Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

At the beginning of the summer vacation, Nolan stayed in the Randall Gorge.

During his year at Hogwarts, he had grown to despise the sun that rose punctually every morning. He longed for the perpetual gloom of the Gorge—the withered grass and trees, the bats gliding in flocks, and the carnivorous pitcher plants that laughed eerily.

But those were minor comforts. The main reason Nolan hadn't left the Randall Gorge these past days was that Felicia had begun training him in combat techniques.

Nolan had always wondered if his vampiric abilities were developing too slowly. After all, at Hogwarts, his sister had insisted he practice vampiric shapeshifting for an entire year, despite him already mastering it. However, once he started learning combat techniques, he realized her insistence had been necessary.

"Nolan, your transitions between animagi are still too slow. Remember, no creature can possess both speed and strength at the same time. You must make shapeshifting an instinct—use a cheetah's burst of speed for thrusting and an elephant's strength for slashing. If you spend less time pondering why you can't beat me and more time honing your transformations, you'll see improvement."

Those were the Duchess Felicia's words. Though she usually seemed unreliable with her constant laughter and frivolous demeanor, she was nothing but serious when training her younger brother. She never allowed her lightheartedness to bleed into the sessions.

Nolan was exhausted. While his face remained stoic, his forehead was covered in sweat.

Vampires rarely sweat. Their stamina was tied to their blood; as long as they had a fresh supply, they never got tired. Even sleep was merely an indulgent pastime. The fact that Nolan felt fatigue was a testament to the grueling nature of his training—he had pushed his blood reserves to the limit, performing over 300 transformations within an hour.

Nolan didn't know exactly how strong Felicia was, but he was certain of one thing: among the current Von Draugr family, no one surpassed her. Not even Dalric, who had lived for so long, could claim superiority.

Felicia was a vampire forged on the battlefield. The brutality and carnage she had endured far outstripped Nolan's experiences by a hundredfold. Her power came from an accumulation of combat knowledge and hard-won experience.

Calling over a nearby girl, Nolan drank her blood. His complexion improved, and he picked up his longsword once more.

"Again, Felicia. This time, use a weapon," he said.

Felicia smirked, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she teased, "Nolan, don't drain her too much. That girl is my personal blood supply. She's a rare find—her blood type is my favorite, B, and she has a lovely lavender scent. She ranks high among my collection."

Nolan waved dismissively, signaling the pale-faced girl to step back. "I'm not a novice, Felicia. I know better than to drain a Muggle to death."

"Well, that's debatable…" Felicia mused, recalling an incident during their last visit to New York when Nolan had hunted a bit too recklessly. Turning to the girl, she added, "Leah, eat more meat to replenish your blood. Did you know Muggles say the liver helps with anemia? I wonder if it's true?"

"That's correct, Duchess Felicia," the Muggle girl replied, her voice steady despite her pale complexion. "Livers are rich in iron, which is also a vital component of our blood."

"Oh, how convenient. When you return to the manor, tell the chef to improve the menu. From now on, serve liver at every meal."

"Yes, Duchess Felicia," Leah replied, wobbling slightly as she walked away. It was clear Nolan had taken a significant amount of her blood.

These Muggles were the Von Draugr family's livestock. Most were pure and untainted young women, provided with food and shelter in exchange for producing blood. Yet Felicia refused to call them "livestock," opting instead for the peculiar term "guests."

As his sister waved cheerfully at the retreating girl, Nolan grew impatient. "Felicia, focus. I want to improve my strength as quickly as possible."

"No need to rush. Vampires live a long time, after all," Felicia muttered. Despite her words, she crouched slightly, adopting a ready stance. In an instant, her lighthearted demeanor disappeared again.

"Come, Nolan," she said, tilting her chin. "Let your sister teach you properly."

As Felicia finished speaking, she and Nolan launched themselves at each other simultaneously.

Bang!

The sound of impact reverberated almost instantly. Nolan's longsword slashed downward while Felicia met the strike barehanded with a clenched fist.

The blade was made of steel, while her fist was wrapped in nothing but skin, yet when they collided, the sound resembled the clash of metal against metal.

Felicia was a true Von Draugr, an unparalleled master of vampiric transformation. Her skin was tougher than any alloy. Nolan couldn't help but feel that his sister had no weaknesses—aside from her eyes, there wasn't a single vulnerable spot on her body.

The longsword in Nolan's hands struck again and again, each blow accompanied by booming sounds that seemed to shatter the very air. The two figures twisted and turned amidst the withered undergrowth, exchanging blows with such force that the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, scattering decayed leaves into the air.

Even roots and small rocks were uprooted and flung aside by the sheer ferocity of their movements. Around the space where they clashed, a clean circle of barren ground soon emerged.

"You're flawless, Felicia," Nolan said, massaging his tingling wrist as he let out a sigh. The steel sword in his hands was a prized relic of the Von Draugr collection, a weapon of unparalleled sharpness—yet even it was beginning to show nicks and dull edges from the intense combat.

Felicia, on the other hand, remained utterly unscathed. Not even a faint red mark marred her hand.

The vampire duchess chuckled, casually stretching and cracking her upper body. "No, Nolan, you're just too slow."

Nolan's eyes widened slightly. "I'm really that slow?"

"Well… from the perspective of most vampires, you're already incredibly fast," Felicia admitted. "But speed alone isn't enough. Straight-line speed is only advantageous when you're running away. You might be fast, but my eyes are faster. I can see where your sword will land, so I prepare my defenses accordingly. What follows is simple—defend and counterattack."

Nolan understood this principle.

"How would you handle an opponent like that, Felicia?" he asked.

"Rhythm," she replied.

"Rhythm?"

"Exactly, just like the dances I taught you when you were little, Nolan. There are fast beats and slow beats, moments of intensity and moments of calm—that's the essence of balance. In combat, bursts of energy are more critical than raw speed. Instant acceleration and sudden deceleration can be lethal. For example…"

Felicia took the longsword from Nolan and bent her knees, assuming a stance that sent a chill down his spine. Just looking at her posture made his skin crawl, as if merely locking eyes with her could mean death.

Felicia inhaled deeply and then swung the sword—

Nolan's eyes widened in astonishment as a flash of white light streaked past him.

Her swing seemed to slice through the air itself. A powerful wind followed the path of her blade, pulling everything in its wake. But that wasn't the most remarkable aspect.

What stunned Nolan was the way Felicia's sword seemed to exist in only two states: complete stillness and blinding speed. There was no discernible process of acceleration or deceleration. It was either at rest or in explosive motion.

~~~----------------------

Patreon Advance Chapters: patreon .com / HPdreamer