Draven was asleep in his room.
Slowly, his crimson eyes opened.
He sat up in bed, blinking away the last traces of sleep.
> I'm going to turn fifteen in a few days… and I still look like I'm five.
A hint of frustration tugged at his expression.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and walked out of the room.
---
A short while later, Draven reached the training room.
His father was already waiting for him.
"You took long enough," his father said.
"It's still early," Draven replied with a shrug.
"The early bird gets the worm," his father countered. "Now, let's begin."
He pulled off his shirt, revealing the chiseled physique of a grown man hardened by decades of combat.
Draven followed suit.
He removed his own shirt, revealing the muscular body he had developed through years of relentless training.
Despite his small frame and childlike appearance, his body was tightly built, every muscle defined from years of combat.
His six-pack abs gleamed beneath the soft lighting as he lowered himself into a boxer's stance.
His father mirrored him.
Neither said another word.
Without warning—
Draven launched forward.
His body moved with blinding speed.
In an instant, he appeared beside his father, throwing a punch toward his side.
His father blocked it effortlessly.
But Draven didn't stop.
He unleashed a rapid flurry of strikes.
Punch after punch.
Kick after kick.
Every attack was either dodged or deflected.
> I've never landed a clean hit on my old man—not once. Just how strong is he?
His father suddenly counterattacked.
Draven caught the blow on his forearm.
The impact forced him back a step, but his stance remained solid.
His father smiled.
> He can take my hits now—without breaking any bones.
The two continued to spar.
Their movements had become far more refined than they had been years ago.
Every attack was met with a counter.
Every opening was immediately closed.
Neither needed words.
Their bodies had learned the rhythm through years of training together.
Eventually—
Draven's movements began to slow.
Sweat glistened across his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.
His father lowered his fists.
"That's enough for today."
Draven straightened slightly.
"Go freshen up and join us for breakfast."
Draven nodded.
---
Draven left the training room and returned to his bedroom.
He took a long bath, allowing the warm water to soothe his aching muscles.
Afterward, he changed into clean clothes and made his way toward the dining room.
His parents were already seated and eating.
Draven quietly joined them, picking up his utensils.
> Turns out pure-blood vampires can eat normal food.
He speared a piece of fruit.
> We can even survive without blood for a long time.
His father cleared his throat.
"I think you're strong enough to protect yourself now."
His gaze shifted toward Draven's mother.
She nodded in agreement.
"I think so as well."
Draven furrowed his brow.
> I never thought I'd ever stop training…
His mother noticed the change in his expression.
"Honey, you don't seem happy about it."
"I'm happy," Draven said quickly. "Just… surprised."
She smiled gently.
"So, you still want to continue training?"
Draven shook his head with a nervous chuckle.
"No."
For a brief moment, she looked slightly saddened.
But she quickly masked it with another smile.
"Your birthday is coming up soon! I've invited your grandmother and your uncle."
His father added,
"My brother will be coming too."
Draven paused.
> I have uncles? And a grandmother?
His eyes narrowed slightly.
> Why am I only learning this now and a birthday never done that before?
They continued eating in silence for a while.
When they finished, Draven wiped his mouth and stood.
"Bye, Mom. I'll be in the library if you need me."
He gave her a small wave before walking away.
---
Not long after, Draven arrived in the vast, quiet library.
He browsed the shelves, running his fingers along the old books until a thick, weathered tome caught his eye.
It was bound in old black leather, with golden letters faded by time.
Draven pulled it from the shelf.
He read the title.
**The Holy Hero and the Demon Lord**
Draven raised an eyebrow.
> Is this some kind of fairy tale?
He opened the book.
> I can't believe there's some freak going around calling himself a hero.
With a quiet scoff, he began to read.