The mana dodgeball hit Dorian square in the temple with a wet crack.
Searing pain.
The world spun.
Laughter erupted across the gym.
"Oi, Dori! You still breathing?"
"Careful bro, don't breath too hard or he might break."
The girls immediately swooped in.
"Don't bully him! He's precious~"
"Come here, Dori, let big sis heal it for you."
"Don't you guys think he'd look adorable in the girl's PE uniform?"
"I'm fine," Dorian muttered, pushing himself up.
He forced a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Across the court, the team's ace, Lucien Veyron—S-rank, golden hair, perfect teeth, you get it— landed from a ten-meter mana-boosted leap.
He twisted mid-air and slammed a ball hard enough to spider-web the reinforced floor.
The shockwave rattled the bleachers.
The entire gym roared his name.
Dorian rubbed his temple.
'Must be nice'.
...
Class ended.
The girls made a fuss yet nobody waited for as per usual.
Dorian slipped out the side exit before anyone could drag him into post-match bragging.
Outside the academy gates, he checked his phone out of habit.
No messages.
Just his own faint reflection — soft jaw, messy blond hair, a slight bruise on his cheek where the ball hit.
He locked the screen.
Up ahead, a cluster of classmates walked together, laughing loudly about rankings and some nonsense like which elemental affinity was the "sexiest in combat."
Dorian slowed, letting the noise fade behind him, then veered left onto the longer forest path.
A cool breeze drifted through the trees.
Shadows clung to the trunks in a way that felt… comforting.
No one to call him "Dori" for five fucking minutes.
Dorian flexed his fingers, and a faint ribbon of darkness curled around them — his awakened ability, Shadow Manipulation.
Sounds a lot cooler than it actually is, in fact the lack of firepower is the reason why he was classified as the average D-rank.
Rustle overhead.
Dorian looked up just in time for a bat to dive straight at his face.
He yelped(actually yelped), stumbled backward, caught his foot on a root, and tumbled down a mossy slope.
His head clipped a stone.
Light snapped out.
Silence followed.
Then came a heartbeat that wasn't his.
Slow. Deep. Hungry.
Crimson glyphs bloomed in the darkness like wounds opening across the void.
[Vampire Corruption System initializing…]
[Analyzing host compatibility… 99.6%]
Elegant, decadent words followed — soft like velvet, sharp like fangs:
[The immaculate exist to be tainted.]
[The joy of life is to smear the pristine with your own filthy hands.]
[Bite the pure — rule the worlds.]
A chill slid down Dorian's spine despite the honeyed cadence.
He gasped awake on the forest floor.
No pain.
No bruises.
His pulse hammered like a war drum.
"Status," he whispered out of instinct.
Nothing happened.
Then—
[Unauthorized system detected. Redirecting…]
A new panel unfolded before him, a sleek obsidian screen trimmed in arterial red.
[Welcome, Dorian Voss]
[System: Vampire Corruption System]
[Original Race: Human]
[Overwrite: Pending]
[Detected Ability: Shadow Manipulation]
[Avatar Form: Vampire (Locked)]
[Tutorial Mission: Corrupt the Saintess of the Valencia Church]
[World Transfer: Pending]
[Corruption: 0%]
Dorian blinked.
"…Vampire?"
He rubbed his eyes.
Panel still there.
"Corrupt… the what now?"
The glyphs pulsed once.
[Begin Tutorial? Y / N]
Every sensible atom in his body screamed no.
He had absolutely no business interacting with something that looked like a satanic phone update.
But maybe the fall scrambled his survival instincts.
Maybe the day had already been terrible enough.
Maybe some part of him — the one tired of being overlooked, underestimated, cute — whispered something reckless.
He swallowed.
"…Yes."
The forest dissolved into red mist.
His vision warped, spun, then detonated with light.
...
Cobblestone slammed beneath his feet.
Boots.
Not his.
Cold night air brushed his skin.
Lanterns flickered along ancient streets.
Church bells tolled somewhere beyond the rooftops.
The scent of incense and old stone hung in the air.
Dorian staggered until he caught himself—and froze.
His shadow stretched long and sharp across the stones.
Broader shoulders.
A frame that wasn't his.
He caught sight of himself in a darkened shop window.
Taller.
Stronger.
Jawline cut like obsidian.
Eyes faintly crimson beneath golden colored bangs.
He touched his face slowly.
"…What the hell happened to me?"
People walked past and glanced his way without pretense.
Attention followed him like he owed it money.
A panel blinked into view.
[Target acquired: Saintess of Lumina]
[Hint: Secret confessions — Lower Chapel, after dusk]
Dorian was snapped out of his daze as the sound of drums rumbled through the street.
A procession rounded the corner.
A certain figure in the center of the chaos caught his attention.
White robes flowing like liquid moonlight.
Dazzling long silver hair.
An aura so pure it seemed somewhat sacred.
Beside her walked a sunny knight in gleaming plate, radiating righteousness.
'Yeah, if that's not her then I'm crazy'
The crowd surged, pushing Dorian toward the front.
The Saintess's gentle eyes swept over him.
Something inside him stirred—a pulse of heat and hunger that wasn't human.
Corruption: 0% → 0.1%
His breath caught.
His fangs — faint but unmistakable — grazed his lower lip.
The crowd roared around him.
Dorian's whisper drowned beneath the cheers.
"…What the hell did I just agree to?"