My Blood Legacy: Bloodlines

The door yielded under the light pressure of Victor’s hand, opening with an unnatural smoothness for something of that size, as if the castle itself understood who he was... or, more precisely, to whom he was about to present himself.

The air that came from the other side was different, denser, laden with an aroma that was not merely incense, but something deeper, more ancient, almost as if each particle carried memory.

Victor didn’t stop at the threshold... he wasn’t the type of person to hesitate before the unknown, especially when the unknown seemed to promise something interesting.

Yet, as he fully crossed the threshold, his senses instinctively expanded, alert, absorbing every detail of that space like a predator assessing new territory.

The hall that revealed itself before him was not merely large... it was deliberately grand.

There was no chaotic excess, nor vulgar opulence; everything there seemed calculated, each element placed with a specific intention, as if the space itself were an extension of the mind of whoever dominated it.

The floor was covered in dark, perfectly aligned tatami mats, creating a sense of continuity that naturally guided the eye to the back of the room.

The walls were adorned with sliding panels of dark wood and translucent paper, some partially open, revealing inner layers that suggested the place was larger than it first appeared.

Lanterns hung from the high ceiling, emitting a warm, controlled light, while wisps of smoke rose lazily from incense containers scattered throughout the room, creating patterns in the air that seemed almost alive.

Victor walked inside with silent steps, not out of caution, but out of adaptation.

The atmosphere demanded it.

There was a stillness there that wasn’t an absence of sound, but an active presence, as if any unnecessary noise was... inappropriate.

’What a chic place... but it’s quite eerie with this strange silence...’

His eyes moved slowly through the room, absorbing the textures, the shadows, the empty spaces that weren’t truly empty, but filled with intention. It was a place that didn’t need to assert power directly; it simply exuded it, constantly and inevitably.

And then, inevitably, his gaze found the focal point.

At the back of the hall, elevated just enough to create a symbolic separation, was a platform. It wasn’t exaggerated, it wasn’t theatrical... but it was dominant.

Above it, a light fabric descended from above, thin enough to allow light to pass through, creating a clear silhouette of what lay behind. And there... she was.

Rakshasa.

Victor didn’t see her face. He didn’t see details. But he saw enough.

The female silhouette reclined with a naturalness that only someone absolutely comfortable with their position could possess. One leg bent, the body slightly inclined, the arm raised holding a long pipe, whose tip shimmered discreetly with each puff. The smoke rose slowly, passing through the fabric like a mist that refused to fully obey the rules of the physical world.

She didn’t move when he entered.

She already knew he was there.

"You’ve arrived." The voice pierced the space softly, but it wasn’t weak. There was a quality to it that made any effort unnecessary.

It wasn’t volume that dominated the room... it was presence.

Victor continued walking, without immediately responding, his steps naturally leading him to the center of the room.

There, positioned with almost ritualistic precision, was a low table. Simple, compared to the rest of the room, but clearly important.

Around it, the floor was covered with softer fabrics, arranged in a way that clearly indicated how that space should be used.

There were no chairs.

Victor looked for a brief moment.

And understood.

Without hesitation, he approached and sat down, crossing his legs in a lotus position, his posture firm, balanced, effortless. There was no discomfort, no doubt. He simply adapted, as if it were natural to him, even though it wasn’t.

On the other side of the fabric, the silhouette moved slightly.

Almost imperceptible.

But enough to indicate... approval.

"Interesting," she said, slowly releasing the smoke from her pipe, which spread across the fabric in soft, distorted shapes. "Most hesitate. They observe too much. They think too much. You... just act."

"Nothing like what I expected... I thought she was going to jump on me and treat me like an animal or something. But she’s quite elegant and mysterious..." Victor thought.

Victor rested his hands on his knees, his fingers relaxed, his gaze fixed on the silhouette.

"I have no interest in complicating things, I just came to find out what you want from me. So, here I am," she replied naturally, as if it were obvious.

A silence followed, but it wasn’t empty. It was dense, heavy with assessment. He could feel her gaze on him, even without seeing her eyes. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was dissection.

"I’ve become interested in you," she continued, her voice flowing with an almost hypnotic cadence. "Not just because you’re Serafall’s son... or Chysis’s grandson. Those are other people’s titles; to me, that’s irrelevant."

Victor didn’t react. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it. He just listened.

"But why did you..." she paused briefly, as if savoring the construction of the sentence, "...it’s quite curious."

The air seemed to weigh slightly.

"Blood like yours... finally reacted. And when it reacted... you didn’t collapse. You didn’t get lost. You didn’t hesitate. You dominated."

Victor let out a small sigh through his nose, an almost nonchalant gesture.

"I didn’t do anything extraordinary," he said, his voice steady. "I just put everyone in their place."

The answer hung in the air.

And then...

The silhouette smiled.

He didn’t see it.

But he felt it.

"...Their places..." she murmured, her voice lower, closer to a whisper that seemed to seep into the surrounding space, "...under the earth."

Victor shrugged, the gesture simple, unassuming.

"Some people reap what they sow."

Another silence.

But different.

Heavier. More... interested.

She moved again, the pipe being supported with a soft, almost inaudible sound, but one that echoed strangely in that environment.

"Planting bodies..." she said, her voice now carrying a more contemplative tone, "...only generates an even denser tree of blood."

Victor tilted his head slightly, a small smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

"You’re quite poetic," he commented, his tone slightly provocative, but not disrespectful. "Even more so considering what I’ve heard about you."

The pause that followed was short.

But charged.

"...Crazy," he finished, without softening the word.

And then—

She laughed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

It wasn’t an ordinary laugh.

It wasn’t light.

It was broad.

Full.

And the atmosphere reacted.

The pressure fell upon the hall like an invisible, overwhelming wave. The air became heavy, almost solid, as if every particle had been compressed to the extreme. The surrounding fabrics trembled without wind, the lanterns vibrated slightly, and space itself seemed... to give way.

That was called an Aura. The factor of a being’s existence, expanding from its interior into the material world. Something that theoretically shouldn’t be physical, but clearly was due to power.

And honestly... her aura was simply absurd.

It wasn’t just strong, it was simply overwhelming.

It was the first time he had felt that form of terror in his body, far beyond when he first met his grandmother—no, comparing them was even a joke. Chysis used a test aura, just to tease him.

This woman was proving herself completely real.

And feeling that... He didn’t care. Strength? Pressure? Fuck it!! He just smiled broadly.

His eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t fear.

It was excitement.

Pure.

Visceral.

"...Now that’s more like it..." he murmured, low, but enough. "How fun."

On the other side of the fabric, the silhouette stopped and stood still for just an instant. As if reading what he had just felt, as if understanding exactly what that smile meant.

And then— She leaned slightly forward.

The shadow drawing closer to the fabric and her presence growing even stronger, as if she had decided to release just a little more of what was contained.

"You..." her voice slid through the room like hot smoke, closer now, more present, as if the space itself had bent to bring her closer to him, "...why are you smiling?"

Victor didn’t look away.

Even without seeing directly into her eyes, he knew exactly where she was. The pressure, the presence, the way the air seemed denser in that direction... it was impossible to ignore. Still, he only tilted his head slightly, as if being questioned about something trivial, almost boring.

"Because this is incredible," he replied, his voice low but firm, carrying a raw honesty that didn’t ask permission to exist. He exhaled slowly, his fingers relaxed on his knee, though his entire body was in a completely opposite state. "Even knowing that I could die with a single movement of yours..."

A single message echoed within him, repeating itself like an instinct that couldn’t be ignored, that didn’t want to be ignored, that made no sense to deny.

[Don’t worry, and just attack!]

Rakshasa’s gaze gleamed red through the light fabric, and then she spoke aloud.

"You have..." her voice changed, gained a different weight, more interested, more... satisfied, "...very interesting qualities." "And I love people who are obsessed with strength," he continued, his tone becoming more open, looser, like someone who had finally found something worth observing. "Even if it means... dying in a single blow."

And then—

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!"

The sound exploded through the hall like an invisible shockwave, his laughter making the walls vibrate.

The floor trembled.

The table in front of Victor cracked instantly, fissures spreading like violent webs across the refined wood, breaking the structure as if it were made of something too fragile to exist in that environment.

The surrounding pillars creaked, the dry sound of crumbling stone echoing like contained thunder within a closed space.

It was like being at the center of a controlled collapse, where everything around threatened to crumble, but was held up only by the will of the one who laughed.

And yet—Victor didn’t move... No recoil, no hesitation.

His entire body vibrated with that absurd pressure, every fiber being crushed, every instinct pushed to its limit... and yet—He just smiled, watching that exciting scene!

"This..." he murmured, his voice lower, hoarser, but still firm, resisting the pressure that tried to crush even the air in his lungs, "...this is ridiculously good."

Her aura intensified even more upon hearing that, now truly... wild and uncontrolled, growing stronger and stronger.

As if she had decided to test how far he would go.

The ground beneath Victor gave way a few millimeters.

The cracks deepened.

The fabric separating them trembled violently, as if about to tear under the invisible force that filled the air.

Anyone else—

Anyone even remotely rational—

Would have fallen.

Would have been crushed.

She would have begged.

But Victor?

He leaned forward slightly.

Her fingers pressed into the ground, almost bending, her muscles tightened now that she was directing everything directly at him... but... Her smile widened even more.

"I’m not someone who bows..." he continued, his eyes fixed on that shadow, that presence, that absurd thing in front of him, "...If you want this, I really want to see what happens when you get serious to prove your point."

For a moment—that laughter vanished abruptly upon hearing that. It was simply a challenge, one she hadn’t even expected.

The trembling stopped, and the neon red eyes behind that fabric met Victor’s, which also remained a deep red, staring at her defiantly.

"You’re not bluffing..." she said, now lower, closer, each word sliding with surgical precision through the still unstable atmosphere. "You really want this."

"’Want’ is a weak word," he replied, tilting his head slightly. "I need this."

"Interesting..." she murmured. "I can say, you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Easily."

"What a modest compliment, I’m honored." Victor said, "Now... can I see your pretty face? Or will I have to imagine how beautiful you are?"

"Are you flirting with me?" she questioned, almost laughing.

"I thought the ’You’re an incredible man’ was a cue for that. Or am I wrong?" He smiled, challenging her.

’What an interesting man,’ she thought.