“Clearing a B rank dungeon with your beast alone isn’t so easy,” Michael replied calmly.
“Now, if you will excuse me.”
He stepped forward, moving to walk past the group without another word.
But one of Jermaine’s personal team moved to block his path, planting himself firmly in the way like a wall that hadn’t been asked to stand there.
Michael stopped.
He stared at the adventurer — calm, unhurried, the kind of stillness that carried more weight than anger ever could.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked quietly.
“He wasn’t done with you,” the adventurer replied.
A B rank.
Broad shoulders, crossed arms, clearly confident in the muscle behind the title.
“Well.
I don’t need him to be done with me before I can leave.”
Michael’s voice didn’t rise.
It didn’t need to.
“So don’t block my path.”
He shoved the adventurer aside and kept walking.
“You bastard—!”
“Stop.”
Jermaine’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, and the adventurer froze mid-step.
“Don’t foolishly charge against your enemy,” Jermaine said quietly, stepping closer to his man.
“He is the city lord’s right hand.”
“And ask yourself one very important question — can you clear this B rank dungeon alone?”
“Even with just a beast at your side?”
The adventurer’s jaw tightened.
His fists slowly unclenched.
“…But he’s just an F rank,” he muttered.
“And what if he’s hiding his true strength?” Jermaine asked, holding his gaze until the point sank in.
The adventurer said nothing more.
He understood.
Jermaine exhaled and turned to his group.
“Let’s move.
There isn’t much time — our new adventurers still need to learn the basics of tackling a dungeon.”
The current B rank dungeon was still on cooldown and wouldn’t be available for the rest of the day, which left Jermaine no choice but to locate another one to put his team through their paces.
Michael, on the other hand, had wasted no time returning to his research the moment he reached the city.
He moved methodically.
Capturing different animals — rodents, strays, and eventually birds — before making his way to the prison where criminals on death row were kept.
Reynold had given him full clearance to use them as he saw fit, and Michael took that permission seriously.
He worked to his heart’s content.
And from his research, he learned two things.
First — not all animals could transition.
Some simply weren’t compatible with the bloodline, their bodies rejecting what he tried to give them.
But others were.
Birds, in particular, took to the change with surprising ease.
After transitioning, they became familiars — bound to him, tied to his will in ways that went beyond simple obedience.
It was genuinely good news.
In a world where scouts were the only real method of gathering intelligence, having eyes in the sky answered a problem he hadn’t fully solved yet.
The second discovery was darker.
Humans could transition — but only if they consumed fresh human blood immediately after the process.
And unlike him, they couldn’t walk under direct sunlight. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
The sun would kill them.
That particular experiment was what finally made Michael understand the title that had been attached to him.
Day lighter.
It simply meant he was a vampire variant who could walk in the sun.
A rare thing, apparently.
Perhaps a unique one.
“Are these all the swords?” Michael asked, scanning the stockpile laid out before him — rows upon rows of blades that seemed to stretch further than was practical.
“There are more, actually.
But this batch will do for now,” Reynold replied, standing just beside him with his arms folded behind his back.
“Ah — and this is for you.”
Reynold held out a sword.
Michael’s eyes moved to it immediately.
A grade.
The only A grade weapon in the entire sea of steel surrounding them, unmistakable even at a glance.
He took it.
Turned it over once.
Then offered Reynold a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I truly appreciate the gift.
But to be honest…
I would have preferred coins.”
“You won’t be getting any from me anytime soon,” Reynold replied flatly.
Michael stared at him.
Just how hard was it to make money these days.
Realizing there was no easy argument to be won here, he let it go.
It wasn’t worth prematurely straining a long-term arrangement over something as small as pocket change.
He took a quiet breath, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work inside the secret chamber — a room only those trusted with its existence were permitted to enter.
Several hours passed.
But Michael got the job done.
“That’s about it,” Reynold said, surveying the results with quiet approval.
“There will be another batch next week, so you’re essentially free until then.”
“Understood.
Before you go — I have a proposition,” Michael called out.
Reynold paused.
“What kind?”
“I need young people.
No talent — but discipline.
Hunger.
The kind of people who desperately want to become something but have no power to get there on their own,” Michael said.
“Strong will.
Empty hands.
That’s the profile.”
Reynold studied him for a moment.
“…Why?”
“I want to build an elite force.
Operatives who work exclusively in the dark,” Michael said, keeping his tone even.
“Assassins, if you prefer the honest word.”
Reynold’s expression shifted — not quite shock, but something close to it.
“You got a breakthrough.
The experiment on the prisoners.”
“I can give talent to those who were born without it.”
Reynold was quiet.
Then — “Will they be like you?
Will they need blood?”
“They will,” Michael confirmed.
“And if we move forward, we’ll need to start storing blood.
Your subjects would need to donate periodically.”
“No.”
Reynold’s answer came without hesitation.
“I won’t do that to my people.”
Michael looked at him.
His voice dropped — quiet and deliberate, the kind of quiet that carried weight.
“If you continue to act this soft…
you won’t defeat the duke.”
“That’s simply the truth.”
He turned to leave.
“How.”
Reynold’s voice stopped him.
“How much of a difference would it actually make?” Reynold asked, the earlier refusal still present in his eyes but no longer quite as final.
“What are the benefits — and what are the consequences?”
Michael turned back slowly.
“Benefits.
They gain strength that rivals those born with talent.
Speed beyond normal human limits.
Night vision.
Accelerated healing.
They rarely tire.”
He paused.
“But great power always has its price.”
“They become dependent on blood to survive.
Direct sunlight will kill them.
And until they learn to truly control themselves — they risk going into a frenzy and killing anyone around them just to feed.”
Reynold’s eyes narrowed.
“And if they all go into frenzy at once?
My castle wouldn’t survive it.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t integrate them into your ranks right away,” Michael replied.
“I’ll train them somewhere isolated — far from people — until I’m certain they can function among the living without incident.”
He held Reynold’s gaze for a moment longer.
“But it’s your call.
Think it over.”
He pulled his hood up and stepped out of the chamber, dissolving into the crowd beyond without looking back.
Reynold could take all the time he needed.
Michael already had other plans quietly forming.
Make money.
And what was the fastest way to make serious money?
The answer practically offered itself.
Casinos.
Gambling houses.
A slow smile spread across Michael’s face as he walked — the kind of smile that belonged to someone already imagining the look of absolute despair on an owner’s face as their treasury bled dry, coin by coin, all of it flowing neatly into his hands.