The Blood Moon Banquet

Upon stepping inside the mansion, the air shifted, heavy, dense, and strangely pure. Chandeliers of flickering candles hung from the ceiling, casting a dim glow across polished floors. 

My footsteps echoed sharply as I moved toward the grand staircase, its steps draped in crimson carpet, guarded by wooden railings that gleamed under the soft light.

On either side of me, people stood still, their gazes locked on me as though I were some rare spectacle on display.

I ignored their stares and continued forward. But just as I reached the first step, someone blocked my path, a man with a smug expression plastered on his freckled face.

“Ildna Bloodarch… a pureblood,” he said, loud enough for the hall to hear. His brown eyes darted toward the spectators. “Are you sure you’re a pureblood?” His lips curled into a smirk. “You seem… lacking.”

Superiority radiated from him like a foul stench.

“Why ask,” I replied evenly, “when you already know I carry half the Progenitor’s name—”

“I’ll ask again.” He cut me off, his tone dripping with mockery. “Are you certain you’re a pureblood? With mana that low…” A chuckle escaped his lips. “You might as well live like a commoner.'”

Laughter broke out. Harsh, unrestrained. Unlike the nobles outside, these people felt no fear toward me. Instead, their eyes brimmed with disdain. And this brown-haired man, this ringleader, wore arrogance like a crown.

But why approach me at all? No one else dared to.

“Are you finished?” My voice was flat as I stepped onto the first stair. “Then move.”

His smirk vanished. His jaw clenched as fury twisted his features.

“How dare you tell me to move!!” he roared, and his hand lashed out, slapping my face.

The laughter grew louder. Cruel. Echoing.

I stared into his crimson eyes. For a fleeting moment, he flinched.

“So you won’t move?” My voice was hollow.

“Turn back, weakling—”

“Then die.” My words sliced through his like a blade.

A pitch black arm erupted from a swirling vortex beside him. Its strike was instantaneous, clean. His head vanished in a spray of blood, crashing into a wooden pillar with a sickening crack. Screams filled the hall as his body crumbled to the floor.

The laughter died. Only silence and terror remained.

Over Spell.

That was the technique I’d used to kill him in an instant, a spell unique to its creator. By sacrificing every other dark magic spell, one can forge an ultimate spell of their own.

Abyssal Element.

An Over Spell that manifests an arm capable of tearing through space itself, channeling five elemental manas, wind, fire, water, earth, and pure, as shown by the sigils glowing on its fingers, wrapped like rings of color.

If not for the nebula-like being I’d witnessed in my first life, I would never have created even this imperfect variant.

The arm retreated into the void as I stepped over his corpse, leaving blood and whispers of fear in my wake. My ascent continued—up the stairs, toward the elevated floor.

***

The first thing my eyes met were three figures seated at a round table draped in red cloth trimmed with gold. They were clad entirely in white, and I could sense it immediately.

Purebloods. Domain Lords. They didn't seem bothered in the slightest that I had just killed another.

Their gazes locked onto me as I approached the single empty chair.

One of them, a black-haired girl with strands of white, red, and blue cascading over her shoulders, smiled faintly. Beside her sat a violet-haired man with a thorn-like stigmata curling from his cheek down his neck. He smiled too. And then there was the third, a man with long black hair that veiled his eyes. His smile seemed too perfect. Too rehearsed.

Hostility. That one had to be Ultrair Bloodarch, Domain Lord of the East.

I took my seat. Before me stood a crystal glass filled with crimson liquid. Its metallic scent told me everything: blood. The glass shimmered under the candlelight, inviting, tempting.

My gaze lingered, until Ultrair’s voice drew my attention.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat, lifting his glass with an elegant gesture. “It is my honor to welcome everyone to this century’s Blood Moon Banquet.” He raised the glass higher. “If I may propose a toast…”

The other two reached for their glasses. So did I.

“To our eternity!” Ultrair’s voice rang.

“To our eternity!!” The chorus of voices filled the hall as glasses clinked like brittle bells.

Ultrair tilted his glass back, crimson eyes flaring as he drank. The others followed, faces flushed with ecstasy.

I raised the glass, bringing it to my lips. Heat radiated from the blood before it even touched my tongue. I drank, hot, thin, sweet. It slid down my throat like silk.

But inside, I felt nothing.

Around me, they basked in pleasure, cheeks flushed red, their bodies trembling from the taste.

Ultrair set his empty glass down with deliberate grace. He licked his lips before speaking.

“What you’ve just tasted is human blood. For a hundred years, we’ve longed for this flavor…” His voice rose, booming through the hall. “And soon, this will be the norm! I, Ultrair Bloodarch, swear upon my noble name!”

Cheers erupted like thunder. Nobles praised him, their voices rising to the chandeliers. The violet-haired man clapped, though his smile sharpened like a blade. The girl, however, continued calmly slicing her steak.

Ultrair continued, addressing the crowd. “Enjoy yourselves to the fullest! This banquet will last a year, shorter than the last, but all the more precious!”

The violet-haired man leaned forward, smile lingering. “Ultrair… you certainly know how to win hearts. Even daring to suggest human blood will be abundant in the future.” His tone turned frigid. “You’re truly one of a kind, proposing we break the taboo.”

A fork gleamed in his hand, pointing at Ultrair like a spear.

“We have a sacred agreement with humans. Don’t let greed devour you… unless you’re eager to die.”

Ultrair laughed, waving the threat away.

“A joke, dear sibling. You know me, I’m far too cautious.”

The girl finally spoke, voice soft yet sharp.

“Fools. Why discuss such idiocy before greeting our youngest guest?” She popped a piece of steak into her mouth without a glance at either of them.

The violet-haired man turned to me with a disarming smile. “Ah, Ildna, isn’t it? Forgive me. I’m Viola, Domain Lord of the North.” He gestured to the girl. “And this is—”

“You may call me Liviana,” she interrupted. “Domain Lord of the South. I killed the last fool who held the title.” Her tone was casual, as though discussing the weather.

And then came Ultrair, the man behind this banquet, the man who saw me as a threat.

“I am Ultrair, as you’ve heard. A pleasure, truly.” His smile was flawless, his hands steepled as he leaned forward.

Viola’s gaze narrowed. He sensed something too.

“The reason I arranged this banquet…” Ultrair’s voice lowered, cold and deliberate. “…is to declare war. A Domain War against the West.”

The room cracked like ice. Viola slammed his fist on the table, sending plates rattling.

“Are you insane?! The West can’t survive a domain war. You’re sentencing them to death!”

Mana flared faintly from his body, rippling the air. Ultrair didn’t flinch.

“So be it. They lack the will to live. This is mercy, my final kindness.”

A Domain War… Was this the plan that girl spoke of? A war between Domain Lords and their territories. A year’s grace to prepare. Victory claimed by the death of a Domain Lord, or the annihilation of their people.

Viola turned to Liviana, who was calmly chewing. “Are you hearing this?”

She dabbed her lips with a napkin, emerald eyes glinting coldly.

“Fool. We cannot stop a Domain War.” Her gaze snapped to Ultrair, sharp as broken glass. “I didn’t think you such an idiot. Then again… what else should I expect from a former human?”

Former… human? My thoughts froze. For one to become pureblood, they must drink the Progenitor’s blood, or have it infused into their veins or their soul, directly by her.

Ultrair’s fists clenched. “Careful, Liviana. Age doesn’t grant you the right to speak freely.”

Her eyes burned crimson, her voice cutting like steel. “Thief. Were it not for that person, you’d be dead already.”

Ultrair swallowed his rage, but the smile never faltered. Viola only added fuel to the fire. “I’m disappointed, Ultrair. Taking advantage of weakness? How low.” His gaze slid to me. “Ildna, if you need help during this war, say the word. I’ll lend you some of my men.”

I nodded silently.

He turned back to Ultrair. “I’m leaving. But remember this, when our King returns, you’ll pay the price for you greed.” His wings unfurled, black as midnight. “May the progenitor’s blood flow eternal.”

With that, he vanished through the window. Liviana followed, plate in hand, nodding briefly in my direction.

Now, only Ultrair and I remained. But I was also about to leave when he spoke up.

He lowered his head, tapping his foot against the marble floor. “I hope you have a pleasant night… May the Progenitor’s blood flow eternal.” he said, a hint of bloodlust in his voice.

I let my wings spread wide, stepping toward the window. “May her blood flow eternal.” My voice was quiet, cold, before I leapt into the night sky.

***

It took an hour to return to the shattered mansion. The carriage rolled away as I pushed open the broken doors.

And there it was.

The crimson orb, floating in the air, the reason my mana seemed so low. The thing I’d left behind before the banquet.

My Unique Blood.

The key to gaining emotions.

Finally… I would feel.