Just as Charlot Meburg had anticipated, the basement of the small house was indeed spacious. The kit he stairs was rge enough to aodate seven ht busy cooks. Though it cked windows, it was equipped with ventition shafts and eys, making it her dim nor stifling.

  The rest of the basement was divided into fe ste rooms and one smaller ohese were designated for st food, wine, firewood, and more valuable items. Oe room held a small pile of firewood, while the others were entirely empty.

  Charlot didn’t linger long. After ensuring nothing was out of pce, he went back upstairs.

  Although the new home was missing many ies, such as clothing, Charlot decided to rest for a day and not go out.

  He returo the small study, removed his coat, pced the Vampiric Axe he had hidden in his sleeve onto the desk, unfastened his gun holster, and hung it on the wall alongside the newly purchased imitation antique rapier.

  Charlot y on the sofa and began practig Blood Glory.

  This was a routine his predecessor adhered to daily. Since his transmigration, Charlot had been too uled and busy to train, leaving a siderable gap in his practice.

  Now that life had finally settled, Charlot resolved to dedicate time every day to cultivating this extraordinary teique.

  ...

  Hundreds of years agoras, the great philosopher of humanity, suffered the abdu of his beloved wife by vampires, her fate unknown. Stri with grief, he vowed to create a teique capable of exterminating every vampire ience.

  Protagoras traveled the world, mastering dozens of skills. He infiltrated the ranks of vampires, battling tless masters among them. Eventually, he secluded himself for 45 years atop Jogger Peak, the highest mountain on the Old ti. There, he developed Blood Glory, a secret art unlike any other.

  Blood Glory sists of two parts: the Protagoras Breathing Teique and the Blood Feast Meditation Teique.

  The Protagoras Breathing Teique refihirteen key blood points, densing thirteen blood vortexes. The Blood Feast Meditation Teique nurtures thirteen mystical runes, granting practitioners extraordinary abilities.

  With this teique, Protagoras single-handedly sughtered thousands of vampires, annihiting six of their thirty-seven s. By redug their o just thirty-one s, his reputation soared to the point that his name could silence wailing vampire infants at night.

  In his ter years, Protagenerously dohis teique to four imperial uies: the Royal Hogwarts Uy, Hartington Thunder and Storm Uy, Sheffield Uy, and Gias Uy.

  Because of this great philosopher's altruism, Charlot, as a student at Sheffield Uy, was able to learn this secret art.

  The Protagoras Breathing Teique stirred the restless blood in Charlot’s veins with eahale and exhale, creating a powerful, tidal surge within him.

  Since his transmigration, this was the first time Charlot had fully immersed himself in training.

  In a handwritten scroll, Protagoras oated:

  “The vampires have thirty-seven s. In theory, Blood Glory refihirty-seven blood vortexes. As, I could not fully explore its mysteries. I hope future schors will plete this teique.”

  Theoretically, refining a single blood vortex would alloractitioo attempt nurturing a ruhrough meditation, thereby gaining araordinary ability.

  In practice, however, most who cultivated Blood Glory mao refine seven ht blood vortexes before attempting the Blood Feast Meditation Teique. Many never succeeded in maing even a single rune, while only a select few mastered one or two mystical runes and gairaordinary abilities.

  Charlot had only refined one blood vortex in his brow, which allowed him to mahe Eye of Insight ruhis occurrence, baffling as it was, seemed purely a stroke of luck.

  The Eye of Insight emanated faint energy as Charlot practiced Blood Glory.

  Though his eyes remained closed, Charlot could sense everything within the small study.

  The fluctuations of Blood Glory swept over the Vampiric Axe resting on the desk.

  The on, crafted specifically for vampires, responded subtly to the Blood Glory within Charlot.

  Charlot, following his intuitioended his Blood Glory toward the Vampiric Axe.

  The on trembled slightly, theed with an insatiable hunger, frantically abs Charlot’s Blood Glory.

  Charlot did not open his eyes, allowing the axe to draw upon his energy, curious about the ges the on might undergo after receiving the infusion of Blood Glory.

  After more than ten minutes of absorption, the Vampiric Axe suddenly returned an unusual surge of blood energy. Charlot, pleasantly surprised, was about to iigate further when a diary hidden on the bookshelf was inexplicably drawn by the energy, leaping into the air and flipping its pages wildly.

  A majestic voice echoed from an unknown and distant pce, directly resonating within his mind:

  “How are you still alive?”

  “Mortal, you dared to deceive me!”

  Charlot’s heart froze with terror. His limbs turned cold as he realized he had no idea what was happening.

  Siurning from es, he had avoided the diary left by his predecessor, fearing further enta with the Evil God. But now it seemed his precautions had been in vain...

  The Evil God had ruly left!

  Faced with certain doom, Charlot refused to surrender meekly. Just as he reached for the Vampiric Axe to make a desperate stand, thick bck mist began to pour from his body. The mist exuded a sinister energy, fn to this world.

  Before him, an endless corridor appeared. Emerging from the void was a creature over three meters tall, entirely crimson as if fyed of its skin, holding a massive spiked maul.

  The majestic voice resounded again, filled with boundless fury:

  “Mortal, you dare spire with Agmirs against me... That petty fn god of chaos!”

  The sinister energy from the diary surged toward the crimson monster in the corridor. The majestic voice decred the start of the battle:

  “Agmirs! Reduced to a mere fragment of sciousness, you still dare oppose me?”

  The t, crimsoure roared skyward like a primordial beast. The endless corridor shimmered with yers of unfathomable power, unleashing immense chaotiergy to bloother Evil God’s attempt to desd through the diary.

  The two overwhelming forces cshed within Charlot’s sciousness, igniting a battle as cataclysmic as thunder colliding with fire.

  Charlot let out an involuntary scream, his mind feeling as if a wedge had been driven deep into it, the pain unbearable.

  In an instant, his sciousness was torn apart by the warring forces, leaving him with the sensation that the world itself had ceased to exist.

  The onremarkable diary now spewed pages in chaotic disarray. Its cover bulged, alternately revealing a castle, an endless corridor, a majestic middle-aged maed on an opulent chair, and the crimson-skinned monster. A fming, bloodied hand reached from the diary, only to be scattered by the spiked maul.

  ...

  It was unclear how much time had passed. In the disheveled room, Charlot Meburg y motionless on the floor, barely breathing.

  Beside him was the diary, its cover entirely bed. On the ground, a line of bloodied, scrawled words remained:

  “I shall return to cim the soul owed to me by tract.”