The tavern door closed behind him. The night air was cool, carrying the smoke of guttering torches and the faint stink of ale-soaked streets.
Ahead, three adventurers left together, voices rough with drink, laughter spilling too loudly into the dark. Their steps were unsteady but confident, hands resting on blades and buckles as if their gear alone would guard them.
Noctis followed.
His blood-forged armor swallowed the moonlight, his stride silent as he trailed them through the winding streets. He moved when they moved, halted when they lingered. In their haze, they never once looked over their shoulders.
The streets narrowed. Houses thinned. The group stumbled into a lane where no torch burned and no window glowed. The noise of the city fell away.
Noctis stepped from the shadows.
His form blurred. The Grid unfolded in him, doctrines latching together into one motion.
[Skill: Bloodstorm AoE]
Effect: Expanding eruption of shadow-edges.
He lunged. The street filled with a crimson wave that burst outward like jagged blades of light. The first adventurer's throat opened before he could shout. The second tried to lift his sword but was split at the waist. The third staggered back, mouth wide, before a line of shadow carved him from shoulder to hip.
Three bodies fell almost as one, their blood spattering the cobblestones.
Noctis knelt among them. Fangs bared, he sank into the nearest throat.
The blood was coarse, mixed with wine, but it carried traces of skill. A swordsman's discipline—shallow but sharp. The Grid flared. Duelist's Guard lit, merging into Soldier's Edge.
He shifted to the second. This one's blood was thicker, steeped in raw endurance. The Grid seized it, forming a new node: Brawler's Stamina, strength without form. It folded into Vector Cavalier's structure, reinforcing his angles with raw weight.
The third twitched under him, breath rattling. Noctis bit deep. The taste was wild, a half-trained spellcaster. Sparks of arcane residue trickled across his tongue. The Grid answered with a flare: Minor Elemental Spark, raw and uncontrolled, but it bent quickly, twisting into a predator's flame-fleck already aligned with his existing magic.
When he rose, three husks lay silent. Their blood, flesh, and essence had fled into him, leaving only armor and clothes.
He spread his hand. Blood welled and hardened into shadow-fire. A sweep of crimson tore through the heap, reducing steel and leather to slag. Only ash remained.
He left the alley. The city stretched ahead, lamps flickering along the main road. His hunger dulled but not gone, the Grid still humming from its new additions.
Then he passed it.
A mansion stood behind wrought-iron gates, its walls high, windows glowing with candlelight. Laughter drifted faintly into the night, the sound of strings and silvered voices.
Noctis slowed. The maid's report returned to him: a noble's feast.
He looked at the windows. He could almost taste the warmth spilling from them—fat, wine, pride, all wrapped in the skin of wealth.
His tongue ran along the edge of his fangs.
I wonder how a noble woman would taste.
He bent his knees and leapt. His body rose cleanly over the gate, landing silent on the courtyard stone.
The blood-forged armor pulsed faintly as he moved. One hand brushed the wall; his step bled into the doctrine of Ghost Vein, carrying him across the yard unseen. With another shift, he bent the angles of space itself, using Vector Pivot to fold past a guard's line of sight.
A window glowed ahead. Noctis pressed to the wall and climbed, each movement precise. The mansion would not keep him out. It had invited him in.
The mansion breathed warmth into the night. Candles burned in rows, chandeliers spilling gold across marble floors, the air heavy with perfumes and roasted meats. Music floated from the great hall, strings plucked against laughter and the clink of glass.
Noctis moved through the shadows.
The blood-forged armor drank the light, shaping him into a faceless silhouette. Each step merged into the next, doctrines folding seamlessly: Ghost Vein let him slip along the wall unseen, Cadence Anchor bent his rhythm to match the shuffle of servants, and Vector Pivot let him tilt past open doors without a trace.
Two stood at the inner stair, spears crossed, eyes half-bored from long hours of vigilance. Their armor gleamed, but their posture sagged. Noctis paused at the edge of the corridor, studying.
One shifted weight from left foot to right every ten breaths. The other blinked too slowly, too often. Their routine was a rhythm, and he could step between it if he wished.
He did not strike. Not yet. The feast would not hide sudden silence. Better to let them live until the house itself drowned in distraction.
A pair of maids passed, trays balanced with wine goblets. Noctis pressed himself to the wall as they passed within arm's reach. Neither turned their heads. His armor pulsed faintly, its essence disguising his presence as if he were a darker fold of the mansion itself.
Their chatter told him more than they knew: the noblewoman of the house was wearing a necklace from the eastern provinces, the lord had invited half the city's officials, and the feast would last until dawn.
He reached a balcony overlooking the hall below.
Dozens of nobles filled the chamber, dressed in silks and brocades, their laughter bouncing from marble to gold. Tables sagged with food—roasted boar, glazed fowl, bowls of sugared fruit, decanters of wine.
At the center, a long table bore the lord and lady of the house. The man was gray-bearded, rings stacked thick across his hands. The woman was younger, her gown flowing like water, her skin bright under the candles. Pearls glistened against her neck.
Noctis tilted his head. The sight alone was enough to stir hunger.
He watched without blinking.
Every noble was measured—by posture, by voice, by the rhythm of their indulgence. Some were fat, soft, blood ripe with idle living. Others were wiry and tense, hands never far from a dagger or goblet.
The guards at the walls were mercenaries, not soldiers. Their eyes scanned but never truly saw. They stood for coin, not loyalty.
The lady of the house laughed lightly, tilting her head back. Her throat arched like an offering. The Grid pulsed faintly in Noctis's vision.
Noctis leaned against the railing, cloaked in shadow, unseen above the sea of laughter and light. His fangs pressed lightly against his lip.
He did not move yet. The predator who struck too early lost more than the prey.
For now, he would linger. He would watch. He would let the feast ripen until the hour came to pluck its sweetest fruit.
Noctis moved like breath through the mansion. He bent through the corridor, every step concealed by the weight of his blood-forged armor. Servants passed, guards shifted, but none turned toward him.
He slipped through a door left half-ajar. The hinges did not dare creak under his hand.
Inside, the chamber was dim, lit only by a single candle guttering on the table. A heavy bed dominated the room, draped in silks and layered in perfume. The air itself was thick with it—flowery, cloying, so strong it almost stung his nostrils.
Noctis stood still, letting his eyes adjust. The perfume wasn't alone. Beneath it was the heat of a living body.
He stepped closer. The blankets rose and fell with the slow rhythm of sleep. He reached down and pulled the cover back in silence.
The sight froze him.
The noblewoman beneath was not the smooth-throated vision from the banquet. She was heavy, her flesh spilling across the silks. Her face was buried under powder and rouge, makeup smeared from drunken sweat until it resembled a painted mask. Her lips parted in a slack snore, breath sour with wine.
Noctis recoiled. His stomach turned.
This… this is what nobles are?
The thought twisted in his mind, bile rising with it. He swiped before he could think.
Claws tore across her throat. Blood sprayed the silks. Her eyes bulged open for one stunned instant before rolling back. The body sagged against the sheets.
Noctis turned away, dropping to his knees.
He retched. Once, twice, then again. The taste of perfume and sour wine seemed to coat his mouth, as if the very air had stained him.
"Oh… gods." The words were a rasp inside his helm. Noble women are unbelievably ugly.
He vomited harder, blood-spit mixing with bile on the floorboards. His chest heaved until the sickness burned itself out.
Minutes passed before the convulsions stopped. He steadied himself against the bedpost, breathing raggedly.
When at last his head cleared, he looked back.
The chamber was a ruin of spilled perfume and blood. The corpse sprawled against silks, neck yawning open, powder streaked like clown paint across her face.
Noctis grimaced. He had to erase it.
He raised his hand. Blood pooled in his palm, and the Grid answered.
[Skill: Devour]Effect: Consume corpse and residue into essence.
The body dissolved into mist under his will. Flesh, bone, and stench collapsed into crimson vapor and vanished into him. The sheets tore away into ash. The floor wiped clean as if nothing had lain there at all.
The only trace left was the lingering stink of perfume.
Noctis wiped the last stench of perfume from his lips as he slipped back into the corridor. The chamber behind him was empty now, the woman's body erased into mist, the scene cleansed. Only the ghost of her excess lingered in his nose.
He would not leave the mansion without correcting the insult.
The feast still rang below—the murmur of nobles, the scrape of strings. But up here the hallways were quieter, doors half-shut, servants scurrying with lowered heads.
Then he saw her.
A noblewoman entered a chamber ahead, the door closing softly behind her. She moved differently than the first—poise in her step, grace in her bearing. The candlelight had caught her skin, fair and smooth. Her waist was cinched slim under a flowing gown, her bosom full, framed by a string of pearls that glowed like milk in the dark.
Noctis stopped, eyes narrowing behind his blood-forged helm. His tongue brushed his fang.
So not all noblewomen are creatures, he thought. Some still remember beauty.
The hunger that had curdled in him before flared hot again.
He crossed the corridor in silence. His steps matched the hush of the house, his blood armor merging with the shadows. The door's lock clicked faintly as he brushed his hand over it, blood threads seeping into the mechanism until it parted like soft wax.
The chamber welcomed him.
Inside, she stood before a mirror, unfastening jewels from her throat. Her gown shimmered faintly as she shifted, the silk hugging her form. She sighed once, unaware, her reflection showing only her own face.
Noctis stepped closer, invisible in the corner of the room, his presence smothered by Assassin's Veil II.
Her scent reached him—wine, roses, and something sharper beneath. He breathed it in, savoring the taste of prey not yet taken.
He leaned against the wall, letting the hunger settle into focus. The Grid pulsed faintly in his sight, threads already weaving the approach: how to silence her, how to drink without alerting the feast below.
Noctis licked his lips, his fangs catching the light.
This time, he would not recoil. This time, the prey would be worthy.
He took one silent step forward.
The noblewoman stood before the mirror, pearls slipping from her fingers onto the vanity. Her gown shimmered with each motion, its folds accentuating her curves.
Noctis stepped out of the shadows.
Her eyes widened, lips parting in a small gasp. Before sound could escape, his gaze caught hers.
[Skill: Allure's Gaze III — Binding Stare]Effect: Compulsion. Will opposed.
The violet glow seared into her pupils. Her breath hitched, her shoulders stiffened, and then all tension dissolved into obedience.
"Turn," Noctis said, voice low.
She turned to face him.
"Serve me."
"Yes, master," she whispered.
She obeyed. Her gown fell away in silken folds. Pale skin gleamed under candlelight, her form slender but full, her bosom rising and falling with quickened breath.
Noctis moved to her, his blood-forged armor dissipating at his command. Flesh and shadow peeled away until he stood over her, hunger pressing beneath the surface of his calm.
They collapsed together onto the bed. Her perfume and warmth wrapped around him as her voice broke into soft moans. Each movement drew another sound, another proof of her submission. She arched beneath him, whispering, crying out in fragile delight.
Noctis's lips brushed her neck, lingering, savoring the heat of her pulse.
Fangs bared, he licked the skin once, tasting the salt of her sweat. Then he bit down.
The blood came hot, rich, seasoned with luxury and indulgence. It was wine and roses, laced with years of fattened living. The Grid shivered as it tasted her essence, already threading new vitality into his frame.
The noblewoman moaned louder, body trembling, even as her strength bled into him. Her hands clung to him as though she wanted nothing more than to be consumed.
Noctis drank deep.
Then the air shimmered.
A voice not spoken but carved into his mind rang clear:
[System Notice: You have consumed Noble Lineage Blood.][Unique Trait Detected → Blood of Blue Veins.][Warning: Consumption of recognized noble houses may trigger detection.]
Noctis froze.
The noblewoman slumped in his arms, her pulse fading as the Grid absorbed the last of her life. But his gaze was distant, fixed on the words burning across his mind.
This was no ordinary feast.
Her blood had carried lineage. Recognition. And consequence.
The woman's body slumped against the silks, her warmth fading into nothing. Her perfume lingered, thick and flowery, but it could not mask the iron tang of her blood still coating Noctis's lips.
The Grid pulsed. Then the System voice rang again, etched sharp into his mind.
[System Notice: You have consumed Noble Lineage Blood.][Unique Trait Acquired → Blood of Blue Veins.][Warning: Consumption of recognized noble houses may trigger detection by external powers.]
Noctis remained still. His fangs retracted slowly, his hand pressing against the woman's chest as her last heartbeat flickered out. His eyes narrowed.
Blue Veins…
He rolled the words in his mind, tasting them like blood. This was new. Not a soldier's doctrine. Not a captain's doctrine. Not the rogue arts of adventurers or the brutality of bandits. This was something older, steeped in heritage and name.
He licked his lips clean, savoring the last trace. The Grid shimmered before him in his mind's eye. Among the brightening nodes and threads, a new mark glowed faintly—a pale blue line, different from the crimson lattice.
Blood of Blue Veins.
It was not a skill. Not a weapon. It was status. An inheritance burned into blood and carried forward by generations of power.
The System's warning replayed: may trigger detection by external powers.
Noctis exhaled slowly. So the world notices when their precious nobles go missing.
But instead of fear, curiosity stirred in him.
If one noble's blood can be read, what happens if I take more? What if I drink deep from entire houses? Would their heritage bend to me? Would the name in their veins become mine?
The thought drew a smile to his lips.
He stood from the bed, the woman's corpse dissolving into mist at his command. The Devour skill swept clean the silks and wood, leaving no stain but the heavy scent of roses.
The pale blue node still glowed faintly inside the Grid. It pulsed once, merging faintly with his existing vitality, a quiet reminder of what he had tasted.
Noctis touched the edge of the node with his will. Power shivered in response, subtle but real—an echo of influence, the kind that made servants obey orders without question and guards defer to presence.
Influence. Authority. The mask of rule itself.
It was weak now, barely a whisper. But what if he devoured more? What if he claimed the blood of an entire lineage?
The hunger in him sharpened anew.
He adjusted the cloak of his blood-forged armor and stepped back into the corridor. The feast below still roared with laughter. Servants still scurried, nobles still drank.
And somewhere in this mansion, more veins ran blue.
Noctis licked his lips. Tonight may yet grow interesting.
The corridors still whispered with music from the great hall. Nobles laughed over their goblets, unaware a predator prowled above them.
Noctis moved along the shadowed wall, his blood-forged armor dissolving sound into silence. The blue pulse in his Grid lingered, faint but insistent. It had given him influence, authority, the echo of a noble's presence. He wanted to know if more blood would strengthen it.
He followed the sound of footsteps.
A door closed gently at the end of the corridor. He approached and pressed his palm to the lock. Blood threads seeped into the mechanism, unfastening it without a sound. The door swung inward.
Inside, another chamber glowed with candlelight. A man stood near the dresser, removing his coat. Rings gleamed across his fingers, and his neck bore the weight of a heavy gold chain. His cheeks were flushed with drink, his body soft with excess.
A noble of the same house.
Noctis stepped through the door. The man turned, confusion flaring into panic. His lips parted to shout.
The violet glow lit Noctis's eyes.
[Skill: Allure's Gaze III — Binding Stare]Effect: Compulsion. Will opposed.
The man's body froze. His voice strangled in his throat. His eyes went glassy.
"Be still," Noctis said.
The noble obeyed.
Noctis crossed the chamber in three slow steps. His gauntleted hand pressed against the man's chest, pinning him to the dresser. He leaned close, inhaling the scent of spiced wine and perfume clinging to the noble's clothes.
"Your blood," Noctis whispered. "Give it to me."
The noble's head turned to bare his throat.
Noctis's tongue traced the pulse once before his fangs pierced.
The blood surged hot and oily, rich with indulgence. He drank deeply. It was not strength or skill—it was entitlement, heritage, the arrogance of generations turned liquid.
The Grid pulsed violently.
[System Notice: Noble Lineage Blood Consumed.][Blood of Blue Veins — Node Strengthened.][Effect Enhanced: Influence radius expanded. Noble aura deepened.]
Noctis released him. The man collapsed against the dresser, eyes dimming as his life bled away.
Inside the Grid, the pale blue node flared brighter. Its threads stretched further now, weaving faint lines into Soldier's Edge and Tempo Ledger. Influence bled into rhythm, authority into command. He could feel it already—if he spoke in the right tone, even without Binding Stare, men would falter.
His lips curved faintly. So the blood builds. The more I drink, the more noble presence becomes mine.
He crouched and sank his fangs again, finishing the body. Flesh dissolved into crimson vapor. Rings clattered to the floor as his Devour consumed everything else.
When he rose, only silence remained. The chamber was clean but for the gold chain and rings scattered across the dresser.
Noctis slipped them into his cloak.
The Grid still glowed faintly blue. The aura of nobility now hummed in his veins, a counterfeit crown.
He stepped back into the corridor. Somewhere else in the mansion, more veins pulsed. And he wanted them all.