Reincarnated as a Vampire Who Acquires Skills Through Blood

”Hmm?”

Verc looked around the treasury room with a curious expression on his face.

-Arf!

Onyx barked in excitement as well.

The little shadow wolf darted ahead of him, his paws making soft thuds against the cool stone floor of the treasury. Verc let him down and the little pup immediately ran around the treasury, sniffing the wooden crates and the weapon racks as if he were inspecting the quality of the loot himself.

”Be careful.”

Verc said as he stood up, watching the little creature with a small smile on his face.

The room was vast, filled with the spoils of battle that his people had gathered. There were racks of steel spears that gleamed under the light of torches, stacks of heavy shields, and piles of chainmail that smelled of oil and old leather. It was a stark contrast to the rough, handmade tools they had relied on when they first arrived in the forest.

Anyway, Verc focused back on his goal in coming here; finding his new weapon—SWOOOSH~!

He wasted no time and spread his mana throughout the treasury, immediately trying to find some out of the norm weapons.

The mana flowed out of his body like an invisible tide, washing over the metal and wood in the room. He wasn’t just looking with his eyes; he was feeling the residual energy of the items. Weapons of high quality often hummed with a distinct frequency, a faint echo of the magic that had been imbued into them during their forging.

”...?”

And in doing so, he felt some weird energy at the far corner of the room.

That energy felt like it was connected to him... though, it was not attracting him—it was the opposite.

Verc frowned as he felt that energy, it was repulsive for him.

’That’s probably Elianna’s and the other’s weapons.’

Verc quickly realized that.

The residual holiness or the specific mana signatures of her and her people were still clinging to their gear, even after being locked away for weeks. It felt oily and wrong, a stain against the atmosphere of his castle. He didn’t want anything to do with their artifacts; they held no value to him, neither in utility nor in sentiment.

He ignored that corner and started roaming around the room as he continuously spread his mana still.

... ... ...

Verc looked left and right, crate after crate, shelves, sacks—but nothing really caught his eyes.

He passed by dozens of swords, each one sharper than the last, but they all felt like common steel to him. He was looking for something that resonated with his own path, something that could endure the immense output of mana he poured into his attacks. Finding a weapon that could keep up with his evolution was proving to be a much more difficult task than he had anticipated.

But he didn’t mind, he already know that picking a weapon for himself isn’t going to be that easy.

Verc did take mental note of swords and artifacts he found quite useful; he’ll take them if he can’t find something.

’Hmm, I should let the other guys come in here and take whatever they want too... them being stronger is good for the village, after all.’

He stated in his head, planning to call the others to reward them with the spoils they got from the expedition team.

The village’s strength was his strength. Every orc who mastered a better weapon and every gnoll who learned to use enchanted artifacts was another asset to the territory. He didn’t need to hoard these things; he needed an army that could protect itself when he wasn’t around.

Thinking about this, it was already decided what he was going to do next.

Then, at that moment, after searching the treasury room for a few minutes—

”Nothing.”

Verc still found nothing that really interests him.

He exhaled a long breath, letting the tension out of his shoulders.

’I guess finding a godly weapon isn’t as easy as it is in novels.’

He thought and was just about to take a sword he found quite good earlier. It was a sturdy broadsword, well-balanced and sharp.

But before he could do that—

-ARF!

He heard Onyx’s bark.

It was sharp and insistent, calling him over to the other side of the racks.

Verc’s head unconsciously turned to the little pup, and there—he saw him running around a sword on the floor.

”...”

Verc recognized the sword.

It was Aman’s weapon, the knight commander’s.

It was also one of the weapons he thought was useful while he was looking around, but it was not actually one of the best; there were at least five weapons better than it in this room.

The others included Elianna and the other elites’ weapons, then the weapons of the knights sent by the empire. Those were flashy, decorated with jewels, and humming with obvious meticulous crafting.

But seeing Onyx running around the sword on the floor, Verc impulsively thought of taking it instead.

”Meh.”

And going with that feeling, he walked to where Onyx was.

He crouched down, the hem of his clothes touching the dusty floor. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

”You think that thing is fit for me?”

Verc asked, looking down at Onyx.

Hearing his voice, the puppy stopped running and looked up at him.

Then as if he understood the question asked to him—

-Arf!

Onyx barked with a happy face as he wagged his tail aggressively. The little pup seemed absolutely certain that this was the right choice.

”Haha, okay. I’ll take it then.”

Verc crouched down and decided to take the knight commander’s sword instead. He patted Onyx’s head as he stood back up.

Verc looked at the sword at his right hand.

It had a dark blade, as if it was the night sky itself captured in steel. The handle seemed to be made of gold covered in black leather as well... the sword looked like a katana, but the blade was straight.

Verc recognized it. It was a type of samurai blade; a ninjato.

It didn’t rely on flashy gems or glowing runes to show its worth. It was built for efficiency, for lethal precision. It felt balanced in a way the other, heavier swords in the room did not.

SLASH!

Verc swung it around to get the feel of it, and it was lighter than what he wanted, to be honest.

The air hissed as the blade cut through it, the sound sharp and clean. It lacked the heavy, earth-shaking weight of a greatsword, but it made up for it in speed. It felt like it could move exactly where he wanted it to, without any hesitation.

He sheathed it back and placed it on his waist.

It felt right.

He then took Onyx into his arms, feeling the warmth of the little pup against his chest, and just like that—he was done with the treasury.

”Let’s get out of here now, buddy.”

... ... ...

... ... ...

... ... ...

By the way, he also took a red robe that had a self-repair and auto-clean enchantment.

It was folded neatly on a shelf near the exit, likely part of the loot from a mage. It wasn’t defensive gear, but the convenience of never having to worry about cleaning his clothes after a training session or a battle was too good to pass up.

*****

After that, Verc visited the workshop behind his castle.

The air here was hot and thick, filled with the smell of coal, sulfur, and the metallic tang of heated iron. The sound of a rhythmic hammering echoed off the stone walls, a steady beat that signaled progress.

TUNK! TINK! TAAANK--!

He specifically searched for Aodh in there.

The forge was in full operation, with flames dancing in the pit and sparks flying into the air with every strike of the hammer.

Aodh saw and greeted Verc immediately.

He dropped his heavy tongs and wiped his sweat-drenched forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes widening as he recognized his Lord.

”My Lord! I didn’t expect to see you in the workshop. Is there something you need?”

Aodh asked, his voice booming over the roar of the fire. He looked surprised, but he also straightened his posture immediately, showing his respect.

”I was just looking around.”

Verc said.

”Oh, and I have a request too.”

Then he added that.

He walked over to the anvil where Aodh had been working.

”What it is, Lord Verc?”

Aodh asked, and Verc didn’t beat around the bush.

FWOOSH~

He reached into his spatial pouch and carefully withdrew his old ceremonial sword. The blade looked exhausted. There was a visible crack near the middle, and the shine of the golden hilt was dull from the grime of constant use.

He showed it to Aodh, holding it out flat in his palms.

”I need you to repair this. I don’t need it to be a weapon anymore. Make it a normal ceremonial and decorative sword.”

Verc asked him if they could repair it to be a normal ceremonial and decorative sword.

”Huh?”

Aodh took one look at the sword.

He carefully took it from Verc’s hands, his large, calloused fingers tracing the length of the blade. He inspected the crack, the wear on the grip, and the nicks along the edge that had been smoothed over by constant maintenance.

He immediately realized just how much effort Verc poured into training, seeing the marks on it.

Aodh knew the quality of this steel. He knew that for this kind of metal to be worn down like this, the owner must have swung it hundreds of thousands of times—perhaps even millions. He had seen many warriors who claimed to train hard, but they usually left their weapons to rust or broke them because they didn’t know how to maintain them.

This sword, however, had been used until its absolute limit. It wasn’t broken by carelessness; it was broken by pure, relentless dedication.

’Lord Verc is really something else...’

Aodh looked at Verc in a new light of respect, much more than before.

He had always respected Verc as his Lord, the one who gave him purpose and a home, but this was different. This was the respect of a craftsman for a master of his own trade. He understood the discipline required to push a weapon to this point without snapping it in half in the first week.

He looked at his Lord, then with a confident smile on his face—

”I understand, My Lord. I will restore it to its former glory. It will be a piece worthy of the wall in your study. You have my word.”

Aodh said that he will handle it himself.

The blacksmith carefully laid the sword down on a clean workbench, his eyes already calculating the amount of heat and the specific alloy needed to fuse the crack so that it would be invisible to the naked eye. He treated the broken blade with the reverence one would accord to a holy relic.

Verc smiled hearing that.

He knew he could trust Aodh with his first sword. He had seen the quality of the tools and weapons the gnolls and orcs produced under Aodh’s guidance, and he knew it would be in the best possible hands.

”Thank you, Aodh. I appreciate it.”

Verc said, then he turned and began to make his way back toward the upper floors of the castle.