Lilithia had no luxury to dwell on Fiore’s affairs. She was merely an Intermediate Mage—though admittedly, that was already formidable.
To most commoners, she’d be a respected powerhouse. After achieving blood affinity, she could drain the blood straight from ordinary folks who only knew basic utility spells…
How did Lilithia know this?
Regrettably, she was a cruel woman with zero sympathy for small animals. She glanced idly out the window and spotted a passing bird.
Its blood was drained dry.
As the blood flowed into her, she felt a slight surge of strength—truly minuscule, yet utterly intoxicating.
Lilithia thought she might finally understand those legendary vampires who couldn’t go a day without blood, risking exorcism just to feed.
She didn’t know if real vampires ever existed, but she figured she qualified now.
Time to create an alias.
She’d noticed a flaw in this world: people rarely used disguises. Take Fiore, for instance. She’d scrutinized his records—he had a perfectly transparent life history from birth to now.
Didn’t anyone wear masks?
She decided to craft one for herself.
"Cain!"
The progenitor of vampires. Crucially, it bore no resemblance to her soft, cutesy name "Lilithia." This alias would keep her safer…
Creating a new identity wasn’t easy, but Lilithia had been preparing. Her deep magical research had let her forcibly break through to Intermediate Mage—a path she suspected differed wildly from normal mages.
But she didn’t think she was wrong.
Science required proof. So did magic.
Now that she was an Intermediate Mage, her first priority was—earning money.
Lilithia was practically broke, with less than 100 gold coins to her name. That was decent for commoners, but relative to a mage’s needs? Magical components were expensive. Some blood types she needed weren’t easy to obtain.
For now, she could only sell her creations to the military for merits. Not a bad deal, but… everything traded for merits was recorded. Too risky—someone might trace her origins.
Still, an Intermediate Mage was an Intermediate Mage!
After days of effort, Lilithia finally gathered her materials.
She tossed everything into a giant vat: monster flesh, blood, strange herbs, and her own experimental spells.
Then, she brewed it with magic.
She watered it with her own blood. Before Verutan’s terrified eyes, a horrifying scene unfolded. From the vat, a faceless humanoid slowly rose.
Lilithia nodded in satisfaction, admiring it like a masterpiece. "What should its face look like? Male or female? How beautiful?"
It was physically repulsive.
Verutan had seen nasty alchemical brews before, but nothing had ever revolted her body and soul like this. She nearly vomited.
Lilithia then grabbed a sword and slashed the humanoid’s neck. Blood splattered everywhere.
"Hmm… poor defense. I added ingredients to toughen the skin… Failure. Needs redesign."
A fireball flared in Lilithia’s palm, reducing the figure to ashes.
A breeze drifted through the window, clearing the bloody stench. Only then did Verutan feel Lilithia seemed almost human again.
"What do you think, Verutan?! This is my original magic! I call it ‘Human Transmutation’!"
It was disgusting.
But Verutan dared not say it. The image of that headless puppet haunted her.
This wasn’t something humans should do.
No law forbade it—but why obsess over such magic? And was it even powerful?
"Want to learn lightning magic? I can teach you."
"Frankly, of all your attacks, lightning magic is the most useless. Unless you had a phone to charge."
"Phone?"
"Never mind. Just pretend I’m crazy."
Verutan’s eyes turned wary.
Lilithia glared. "What’s that look for? Think I’m insane?! Kids these days have no imagination."
She patted Verutan’s shoulder. Verutan felt like the hand was soaked in blood.
"Relax! I didn’t use humans for Human Transmutation. Just meat scraps and potions. Not truly evil magic."
*Not evil? What even is evil to you?*
*Will she toss me into that vat someday? Turn me into some monstrosity?* Verutan resolved to train harder. She *had* to surpass Lilithia.
Lilithia didn’t realize she’d just motivated Verutan. She’d never cared much for this brat Fiore entrusted to her—too mature, not cute, terrible personality.
"When will you teach me *that*?" The girl’s eyes locked onto Lilithia’s head.
"Ah… that?"
Verutan had been obedient lately. The reason? Lilithia had suddenly shot up in height overnight, now towering over her.
It was due to one of Lilithia’s spells.
*What magic makes you grow instantly? If I used it, I could bury that old hag and take the throne!*
She craved that spell. Worse, Lilithia’s power had grown alongside her height—a sign of true strength. A vicious woman like her wouldn’t harm herself. This had to be an incredibly powerful technique.
"So, once you’ve mastered my magical discipline, you’ll naturally learn how it works. Only then can you decide… whether to become like me, or…"
She grinned wickedly.
Verutan shivered.
*This woman will die horribly someday. Such evil shouldn’t exist. Should I tell Fiore?*
*…Or is he in on it? To become a Sword Saint, he must use dirty tricks too. That "honorable" facade—he’s probably pure evil underneath.*
*Terrifying! Is this nation already under a shadow of terror?*
*Wait—I saw Fiore and Lilithia doing… that thing before. Are all the women around him…?*
*Does that old hag plan a second youth before dying? Could I even be related to Fiore?*
*…My talent is exceptional, after all.*
*Should I probe him next time we meet?*
Verutan’s thoughts spiraled into wild fantasies. Understandable—she was at that age.
Days later, Lilithia perfected her magic. She finally created a man.
A body identical to her pre-reincarnation self.
Nostalgia washed over her. Memories of her past life… but they’d already faded.
Reality demanded attention.
She destroyed the male form.
Then crafted a female one—deliberately androgynous, with certain "details" omitted.
To avoid… complications.
Now, she could use this body to act freely.
Her alias.
"Vampire Progenitor—Cain."
She animated it with Blood Magic. Initial control was clumsy, but Lilithia wasn’t bothered. Skill would come with practice.
She knew her weakness. Poor talent meant compensating with numbers. One body wasn’t enough. Two? Three? Multiple versions of herself training and gathering resources—surely that would suffice.
She would grow strong. Strong enough to face that confession calmly. She wouldn’t be won over so easily.
