Isabelle Thorne took the Blood Chalice, its shadowy material surprisingly warm against her skin.
Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from the irrevocable nature of her choice. She had been the Sword Saint, a beacon of hope. Now… now she was something else entirely.
She looked up at Ragnar Vhagar, the Vampire Demon King, who watched her with an unnervingly calm intensity.
"No second thoughts?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone, but also a sliver of genuine concern. Even he seemed to grasp the magnitude of this moment.
Isabelle shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. "My first thoughts led me here. It's time to try something new." She raised the chalice and drank.
The liquid was cold, like iron and old promises, with an undercurrent of something wild and powerful.
The moment it touched her tongue, a shockwave, not of force, but of essence, coursed through her. It wasn't agonizing like Ragnar's vampiric transformation, but it was profound.
She felt a connection snap into place, a bond forging between her soul and the Demon King's, tying her to him, to his Domain. Her old allegiances, her old self, seemed to recede, replaced by a new, focused loyalty.
The world sharpened, the dim purple light of the dungeon taking on a new clarity. She felt stronger, her wounds aching less.
When she lowered the empty chalice, she met Ragnar's gaze. He nodded slowly.
"Welcome to the winning team, Isabelle. Or should I say… Isabelle Vhagar?"
She blinked. "Vhagar?"
"It's a brand thing," Ragnar said with a wave of his hand. "Chloe Vhagar, my other Bloodkin, seemed to like it.
Builds team cohesion. Or something." He pulled out his phone, already tapping away.
"Let's see what the System thinks of our little recruitment drive."
A new screen popped up, displaying Isabelle's altered status.
[Name: Isabelle Vhagar]
[Race: Human (Bloodkin-Bound)]
[Class: Sword Saint (Evolved)]
[Level: 13]
[Title: Former Sword Saint of Aethelburg, First Sword of the Night]
[Loyalty: Absolute (Pact-Bound)]
[Stats: Swordsmanship A, Body B+, Agility B+, Mana D…]
[Leadership Points (LP): 80]
[Subordinate Slots: 0/80]
"Swordsmanship A, Body B+… Eighty Leadership Points!" Ragnar whistled, genuinely impressed.
"Pixia, my dear, we've hit the jackpot. She's even stronger than Chloe in terms of raw combat potential and can lead a bigger army.
That Level 13 wasn't just for show."
Pixia, who had been observing the entire process with wide, analytical eyes, adjusted her spectacles. "Indeed, my Lord.
Converting a high-level, evolved human appears to yield a significantly more potent Bloodkin than creating one from a standard subordinate unit.
The initial investment, while… fiscally alarming… may prove to be strategically optimal in the long term."
"Fiscally alarming is my new middle name,"
Ragnar grumbled, rubbing his temples where a headache was starting to form thanks to his new 90-day CP drought.
"Alright, Isabelle. New life, new duties. First order of business: those cowards who abandoned you.
Masakado and that other swordsman. They can't be allowed to run around blabbing about what happened here. Or worse, come back with reinforcements once they've grown a new spine."
He turned to his other loyal minions, who had been silently watching the dramatic conversion.
"Grunt! Chloe! Take your best shock troops. Smashy, you too. Hunt them down. I don't care if you have to track them to the ends of the earth.
Eliminate them. No witnesses, no survivors. Make it messy.
I want the hero community to think twice before they even dream of stepping into Aethelburg Sector 7 again."
BOOM!
Grunt, the Kobold Warlord, slammed his massive maul onto the stone floor, the impact sending a tremor through the room.
The wind shrieked for a moment around the weapon's head. He let out a deafening roar of understanding and bloodlust.
Chloe simply nodded, her amethyst eyes cold as she melted into the shadows, already on the move.
Smashy the Orc just grunted and hefted his axe, a terrifyingly eager grin on his brutal face. Within moments, they were gone, a whirlwind of vengeful fury.
Ragnar then looked at Kael, the archer, who was still a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor.
"And what to do with you, little traitor?" he mused, tapping a finger against his chin.
"You're too broken to be a threat, and too pathetic to be worth the effort of killing." He sighed. "Pixia, have some goblins drag him to the 'Re-education Chamber' on the first floor.
The one next to the slightly-off-key caroling goblins. Perhaps a few days of existential dread and bad music will give him a new perspective on life choices."
Pixia nodded. "A sound application of psychological reconditioning, my Lord. I shall see to it."
She zipped off, already issuing commands to a pair of nearby goblins.
That left Ragnar and Isabelle alone in the suddenly quiet antechamber. The bodies of the fallen Liberators and his own monsters lay strewn around them, a grim testament to the battle.
Isabelle slowly got to her feet, testing her injured leg. The pain was still there, but muted, already healing at an accelerated rate thanks to her new Bloodkin status.
She looked at Ragnar, her expression unreadable.
"So, what now, 'my Lord'?" she asked, the title feeling foreign on her tongue.
"Now," Ragnar said, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Now we plan.
We rebuild. We grow stronger. Your old life is over, Isabelle Vhagar.
But your new one… your new one has the potential to be far more interesting."
He gestured towards the dark, winding corridors of his domain.
"This is your home now. Your fortress. And out there," he pointed vaguely towards the surface world, "is a world ripe for the taking.
You were a Sword Saint, fighting for a losing cause. Now, you are my Sword of the Night, and we are going to win."
He looked at her, at the raw power and experience she represented, now bound to his will. The cost had been steep, his True Core groaning under a new layer of debilitating debt.
But as he saw the flicker of new, colder resolve in Isabelle's eyes, he knew, with absolute certainty, that it had been worth every single sacrificed Creation Point.
He hadn't just gained a powerful subordinate; he had disarmed his greatest threat and turned her into his most formidable weapon.
World domination just got a little bit closer.