Jonathan saw the god who had entered the space alongside the Guide.

  The being was gray-brown in color, its face marked by four eyes. It had no fur anywhere on its body and wore nothing but a pair of pants, not even shoes. Its feet resembled the talons of an eagle. Its head looked like something caught between a bat and a spider, perhaps a grotesque fusion of both. One arm ended in long, claw-like fingers. From its back jutted wings, but they were nothing like normal wings. There was no membrane at all, only exposed bone.

  “Who would’ve thought I’d run into you here, Vampire God King,” the demon remarked.

  The god wore a silver medallion around its neck, and atop its head sat something resembling a crown. It was gold, ancient and worn, almost fused into the skull itself.

  “Greetings, Asmodeus. And greetings, Jonathan,” the creature said.

  Its mouth, or perhaps its jaw, barely moved. The sound that followed was more of a guttural vibration than speech. The voice did not come from the creature’s mouth at all. It echoed directly inside Jonathan’s mind.

  The thing was abominable. Just standing near it made Jonathan’s instincts scream at him to run.

  “You chose me,” the creature continued. “A wise decision.”

  “I had already agreed to join the Order of Blight when I received the class mutation,” Jonathan replied. “Is there a problem with me accepting the power you’re offering?”

  There had been a message tied to something Jonathan possessed. A promise of power: the ability to make enemies fear his presence, the strength to take whatever he wanted. An ancient, overwhelming force. He’d been told it could only be granted after the tutorial ended. When Jonathan finally understood what it was, he wanted it immediately.

  Because he knew it could let him surpass Luke. Surpass anyone.

  “There is no problem at all, Jonathan,” the creature said. “The class mutation was merely a free sample. And you were still in the tutorial, or rather, you were. You were never officially accepted into the Order of Blight. That was nothing more than a god playing at laboratory experiments. That thing wanted to delay the tutorial. Personally, I wanted it to end.”

  Its presence pressed harder against Jonathan’s mind.

  “The tutorial was the only way for my order to infiltrate your universe. For me, it was far better that it ended quickly.”

  Jonathan held something in his hand: a red liquid, his blood slime.

  “The powers of the Order of Blight revolve around disease,” he said. “I don’t want that. I want what you offered me. Power I can wield with my own hands. Power to destroy whatever I choose. Will you really give me that?”

  The demon snapped his fingers, drawing attention. “Just a reminder, Jonathan: in this space, lies aren’t possible. Not that I’d care if you were deceived. I’m just fulfilling my obligation.”

  The creature glanced at the demon and gave a slow nod before turning its attention back to Jonathan.

  “The power I promised will be given,” it said. “I would make you my chosen in your universe. You would be the representative of my order there. You would have followers of your own. Women at your feet, or men, if you prefer. Gold. Wealth. Authority. Power. Everything you desire would be possible with my gift.”

  “That’s a hell of a deal, Johnny Boy,” the demon added with a grin.

  “I just want that power. That’s all,” Jonathan said. “The power to crush my enemy. Not when he’s weak. Not through some cheap opening. I want to dominate him. I want him to fear me, to be crushed beneath my strength, to beg for mercy. When I go after him, it can’t be a sneaky strike. It has to be at his peak. I want to be the one who breaks that bastard, then drags him along and kills everyone he loves right in front of him.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Spit slipped from Jonathan’s mouth as rage twisted his face.

  Luke had won. He’d entered the tutorial, taken Angelica from him, and then escaped it altogether. That wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Jonathan knew he was the special one. He had been born for this. Luke had only gotten lucky, probably choosing some divine-aligned profession and class that handed him special advantages.

  If Luke was going to cheat, then Jonathan would too.

  “You understand that accepting my power comes with consequences, don’t you?” the god asked calmly.

  “Consequences?”

  “Did you think it would all be miracles and blessings? No. There are costs. Damage. Side effects. You might even die in the process, if you’re weak.”

  Jonathan paused, thinking about what little he knew of vampires.

  “So I’ll become a slave to blood? And if I don’t drink it, I die?” he asked.

  “You will be bound by the curse of Vampiric Hunger. And yes. If you go without blood for too long, you will wither and inevitably die,” the god replied.

  “And if I enter a place like a dungeon? Or hide in a forest for a while? If I stay away from people, can I survive? How exactly does this Vampiric Hunger work?”

  Reality finally started to settle in. This step carried consequences far heavier than merely serving Blight or wielding powers of disease.

  “If you lock yourself inside a dungeon for a month, you will be consumed by Vampiric Hunger and die. That is the price of vampire lineage. Stay away from society. Stay away from humans. And you will perish,” the creature said. “However, grow stronger, and your Hunger can be restrained. I cannot elaborate on the secrets of the Vampire Path for one who has not yet begun to walk it.”

  A slave to hunger?

  “It’s not so different from humans,” the demon added casually. “If they don’t eat, they die too. The only difference is that instead of animals and plants… you will feed on blood. What do you think, Johnny boy? Do you really have the courage to accept his gift? Or will you run away again, like you ran from Luke?”

  “I accept,” Jonathan said without hesitation. “That price is nothing compared to the power I’ll gain.”

  “Oh, I like that, Johnny. Determination,” the demon chuckled. “You’ve gone up in my estimation.”

  “Very well, Jonathan,” said the vampire god. “I will grant what you desire. But before we finalize this pact, we must discuss terms that benefit us both. It would be a waste of a significant investment if I gave you this power only for you to die the moment you return to Earth. I need guarantees that you will follow my commands precisely until my order gains more followers on your planet. Think of it as… a precaution. If you die, I at least want to preserve the gift I give you by passing it on to others.”

  Jonathan agreed. It was a fair deal. And so the conversation continued.

  The demon issued a warning about the time limit of that world, about how once the countdown ended, access to the post-tutorial shop would be permanently cut off. Jonathan didn’t care. That shop meant nothing to him. Power did. Power was all he wanted.

  “To complete the ritual, you must drink my blood,” the creature said. “However, I cannot give it to you here. This space limits interaction. Something like that requires physical presence, and I am merely an apparition. I am not truly here with you.”

  The smile on Jonathan’s face faltered. “What? Then… what about our deal?”

  “Calm yourself, Jonathan. I cannot give you my blood directly, but you already possess it. You’ve had it this entire time. Now, in my presence, its true nature awakens.”

  “Your blood was with me?” Jonathan asked, confused, as something stirred in his hand.

  The blood slime began to move. The liquid pulled itself together, condensing into a single, heavy drop. Its color darkened, shifting into a deep wine red.

  “I gave you that creature, born from my blood. A Blood Familiar,” the god-monster said. “Consume the familiar, and you will obtain the power you desire. One small warning: the familiar’s power dies with it. Consider its strength a metaphor for what you must become once my blood flows within you. You will have to hide, even while your new nature remains in plain sight. This was a test, and you passed.”

  Jonathan stared at the drop of blood in his palm. He took a deep breath, then brought it to his mouth and swallowed.

  The pain hit instantly.

  It was violent. Overwhelming.

  Jonathan dropped to his knees as the blood consumed him from the inside, devouring him. The creature and the demon watched in silence, smiling.

  The pain kept escalating, seeping into his bones, carving itself into his very soul. And then, something shifted. Jonathan began to devour the pain itself, pulling it inward, claiming it, mastering it. Notifications flooded his vision, but he ignored them.

  Pain was no longer suffering.

  Pain was power.

  And he wanted it.

  When it was over, Jonathan rose to his feet.

  “Now you are my son, Jonathan,” the creature declared. “Now you are a Lasiurus Vampire.”

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