Arcane Warfare: From the Ashes of a Disposable Soldier

 Len's voice shifted into the cadence of a storyteller, his tone slow and deliberate.

"Long ago, this world was home to elves, dragons, vampires, and many other mythical beings. It was their power, their endless wars and alliances, that shaped the world. Among the vampires, a special sub-race was created—bloody vessels. Unlike lesser ghouls or low-ranking vampires who were used as fodder or tools, bloody vessels were something much more than that."

 The words hung in the air, and a creeping unease settled in Cedar's chest.

 The term "bloody vessel" struck a chord, its familiarity sending a chill down his spine. He had heard Len use it before, but now, in this context, it felt much darker, more ominous.

 Len's eyes gleamed with a knowing, almost predatory gleam, and his smile grew colder. "Bloody vessels weren't just loyal servants," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate.

"They were weapons—living, breathing conduits of untapped, raw power, forged to serve as instruments of destruction for vampires. And their true form, when unlocked, was no mere metaphor. They were actual weapons, crafted to serve the will of the nobility—of emperors like me. Each one is infused with a unique blend of demon mana and blood magic, a power that makes them unstoppable."

 The world seemed to tilt beneath Cedar's feet as his mind struggled to grasp the enormity of what Len was saying.

 A weapon? Him? The notion was so incomprehensible that it felt like his very sense of reality was fracturing.

 How could something as fragile as flesh and blood ever be forged into a weapon of destruction?

 Len wasn't talking about a mere ability or a magical skill. He was talking about Cedar himself—his very existence was tied to something far darker, something that had been planned long before he even understood his own powers.

 Ivan's voice broke through the silence, incredulous. "Wait, you're saying Cedar is... one of these bloody vessels?"

 Len's smile never wavered. "Yes. Cedar's bloodline, though diluted, still carries the essence of this sub-race. The Red Eye Fever you've experienced, Cedar, is only a glimpse of the true power that lies dormant inside you. When the time is right, and you're pushed to your limits, that power will awaken. And when it does, you won't just be a mage—you'll be a weapon. A weapon for me."

 Cedar's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing.

 The Red Eye Fever, that uncontrollable surge of power he had thought was a curse—it was connected to this.

 He had always thought it was some unfortunate side effect of his magic, but now it seemed like something much darker, much more dangerous.

"But... demon mana?" Cedar whispered, struggling to grasp the meaning. "I've never used demon magic. I've barely even touched basic elemental magic, let alone blood magic."

 Blood magic—just speaking the name sent a chill through him.

 It was forbidden an abomination.

 In a war like this, no, especially in a war like this, blood magic was a sin, a curse. Even commoners knew of its cruelty and corruption.

 Those who wielded it risked not just their lives, but their very souls, as the magic consumed them, bending them to its will. It was a dark art, one that twisted its users into monsters.

"You will," Len said, his tone final. "Demon mana isn't something you control. It is something you are. Once it's awakened, it will flow through your veins like blood itself. That's why you're called a bloody vessel. Your body is a conduit for this power. And when the time comes, I'll unlock it fully."

 Cedar's thoughts were swirling, struggling to make sense of it all. This wasn't just about gaining more power or unlocking hidden potential. No, his very essence was a weapon, bound to ancient and dark forces. And Len intended to use him as a tool for his own purposes.

 Ivan, still reeling, stepped forward cautiously. "But why now? Why us?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. "Why awaken these powers now, of all times?"

 Len's gaze darkened, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Because the world is about to change. The war between nations is nothing compared to what's really coming. The Old Magic, long forgotten, is awakening. And when it does, only those who are ready will survive. You, Ivan, have ties to Asterius and the elven bloodline. You, Cedar, are a bloody vessel—a weapon of the old world."

 He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "When the grand war arrives, you won't just be soldiers. You'll be players in a much larger game. You'll do my bidding, and in return, I'll let you live and grow stronger. Together, we'll face what's coming."

 The blood around them rippled as if to remind Cedar of the dangerous world he was now entangled in. A world of ancient powers, weapons, and magic that defied understanding.

"Why should I trust you?" Ivan asked, his voice steady but cold. "What's to stop you from using us and discarding us once we're no longer useful?"

 Len's smile sharpened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Because you're useful to me now," he replied, his tone cold and calculating.

"And if you prove yourselves worthy, you may become more than mere pawns. But if you fail, if you let your weakness consume you, then being discarded will be your own fault. Don't waste time blaming others for your own failure when you refuse the call of power."

 His gaze turned to Cedar, and his words grew sharper, more pointed. "The choice you've made, Cedar, is the only wise one. Embrace what you are, rise through the ranks of power, or refuse and die like all the others who will be swept away by the storm that's coming."

 The words echoed in Cedar's mind, the weight of them pressing on his chest. The blood around him rippled, as if it, too, was watching, waiting.

 The power that Len promised—the power to survive the chaos of the coming war—felt like a double-edged sword. It could either be the key to victory or the path to his own demise.

 Cedar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no easy choice here. But the storm Len spoke of was coming, and Cedar knew that if he didn't take control of this power, it would control him.

"Yes, master," Cedar said, his voice steady as he bowed. The words felt strange and foreign, but in this moment, it was the only path forward.

 Len had power beyond understanding, and as much as Cedar hated the idea, he also saw an opportunity. An opportunity to survive, to grow stronger, and perhaps, to take control of his own fate.

 Len nodded approvingly, then turned his gaze to Ivan, who bowed in acknowledgment as well. Both of them were now under Len's command, bound by the power and ancient forces that had shaped their destinies.

"You asked if there was more to know about the bloody vessels," Len continued, his tone cold, as if recounting a mere fact.

"Yes. Bloody vessels are unique—no two are alike. Each one has the potential to grow infinitely through battle. The more enemies you defeat, the more blood you spill, the stronger you become. The power you gain is shaped by who you are—your instincts, your desires, your very soul."

 His gaze grew distant, as though lost in the shadows of a long-forgotten memory. "The last bloody vessel I used was a woman—ruthless, reckless, and unyielding to the very end. She was a pair of guns, firing corrosive, anti-magic bullets, and life-absorbing projectiles. A weapon forged to match the darkness within her. She wasn't born with such power; she earned it, with every drop of blood she spilled and every battle she fought. Her power was a reflection of her nature—each victory, each wound, adding to the weapon she became."

 Len's eyes flickered with the memory of that vessel, the smile on his face colder than ever.

"She died of old age, but she served me well for centuries. You, Cedar, will shape your own path. Your power, once unlocked, will reflect your battles, and your nature. I don't need you to be reckless like her but remember—no coward can wield a bloody vessel's true power. You gain strength through combat, through the bloodshed you face. If you fear battle, you will never reach your full potential."

 Cedar's heart pounded in his chest. The weight of Len's words pressed down on him.

 The idea of growing stronger through battle, through blood—every fight, every enemy, could shape him into something else.

 Would he become something monstrous? Or could he control this power? It was a terrifying thought, and yet, the hunger for battle, for strength, burned in his veins.

"For now," Len continued, his voice as commanding as ever, "you will learn basic ancient magic from the grimoire. Before you can unlock the true power of the bloody vessel, you must first master the foundations. The grimoire will teach you magic long forgotten by your kind—spells and techniques that will prepare you for what's to come. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Cedar replied, more firmly this time. The weight of the decision settled on him, the gravity of his new path sinking in.

 The bloody vessel within him was not just a curse—it was untapped primal power, a weapon, and if he could control it, it could be his key to surviving the war to come.

 Len nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good. You'll need everything you have to survive this war. Now, begin your training. And remember—when the true power of the bloody vessel awakens, there's no turning back."

 Cedar bowed again, fully committing to this dangerous path. He wasn't sure what kind of weapon he would become, or if he could control the darkness within, but he knew one thing: this was the only chance he had to survive the storm ahead.

 The air in the dream shifted, thick with the oppressive weight of blood and shadow. The atmosphere seemed to twist and writhe, a swirling mass of darkness that clung to the edges of reality.

 Len's presence, once suffocating and omnipresent, began to recede, but his voice—cold and unyielding—lingered in Cedar's mind, piercing the stillness.

"Remember," Len's words echoed, like a faint whisper brushing against his skin, "you are mine. And through me, you will rise to a power beyond anything you can comprehend."

 The last remnants of Len's presence faded into the suffocating dark, and with his final command, the blood-soaked world around Cedar collapsed into nothingness.

 The crimson beneath his feet dissipated, vanishing into the abyss as if it had never existed at all. A sudden, irresistible force seized him, pulling him away from the nightmare and thrusting him back toward the waking world.

 His body felt unnaturally heavy, as though it were being dragged through thick, unseen chains.

 His mind, still reeling from the revelations, struggled to keep up but quickly began to make sense of it all.

 Everything around him felt like a surreal blur, a twisted dream that was both intangible and disturbingly real at the same time. The weight of it settled deep within him, a strange clarity cutting through the confusion as the magnitude of what he had learned began to solidify.

 But there was no hesitation now. No second thoughts.

 Cedar knew his path had been sealed. The choice had been made, and despite the darkness that loomed ahead, he felt the undeniable pull of the power that was now his.

 His future, tangled in the threads of blood and fate, was set in motion.