?“Are you sure this room is reinforced enough?” I asked, my voice echoing slightly in the empty, concrete gym.

  ?“Of course,” Vaughn replied, rolling his shoulders with a sickening pop. “You should worry about yourself. After all, I'm not going to teach you how to fight, Eun-Woo. I'm going to kick your ass until your biology realizes it needs to evolve to survive.”

  ?I wasn't entirely convinced how getting beaten to a pulp would help me, but the memory of the Feral in the tunnel was still fresh. Still, looking at Vaughn cracking his knuckles felt arguably more dangerous. I stepped back, putting what I thought was a safe distance—about five meters—between us.

  ?“Is this far enough?”

  ?“Hmm. It should be,” Vaughn muttered, his posture loose, almost lazy. “Now... Get ready for it.”

  ??!

  ?Remember that distance I put between us? It vanished instantly.

  ?The air in front of me is distorted. There was no wind-up, no telegraphing. Just a blur of motion. Before my brain could even process that he had moved, Vaughn’s fist was already buried in my solar plexus.

  ?BOOM.

  ?The impact felt like a freight train had materialized inside the room. I felt the Ichor-polymer suit groan under the pressure, the shockwave rippling through my back. My feet left the ground, and I flew backward, slamming onto the mats as a spray of crimson erupted from my mouth.

  ?“Here’s a fun fact,” Vaughn said, his voice calm as he walked toward my crumpled form. I was gasping, my body trying to pull in air out of habit, even though my new physiology didn't strictly need it. The pain, however, was very real. “My Combat Rank is B+.”

  ?I coughed, vomiting a thick glob of blood onto the floor. “B+...? With... with this power?”

  ?The math didn't add up. If I were still human, that punch would have turned my internal organs into soup. Even as a vampire—stronger, faster, and more durable—I couldn't even track his shadow. If this was what a B-Rank looked like... then what was an A-Rank? Or an S-Rank? Were they just natural disasters wearing human skin?

  ?“Can you still stand up?” Vaughn asked, that self-assured smirk playing on his lips.

  ?“Seriously...” I wheezed, pushing myself up with trembling arms. My vision swam. “Everyone here really loves kicking me while I'm down.”

  ?That smirk... I wanted to wipe it off his face. I stared at the puddle of blood I had just coughed up.

  ?Focus, I told myself. Don't just take it. Fight back.

  ?But how? I didn't have any experience in fighting in the first place.

  ?But I was a vampire now. I was stronger, faster. I didn't need tricks. I just needed to land one hit.

  ?“Eat this!”

  ?I didn't think. I just moved.

  ?Relying on my new physique , I exploded forward with a velocity that would have terrified a normal human. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, pulling my arm back for a desperate, clumsy haymaker aimed right at his perfect teeth.

  ?Whoosh.

  ?My fist hit nothing but air.

  ?I stumbled, my momentum carrying me forward, almost tripping over my own feet.

  ?Vaughn hadn't even stepped back. He had simply leaned his upper body slightly to the left—a movement so minimal, so efficient, it was insulting. My fist had passed inches from his nose, and he hadn't even blinked.

  ?“Kang Eun-Woo,” Vaughn sighed, looking at me like I was a dog chasing its own tail. “Don’t tell me that you have never actually been in a fight in your life?”

  ?My hand froze in the air.

  ?All I could do was silently stare at him. The silence was my confession.

  ?It was true. In my previous life, I was the guy who de-escalated. I was the delivery boy who apologized when a customer spat on me, just to protect my rating. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d even made a fist.

  ?“Damn, you are miserable,” Vaughn said, shaking his head. There was no pity in his eyes—only clinical disappointment. “But don’t worry. I will rescue you from this misery.”

  ?“Rescue m—?”

  ?Before I could finish, his fists were there again.

  ?Hooks, jabs, and crosses coming from every angle. He was pulling his punches now, making them lighter, but it didn't matter. Even at half-speed, I was helpless.

  ?The tactical interface in my eyes flickered red, screaming warnings I could barely read through the haze.

  ?[Critical Warning: Severe Concussion Detected]

  ?[Neural Stability: 12%... Dropping]

  ?[Alert: Consciousness Failure Imminent]

  ?My human brain was frantically trying to track his hands, searching for a pattern, but my body didn't know the language of violence. It was a brutal lesson, and class was just starting.

  ?A sharp clip to the jaw rattled my skull. My legs finally gave out, and I collapsed onto the mats for what felt like the hundredth time.

  ?“This must have angered you,” Vaughn taunted, looming over me like a shadow. “Go ahead. Send it.”

  ?I gritted my teeth, tasting the metallic tang of my own failure. Anger? Yes. Use it.

  ?I concentrated on the blood pooling around my knees, forcing it into a whip like I’d seen Claire do. I lashed out with everything I had.

  ?Splat.

  ?There was no supersonic crack, no whistle of air. Just the wet, pathetic sound of liquid slapping against the rubber mats five feet away. The blood lost its cohesion mid-air, dissolving into a harmless red mist before it even reached Vaughn’s boots.

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  ?“I don't understand... why?” I whispered, staring at the shapeless red stain.

  ?I was doing exactly what Claire did. I visualized the movement, the flow, the release. Why did hers cut through steel while mine fell apart like wet paper?

  ?Wait...

  ?I looked at the mess on the floor. Claire’s whip had been a whisper—a razor-thin line of Ichor that moved like a lightning bolt.

  ?Mine? I was trying to move a heavy, thick cable of blood. I was trying to force too much mass with too little control.

  ?Mass versus Velocity.

  ?I’m trying to throw a heavy bucket of water when I need to fire a pressurized water jet.

  ?“Maybe if I stop trying to be strong... and start trying to be sharp...”

  ?I brought my hand to my mouth and bit hard into the tip of my thumb, ignoring the sting. Trying to lift the dead blood from the floor was too hard for a beginner. I needed something fresh. Something connected to me.

  ?This time, I didn't try to manipulate a wave. I drew out a single, thread-like stream directly from the wound. It was barely visible, a crimson needle of intent.

  ?I flicked my wrist, focusing purely on speed.

  ?SNAP!

  The thread held. It flew across the gap and lashed against Vaughn's shoulder.

  ?It didn't pierce his protective suit. It didn't even make him flinch. It merely left a thin, crimson streak across the fabric of his immaculate charcoal jacket before dispersing into a wet smear.

  ?“I did it!” I yelled, a surge of genuine joy hitting me. “I hit you!”

  ?Vaughn looked down at the small red stain on his expensive clothing. His expression shifted from boredom to a slow, cold fury.

  ?“You... did you just ruin my bespoke jacket for that?”

  ?“Eh?”

  ?The joy vanished instantly as Vaughn stepped inside my guard.

  ?A flurry of punches hammered into my chest and stomach—and they weren't light this time.

  ?“You made it thinner to maintain the tension! Smart!” Vaughn growled, punctuating each word with a strike that knocked the wind out of me. Thud. “But you sacrificed density!” Thud. “Without mass, there is no impact!”

  ?A final uppercut lifted me off my feet. “You didn't strike me, Eun-Woo. You just stained me.”

  ?It was true.

  ?I curled up on the mats, gasping for air, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. My vision swam, but my mind was clearer than ever.

  ?I had been approaching this wrong. I had watched Claire move so naturally that I assumed it was just... magic like. A supernatural instinct I didn't have.

  ?But it wasn't magic.

  ?As I stared at the shapeless blood splatters on the floor, I remembered the physics classes I used to hate. I remembered the biology essays I wrote about fluid dynamics.

  ?It’s just fluid, I realized. And fluids obey laws.

  ?To turn a liquid into a weapon, I didn't need a game menu to tell me what was wrong. The failure was right there in front of me. I had to balance three simple variables in my head:

  ?1. Surface Tension: I needed to bind the Ichor at a molecular level so it wouldn't spray like water from a hose. It needed to be cohesive.

  ?2. Velocity: It needed speed. If it didn't break the sound barrier, it wouldn't cut; it would just slap. Kinetic energy is dependent on velocity squared.

  ?3. Mass Density: The thread I made was too thin, too airy. It had no weight behind it. I was trying to throw a hollow needle when I needed a solid steel rod.

  ?It was like watching a pro footballer hit a perfect volley; they aren't just kicking a ball, they are calculating wind, power, and arc in a split second.

  I was a delivery boy trying to play in the Champions League. And naturally, I was getting slaughtered.

  ?“Why the whip?” Vaughn asked suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

  ?“?” I looked up, wiping a fresh smear of red from my lip. “What do you mean?”

  ?“I'm asking why you're so obsessed with using that damn whip.”

  ?“Because... that's what Claire does. She’s a Weaver, I’m a Weaver... I thought—”

  ?“Because... that's what Claire does. She’s a Weaver, I’m a Weaver... I thought—”

  ?“And who are you? Claire number two?” Vaughn cut in, his voice harsh. “Your power isn’t about cosplaying as her. It’s about fluid mechanics. You control blood in its liquid form. Period. When I told you to watch Claire, I meant to learn the mechanics of control, not to blindly copy her favorite toy.”

  Vaughn stepped back, giving me space, though his eyes remained locked on mine like a targeting laser.

  ?“This time, you start. Give me everything you’ve got. Don't think about style. Think about the effect.”

  ?I slowly stood up, my joints popping with the effort.

  ?Vaughn was right. I had been trying to build a complex structure—a whip—before I even understood the materials I was working with. I was trying to execute a high-level skill combo when I was still struggling with the tutorial controls.

  ?I looked at the floor.

  ?It was a mess. It was covered in my failure. Puddles of crimson were scattered across the grey mats like an abstract painting of pain.

  ?Why am I trying to squeeze more blood from my finger? I realized.

  ?The ammunition is already loaded. It’s all around me.

  ?I didn't need to create a whip. I didn't need to be precise like Claire. I needed to use the environment I had literally painted with my own blood.

  ?“Hey, are you done yet?” Vaughn called out, checking his nails with exaggerated boredom. “I’m sick of waiting around for your little epiphany.”

  ?He didn't wait for my answer. He lunged.

  ?Vaughn blurred, his form cutting through the air like a jagged shadow. He was fast—faster than before.

  ?But this time, I didn't look at his hands. I didn't try to track his fist.

  ?I looked at the ground beneath his feet.

  ?As he closed the distance, I didn't pull back. I slammed my open palm upward, as if lifting a heavy table.

  ?“RISE!”

  ?I didn't worry about Tension. I didn't worry about Velocity.

  ?I poured every ounce of my will into Volume.

  ?VWUMP!

  ?Instead of a thin thread, the puddles on the floor exploded upward. It wasn't a whip; it was a geyser. A shapeless, heavy wall of crimson liquid erupted from beneath Vaughn, catching him mid-stride.

  ?It didn't cut him. It didn't pierce him.

  ?But liquid, when moved in sufficient volume, is heavy. It hits like concrete.

  The wave of blood slammed into his shins and chest like a wet sandbag, killing his momentum instantly.

  ?Vaughn’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses.

  ?For the first time, his stance broke. He didn't fall, but his boots skidded backward on the rubber mats, carving a screeching path through the blood. He had to cross his arms instantly to brace himself against the sheer weight of the liquid wall.

  ?“Finally,” he grinned, his voice steady but laced with a dangerous, newfound heat. “The kitten finally learns how to scratch.”

  ?The cold of the floor was the only thing grounding me as I lay there, my body feeling like it had been dismantled and put back together by an amateur mechanic. My “boxing”—if you could even call it that—had been a desperate, pathetic mimicry. I was a child swinging at a hurricane, trying to speak a language of violence I didn't understand.

  ?Every punch I threw, even enhanced by my new vampire physiology, should have shattered a human’s ribs like dry twigs. Instead, hitting Vaughn was like punching the side of an armored tank.

  ?The Wall of Reality.

  ?I had pushed myself until the Ichor in my veins felt like sludge. My vision was tunneling, the edges of the room fraying into a dull, static gray.

  ?But in that exhaustion, my focus sharpened.

  ?My "sixth sense" flickered to life. For a split second, the human filter over my eyes vanished. I saw the way Vaughn’s body wasn't just muscle and bone; it was a pressurized vessel of blinding, golden energy.

  ?When I finally collapsed, I wasn't out of breath—vampires don't need to breathe—but I was empty. My fuel tank was dry.

  ?“Hmm. That wasn't bad. You actually made me brace myself,” Vaughn said, shaking the excess blood off his jacket. “Normally, you should have died several times in this fight. Still! Allow me to offer you a reward.”

  ?“A... reward?”

  ?I felt it before I saw it.

  ?A vibration in the air so violent it made the fillings in my teeth ache.

  ?Vaughn didn't just throw a punch. He calculated a trajectory.

  ?I saw smoke rising from his shoulder. It wasn't fire—it was the sheer friction of his Ichor accelerating his blood flow to a boiling point within his muscles.

  ?The red interface in my eyes didn't just flicker; it screamed.

  ?[CRITICAL WARNING: Lethal Kinetic Force Detected]

  ?It was a localized explosion contained within a human arm.

  ?BOOM!

  The world didn't just go dark; it shattered.

  ?The impact didn't feel like a fist; it felt like an atmospheric collapse. If a high-speed train had a physical manifestation of its momentum, this was it. It bypassed my skin and muscles, the shockwave liquefying the air in my lungs and rattling the marrow of my bones.

  ?The terrifying part?

  ?He didn't even touch me.

  ?The fist had stopped inches from my face. The displaced air alone had done this.

  ?“You know, this level of hands-on tutoring isn't normally part of the curriculum,” Vaughn said, his voice drifting down from somewhere high above. “You should be grateful. Most rookies don't get to see a Kinetic Strike up close without losing their head.”

  ?I wanted to look him in the face and scream. I wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his "gratitude."

  ?But my body refused to obey.

  ?All I could do was stare at the harsh industrial lights above. I was sprawled on the floor, the cold rubber mats beneath me painted in a messy, crimson Rorschach blot of my own blood.

  ?My ribs screamed in protest, and my vision swam in a sea of static gray.

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