Then a strange red crystal appeared in front of him, floating in the air.
From Michael's reaction—or rather, the complete lack of one—it was obvious he couldn't see it.
Ethan barely had time to register it before the crystal shot forward and slammed into his forehead.
His body locked up instantly.
The crystal began to dissolve, sinking into him as if melting into blood. Red, vein-like markings spread across his skin, pulsing and crawling outward, glowing faintly as they threaded through his body.
Ethan hadn't expected this.
He hadn't expected it to activate on its own—hadn't expected it to force itself into him, pinning him in place, stripping him of movement.
Across the room, Michael had been pacing. Then a sudden chill ran down his spine.
He stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head.
And what he saw made his breath hitch.
Ethan's figure was barely visible now—half-hidden by black smoke, two red eyes burning through it, inhuman and watching.
Michael swallowed hard.
"Fuck… I'm hallucinating," he thought desperately.
"I really need some sleep."
He glanced around the room, spotted a worn sofa against the wall, and dropped onto it. Leaning back, he let his head rest against the cushion and closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.
"Fuck you, system," Ethan snarled under his breath. "You still haven't changed that bad habit. Can't you give at least a warning before pulling this kind of shit?"
A burning sensation tore through him.
It wasn't surface-level—it felt deeper, like his blood itself was on fire. He could feel it dissolving, breaking down, then flowing back through him in a way that was completely wrong.
A blood-red magic circle flared to life beneath his feet.
"H—holy shit," Ethan muttered, teeth clenched. "What the hell is going on? I thought I'd just drink the blood and be done with it. Why does this feel like a ritual?"
The circle began to rotate.
Slowly at first—then faster.
Ethan's body lifted off the ground, suspended horizontally above the glowing sigil. The air around him vibrated, thick and heavy, as if reality itself was reacting.
Symbols ignited along the edge of the circle—ancient, sharp, unfamiliar.
One by one, they peeled away from the circle, rose into the air, and sank straight into his body.
Each symbol burned as it merged with him.
Then it hit him.
A surge of knowledge detonated inside Ethan's head. He stiffened, breath catching, and instinctively closed his eyes as the flood poured in—too fast, too much.
Now he understood why the Vampire Progenitor was different.
They weren't just stronger vampires.
They were absolute.
Among vampires, they were gods. A progenitor could not be killed—not truly. Unless erased by a catastrophe beyond normal destruction, they would not die. Blood itself answered to them, not as a tool, but as something that recognized its master.
Blood moved at their will. Obeyed like a limb. Like breath.
And blood remembered.
Every drop carried echoes—memories, emotions, fragments of lives lived. By drinking it, a progenitor could read those memories clearly, not guess, not sense—know.
Images and instincts followed. Ancient techniques. Innate control. The true extent of progenitor power burned itself into his mind, not as theory, but as certainty.
Then his body followed.
The boyish sharpness in Ethan's face faded, bone and muscle settling into something older—more complete.
His features matured, lines hardening with quiet authority. At the same time, a deep red energy began to leak from him, flowing along his skin like veins made of light, pulsing in slow, deliberate waves.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
The sky outside lightened, night giving way to early morning.
Suddenly—
Ethan's eyes snapped open.
The magic circle beneath him shattered into nothing, dissolving as his body flipped smoothly from a horizontal float to upright. The room flooded with a thick, oppressive blood-red aura, pressing down on everything inside it.
Michael jerked awake on the chair, falling backward with a thud. He blinked hard, heart pounding, then looked up—
And froze.
Ethan hovered in the air, eyes closed, red energy rolling off him in waves. Then those eyes opened.
Michael's blood ran cold.
He swallowed, fear crawling up his spine. Why does he feel… worse? Scarier. Like something that shouldn't exist.
Ethan dropped lightly to the floor. The moment his feet touched down, he cracked his neck once, then snapped his fingers.
The blood aura collapsed inward, rushing back into him like it had never existed.
"…That felt different," Ethan said.
Red energy gathered in his palm, condensing, tightening, until it formed into a solid crimson crystal.
He could feel it now—the blood flow inside Michael's veins clearly, like HD vision. And physical strength thrumming through him, enough to tear buildings apart if he felt like it.
He closed his hand, the crystal dissolving back into him.
"Progenitors," Ethan muttered with a faint grin. "Really are monsters."
Then he caught movement from Selene's room.
Ethan paused, head tilting slightly. "…It seems she woke up."
He exhaled slowly, forcing his senses down a notch. Right now, everything was too sharp. He could hear pipes rattling in the walls, water dripping three rooms away—and, unfortunately, very unhealthy sounds coming from somewhere far outside.
He winced. "Seriously? Morning already and people are doing that?"
He rubbed his temples. Being able to hear half the neighborhood was not a perk he'd asked for.
"Note to self," he muttered, "learn how to mute humanity."
*****
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated to Chapter 118, so if you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join my Patreon
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