I Awakened The Ancient Vampire System

Chapter 91: Chapter 91: Blood Mist Over Kharga

Lucian laid on the bed with one arm behind his silver hair, staring at the water stain shaped like a skull in the corner.

He’d spent the entire day following leads on Hassan that went nowhere. The desert town of Kharga was small — barely fifty thousand people before the Cataclysm, maybe fifteen thousand now.

He closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted to the fire cultivator he’d killed two days ago.

The Khamsin family.

His phone buzzed.

A projection — a feature of the Knight’s communicator embedded in the device. Miss Solstice’s voice crackled.

"Lucian. We’ve intercepted a transmission. The third base location will be pinpointed within forty-eight hours. A team is being assembled to continue the operation."

Lucian didn’t open his eyes. "Good for them."

"You will return to the academy once the mission is formally closed. Your recruitment status—"

"I don’t want to go back to that school."

The silence on the other end was sharp.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Lucian’s voice was nonchalant as he scratched his stomach. "That place is already boring as fuck. If I’m going back, it’s only to train with my master."

He paused.

And maybe have sex with Clara.

"Lucian. Are you listening to me?"

"Yep."

"This isn’t a request. The Knights of the Horizon may be independent, but we still maintain operational discipline. You don’t get to pick and choose your—"

"Complain to my master, then."

"..."

"Go ahead. I’ll wait."

Lucian could almost picture the pink-haired woman grinding her teeth.

"You are insufferable."

"I will be speaking with Allistar Flint about your attitude."

"Tell him I said hello."

The projection severed. Lucian opened his eyes as he then sat up.

"So boring. This is getting annoying," he muttered to the empty room.

He pulled a black hoodie over his head, and shoved his hands into the pockets. The night air would do him good. Sitting in this room was making his thoughts circle like vultures.

Kharga’s main street was busier than he expected for a desert town. Lanterns hung from rusted metal posts, casting pools of orange light across the cracked pavement. Vendors shouted prices in Arabic and broken French. Children darted between legs, laughing. A woman carried a basket of flatbread on her head, weaving through the crowd without breaking stride.

Most people in this city were normal humans. At least 95% of them were normal humans.

Lucian walked past them all, his hands deep in his hoodie, his crimson eyes hidden beneath the shadow of the hood. A few people glanced at him — a tall foreigner in black wasn’t exactly common here — but nobody lingered.

He found a small liquor shop wedged between a butcher and a shoe repair stall. The owner was a fat man with a greasy mustache who didn’t look up from his phone when Lucian entered.

He said, "Three bottles of something strong."

The man grunted a price, "200 credits"

Lucian paid and left.

Four hundred meters above the main street, atop a crumbling concrete building, three figures stood in the darkness.

Two wore purple clothings and masks — one female, one male. The third wore no mask at all.

The third figure was a mountain of a man. Scarred face. Wild, bloodshot eyes. Tattoos crawled up his neck and across his jaw like black serpents, disappearing beneath the collar of his dark robes. He stared out over the city of Kharga with the detached expression of a man watching insects scatter.

The woman — slim, masked, her accent sharp when she spoke — broke the silence first.

"Hassan. It seems a lot of people are already on to us."

Hassan didn’t turn.

"The plan to start war among the people has gone to shit." She stepped closer, her voice tightening. "Your bases are already destroyed. Even the plan of using the government children to start war has gone to shit. It seems you are just useless."

The male figure beside her stiffened.

Hassan turned towards her slowly.

The air changed.

A strong pressure erupted from his body like a shockwave. The female vampire’s knees buckled. Her companion staggered backward, hands raised defensively. Dust and pebbles on the rooftop lifted into the air, suspended, trembling.

Peak Core Realm.

"You will do well to mind your tone before me, woman." Hassan’s voice was quiet. "Even with my powers sealed, I still outclass you by far." His wild eyes locked onto hers. "Even the Khamsin family head — your father — would mind his tone well when speaking to me."

The pressure increased.

The woman gritted her teeth so hard. Sweat beaded beneath her mask. Her hands were shaking.

"I’m... sorry."

The pressure vanished like it had never existed.

Hassan turned back to the city. His scarred face was unreadable.

"Prepare yourselves. I will handle the Hunter Guild outpost in this city. You two kill everyone else. Quickly." His fingers curled around the edge of the rooftop. "We are running out of time. The other vampire clans are already onto us."

He paused.

"Also — request help from the Du Mauriers and the Apep family." His lips curved into a smirk. "After all, we need all the help we can get to awaken my master."

The woman’s masked face twitched at the name Du Maurier.

"Yes, sir," the male figure said.

Hassan stepped off the rooftop as he vanished into the air.

The woman stood motionless for a long moment. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

"Zara," the male said carefully. "Are you—"

"Shut up, Bashir." Her voice was ice. "Just shut up and prepare."

Meanwhile, Lucian was halfway through his second bottle when a tendril of red mist curled out of an alleyway to his left.

He stopped walking.

More mist followed — seeping from cracks in the pavement, oozing from drains, bleeding out of windows and doorways like the city itself was hemorrhaging. It was blood-red, translucent, faintly glowing, and it moved with intent.

His Blood Sense screamed.

They were spreading fast, moving through the city in coordinated patterns, and the mist was pouring from their direction.

Around him, people began to cough as they gasped before falling to the ground.

A man clutching his chest collapsed against a lamppost, his skin already turning grey and cracked. A woman dropped her basket of bread and sank to her knees, her mouth open in a silent scream. A child — no older than six — crumpled in the middle of the street, his eyes rolling back as his tiny body seized.

The screams started. Frantic. Overlapping. Drowning each other out.

"What— what is this?!"

"Help! Someone help!"

"My chest— I can’t— aaaggh—"

"Mama! MAMA—"

That last one cut off into a wet, gurgling silence.

Lucian’s eyes flared gold.

Eyes of the Eternals.

╔═══════════════════════╗

║ ⚠ — HAZARD DETECTED — ⚠ ║

║ SUBSTANCE: BLOOD MIST ║

║ ORIGIN: VAMPIRIC BLOODLINE ABILITY ║

║ PROPERTIES: ║

║ ├─ HIGHLY TOXIC ║

║ ├─ Paralytic venom (inhalation) ║

║ ├─ Rapid moisture drain ║

║ └─ LETHAL: Turns victims into dried husks within 60-120 seconds ║

║ HOST IMMUNITY: Partial (Ancient Vampire Bloodline reducestoxin effectiveness by 70%) ║

║ RECOMMENDATION: AVOID PROLONGED EXPOSURE. NEUTRALIZE SOURCE. ║

╚═══════════════════════╝

Lucian didn’t hesitate.

He raised his right hand and pulled.

Blood Manipulation activated. The mist — which was, at its core, suspended blood particles — responded to his will. It resisted. Whoever was casting this had strong control, layered with their own mana and bloodline intent. But Lucian’s S-Rank Blood Manipulation was S-Rank, and the Ancient Vampire bloodline in his veins sang when he commanded blood.

The mist shuddered.

Then, slowly, it began to move.

Spreading upward. Tendrils of red mist peeled away from the streets, the buildings, the dying people, rising into the night sky like inverted rain. Lucian’s jaw clenched. Sweat beaded on his forehead. This was exhausting — the mist wasn’t his, and fighting another vampire’s control over their own bloodline ability was like wrestling a river upstream.

His mana dropped. 85%. 80%. 75%.

His Blood Energy drained in parallel. 85%. 80%. 75%. 70%.

The mist continued to rise — a massive, swirling column of crimson lifting above Kharga’s rooftops, spreading outward into the atmosphere where it would thin and dissipate harmlessly.

People who had fallen were coughing, gasping for air. The ones who’d been exposed longest had already died. Some were grey and shaking, barely conscious, but their chests were rising and falling. The mist hadn’t had enough time to finish them.

Lucian lowered his hand.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

Just from dispersing their fucking mist. My mana has dropped.

On a rooftop two hundred meters to the east, two figures in purple clothing stood motionless. Their masks were turned toward him.

Lucian met their gaze with cold crimson eyes. His hood had fallen back during the exertion, his silver hair lit orange by the lanterns below. The empty bottle in his left hand cracked and shattered as the alcohol dripped on his fingers.