Beneath the sprawling canopy of the World Tree in Gurren Village, Vaelion stood silently, arms crossed, as his wives quietly observed from the side. The air felt heavier than usual, not with danger, but with expectation. Valtros, the ancient vampire and Vaelion's great-grandfather, sat on a root throne carved into the base of the tree, his presence emanating centuries of wisdom.
"So, you're finally ready to awaken what's buried in your blood," Valtros said with a smirk, swirling a goblet of crimson wine. "Let's begin."
Vaelion nodded firmly. "I'm ready."
Valtros leaned forward, sharp eyes locking with his descendant. "Then understand this—your path diverges here. You want power? Then you must abandon the idea of being everyone's hero. A vampire fights selfishly. Be the villain in everyone's eyes, if it means protecting those you care for."
The words hit Vaelion harder than expected. But he didn't flinch.
Valtros stood up. "Training Rule Number One: Become selfish. Not heartless. But selfish. Power born from obligation will always be weaker than power born from desire."
He approached Vaelion, tapping his forehead. "Rule Two: Use your body. All of it. Legs, elbows, fangs. A vampire isn't elegant. He's efficient. Brutal. Let instinct lead."
"Got it," Vaelion replied.
"Rule Three," Valtros continued, gesturing to Vaelion's hair, "Grow it out. You need to shed your old skin—metaphorically and literally. The longer hair helps you channel and distribute your aura more fluidly."
Vaelion raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Rule Four," Valtros said, circling him. "Ditch that outfit. A warrior's form must mirror his soul. You'll be fighting like a vampire from now on. So dress like one. Black leather, enchanted fabric. You need flow and intimidation."
Kurumi giggled from the sidelines. "About time. I've been saying his current outfit is too princely."
Valtros smirked. "Finally, Rule Five. Two weapons. Always. Vampires are ambidextrous monsters. Your left hand should be as deadly as your right."
Vaelion took a breath, digesting every word. "Understood. When do we start?"
Before Valtros could answer, a voice chimed in. "Training or not, I don't like womanizers."
Vaelion turned to see a girl leaning against the base of the World Tree. Short tomboyish hair, a pair of firm brown eyes, arms crossed with a wooden tray of sweets beside her. She wore a dark crimson shirt, shorts, and a sleeveless jacket. Boots that had seen dust and battle.
"You must be Vaelion," she said, unimpressed. "I'm Miora. And don't get the wrong idea—I help Valtros run things around here. Don't expect me to swoon like the others."
Kurumi snorted. "Oh, this one's got bite."
"She should. She's been raised by me," Valtros said with a grin. "Miora's no ordinary girl. She's one of the few surviving mortal-blood vampires. And she's strong because she's smart."
Vaelion smiled gently. "Nice to meet you, Miora."
She looked at him, then at the group of women around him. "You're going to be a handful. Don't expect me to join that little circus."
Kurumi laughed. "Oh, she'll join. They always do."
Valtros clapped his hands. "Enough flirting. Let the real training begin."
As the sun filtered through the massive branches of the World Tree, casting blue-hued light over the group, Vaelion stepped forward, a fire in his eyes. This wasn't just training. This was evolution.
The Vampire of the Blue Moon was being born.