I Awakened The Ancient Vampire System

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Entering Flow

Lucian’s shoulder popped back into place with a wet crack. He rolled the joint, flexed his fingers. The pain was already fading.

He reached into shadow storage. His fingers closed around the hilt of the Moon Shattering Blade. The slender crescent-edged longsword slid free.

He layered Light Blade over the metal. The sword ignited with white-gold light, the edge glowing hot enough to warp the air around it.

He took a breath.

Then he moved.

Light Steps and Phantom Walk activated simultaneously. His body flickered — first left, then right, then vanishing entirely for a fraction of a second before reappearing directly above Bashir.

Bashir’s eyes went wide.

Lucian brought the sword down with everything he had. His weight, his momentum, the kinetic amplification of the Moon Shattering Blade, the burning edge of Light Blade — all of it concentrated into a single descending strike.

Bashir threw his right hand up to block.

The sword bit into his palm.

Schlick.

It punched through flesh, scraped bone, kept going. Bashir’s boots crashed through the pavement beneath them — boom — legs sinking into the cracked street as Lucian’s full weight drove the blade deeper. Blood sprayed from the wound.

Bashir roared and yanked his hand free before the sword could sever it completely. The palm was split open to the bone, tendons visible, blood pouring down his forearm.

He swung a desperate punch with his left hand. Lucian pulled back, letting the fist whistle past his face, then flickered sideways with Light Steps.

Crack.

A whip came from nowhere. Lucian raised his forearm to block. The segmented weapon coiled around his arm — zzzt — the red-energy segments burning his skin. The pull yanked him backward, boots dragging across pavement.

He ripped his arm free, skin tearing. Blood ran down to his fingertips.

He raised his left hand. Blood Manipulation. Two blood clones ripped free from the spilled blood on the ground — copies of Lucian with crimson eyes and glowing swords made of hardened blood.

They rushed Zara.

Her eyes widened. "Blood clones? He can create blood clones?"

She’d only ever seen one vampire who could do that. And he was dead.

The clones reached her in seconds. One swung high, one swung low. Zara dissolved into blood mist — the clones’ swords cut through nothing — then reformed behind them with her whip already coiling.

Meanwhile, Lucian was already on Bashir.

The turned vampire was clutching his ruined right hand, trying to wrap it with cloth from his belt. His healing was slow. Sluggish. Unlike Clara — who Lucian had turned himself, giving her a faster regeneration — Bashir was a lesser vampire turned by a Khamsin. Clara was at least equal to a true born vampire.

Now.

Lucian pressed the attack. Moon Shattering Blade sang through the air. Bashir dodged the first strike, blocked the second with his left forearm — the impact sent him sliding backward as he barely evaded the third.

Lucian didn’t let up. He fired Crescent Moon Slash after Crescent Moon Slash, each one a diagonal arc of mana-enhanced cutting force. Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh. They carved through the street, sliced through parked cars, forced Bashir into a desperate retreat.

Bashir ducked under one slash, vaulted over another, took a glancing hit from a third that opened a thin line across his ribs. Blood seeped through his clothing.

He’s slowing down.

Lucian fed mana into his blade. Before firing Heaven’s Severance. He swung.

The blade moved — and space bent.

Bashir’s eyes caught the distortion a fraction of a second before it arrived. He twisted his body desperately, trying to dodge. The spatial slash caught him across the waist.

Not a clean cut. He’d moved just enough. But the slash tore through his clothing, through skin, through muscle — a deep, ragged wound that circled his torso from hip to hip. Blood erupted from the gash like a burst pipe.

Bashir flew backward, crashing through the front of a shop.

Crash. Tinkle. Bam.

He hit the back wall and slumped, one hand pressed against his waist, blood pooling beneath him.

Lucian was already moving. Three steps. He raised the sword for a thrust through the heart —

Blood mist blades screamed toward his back.

Lucian spun, parrying with three rapid Crescent Moon Slashes.

Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh.

The mist blades shattered against the arcs of light. Behind him, Bashir was trying to stand, blood streaming down his legs.

Lucian kicked him in the chest without looking back. Bam.

Bashir flew out of the ruined shop and crashed into a lamppost, bending it in half.

From the corner of his eye, Lucian saw Zara standing over the dissolving remains of his two blood clones. Less than two minutes. That’s all they’d lasted.

Fuck. I going low on mana too.

Zara’s blood mist had been draining him this entire time. Even dispersed, residual particles clung to the air, siphoning tiny amounts of mana with every breath. He checked internally.

Mana: 38%. Blood Energy: 45%.

This isn’t looking good.

Zara walked toward him, her whip uncoiling in her hand. The segmented weapon hummed and crackled, each joint rotating with mechanical precision. Her dark eyes were cold with killing intent.

Crack.

She struck. Lucian raised his sword. The whip coiled around the blade — zzzt — and yanked. Lucian held on, muscles straining, but she pulled him off-balance. A second strike came immediately — crack — catching him across the thigh. The segmented edge bit through his pants, cut into muscle. He stumbled.

He swung back. She dissolved into mist. Reformed on his left. Crack. The whip caught his ribs. Crack. His shoulder. Crack. His back.

Each strike opened a new wound. Each wound healed within seconds — but the blood energy cost was adding up. Eternal Regeneration wasn’t free.

Zara pressed forward relentless. Whip strike after whip strike. Crack. Crack. Crack. Lucian parried what he could, dodged what he couldn’t. Blood ran down his arms, his chest, his face. The street behind him was splattered red.

Then Zara laughed maniacally. Her beautiful face twisted.

"You really are a monster!" she shrieked between laughs. "Insane regeneration. Blood manipulation. Light abilities. A sensory ability. Physical stats that almost match mine — mine — and I’m a late Core realm true born vampire for fuck’s sake!"

Crack. Another strike. Lucian blocked it, but the force sent him to one knee.

"If I take your body home for experiment," Zara continued, her voice dropping to a breathless whisper, "father is going to praise me so much." Her smile stretched wider. "Even the three major vampire clans don’t have such a stack of abilities. I don’t know which clan you’re hiding from, and I don’t care."

She kept her whip. Then, from her storage ring, she drew a second one — this one with razor-sharp blades running along every segment. A bladed whip.

"You have to die here and now."

She attacked.

The bladed whip was faster, deadlier. Swish. Swish. Swish. Lucian’s sword flashed — clang, clang, clang — parrying desperately. Steel met energy. Sparks flew. Each impact rattled his bones.

"Die for me."

He fired Light Bolts between parries. Pew. Pew. Pew. Zara weaved through them, her body shifting between solid and mist in fractions of a second. Not fully dissolving — just enough to let the bolts pass harmlessly.

She’s toying with me now.

Lucian used Light Steps. Phantom Walk. He flickered around her, trying to find an angle. She matched him every time, her whip cutting arcs through the air that forced him back.

His mana kept dropping. 30%. 25%. 20%.

Think. Think.

Spells weren’t going to work. She was faster, stronger, and her mist was passively draining him. Close combat was a losing game.

But there was one thing.

One thing that was fast. That didn’t require sustained mana. That could end this in a single strike.

Sword intent.

Lucian’s grip on the Moon Shattering Blade tightened. He slowed his breathing. The world around him blurred — Zara’s swinging whip, the blood on the ground, the distant screams of fleeing civilians — all of it faded to background noise.

He focused inward. On the blade. On the dark light that lived along its edge. On the will that gave that light shape.

Come on.

Bashir appeared on his right. Barely standing. Blood pouring from his waist wound. One eye swollen shut.

So predictable.

Blood Chains erupted from the spilled blood on the ground. Thick, dense, A-Rank chains wrapped around Bashir’s arms, legs, torso — pinning him to the side of a building like a cocoon.

He roared, straining against them, but he was too weak. The chains held.

Zara’s eyes flicked to Bashir for a split second.

Let’s end this now.

The world slowed.

It wasn’t Phantom Walk. It wasn’t an ability. It was something else — a state of flow that Lucian had only reached once before, during his training with Allistar. For a single, crystalline moment, his understanding of everything — his blood, his body, the air, the light, the space between himself and his enemy — was perfect.

He focused all of it into the sword.

Dark light erupted along the Moon Shattering Blade. The light didn’t just bend the air — it seemed to devour the light around it, creating a blade of absolute blackness edged with faint violet.

Sword Intent.

Lucian raised the blade with both hands above his head as he decided to fire it using the first form of the elcipse sword art.

"Crescent Moon Slash."

He swung.

The slash moved.

It moved with certainty — as if the air itself had already decided to part, and the slash was simply fulfilling what was always meant to happen.

Zara didn’t even see it coming. But her instincts — honed over decades of combat — screamed at her. She abandoned all offense. Both whips came up in a cross-guard, every segment locking together, layers of mana reinforcing the barrier.

Bashir ripped one arm free of the Blood Chains. With the last of his strength, he threw himself in front of Zara.

The dark slash hit him.

It cut through as if his flesh were made of paper. Bashir’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

The slash continued.

It hit Zara’s crossed whips and sliced through them like they weren’t there. The bladed segments scattered in every direction — clink, clink, clink — spinning through the air.

The slash caught Zara in the chest.

Her body lifted off the ground. Her feet left the street. She flew backward before crashing through the wall of a building on the far side of the street. Crash. Boom. Tinkle. Bricks and dust exploded outward.

Bashir’s body collapsed behind where Zara had been standing.

The dark light on Lucian’s sword faded.

His legs buckled. He dropped to one knee, the Moon Shattering Blade planting into the pavement beside him. Blood dripped from his nose. His ears were ringing. His mana was at 8%. His Blood Energy at 12%.

The street was silent.