Chapter 18: I’m Now A Vampire

Chapter 18: I’m Now A Vampire The new rhythm of the dungeon was a beautiful thing to behold. Every six hours, a party of students would brave the first floor, providing a steady drip of low-level experience. Every day or so, a more ambitious party of "pro" heroes, inspired by Zephariel’s famous HeroGram post, would descend to the second floor to test their mettle against Ragnar’s growing population of Orcs and elite kobolds. The losses were heavier, but the experience flowed in thick, satisfying waves. Ragnar Vhagar, Demon King and CEO of a vertically integrated murder-for-profit enterprise, sat on his throne, watching the notifications on his phone. [You have defeated a D-Rank Hero! +150 Experience Points!] [You have defeated a D-Rank Hero! +145 Experience Points!] [Your subordinate ’Smashy 2.0’ has been defeated.] "A worthy sacrifice, Smashy 2.0," Ragnar said solemnly. "Your contribution to my inevitable world domination is noted and appreciated." Gary the kobold, who was sitting at the foot of the throne, barked in agreement. The constant stream of victories had been adding up. He was close. So very close. After one more mid-level party was soundly beaten and sent packing from the second floor, it happened. A new notification, grander and more profound than the others, chimed in his mind. [You have accumulated enough experience!] [You have Leveled Up!] [You are now Level 3!] He felt stronger, his connection to his domain more profound. He grinned, ready to check his new stats and spend the Bonus Points he was sure he had earned. But when he tried to open his status menu, nothing happened. He tried to open the Creation tab. Denied. The entire Demon King System app was grayed out, unresponsive. In its place, a single, massive, un-skippable screen took over his phone. The text was written in blood-red, ominous letters. [LEVEL 3 REACHED. EVOLUTION IS NOW REQUIRED.] [YOU CANNOT PROCEED UNTIL YOU CHOOSE A NEW PATH.] [CHOOSE WISELY. THERE ARE NO SECOND CHANCES.] Ragnar stared. "Locked out? They locked me out of my own system?" he sputtered. A cold knot of panic formed in his stomach. He was completely vulnerable. If a powerful party invaded right now, he couldn’t create new monsters, couldn’t set new traps. Below the warning, a list of options appeared, each with a small, evocative icon. [HUMAN] [DWARF] [SLIME] [BEAST] [FAIRY] [VAMPIRE] "This is it," he whispered, his gamer brain kicking into overdrive. "The first class change." He began to analyze the options with the grim focus of a man who knew his life depended on this single choice. "Okay, [Human]," he scoffed. "Absolutely not. I didn’t go through all this trouble just to go back to being a boring, squishy human with bad posture. Pass." "[Slime]," he mused, looking at the jiggly blue icon. "Pros: I’d be immune to blunt force trauma. Cons: I’d be a puddle. And my True Core would probably melt. Hard pass." "[Fairy]," the icon was a pair of delicate wings. "It sounds... small. And sparkly. Not really on-brand for a Demon King aiming for world domination. I’ll leave that to the Demon Queens who are worried about bloodstains on their carpets. Next." That left three serious contenders. "[Dwarf]," the icon was a hammer and anvil. The description hinted at a powerful racial bonus to all crafting-related skills. "Hmm. My B-Rank Alchemy is my ace in the hole. Becoming a master craftsman Dwarf would make me the premier weapons dealer in the Chaos faction. A very, very tempting and practical choice." "[Beast]," the icon was a snarling wolf’s head. The description mentioned strengthening beast-type subordinates and gaining ferocious physical power. "My kobolds and wolves are the backbone of my army. Buffing them would be a massive power increase for my entire dungeon. Another solid, practical choice. Plus, being a werewolf sounds kind of cool." Finally, his eyes fell on the last option. [Vampire]. The icon was a single, stylized drop of blood. The description was speaking of ’mastery over darkness,’ ’the power of the night,’ and ’unholy pacts.’ Ragnar leaned back on his throne, still can’t decide. The Dwarf was the smart, economic choice. The Beast was the smart, military choice. But the Vampire... the Vampire was the power choice. It was a high-risk, high-reward path that screamed ’final boss.’ It was cool. It was edgy. It was everything his old, boring life wasn’t. "My old life was practical," he murmured. "My old life was sensible. And my old life sucked." His finger hovered over the Vampire option. "When you get a chance to become a Lord of Chaos, you don’t choose to be a sensible Dwarf. You choose to be a goddamn Vampire." With a sense of finality, he pressed the button. A confirmation box appeared. [Are you sure you wish to forsake the light and embrace the eternal night? This path offers great power, but also great weakness.] "Bring it on," Ragnar said, and hit ’Yes’. The pain was immediate and absolute. It was not a pleasant wave of energy. It was a biological cataclysm. He screamed, a raw, ragged sound that was torn from his throat as his body betrayed him. He collapsed from his throne, writhing on the cold stone floor. His bones snapped, the sound like a bundle of dry sticks being broken, and then began to regrow, stretching and reforming into a taller, leaner frame. His skin lost all its color, turning a stark, pearlescent white under the dungeon’s purple light, and it felt cold to the touch, like marble. The worst part was his mouth. He felt an agonizing pressure in his gums as his canines sharpened and elongated, erupting from his flesh as two wickedly sharp fangs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth. The transformation felt like an eternity. He was remade, cell by agonizing cell. When it was finally over, he lay gasping on the floor, weak and trembling. He felt... different. Empty, but also filled with a new, cold, predatory energy. Slowly, shakily, he pushed himself up. He looked at his hands. They were pale, the fingers long and slender. He ran his tongue over his new fangs. He felt a deep, gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with food. His phone chimed. The evolution screen was gone, replaced by his new status. [Ragnar Vhagar] Race: Demon King (Vampire) Title: Demon King of Aethelburg Sector 7 Level: 3 Stats: Body: E -> D (Boosted to C in Darkness) Mana: E -> D (Boosted to C in Darkness) Alchemy: B Creation: C Knowledge: E Racial Weaknesses: Sunlight (Severe) Silver (Major) Holy/Light Magic (Major) Flowing Water (Minor) New Abilities Unlocked: {Dark Arrow}: A basic bolt of shadow magic. {Vampire}: Can drain life force through physical contact. {Absorb}: Can temporarily gain knowledge and skills by consuming the blood of a target. {Blood Chalice}: A ritual to create a powerful bloodkin. {Contract}: Forms a master-servant pact with a willing subject. Ragnar read through the list, a slow, sharp-toothed grin spreading across his pale face. The pain had been immense, but the payoff was undeniable. He was more powerful, but also more vulnerable. This wasn’t a simple upgrade. It was a specialization. He opened his Creation tab. The list had been updated. He could now create [Giant Bats], [Ghouls], and [Lycanthropes]. Val’sharah approached him silently and knelt, speaking a sentence in her musical, incomprehensible language. It sounded respectful, but also questioning. Ragnar just looked at her, then at his own reflection in the polished obsidian of his throne. He looked like the lead singer of a goth rock band from the early 2000s. It was ridiculous. It was terrifying. It was magnificent. The hunger in his gut twisted. He was no longer just a human playing a game. A creature of the night. A true monster. He was a Vampire. He was a Demon King. And he was very, very thirsty. Visit freewebnov(e)l.com for the best novel reading experience