Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant-Chapter 78: Blood Magic [2]

Velra studied me closely. Her wings, half-unfurled, twitched as though sensing the tension crackling between us.

The smirk she so often wore had vanished, replaced by a loaded silence—and a flicker in her crimson eyes that was hard to read.

"You really are insane," she finally said, her voice quiet, almost contemplative.

"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "But I don’t care, as long as I get to learn it."

She narrowed her eyes. "But I care."

"Oh?" I raised a brow. "Didn’t know you were so emotionally invested."

"Of course I am! If you die, who’s going to bring me this blood? My recovery will be delayed!"

Right. There it was.

I sighed inwardly. Expecting emotional depth from a demonkin was my mistake.

Still, if she was going to be that blunt, then I’d answer in kind.

I slid the blood-filled jar closer to me, eyes steady. "Well, if the other party isn’t interested in a fair deal, then the trade’s off."

"Trade?"

"I told you from the start. This is Trade. I risk my neck gathering monster blood, and in return, I learn magic from you. No more, no less."

Her posture shifted—shoulders drooping slightly, wings curling inward. The proud facade was beginning to crack.

"Fine," she muttered. "How about different compensation? Once I regain my full power, I’ll make sure you’re handsomely rewarded. I’ve got hidden assets in Drazroth. I could get you a title, a position—"

"Pass," I said, flatly.

Those kinds of vague promises were like fog on the battlefield—easy to get lost in, impossible to hold.

I wasn’t keen on becoming another cautionary tale, like the native king still rotting away in the Western Underground Catacombs, waiting for help that would never come.

"I didn’t think you’d stoop to this level," I said with mock pity. "You’re not just a vampire, Velra. You’re a glamour Vampir."

"Gla—glamour Vampir?!"

Her pale cheeks flared red—nearly the same shade as her eyes.

"Are you calling me shameless?!"

She looked genuinely rattled, fists clenching and unclenching as though torn between confusion and outrage.

Before her flaring temper translated into an attack—especially one that could knock out someone like Alice—I quickly backpedaled. Slightly.

"It’s a nickname I reserve for only a very select few vampires," I said with exaggerated solemnity. "Those who dangle dreams of grandeur in front of us lesser races and then shamelessly wring every last drop of use out of us. I’ve met a few like that."

In truth, it wasn’t just vampires.

The three dominant demon races often acted like they were naturally superior to everyone else.

That attitude, combined with an insatiable hunger for power, was part of what fueled the endless civil wars in the Drazroth Empire.

Velra’s expression darkened. "I’m not like them."

I tilted my head, just a little, watching her.

"Well, from where I’m standing..." I let my words hang, deliberately trailing off, my gaze locked on her face.

Velra’s crimson eyes narrowed, glowing ever so faintly in the dim torchlight of the cave. Her wings shifted again—folding closer to her body, as if wrapping herself in pride she no longer had the strength to wield.

"You’re playing with fire, Parasite," she said, her voice low and cold.

I didn’t flinch. "No. I’m bargaining with it."

That earned a flicker in her expression—amusement, perhaps, or maybe respect. Or contempt disguised as both.

We stood there in silence, the weight of the standoff coiling between us like a stretched wire.

Then Velra moved.

Not fast, not threatening—but deliberate.

She stepped closer, bare feet silent on the smooth stone floor. Her presence was overwhelming up close—like standing beside a lightning storm barely held in check.

She looked me over, her eyes calculating now. Not just seeing me—but measuring.

"Fine," she said at last, voice barely above a whisper. "You want blood magic? You’ll get it."

I blinked. That... worked?

"But on my terms," she added sharply, as if daring me to object. "No complaints, no second thoughts, and no crying when your flesh begins to tear open from the inside."

She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing close to my ear.

"Blood magic doesn’t just require blood. It takes blood. Yours. In more ways than one."

I swallowed. Loudly.

She was dead serious.

"This isn’t some flashy spellcasting nonsense," Velra continued, stepping back. "You won’t be summoning fireballs or healing wounds with a few muttered words. Blood magic is pain. It is sacrifice. If your will falters even once, your body will destroy itself."

"I said I don’t care."

Velra smirked, the tips of her fangs visible. "We’ll see. To use blood magic, a vampire has to make direct contact with the blood vessels of the person."

...That part was never in the game. Back then, it just took a single click and a system pop-up: ’Blood Magic Acquired.’

Before I could say anything else, Velra reached for my arm.

"Argh—!"

Pain exploded through my body like fire racing through my veins. It felt like thousands of needles were stabbing into every corner blood could reach.

My jaw clenched. Every instinct screamed at me to yank my hand away from hers—but I didn’t.

Because this was what I asked for.

This was what I needed.

Even as my vision blurred from the pain, Velra glanced at me, her expression unreadable.

"Why are you so obsessed with magic?" she asked quietly. "You seem strong enough, at least by human standards."

Was it because I dodged her attack earlier? She was giving me more credit than I deserved.

But I knew the truth better than anyone.

"I can dodge," I said between breaths, "but what’s the point of surviving if I can’t strike back?"

My thoughts drifted to the sparring session with Alice. Her attacks were sharp, calculated. And all I could do was endure and evade.

If there was one thing I learned from that fight—it was how lacking I was in offense. I had no way to pressure my opponent. No way to win.

Just surviving wasn’t enough anymore.

Velra didn’t say anything at first. Her grip tightened slightly as the crimson glow around our joined hands deepened.

The magic was working—but slowly. Painfully.

She finally muttered, "You’re stubborn."

"I’ve been called worse."

Another jolt shot through my body. I nearly bit my tongue, but still—still—I didn’t pull away.

Because this was how I grew stronger.

Because I had to.

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