Ragnar Vhagar, now a creature of the eternal night, spent a long, unsettling hour simply existing in his new form.
The agonizing pain of his transformation had faded, but it left behind echoes in his very bones.
He felt taller, leaner, and possessed a chilling, predatory stillness he'd only ever seen in nature documentaries.
The world smelled different, tasted different.
He could sense the faint thrum of the magic crystals in the ceiling, the dusty scent of ancient stone, and the warm, metallic tang of blood from the a Ghoul in the corner of the room.
But the most dominant sensation was the hunger. It was a cold, hollow ache deep in his gut, a relentless craving that had nothing to do with food.
It made his newly acquired fangs throb with a grim purpose. He was no longer a human playing a game; he was a monster, and he was hungry.
He stood up from the floor, his movements possessing a fluid grace that was entirely new.
His lanky, awkward frame had been reforged into something more dangerous.
He walked over to the Slime Pool to see his reflection. A stranger stared back at him.
Skin the color of pale marble, eyes that held a faint, inner red light, and two sharp, white fangs that peeked over his lower lip.
"Well," he said to his reflection, his voice a low, smooth baritone.
"At least I won't need to buy Halloween costumes anymore."
A new problem gnawed at him, more immediate than the impending invasion by the Sword Saint.
His new racial description had been very clear: [Weakness: Sunlight (Severe)].
This wasn't just a minor inconvenience; it was a life-threatening vulnerability. He couldn't just guess how bad it was. He needed data.
"I need to run an experiment," he declared to the empty Throne Room.
Smashy the Orc, who was standing guard, grunted in what Ragnar assumed was scientific curiosity.
"I can't go outside, but I can bring the outside… in."
He pulled out his phone and navigated to the [Creation] menu.
His C-Rank in the skill gave him a much wider array of options, including environmental modifications.
He found what he was looking for under the 'Facilities' tab.
[Facility: Sunlight Simulation Chamber (D-Rank)]
[Cost: 50 DP]
[Description: A specialized room that uses powerful, light-aspected magic crystals to perfectly replicate the radiation and intensity of a planet's star.
For research, agriculture, or torturing your new vampire self.]
"The system has a sense of humor. A very dark, very expensive sense of humor,"
Ragnar grumbled, but he spent the points.
In an empty chamber near the Mess Hall, the stone walls began to glow and shift.
Purple crystals embedded themselves in the ceiling, but instead of their usual ominous glow, they began to pulse with a brilliant, warm, golden light.
The air grew warm, and the oppressive gloom of the dungeon was banished, replaced by a light so bright it hurt his new, sensitive eyes.
He stood at the doorway, hesitating. This was stupid. This was willingly walking into his own biggest weakness. .
But he had to know. Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold.
The effect was instantaneous and horrific.
The moment the artificial sunlight touched his pale skin, it felt like he had been doused in acid.
A searing, agonizing pain erupted across his entire body. His skin sizzled, and a faint, thin smoke rose from his arms.
He let out a choked gasp, his strength vanishing as if a plug had been pulled. The gnawing hunger in his gut was replaced by a wave of crippling nausea.
He stumbled back, falling out of the room and into the blessed darkness of the corridor, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He lay on the cold stone floor, panting, his skin screaming in protest. It took a full minute for the burning sensation to subside.
"Okay," he wheezed, his voice raspy. "Note to self: The sun is not my friend. It wants to kill me very, very badly.
SPF 5000 isn't going to cut it."
He had survived, but just barely.
This experiment proved that if he was ever caught outside during the day, he was finished.
Shaken but now better informed, he limped back to his throne. The Liberators were coming. He couldn't rely on just his minions anymore.
He needed to be ready to fight, and that meant upgrading his own pathetic stats. He opened the system menu and looked at his 15 Bonus Points.
He had 5 from leveling to 2, and 10 from the disastrous vampire evolution.
"Right. Allocation time," he said, his gamer brain taking over. "My personal combat is a joke.
Body and Mana are still E-Rank. That has to change.
If the Sword Saint and her goons get past my army, I need to be more than a squishy, fang-baring speedbump."
The cost from E to D was 2 BP. It was a bargain. He tapped the '+' next to 'Body' and confirmed the allocation of 2 BP.
He did the same for 'Mana'.
A warm, invigorating energy flowed through him, soothing the phantom burns from the sunlight. It wasn't a dramatic transformation, but he felt… denser.
The thrum of his own inner power was stronger, more stable.
Just as he was admiring his new, slightly-less-pathetic D-Rank stats, his phone chimed with a new notification.
[By raising both your Body and Mana stats, you have met the conditions to unlock a new special ability.]
[New Ability Gained: [Dark Induction]
[Description: A subtle magic that allows you to implant a single, simple suggestion into the mind of a target with weak mental resistance.
The suggestion is perceived as the target's own thought. Effectiveness decreases with target's level and willpower.]
Ragnar stared at the description, and a slow, wicked, fang-filled grin spread across his face.
This was not a flashy fireball or a powerful shield. This was something far more insidious. Far more fun.
He imagined the scene: The Liberators, fighting side-by-side, a perfect team.
Then, a quiet whisper in the tank's mind. 'That healer has been looking at you funny all day.'
A simple suggestion in the archer's ear. 'Is your leader holding you back?'
It was a spell designed to turn allies into enemies. It was beautiful.
"Oh, Sayama Rina," he purred to the empty hall.
"You're not just fighting my monsters. You're fighting your own friends."
The strategic possibilities were endless. But as he reveled in his devious new toy, his eyes fell upon another of his new Vampire abilities: [Blood Chalice].
The ability to create a 'bloodkin', a powerful, loyal subordinate.
The outline had mentioned it, but he hadn't checked the details. He tapped on it.
[Ability: Blood Chalice]
[Description: A ritual to create a powerful, sentient bloodkin who can lead your armies and even leave the Domain.
The bloodkin retains their intelligence and personality, but is bound to you by an unbreakable pact of loyalty.]
[Cost: 300 Max CP (Permanent Reduction)]
Ragnar's jaw dropped. His eyes bulged. He read the cost again. And again.
"Three... three hundred?!" he squawked, his voice cracking.
"And it's a permanent reduction?! My max CP is only 200! I'd have to level up several more times just to afford it, and then I'd be permanently crippled!"
This wasn't an ability; it was a high-stakes gamble. It was the system's equivalent of selling your soul for a powerful ally.
He now understood why bloodkin were so rare. The cost was astronomical. It was a long-term investment that could bankrupt a Demon King in the short term.
He collapsed back onto his throne, the reality of his situation setting in. He was stronger, yes.
He had a devious new spell and a clearer understanding of his weaknesses.
But he was still a small fish in a very large, very violent pond.
The path to power was paved with impossible choices and ridiculous costs.
"This is going to be a long, long war," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at his pale, slender fingers, then at his phone.
The threat of the Liberators loomed, but now he had a new goal, a new pinnacle to strive for. One day, he would create a bloodkin. A true second-in-command. But first, he had to survive.