. That’s… the mark of a true vampire. The rite that says you’re ready to carry your lineage forward. My father made sure I knew that. Every day.”

  Kael leaned forward. “He told you you were worthless without it.”

  “Worse. He said I was a liability. A bloodline that ends with a broken link.”

  Thess frowned. “But now you can… make more vampires?”

  Alistair nodded. “Yes. One per day. If I choose to.”

  Brimma tilted her head. “And if you don’t?”

  He looked at her.

  “I stay myself.”

  Kael was quiet for a long moment. “It’s a lot of power.”

  “I know.”

  Thess sat beside him. “Do you… want to use it?”

  Alistair didn’t answer right away.

  He just looked down at his hands, pale, sharp-fingered, tinged faintly red from the blood he’d stolen during the fight.

  He thought of the coven. Of his father’s cold eyes. Of how many times he’d heard the phrase, “You’ll never be one of us.”

  And now…

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe someday. But not for status. Not for power.”

  Thess nodded. “Good.”

  Kael exhaled slowly, then stood. “Alright. Well. That was heavier than expected.”

  Brimma tapped her staff again. “We done with the soul-searching?”

  “Almost,” Alistair said, rising to his feet. “I’ve got a few more notifications to go through.”

  Alistair sat still, letting the quiet settle around him as the others kept a respectful distance.

  He dragged all five points into Willpower without hesitation. He needed the mana. Intelligence was already stacked, and honestly? He didn’t trust his own self-control when it came to raw power boosts anymore. Willpower gave him options.

  The moment he locked the points in, the next cascade hit.

  [Skill Increased: Light Armor → 12]

  Physical Damage Resistance 14%, Dodge Chance 6%

  [Skill Increased: Dual Wielding → 13]

  Off-hand Attack Speed 29%, Off-hand Damage 6%

  [Skill Increased: Swordsmanship → 18]

  Weapon Damage 22%, Parry Effectiveness 9%

  [Skill Increased: Fire Magic → 10]

  Spell Damage 23%, Burn Duration 5%

  Neat. Useful.

  And then came the last one.

  [New Ability Gained – Vampire Lord Class: Trueform – Nightbound Majesty]

  He read the first line.

  Then he read the second.

  By the third, he was already muttering “nope” under his breath.

  [Trueform: Nightbound Majesty]

  Type: Active Transformation

  Cooldown: 12 Hours

  Duration: 30 seconds

  Embrace your full vampiric lineage. Temporarily enter your Nightbound form.

  ? Gain +15 to all attributes

  ? Immune to all status effects

  ? Basic attacks apply [Bleed] and [Weakness]

  ? Unlocks [Midnight Rend] – dash through enemies in a line, dealing 150% weapon damage and silencing for 3 seconds.

  Lore: “The mask falls. The night kneels.”

  He froze.

  He actually felt cold.

  This wasn’t just a power boost. This was… exposure. A mirror held up with no mercy. The part of himself he avoided. The part he mocked to feel safe. True vampirism.

  Kael leaned over his shoulder. “What now?”

  Alistair immediately shut the interface and forced a smile. Too many teeth. Way too many fangs.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said. “I’m just getting… horrifyingly strong. It’s honestly becoming a problem.”

  Kael didn’t blink. “Uh huh.”

  Brimma scowled, tapping her staff on the ground. “If you’re done having a breakdown in slow motion, can we move?”

  “Absolutely,” Alistair said, standing a little too quickly. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Totally didn’t just unlock the power to become a blood-soaked terror god or anything. Let’s hunt a miniboss.”

  Thess raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to tell us what it does?”

  He adjusted his collar and gave her his most charming smirk. “No. But I’m sure when I use it, you’ll notice.”

  Truth was, he dreaded that moment.

  Because he’d felt it, just reading the description. That buried hunger stretching inside him. The weight of what he was capable of becoming.

  Not Alistair the Soulbinder.

  Not the sarcastic, clever mess everyone had somehow started trusting.

  But the thing underneath. The creature made for night, and fear, and blood.

  He clenched his jaw, letting the thoughts burn themselves down.

  Thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds.

  What could go wrong?

  “Are we done sulking?” Brimma snapped, thumping her staff into the dirt with zero patience. “Because I’d very much like to finish this damn key scavenger hunt before the ground opens and eats us.”

  Alistair rolled his eyes. “Gods forbid I have a brief existential crisis about becoming a night-drenched horror.”

  “You are a night-drenched horror,” Brimma said. “Now get moving.”

  “Fine, fine.” He sheathed his sword with a sigh. “Next miniboss it is.”

  They hadn’t taken two steps before Buddy growled.

  Low and deep.

  The kind of sound that rolled from his chest like distant thunder. His fur bristled. Ears flattened. Flames sparked between his teeth.

  Alistair spun, instantly crouching beside him. “What is it, boy? Did Kael forget to bathe again?”

  Buddy didn’t blink.

  “Okay. Serious face. Got it.” Alistair brushed a hand down the beast’s neck, more to comfort himself than the hellhound. The heat coming off him could’ve cooked meat.

  Kael’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Danger.”

  Alistair glanced over. “Let me guess. That new power of yours? What’s it called again? ‘Dramatic Timing’?”

  Kael didn’t respond. He had already reached for an arrow.

  The group shifted instinctively into formation. Thess to the front. Brimma behind. Alistair and Kael to the flanks. Buddy holding the rear.

  Then came the sound.

  Grinding.

  Like stone being gnawed on by something hungry. Metal dragged over broken glass. A scraping that crawled down their spines.

  “Charming,” Brimma muttered.

  From the shadows of a shattered alleyway, something darted out.

  Not a monster. Not right away.

  A champion.

  Beastkin. Feline traits. Her ears twitched like they had minds of their own, and her gold-stitched leather armor glinted despite the ash and blood caked on it. A curved sickle hung from one hip, a coiled whip from the other, and in her gloved hand, some kind of obsidian mirror that pulsed with pale, nauseating light.

  She moved like a ghost.

  Wall to boulder to crumbled beam, never staying in one place for more than a heartbeat. Fear rolled off her in waves.

  When she spotted them, she didn’t hesitate.

  “Run, you idiots!” she screamed. “He’s coming!”

  And then she was gone, bolting through the blood-keyed portal still shimmering from their last kill.

  Silence fell for half a second.

  The group looked at each other.

  Alistair blinked. “Well. That was cryptic.”

  Buddy suddenly pressed himself low to the ground, growling again, hackles flaring like spears.

  Then the ruins exploded.

  Skeletons.

  Zombies.

  Rot-soaked bodies dragged themselves from the wreckage, some armored, some naked, all wrong. Dozens. Maybe more.

  A wall crumbled behind them, spilling fresh corpses like an open wound.

  Brimma was already charging a spell.

  Alistair grabbed her around the waist without thinking.

  “HEY!” she squawked indignantly.

  “You heard the lady!” he shouted, hoisting her like a sack of potatoes. “Run!”

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