Dawn of Light - Reincarnated as a villain

"Let's get you used to the skills of your category," Drusilla said, her voice calm but with an undertone of excitement that sent a shiver down my spine. She stepped forward, her crimson eyes locked onto mine, an intensity radiating from her that made it impossible to look away.

I swallowed hard, my instincts screaming at me that this wasn't going to be easy. But I pushed the fear aside, determination hardening my resolve. I had to master my skills if I ever wanted to survive in this world.

After composing myself, I stood tall in front of her. "I'm ready," I said, my voice steady.

She gave me a slight nod, her expression unreadable. "Good. Activate your Shrouded Insight. I will set my speed to Rank-2 and attack you. Your task is simple: dodge."

I closed my eyes momentarily, focusing on activating Shrouded Insight. The world around me shifted subtly—an invisible web of life, emotions, and supernatural presences became palpable. I could feel her presence behind me almost immediately, a faint ripple in the air, sharp and predatory.

Before I could even react to the sensation of her presence behind me, a sharp pain tore through my arms. I looked down in shock to see both of them severed at the elbows, blood spurting in rhythmic arcs. I barely had time to scream before my Crimson Renewal activated.

The regeneration was fast—only three seconds—but every moment felt like an eternity as my body reconstructed itself. The pain was indescribable, each nerve firing as bones realigned, muscles reformed, and skin knitted back together.

"You hesitated," Drusilla said, her tone cold but with a faint trace of approval. "Regeneration will become second nature to you, but you need to rely on it without flinching. This pain is your teacher now."

I barely had time to nod before she moved again, her blade a blur. Over the next two hours, she attacked relentlessly. Each time, she aimed to kill, and each time, Crimson Renewal brought me back. My legs were sliced clean off more times than I could count. She pierced my chest, shattered my spine, and even cut me in half horizontally at one point. Every injury brought excruciating pain, and every regeneration was like living through the process of being born again.

By the end of it, I was trembling, drenched in sweat and blood, but my resolve had only strengthened. My body was learning, adapting. Each time I regenerated, the process felt a fraction faster, a little less agonizing.

Drusilla finally stopped, her crimson blade vanishing in a swirl of mist. "You're improving," she said, her tone almost approving. "Now that you've tasted the worst of what regeneration can offer, let's move on to your Crimson Weildling skill."

I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. My body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, but her words reignited a spark of determination in me. "What… what do I have to do?" I asked, forcing myself to stand again.

She extended her hand, summoning a dagger from her storage ring. She handed it to me, her gaze sharp. "Cut yourself. And this time, focus on not activating your regeneration immediately. Let your blood flow."

I hesitated for a moment before pressing the blade against my forearm, dragging it across my skin. A sharp line of pain blossomed, and dark crimson blood began to drip steadily. My body instinctively wanted to heal, but I clenched my jaw, focusing on keeping the regeneration at bay.

"Good," Drusilla said, her voice softer now. "Now, use your blood. Visualize it as an extension of yourself. Shape it. Control it."

I stared at the blood pooling in my palm, willing it to move. At first, it resisted, merely sliding off my skin. But then, I felt something—a connection, like a thread of power linking me to the crimson liquid. Slowly, it began to respond.

With gritted teeth, I focused harder, and the blood lifted into the air, trembling as it hovered. Drusilla watched closely, her eyes gleaming with interest.

"Good. Now form it into something," she instructed. "A spike, a tendril, anything."

I concentrated, and the hovering blood twisted into a thin, jagged spike. It wobbled unsteadily before solidifying. I stared at it in disbelief, the raw potential of the skill dawning on me.

"Not bad for your first attempt," she said, a rare smile gracing her lips. "Keep practicing. The more you use this skill, the faster and more precise you'll become. With your regeneration, you can weaponize your own body without fear."

Over the next few hours, I practiced relentlessly, slicing myself repeatedly to produce more blood for Crimson Weildling. Each time, I forced my regeneration to wait until I had fully utilized the blood. It was grueling work, but by the end, I could create basic shapes—spikes, tendrils, and even a rough blade.

"That's enough for today," Drusilla said, watching me with a satisfied expression. "Rest now. But before that, come to my room. There's one more thing we need to do."

I blinked, confused but too tired to argue. After taking a quick bath and resting for a short while, I made my way to her room.

Drusilla was seated on her bed, her legs crossed elegantly. When she saw me enter, she gestured for me to sit in front of her. I obeyed, still unsure of what she wanted.

"As you know," she began, her tone soft but laced with a seductive edge, "I made you a vampire for one reason—your blood. It's... intoxicating, unlike anything I've ever tasted."

I shifted uncomfortably but nodded, letting her continue.

"Every night after training," she said, leaning slightly closer, "you'll come to my room. I need to drink your blood." Her voice turned sultry, sending a shiver down my spine.

Before I could fully process her words, she was on my lap, her face close to mine. Her breath was warm against my neck as she whispered, "It won't hurt. Quite the opposite, actually."

Then, without warning, she licked a spot on my neck, her tongue cold yet electrifying. A shiver ran through me, and before I could react further, her fangs pierced my skin.

The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of sharp pain and an almost euphoric pleasure. As she drank, soft, sensual moans escaped her lips, sending my heart racing.

The intensity of the moment broke something inside me. Instinct took over, and I found myself sinking my own fangs into her neck. Her blood, warm and rich, flooded my senses, igniting a primal hunger within me.

Drusilla let out a deep, throaty moan, her arms tightening around me. The exchange was intimate, almost too intimate, and I felt a strange connection forming between us, as though our very essences were intertwining.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were stained with my blood, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. I reluctantly released her neck, my senses still reeling.

"You're... surprisingly good at this," she murmured, a sly smile playing on her lips.

I tried to stand, intending to return to my room, but my body betrayed me. Exhaustion overtook me, and I collapsed onto her bed.

Before sleep claimed me, I heard her soft chuckle and felt her fingers gently brushing my hair.

"Rest well, my disciple," she whispered. "Tomorrow, we begin again."