The enormous circular room remained shrouded in an elegant twilight, illuminated only by the long, bluish flames of the chandeliers suspended above the central table. The entire atmosphere conveyed an oppressive sense of ancestral authority, heavy enough to make even experienced vampires instinctively reduce their presence. The walls were too high for ordinary human eyes to easily adjust to, decorated with ancient symbols of the Valentine bloodline engraved directly into the black stone like scars etched into the architecture.

There were no windows. No openings to the outside. Only silence, luxury, and a constant supernatural pressure hanging in the air like an invisible entity observing every movement within that hall.

In the center of the room rested the gigantic round table made of dark wood mixed with crimson veins that seemed to pulse slowly beneath the polished surface. Nine chairs were distributed around it.

Nine thrones.

Nine Blood Kings.

Each occupied their space in a different way. Some maintained an impeccably aristocratic posture, seated in an almost theatrical manner, while others seemed completely relaxed, reclining without any concern for protocol. But there was one thing they all had in common:

Power.

An absurd power.

Ancient.

Dense enough to distort the very environment around them.

Behind each chair stood a subordinate in absolute silence, like personal shadows of their respective Kings. None dared even breathe too loudly. Their gazes remained lowered, attentive only to the silent orders of their masters.

The entire atmosphere carried a constant tension even without direct hostility.

Because in that room, one wrong word was enough to start a war.

One of the seated figures slowly swirled a crystal goblet filled with dark blood while observing the others around the table with apparent disinterest.

"This generation’s Ritual will be interesting."

The voice echoed softly through the room.

Across the table, a woman with extremely long hair let out a small, amused nasal sound before resting her face on her hand.

"Interesting is a kind word," she commented with a lazy smile. "Chaotic might be more fitting."

Small smiles spread across the table.

The conversation had been going on for some time, but inevitably the subject always returned to the same point.

The Five Great Prodigies.

The current generation that would undergo the Bloodline Ascension Ritual.

A generation considered strange even by the standards of the Valentine bloodline.

"Jake Valentine continues to be a problem," one of the Kings commented calmly, resting his fingers on the table. "The boy possesses absurd talent, but his mind is clearly deteriorating."

"Clearly?" another replied ironically. "He mutilated three subordinates simply because one of them mentioned interrupting training."

Edgar Valentine remained silent as he listened to the comments about his nephew.

"Five," corrected a female voice devoid of any emotion. "There were five."

"My point still stands."

A small wave of amusement swept through some of those present. Not because they approved of that behavior, but because it was already expected. Jake Valentine was known precisely for that. Extreme violence. Instability. A creature constantly on the verge of exploding.

"Even so," murmured an older man sitting near the back of the table, "no one can deny his potential."

Another King nodded slowly.

"His sword control already surpasses much older vampires."

"Control?" someone replied immediately. "That’s not control. It’s obsession."

"Obsession also produces monsters," Edgar finally commented, smiling slightly while concealing from the others exactly what Jake had recently done.

The comment caused a brief silence to fall over the table.

Because it was true.

In the Valentine family, talent rarely went hand in hand with mental stability.

In reality...

The greater the talent, the greater the distortion usually was.

One of the women present slowly crossed her legs before speaking again.

"Leon, on the other hand, worries me less."

"Because he’s too stable," another replied immediately.

She smiled discreetly. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Exactly."

Some silently agreed.

Leon Valentine was a peculiar case among the prodigies of that generation. While the others seemed to carry dangerous eccentricities, emotional instabilities, or absurd obsessions, Leon possessed an almost uncomfortable calm.

Rumors about hidden laboratories, forbidden research, and biologically questionable experiments constantly circulated throughout the Valentine domain.

And the worst part—

Many of those rumors were probably true.

"She’s too brilliant," one of the Kings commented thoughtfully. "That always has consequences."

"Especially when combined with boundless curiosity."

"Or a complete lack of morals."

"Details."

The long-haired woman smiled discreetly again.

"But Emma interests me more."

Some glances subtly shifted.

Emma Valentine was rarely the immediate center of conversation because, unlike the other prodigies, she seemed less explosive. More silent. More restrained.

But that didn’t make her any less frightening.

"An extremely refined mind," someone commented.

"She analyzes everything."

"And almost never shows real emotions."

One of the Kings slowly rested his chin on his clasped hands.

"Emma possesses the most dangerous trait among all current prodigies."

"Which one?"

"Patience."

The silence that followed carried more weight than any previous discussion.

Because everyone in that room perfectly understood the meaning of that.

Impulsiveness created predictable monsters.

Patience created calamities.

"She also reads too much," someone murmured with a certain distaste.

"That’s literally the least of her problems."

"I disagree. People who read too much start to overthink."

"And that bothers you?"

"It bothers any intelligent ruler."

A small laugh spread across part of the table.

Then—

The last name came naturally.

Grace Valentine.

Curiously, it was the only moment when the atmosphere seemed to truly change. Less fun. More serious.

Even some subordinates behind the chairs discreetly became more attentive.

"Grace..." someone murmured slowly. "A troubled girl."

"Too disciplined."

"Overtrained."

"And too efficient."

There was no mockery when they spoke of her.

Nor irony.

Just analysis.

Grace Valentine was different from other prodigies because she didn’t carry visible instability. She wasn’t driven by apparent obsessions. She didn’t demonstrate emotional impulsiveness.

She simply trained.

Non-stop.

Without complaining.

Without deviating.

"Chrysis molded that girl into a weapon," one of the Kings commented neutrally.

"And succeeded."

Another nodded slowly.

"Her mastery over ice has already surpassed expected limits for her current age. Even more so for a half-breed. Her talent with blood energy in this state, without going through the Ritual, is truly surprising."

"Among the five, she’s the first for a reason," another commented calmly.

"Extremely unpleasant to face."

One of the women present took a small sip of blood before smiling discreetly.

"But admit it... it’s been a long time since we’ve had such an interesting generation."

"Interesting usually means disastrous."

"Even better."

Small, low laughs arose again.

Then one of the Kings slowly rested his arms on the table.

"The real question isn’t which one possesses more talent."

The comment drew several glances.

"The Ascension Ritual has never favored only raw talent."

"Then what does it favor?"

The man smiled slightly.

"Adaptation."

Silence.

Heavy.

"Some break during the Ritual."

"Some go mad."

"Some become something greater."

"And some simply disappear."

The bluish flames in the room flickered slowly at that moment, as if reacting to the weight of the words.

Because everyone at that table had seen it happen before.

Generations arose.

Prodigies were born.

Monsters were created.

And the Ritual decided which ones would survive their own evolution.

A woman slowly ran her fingers along the rim of the goblet before asking,

"Which one do you think will go the furthest?"

"Victor Valentine." The voice came softly.

Harmonious... Beautiful... And utterly impossible... The instant those words echoed through the room, the entire atmosphere exploded.

The nine presences released auras simultaneously, making the air in the hall literally tremble. The supernatural pressure crushed the environment in a fraction of a second, cracks discreetly appearing on parts of the black floor as the subordinates behind the chairs immediately recoiled in shock.

Because none of them—

None of the nine Kings—

Had felt that presence enter.

Everyone’s eyes immediately turned to the source of the voice; it was standing against the wall, smiling, as it mocked:

"You are so carefree, you can’t even sense the presence of a weak vampire like me?" She smiled.

"Rakshasa." murmured Edgar.

"You... since when~"

"Since it began." Rakshasa said, smiling.

The tension in the room shifted instantly after those words.

It wasn’t just the implied threat.

It was the casual way Rakshasa spoke before the Nine Blood Kings, as if she were conversing with inconvenient acquaintances at a tedious meeting. The woman remained leaning against the black wall of the hall, her arms crossed over her chest while the lazy smile remained plastered on her face. Her long dark hair flowed down her back like living ink, and her red eyes observed everyone present with an almost childlike amusement.

Even surrounded by the monstrous pressure released simultaneously by the nine rulers of the Valentine lineage... she showed absolutely no discomfort.

In fact—

She seemed to find it amusing.

"Relax," she commented softly, tilting her head slightly while completely ignoring the overwhelming aura that distorted the air around the table. "I didn’t come here to disrupt your little political meeting."

The subordinates behind the chairs remained completely still now, tense to the point of looking like statues. Some of them couldn’t even look directly at Rakshasa without feeling their own instincts screaming danger. The problem wasn’t just her unexpected presence.

It was the fact that she had managed to enter unnoticed.

That simply shouldn’t be possible.

Edgar kept his gaze fixed on her while his fingers slowly pressed against the arm of the chair. Unlike some of the other Kings, he didn’t seem particularly surprised by the woman’s audacity. Just irritated.

Very irritated.

"Then just tell us what you came here to do," he said coldly. "Before someone interprets your presence as provocation."

Rakshasa smiled wider.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, amused. "And do you intend to do anything?"

The following silence was heavy.

Because no one answered.

Not out of explicit fear... but because everyone in that room perfectly understood the problem with the situation. Rakshasa was an absurdly ancient creature. Unstable. Violent. And worse still—

Unpredictable.

Attacking someone like that in a political meeting was exactly the kind of decision that would start unnecessary wars.

She realized this immediately.

Her smile widened slightly.

"Good," she commented with satisfaction. "Then let’s save time."

She slowly uncrossed her arms and began to walk around the circular wall of the room like someone casually strolling through a garden. The light sound of her footsteps echoed through the silent environment as the Kings’ eyes carefully followed her.

"I just came to comment on one small thing," she said softly. "Mainly regarding Edgar... and his dear nephew."

The emotional temperature of the room dropped several degrees at that instant.

Edgar narrowed his eyes slightly.

Some of the Kings exchanged discreet glances.

And Rakshasa continued to smile.

"I’ll make one thing very clear to avoid future misunderstandings." Her voice remained sweet. Almost gentle. "Anyone who helps Jake Valentine... or anyone directly related to what he did... will be exterminated by me personally."

The impact of those words rippled through the entire room.

Some subordinates behind the chairs instantly turned pale.

One of the Kings let out a small, humorless laugh before resting his elbow on the table.

"That almost sounds like a declaration of war."

Rakshasa looked at him.

"Almost?" she asked softly.

The man remained silent.

She then resumed walking slowly while observing the bluish flames of the chandeliers dancing above the table.

"Honestly, I didn’t even want to be here," she commented nonchalantly. "I hate political meetings. They’re long, boring, and full of old men feigning civility while thinking up creative ways to kill each other."

One of the Kings smiled discreetly.

"Technically incorrect?" someone asked.

"Technically depressing," Rakshasa corrected immediately.

Small, amused expressions appeared around the table despite the absurd tension hanging in the air. The way she alternated between extreme threat and absurdly casual comments was disconcerting.

Then someone finally asked the inevitable question.

"What exactly happened?"

Rakshasa stopped pacing.

Her smile faded slightly.

"Even after I politely asked them not to bother me..." she said slowly, "...Edgar’s darling nephew decided to personally come to my domain and be a nuisance."

Absolute silence fell.

Edgar didn’t react outwardly, but the supernatural pressure around his chair increased slightly.

"Jake came to you?" asked one of the women present, genuinely surprised.

Rakshasa nodded.

"He did." She seemed almost impressed as she remembered. "Alone, even. The boy is brave... or absurdly stupid. I haven’t decided yet."

"And you didn’t kill him?" someone asked immediately.

Rakshasa smiled lazily.

"I wanted to."

The answer came too quickly.

Too naturally.

Almost too sincerely.

Some Kings let out small, low laughs.

"But unfortunately," she continued with an exaggeratedly dramatic sigh, "there are certain annoying little things called political agreements. So I couldn’t just rip his head off and throw it to the bats."

She tilted her head slightly.

"So we made a bet."

Now the attention of the entire room was completely on her.

Even the subordinates behind the chairs seemed to momentarily forget that they were supposed to remain invisible.

Rakshasa observed them all in silence for a few seconds before smiling again.

"And I intend to honor that bet to the end."

Edgar finally spoke again.

"What do you mean by that?"

She looked directly at him.

The woman’s red eyes completely lost their playful tone in that instant.

"I mean," she said softly, "you’d better help your nephew very well."

The supernatural pressure in the room increased violently.

Not just from the Kings’ aura—

But from hers as well.

The black floor beneath Rakshasa’s feet cracked discreetly as dozens of tiny shadow bats began to slowly emerge around her body like living smoke.

"Because when the Ritual is over..." she continued calmly, "...and he loses the bet, because he will... I will exterminate you all." Absolute silence. "And your entire family too."

One of the Kings immediately narrowed his eyes.

"You intend to exterminate an entire branch of the Valentine family because of a bet?"

Rakshasa slowly turned her face toward him.

"No," she replied softly.

Her smile returned.

"Because of his rudeness."

Some expressions subtly shifted around the table.

Because the problem wasn’t just the threat itself.

It was the fact that Rakshasa seemed completely serious.

Edgar slowly rested his arms on the table while staring at the woman without looking away.

"You’re exaggerating."

Rakshasa smiled even wider.

"And your nephew is breathing."

The entire room froze for a moment.

Even the bluish flames of the chandeliers seemed to diminish.

Then she let out a small, amused laugh, as if she had just remembered something genuinely funny.

"Ah, but don’t get me wrong," she commented casually, twirling a strand of her own hair between her fingers. "I really liked the boy."

The Kings frowned slightly.

Rakshasa continued smiling.

"It’s been ages since someone appeared in my domains with such absurd confidence." She let out a small, nostalgic sigh. "It was almost cute."

"Cute?" someone repeated incredulously.

"Yes." She nodded calmly. "Psychotic. Violent. Completely unbalanced. But cute."

Edgar slowly closed his eyes for a second.

This was a political nightmare.

Because Rakshasa wasn’t someone you could simply ignore. If she actually decided to act after the Ritual... it would turn into an absurd massacre.

And worse still—

She was clearly enjoying the whole situation.

"Anyway," she commented again, returning to her nonchalant tone, "I only came to warn you about this. It would be impolite to exterminate people without prior notice."

"What generous consideration," one of the Kings murmured dryly.

Rakshasa smiled.

"I am extremely polite."

No one answered.

Because no one believed her for a second.

The small bats around her slowly increased in number, spreading vivid shadows across the floor of the room as her presence began to disappear along with them.

"Ah," she commented before vanishing completely. "And Edgar..."

He slowly raised his gaze.

Rakshasa smiled one last time.

"Pray that your nephew survives the Ritual."

The bats exploded across the room in a black storm.

And then—

She disappeared.

The silence that followed was absurdly heavy.

Even the Blood Kings remained motionless for a few seconds.

Because everyone in that room had understood exactly the same thing.

Regardless of the outcome of the Ascension Ritual—

A disaster was already coming.