Chapter 319: Becoming Under the Red Moon (ii)

Luther, at that same moment, was walking calmly down the long silver bridge that led to his daughter’s chambers. The guards at each corner bowed and stepped aside as he passed.

He already knew something was off.

When he reached Reva’s chamber door, he paused. His fingers brushed against the polished handle — then he turned it slowly and pushed.

The door opened with a soft creak.

Empty.

The sheets were still creased, the faint scent of blood and medicine in the air, but no one was inside.

Luther’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the room once, his sharp gaze catching every minor detail — the moved chair, the shifted curtain, the missing cloak from the hanger.

Then it hit him.

“He’s awake,” Luther muttered under his breath, voice like a growl.

Outside, faint shouts echoed from the distant halls — guards calling to one another, orders being barked, footsteps moving fast.

He looked toward the sound, and his expression turned darkly amused. “So,” he said quietly, adjusting his cufflinks. “The little rat wants to play again.”

With that, he stepped out into the corridor, his aura starting to build — not his full power, but just enough to make the very air tremble around him.

Luther stood there for a few seconds, silent, then spoke to the guard near the door. “Seal the gates. No one leaves the castle. Not even the wind.”

The guard nodded and ran off.

Luther looked out through the high glass windows where the red moon still loomed over the cliffs. His mouth curved into something between a smirk and disgust. “Let him run,” he said quietly. “If he wants to play, I’ll give him a reason to crawl.”

Xavier’s footsteps echoed down the endless halls as he darted through the wide corridors. The castle was a maze—towering pillars, intersecting bridges, and spiraling stairs that led to halls within halls. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew who was behind him.

Luther Von Stein moved through the air like a storm in human form, not running, but striding, his pace faster than any normal man could manage. Every turn Xavier took, Luther already knew what waited there—he’d built this place, every hidden door and secret path carved by his own command.

But Xavier wasn’t the same man who entered the castle. He had taken his gloves off since he needed to use his telekinesis ability during the fight. The Serpent’s Fang was alive in his hand now, moving as though it knew what he needed before he did. When Luther’s shadow appeared at the end of the corridor, Xavier turned sharply and swung the blade, shifting it mid-motion into a chain-whip. The metal hissed through the air and struck a pillar, breaking it in half.

The rubble fell between them, dust filling the space.

“Running already?” Luther’s voice came from behind the dust, calm yet filled with contempt. “You humans are consistent in one thing—fear.”

Xavier turned and sprinted through a broken archway into the courtyard. His instincts told him this was the open training ground he’d seen from the tower earlier. Statues of old vampire warriors lined the edges, and faint etchings of battle formations scarred the stone floor.

The moment he stepped onto it, the ground cracked behind him as Luther landed, his boots carving through the surface like a hammer hitting sand.

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” Luther said, brushing the dust from his coat. “I let you live once because my daughter begged for it, but I see now she was wrong. You should’ve stayed dead.”

“Yeah?” Xavier lifted the Serpent’s Fang and smirked faintly. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

Luther’s eyes glowed a faint crimson, his aura slowly creeping out like steam escaping from cracks. The faint distortion in the air wasn’t just magic—it was dominance. Centuries of rule and blood compressed into presence. The very stones seemed to tremble under his weight.

Xavier lunged forward. The Serpent’s Fang shifted again—blade to whip, whip to blade. It coiled around Luther’s arm, the runes on it burning red. Xavier pulled with all his strength, sparks flying.

Luther didn’t move. He simply tightened his grip and pulled back, dragging Xavier off his feet like a child tugging a thread. “You think tricks can save you?” Luther growled. “You’re a child playing with god’s leftovers.”

Xavier hit the ground, rolled, and caught himself, the moment fueling him. He raised his hand, invisible force slamming against Luther. The telekinetic blast cracked the earth beneath him, dust and shards flying like shrapnel. Luther stepped through it, his coat rippling as if the blast hadn’t even touched him.

For a second, Xavier thought he saw him grin.

“So it’s true,” Luther muttered. “A human with power.” His expression darkened. “You really are filth given a gift that doesn’t belong to your kind.”

Xavier clenched his jaw. “You talk too much.”

He moved again—fast, blending blade strikes with telekinetic pulls. Every swing was sharper, the Serpent’s Fang moving like it had merged with his will. The ground shattered beneath their feet, waves of force spreading through the courtyard.

Luther finally drew his hand from his coat. He didn’t need a weapon. His aura alone sharpened the air around him. When Xavier’s blade came down, Luther caught it with his bare hand. Metal met flesh, and the runes flared—but Luther didn’t bleed.

He looked Xavier straight in the eyes. “You’re nothing but borrowed power.”

Then, he swung. A single backhand sent Xavier flying across the courtyard. The impact tore through the ground and threw up a cloud of shattered stone.

Xavier landed hard, blood at the corner of his mouth. The Serpent’s Fang quivered beside him, its form unstable from the force. But he still got up, wiping his mouth, eyes locked on the man in front of him.

Luther straightened his cuffs and said, “You fight like a cornered dog. But you’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that. Pity it’s wasted on something that bleeds so easily.”

Xavier wiped the blood from his mouth and gave a dry laugh. “That’s it? All you can do is talk shit about humans? You keep calling me weak, filthy, beneath you—” he cracked his neck, eyes sharpening, “—then what if I stop being human?”

Luther’s smirk twitched. “What nonsense are you—”

A faint chime cut through the air.

[Essence collected — 1]

The voice wasn’t heard. It resonated.

Xavier’s body stiffened. His fingers twitched, his jaw clenched, and then came the sound—bones shifting, muscles twisting, fabric tearing. He dropped the Serpent’s Fang, the weapon pulsing on the ground like it was alive. His veins glowed faint red as something ancient crawled through them. His eyes rolled back for a second before locking forward again, burning crimson.

Luther froze. He’d seen many horrors in his life—wars, rituals, the slaughter of his kind—but this was different. This was becoming.

Xavier’s spine cracked, stretching him taller. His skin paled, not dead but refined, smooth as marble. His teeth lengthened into fangs, sharp enough to cut through light. The air trembled from the force bleeding off his body.

And then he stood straight, breathing slow and deep, the red in his eyes glowing like fire caught in wine.

Luther took a step back without realizing it. “Impossible,” he muttered. “That’s… no—this isn’t how it works.”

Xavier tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lip. His voice came out deeper, steadier. “You still have a problem with me now, father-in-law?”

Luther didn’t answer. His eyes moved from Xavier’s fangs to the runes crawling faintly along his forearms. There was no mistaking it. The aura, the scent, the essence.

Pure vampire.

But that was impossible.

“Who… what are you?” Luther said finally, his tone carrying something he hadn’t used in centuries—doubt.

Xavier looked down at his hands, flexing them. They pulsed with a new kind of power, not his own, yet completely familiar. He turned his gaze back to Luther, eyes gleaming under the red moon.

“I am… a God.”

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