The Ascension Ritual of that generation went down in vampire history by many different names.

Some called it "The Red Ritual."

Others preferred "Black Moon Massacre."

But the name that truly stuck, the one repeated in political corridors, military meetings, and whispered even among ancient monsters, was another.

Extermination Ritual.

Because it ceased to be a ritual very early on.

The Blood Ascension Ritual existed to select monsters. It always had. The Valentine family created prodigies from birth, molding children into living weapons, refining bloodlines, blood skills, and supernatural abilities until only the best remained relevant.

The Ritual was the endpoint of that process.

It was where prodigies ceased to be promising young talents and became real threats.

At least... that was the original goal.

In that timeline, however, the Ritual completely lost control on the third day.

Initially, everything seemed relatively normal by the absurd standards of House Valentine. Participants had been scattered across the testing regions, temporary alliances were beginning to form, and the first serious confrontations were already occurring between the main candidates.

Observers believed they were witnessing another promising generation.

They were wrong.

Jake Valentine had already entered the Ritual emotionally broken.

This just wasn’t obvious to everyone yet.

Most of the family’s prodigies carried some kind of mental distortion. Obsessions, impulsiveness, sadism, emotional instability, or extreme arrogance were practically expected among talented vampires. The greater the talent, the greater the associated psychological deformation usually was.

But Jake was different.

Because his mind wasn’t just distorted.

It was crumbling.

And the Ritual accelerated it.

No one knew exactly what the ultimate trigger was. Some survivors claimed he went insane after nearly dying in a joint ambush. Others said it was after activating his unique ability for the first time in actual combat.

The result, however, was the same.

Jake Valentine entered a Berserker state.

His unique ability was never as sophisticated as those of other prodigies. There was no refined elemental manipulation, conceptual phenomena, or absurdly complex capabilities.

His ability was simple.

Absolute violence.

"Berserker" was a bloodthirsty ability of extreme survival. The closer Jake got to death, the stronger his body became. Faster. More resilient. More aggressive. More destructive.

And worse.

The more wounded he became... the less human he remained.

At first, observers believed it was just another ability focused on physical combat.

Then Jake began killing veteran participants as if they were children.

The recordings of the Ritual were later sealed by House Valentine itself, but rumors still survived. Some participants had limbs torn off before they could even react. Others died without even understanding what had struck them.

Jake didn’t fight like a vampire.

He fought like an animal in a nervous breakdown.

Without refined technique.

Without emotional control.

Without fear.

The accounts described something worse than violence.

Despair.

A monster trying to destroy everything around it before something could destroy it first.

The first groups sent to contain Jake disappeared completely.

Then came the secondary prodigies.

Then came the Great Disciples.

Then the Ritual ceased to be a competition.

It became survival.

The participants began to flee from it instead of seeking battles. Impossible alliances were formed just to try to slow its advance. Some voluntarily gave up the Ritual. Others tried to hide in the lower regions of the ritualistic territory.

It was no use.

Jake continued advancing.

Covered in blood.

Wounded.

Regenerating.

Smiling like someone completely disconnected from reality.

It was during this period that the nickname that would later terrify the entire vampire world was born.

Mad Blood Dragon.

Because he didn’t look like a vampire in combat.

He looked like a natural disaster.

The deaths began to accumulate too quickly for observers to interfere properly. Even the Blood Kings hesitated to directly interrupt the Ritual, initially believing that it could still be controlled.

It was a mistake.

When they realized the true extent of the problem, it was too late.

Jake had destroyed virtually all the key participants of his own generation.

Those who survived rarely remained whole.

Some lost limbs permanently. Others suffered irreversible mental damage. There were cases of vampires who simply could never again manipulate blood energy correctly after that Ritual.

But the worst damage wasn’t physical.

It was psychological.

Because many of the survivors completely lost the will to fight.

Not out of cowardice.

Out of trauma.

They saw something within that Ritual that completely destroyed the romanticized idea of ​​strength they had carried until then. They saw a monster ignore pain, strategy, fear, and rationality just to keep advancing.

And they understood one simple thing.

If monsters of that level existed... then talent no longer meant safety.

Some of the surviving Great Disciples completely abandoned military positions after the Ritual. Others never participated in serious battles again. There were even those who isolated themselves politically for decades. The Valentine family tried to hide it.

They couldn’t.

Fear spread too quickly.

And in the midst of that massacre, only one person managed to survive facing Jake directly to the end.

Grace Valentine.

Even back then, Grace was already considered extraordinary.

Disciplined.

Cold.

Efficient.

But the Ritual transformed her reputation into something much greater.

She was found alive among the frozen wreckage of an entire destroyed region during the final confrontation against Jake. Her body was severely injured, several organs destroyed, and practically all her blood energy had been consumed.

Even so, she survived.

She didn’t win.

But she survived.

That was enough.

Later, Grace became one of the most respected figures in the modern vampire world. Many came to see her as the absolute symbol of discipline and mental resilience, especially after the Extermination Ritual.

Because while others broke down emotionally...

She kept moving forward.

As for Jake...

He never truly returned to normal.

After that Ritual, his name spread throughout vampire territories as a living threat. Some factions tried to recruit him. Others tried to eliminate him preemptively.

Neither approach worked properly.

Jake Valentine became too unstable even for his own family to fully control.

And then came the incident.

A year and six months later.

The event that destroyed House Valentine.

In that timeline... Jake directly assisted in the massacre of his own family.

And honestly?

After the Extermination Ritual... nobody was really surprised.

"Ah... so I’ll have to stop that disgusting thing..." Victor murmured softly, sinking into the warm water of the enormous black marble bathtub.

His arms rested relaxed at his sides, while small ripples slowly spread across the reddish surface of the water mixed with the diluted blood used by vampires for physical recovery.

The entire room was silent, illuminated only by the bluish light of the enormous chandelier hanging above him.

His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for a few seconds before slowly shifting to the distorted reflection in the bathroom mirror. The tired expression etched on his face made Victor let out a small, exhausted sigh.

"Of course... that’s assuming the Ritual happens as it should."

His voice carried an almost irritated despondency, like someone tired of realizing how far that timeline had already begun to derail.

"But now, I need things to continue as they should... they’re going to change the rules because of Edgar." He slowly closed his eyes as he sank a little deeper into the warm water. "Delivering the drop of blood before the Ritual... with Rakshasa getting involved, now the methods will be even dirtier, depending on him..."

A brief silence hung in the bathroom.

Then Victor opened his eyes again.

"Because he’s the traitor."

There was no hesitation in that conclusion.

Nor doubt.

In the previous timeline, Victor knew through Serafall that she had told him some things, like stories... Now he knew exactly where everything began and ended.

Edgar Valentine.

The man who smiled at political meetings while slowly preparing the massacre of his own family.

Victor slowly ran one of his wet hands across his face before resting his head on the cold edge of the bathtub.

"My strength right now..." he murmured thoughtfully. "She must be close to Grace. Since I never trained in my previous life, I don’t know much about power rankings. But considering how obsessive Rakshasa has become... I believe I have the merit of strength to maintain this slight arrogance." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Even feigning disinterest when Serafall spoke of the prodigies of that generation, Victor knew perfectly well who Grace Valentine would become in the future.

He knew better than anyone from that era.

"Despite pretending not to know who she is..." A small, tired smile appeared on his lips. "I know exactly the kind of monster she’ll become."

The memory surfaced involuntarily at that moment.

A frozen sea.

Eternal storms.

A gigantic castle made entirely of black ice, rising above the northern seas like a living tomb isolated from the rest of the world.

And in the center of that frozen hell...

Grace.

Seated alone on an ice throne while blizzards destroyed anything that dared approach her domain.

The Empress of the North.

A creature so absurdly powerful that even Blood Kings avoided directly provoking her.

But Victor also remembered something else.

Loneliness.

The always empty castle. No close subordinates.

No real allies.

No family.

Only silence, ice, and a woman who had survived too long to remain emotionally whole.

Victor closed his eyes again.

"So that was it..."

The realization came slowly.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

"I didn’t know she was my grandmother’s disciple."

The bathwater began to slowly ripple as small particles of blood energy involuntarily leaked from his body.

"That means..." Victor took a deep breath. "...my grandmother dies in that incident in less than two years... not only her, but Grace’s parents must also die since I never even heard about them."

The bathroom fell silent again.

This time a heavier silence.

Colder.

Victor remained motionless for several seconds staring at his reflection in the distant mirror. The image showed only a young boy resting in a luxurious bathtub.

But the eyes reflected there belonged to someone too tired.

Someone who had already seen the world end once.

"Not this time." Victor slowly closed his hand in the reddish water, watching small waves spread across the surface as his expression hardened little by little.

"I think it’s time to start getting strong using information..." he paused briefly, opening his eyes slowly, "Lying to them is bothering me but... I need to keep this a secret." He sighed, "My mother must have already realized I’m lying."