Valentine
House Valentine is the bloodline of the Archduke—guardians of the Vampire Kingdom and relentless sentinels of the entire northern continent of Sangris.
For over ten thousand years, their name has echoed as a promise of protection… and destruction. They are the living wall that prevents enemies from even dreaming of touching the capital. Where the Valentines march, wars end.
In House Valentine, to be born is to receive a gift.
Blood magic capable of tearing the skies.
Strength enough to make the ground tremble.
Blades wielded with precision beyond the supernatural.
Each heir comes into the world as a weapon forged by destiny itself.
All… except Victor.
While his siblings awakened devastating powers in childhood, Victor remained empty. No spark. No energy flow. No hidden talent waiting to blossom.
The reason? Something recorded only once in the clan's millennia-long history: a rare and feared condition.
The Null Syndrome. A disorder linked to his blood, called "RH Null"—a blood type so rare it seemed to defy the very laws of vampiric nature.
In a family where power is inherited, Victor was born a failure.
And failures, in House Valentine, are not tolerated.
From an early age, he learned that silence was safer than any word. While the other children trained in the black marble courtyards, making the air vibrate with energy and steel, Victor remained in the shadow of the columns.
Observing.
Always observing.
When he tried to wield a sword, the metal seemed too heavy.
When he tried to invoke magic, nothing happened.
Not a spark.
Not an echo.
Not a mistake.
It was as if the world refused to acknowledge him.
The individuals laughed.
The clan members pushed him during training, "accidentally."
Instructors sighed in frustration, murmuring that this was a disgrace to the Valentine bloodline.
"You shouldn't have been born."
"Stain."
"Mistake."
Words repeated so many times that they ceased to hurt… and began to define.
But if there was anyone who didn't see filth in Victor, it was his mother.
Serafall Valentine—ancient warrior, general, living legend.
She was the only one who held his face in her hands and told him he would still shine. The only one who wiped the blood from his knees. The only one who held the gaze of others during banquets.
And, for loving him… she paid the price.
The ladies of the court whispered behind his back. Clan members accused her of contaminating the bloodline. Some went further—they said the fault was hers, that her weakness had generated another.
The Archduke never accused her directly.
But his silence was worse.
She was gradually sidelined from decisions. Forgotten in councils. Faded, little by little.
Her smile, once proud, became restrained.
Calculated.
Strange.
Still, every night, she sat beside Victor's bed and told stories.
About herself.
About the first Valentines.
About the Primordial, Carmilla Valentine.
About the weight of her name in the world.
Victor grew up hearing those stories.
And believing them—because he needed to believe.
But the tragedy didn't just live in others.
It lived within him.
He saw the contempt in the eyes of others. He saw the shame in the servants. He saw the cruel relief when they suggested sending him away—to an isolated outpost in the frozen north, where his absence wouldn't tarnish the family name so much.
Over time, he began to avoid mirrors.
Because mirrors showed him what he feared most:
An empty Valentine.
The surname weighed on his shoulders like armor too large—forged for heroes he would never be.
Until, on an ominous night, fate decided that humiliation wasn't enough.
The attack came like the end of the world.
Explosions tore through the early morning. The walls trembled. The ground shook. Screams echoed through the marble corridors. The smell of blood filled the air.
Victor awoke with the ceiling vibrating above him.
The door burst open violently.
His mother.
Hair loose. Pale face. Eyes filled with a despair he had never seen before.
"Get up. Now."
She wrapped him in a cloak and dragged him through the corridors as the castle burned.
Bodies on the floor.
Blood on the walls.
Valentine soldiers fighting—brilliant, powerful, devastating.
And yet…
Falling.
Victor didn't see the end of the battle.
He only heard it.
The sound of what had always been eternal… crumbling.
That night, he ceased to be the family's trash.
Because he ceased to have a family.
The years that followed were not life.
They were survival.
Without a name, without a castle, without protection, mother and son wandered the cold lands of the north. The RH Null blood made Victor fragile, and his condition worsened as he grew. He fell ill frequently, felt pains he couldn't explain. His body failed where other vampires thrived.
His mother, once a warrior, plunged into a deep depression watching her son fade away day after day… despite this, she never complained.
But Victor saw.
He saw her hands become rough from blood loss. She saw the deep weariness beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, fearing he would die while resting. She saw the despair hidden behind the smile he insisted on maintaining whenever he had a feverish crisis.
His illness progressed silently, like a shadow that had always been lurking.
Until one day, she could no longer deny it.
Victor was dying.
His body was too cold. His breathing, weak. The blood in his veins felt as heavy as lead. The disease had consumed even the little he still possessed.
His mother tried everything—doctors she could kidnap, miraculous remedies from the elves—but nothing saved him. Nothing worked.
She knelt beside the simple bed where he lay, holding his hand tightly, as if she could stop his soul from departing simply by squeezing harder.
She wept. She wept as she hadn't wept even on the night their world burned.
Victor, his lips pale, gathered what little strength he had left and smiled.
A small smile. Gentle. Almost luminous.
"It's alright…" His voice was weak, but serene.
He looked up at her—the only eyes that had ever looked at him with disdain. "Maybe… in another life… I can love you better, Mom…"
Like a strong son.
Like a worthy heir.
Like someone who didn't make her suffer so much.
His hand loosened.
And, for the first time since he was born…
Victor felt no pain.
At least, not until he heard a voice.
"Well, I found a good specimen."
The voice was animated. Too light for that moment.
"RH Null and vampire… that's great!"
She spoke as if she were facing a fascinating discovery, and then addressed him directly:
"Hey, how about being my experiment?"
Victor opened his eyes, confused, still caught between life and death—only to see a woman… strangely beautiful—"Hey, you don't have that right. Don't think I'm pretty. My husband will kill you."
She casually pointed to her own horns, then to her own body, without any shame. "I have documentation. I'm my husband's property. Don't look at me like that."
…Okay.
"Who—"
"Morgana Scarlet, nice to meet you." She smiled, as if it were a casual encounter. "Now, let's make a deal. I'll send you to the past, with your bloodline unlocked… and you help me with my research."
Victor was still stunned.
"Morgana…" But before he could react, she was already in front of him. Her eyes as golden as gold. Her hair as black as a living eclipse.
"Choose." The word came out heavily.
Something about that presence… wasn't human.
"I'm not a demon," she replied immediately, as if she had heard his thoughts. "I'm a dragon. Despite being a demonic dragon, don't compare me to my husband's lackeys."
"O-okay… well… I don't have much of a choice… do I?"
"Look, we have a genius among us."
She smiled amusedly.
"Good. I'd have to use magic to send you straight to hell anyway. Vampires don't go to heaven… if heaven even exists in your world. I'm just pulling off a little multiversal heist…"
She waved her hand, as if it were irrelevant.
"Well, whatever. I'll send you back and I need… well, never mind. Just do me a favor."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Be the strongest in your sector, that's a contract." She clapped her hands.
And Victor disappeared.
Morgana sighed immediately afterward and looked at the watch that appeared on her wrist.
"Well… time to take care of my daughter. Seriously, Dante could work less… I wanted a family vacation again…"
She paused. "Oh… that's right. Valentina would have to go…"
Silence.
"…Shit." She narrowed her eyes. "That Victor has a last name very similar to that bitch's name."
Another pause.
The smile disappeared.
"I changed my mind—"
And then, she disappeared too.