Chapter 22: Uncomfortable Conversations Build Unbreakable Bonds.
Ragnar Vhagar, Demon King and newly minted vampire, was in a foul mood. His expensive Lycanthrope was a walking punchline, his Ghouls were cannibalistic psychopaths, and his grand plans for a new, terrifying army were looking more like a badly managed zoo.
As he stewed on his throne, his gaze fell on the list of new abilities his evolution had granted him.
One, in particular, stood out: [Absorb].
The ability to temporarily gain knowledge and skills by consuming the blood of a target.
The hunger in his gut, a constant, cold companion, gave a slight twist. This wasn’t just a combat skill. This was a tool. A key. And he knew exactly which lock he wanted to try it on.
He stood and walked toward the corner of the Throne Room where Val’sharah, his first and most expensive creation, stood guard.
The Dark Elf was a vision of silent, graceful loyalty. Her skin was the color of twilight, her silver hair shimmered in the dungeon’s purple light, and her amethyst eyes held an intelligence that was utterly wasted on him.
She still spoke her beautiful, melodic, and completely incomprehensible language. The communication barrier had been a source of constant, nagging frustration.
"Val’sharah," he said, his voice now a smooth baritone that felt strange in his own ears.
She turned to him and knelt gracefully. "Man’ari thoribas, O’lór," she said respectfully. It sounded lovely. It meant nothing.
"I need to try something," Ragnar said, feeling incredibly awkward. "It might be... weird. I need a drop of your blood."