"...Hm...?" Consciousness returned in pieces. The first sound was a low buzzing, as if someone had left a vibrating lightbulb inside his skull.
Then the steady, opaque white light that made him quickly close his eyes from the brightness.
Victor opened his eyes slowly after the shock of the light, his eyelids heavy as if they had sand inside. The ceiling above him wasn't his room's. There were no familiar cracks. No old chandelier. It was smooth. Clear. Impersonal.
He frowned.
"Where..." His voice came out dry. His throat burned.
He tried to move—mistake.
A brutal sting shot through his head, concentrated in his right temple, as if someone had driven a hot nail in there. His vision darkened at the edges.
"Oh, shit—" He instinctively brought his hand to the side of his head, pressing with his fingers, as if that could stop his brain from vibrating inside his skull. The world tilted for a second.
Breathe.
Slowly.
The air entered heavily, as after a run that was too long. His chest still ached—not a sharp pain, but a deep one. Internal. As if his heart had been squeezed with excessive force.
Memories came fragmented.
The track.
The effort.
Forcing the core.
The discharge.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"Detour…" he murmured to himself, his mind beginning to organize the facts. "I pushed too hard."
He tried to support himself on his elbows.
His arms trembled.
Real weakness. Not simple exhaustion. It was as if his energy had been drained to the last drop and then forcibly restarted.
He swallowed hard and realized there was a metallic taste in his mouth. Blood. But not just his own, it was a sweeter blood?
He felt a strange sensation since Serafall's blood was bitter and thick and, of course, delicious; Carmilla's was sweet but even more delicious than his mother's… but… this blood was just… blood.
It wasn't tasty, but it wasn't bad either.
He was still organizing his thoughts when the door creaked softly.
Calindra entered as if she already knew he would wake up at that exact moment.
"Oh. You're awake." Her voice was casual, but her eyes assessed every detail of him.
"Where am I?" Victor asked, sitting slowly on the edge of the bed. His head still throbbed, but bearable now. He looked up and recognized her. "Calindra Winters…"
A corner of her mouth curved. "Ah, you know who I am. That speeds things up."
She reached into the left pocket of her leather pants, searching for the lighter with familiar movements.
"You're in the west wing of the training center. You fainted in the middle of a workout that I can, very generously, call reckless."
The click of the lighter broke the silence. The flame briefly illuminated her face before the cigarette ignited.
She exhaled the smoke slowly. "You drank your mother's blood and came to train?" The question was direct. No accusation. But serious.
'My mother?' For a second he really didn't understand. 'Ah...' he remembered he couldn't say he drank Carmilla's blood, the primordial one herself!
"Yes." He looked away, resting his forearms on his legs as if he regretted it. "I needed to get stronger."
Calindra stared at him as if evaluating a poorly conducted experiment.
"Want to kill yourself?" she asked, without hostility. Just factual. "You forced blood absorption while subjecting the body to extreme physical stress." She took another drag. "How many liters did you drink? Serafall's blood must have an absurd density. One milliliter must be equivalent to tens of liters of ordinary blood in terms of core load."
She tilted her head slightly. "You should have died."
Victor turned his face away. "About… two liters?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't remember exactly."
The memory of being clinging to Carmilla's neck flashed through his mind too quickly. The amount. The time. The intensity.
He definitely hadn't measured anything.
Calindra exhaled smoke through her nose.
"Don't do that again." Her tone was firmer now. "Your core stabilized because I intervened. I gave some of my blood to align the flow." She analyzed him for a few seconds. "But that was luck. You need to stop with blood and heavy training for a few days. Your body is still adapting."
"Changes?" Victor repeated, frowning.
She pointed with her chin towards the side door of the room. "Take a look in the mirror."
He stood up carefully. There was still a slight weakness in his legs, but nothing compared to the previous collapse.
He opened the door... The mirror reflected his image... He stopped... Blinked... His body had already changed when it absorbed Carmilla's blood—he knew that. But now...
His muscles were more defined. Not exaggerated, but dense. His chest fuller. His shoulders broader. His abdomen sculpted with firm lines, as if each fiber had been compressed and precisely reconstructed.
It wasn't just volume... It was quality... The kind of physique that seemed made for performance, not aesthetics.
"Damn..." he murmured softly.
That wasn't just the result of training. It was a complete restructuring of his body type, damn, he looked fucking hot!
Behind him, leaning against the bedroom wall, Calindra spoke in an almost amused tone: "Your body absorbed and converted the excess energy into functional mass. Congratulations." She took another drag. "Now try not to destroy it before you learn how to use it," she said before leaving...
"Wait." Victor spoke, quickly taking her hand, "Thank you." he said.
Calindra's face flushed slightly at the sight of his muscles, and she looked away, "Of course. I can't let one of the students die out of nowhere." She said and then let go of his hand, "Your shirt is by the bed, get dressed and go to your quarters." She ordered.
Victor watched her leave as the smell of cigarettes followed Calindra.
As soon as the door closed behind Calindra, Victor stood motionless for a split second.
Then his eyes widened.
"Shit."
He ran to the chair where he had left the torn shirt, grabbing it hurriedly and shoving his hand into the inside pocket.
"Hey! Are you okay?!" he asked quickly, pulling out the small, huddled bat, almost motionless.
"Ahhh!" Carmilla exploded, spreading her tiny wings as she caught her breath. "I almost suffocated!"
She flapped her wings angrily, hovering in front of his face.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! WHY ARE YOU SO RECKLESS—"
The scolding died down mid-sentence.
Her eyes lowered.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Victor was still shirtless.
His defined chest, broader shoulders, firm, sculpted abdomen—the recent result of core restructuring—were there, just inches from her.
There was a brief silence.
The little bat blinked.
And, in a flash of crimson energy, the small form expanded in the air.
Carmilla reappeared in human form before him, her feet lightly touching the ground. The red dress molded perfectly to her body, but her eyes… were fixed on his chest.
Without any ceremony, she reached out her hand.
She touched it.
Her fingers slid slowly across his toned chest, feeling the firmness beneath the skin.
"...Wow."
She squeezed lightly, as if testing the texture.
"That feels good."
Victor was silent for two seconds.
"You were insulting me," he commented, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't remove her hand.
"I'm still annoyed," she replied, trying to sound dignified. "That doesn't negate objective facts."
Her thumb absentmindedly traced the line of the muscle.
The bond vibrated.
Victor stifled a laugh.
"So you almost suffocated in my pocket and the first thing you do when you get out is grope me?"
She finally looked up at him.
Without letting go.
"You almost died," she retorted. "I have the right to check the… damage."
Her eyes gleamed slightly.
"And clearly, there have been improvements… Wow, there's been a huge improvement in this construction…" Carmilla murmured, her fingers slowly gliding across his firm abdomen as if she were appraising a newly sculpted work of art; the touch was too curious to be casual, too lingering to be innocent. She pressed lightly, feeling the hardness beneath his skin, and let out a low, almost involuntary sigh.
"Oh, if only there was…" she added, her breath growing slightly warmer as a blush spread across her pale face.
Her red eyes slowly rose to meet his, filled with a newfound boldness, and a provocative smile curved her lips.
"Would you… let me smother myself in that chest?" she asked in a dangerously suggestive tone, leaning in just a little closer, throwing her dignity entirely away.
Victor sensed… she was very aroused.