Years passed, and Abigail wove herself seamlessly into the fabric of Velira's family, her heart finding solace in the warmth of their bond. Under Velira's strict guidance, she refrained from using her abilities, the mana core's seductive power locked away to preserve her fragile health. Life in their sanctuary was a balm, a stark contrast to the decades of torture and experimentation that had scarred her youth. The days were filled with simple joys—Liam's laughter, Velira's gentle wisdom, the quiet rhythm of a life unmarred by fear. For the first time, Abigail dared to believe in a future untainted by pain, a fragile dream of peace she clung to with quiet desperation.

But happiness, it seemed, was a fleeting guest. Misfortune struck with cruel inevitability, shattering the idyllic harmony like glass under a hammer's blow. Velira, once a towering figure of vampiric might, lay frail and diminished on her bed, her once-luminous skin dulled to a sickly pallor, her breaths labored and ragged, each one a battle against an unseen foe.

"I thought I'd have more time," Velira whispered, a pained smile tugging at her lips as she lay propped against pillows, the room heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and the faint tang of impending loss. "I underestimated the damage from the spatial disruption I endured." Her voice was weak, yet her eyes still burned with a fierce, unyielding spirit, a testament to the strength that had defined her.

Liam, now twelve, clutched his mother's hand, his crimson eyes brimming with tears that spilled freely down his cheeks. Seven years had passed since Velira had saved Abigail, and the boy had grown into a bright, spirited youth, yet the weight of his mother's fate crushed his young heart, his sobs a quiet storm in the stillness.

"You know, I was terrified of leaving my son alone in this unforgiving world," Velira continued, her smile unwavering despite the pain etching lines into her face. "I didn't know who to trust, who could stand by him when I'm gone. But now, I'm at peace, knowing he's under your care, Abigail—someone who will keep him safe." Her words, soft yet resolute, pierced Abigail's heart, drawing tears that burned hot against her skin, each one a silent vow to honor Velira's trust.

"There has to be a way to save you," Abigail insisted, her voice cracking with desperation as she grasped for hope. "Just give me time—I'll find a solution, I swear it." Her plea was fervent, a refusal to accept the inevitable, her mind racing with memories of Velira's strength and kindness.

"It's no use," Velira replied, shaking her head gently, her smile tinged with sorrowful acceptance. "No one in this world could fully comprehend my condition, let alone heal it. It's too far gone." She reached out, her trembling hand brushing Abigail's, a final gesture of reassurance. "Take care of my son. And please, don't throw your life away by relying on that cursed ability." Her warning was a final plea, her eyes locking onto Abigail's with an intensity that burned through her grief.

Abigail nodded solemnly, her throat tight with unspoken promises as she and Liam watched Velira draw her final breath, her body stilling as the light faded from her crimson eyes. The room seemed to dim, the air heavy with the weight of loss, as if the universe itself mourned the passing of a titan.

"Ha. Finally. She's dead," a young woman's voice sneered from behind, its sharp, mocking tone slicing through the somber silence like a blade. Abigail's head snapped around, her heart seizing as she recognized the speaker—a diminutive figure with a tightly bound ponytail, her shark-like teeth glinting in a cruel smile, two short horns protruding from her head. Beside her stood a masked man, his own horns mirroring hers, the faint shimmer of a collapsing portal fading behind them, its edges crackling with residual energy.

"You," Abigail hissed, her voice trembling with a surge of rage as she pulled Liam closer, shielding him with her body. Her eyes blazed with fury, boring into the ponytailed woman—Lyrith, the architect of her torment. These were the demons who had overseen the experiments that had shattered her childhood, condemning her to years of agony in that sterile hell. Their presence here, in this sacred space, was a desecration.

"Hah! The great and mighty Velira, reduced to a corpse," Lyrith taunted, her smile widening as she gazed at Velira's still form with perverse satisfaction. "To witness this moment, I feel truly honored." Her voice dripped with mockery, each word a deliberate twist of the knife in Abigail's heart.

"I asked you a question!" Abigail snapped, her anger boiling over, a molten tide that threatened to consume her restraint. "What are you doing here?" Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms as she fought to keep her composure, Velira's final words echoing in her mind like a sacred mantra.

"What else?" Lyrith replied, her tone light but laced with menace. "We're here for you, dear. Gotta say, tales don't do justice to legends. Even weakened, Velira handed us our asses when we came for you last time. But now she's gone, so I'd advise you to surrender quietly and avoid any… unpleasantness." Her words were a velvet glove over a steel fist, her eyes glinting with sadistic anticipation.

Abigail's hands tightened around Liam, her heart torn between Velira's final pleas—protect Liam, forsake her abilities—and the burning need to defy her tormentors. She knew she couldn't honor both vows; one had to break for the other to hold.

"I'd advise you to surrender as well," the masked man, Draken, spoke at last, his voice a low growl that reverberated with cold authority. He raised a hand, raw demonic energy coalescing at his fingertips in a swirling vortex of malevolent power. "As for you," he said, pointing at Liam, "you'll have to die. We can't allow any of Dracula's offspring to live." With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed the energy, a searing bolt aimed at the boy.

"You bastard!" Abigail screamed, her voice a raw eruption of fury as her eyes ignited with a vivid green glow, the hue of the dungeon core fused within her. The energy surged from her core, a torrent of raw power channeled toward Draken and Lyrith, colliding with the demonic bolt in a cataclysmic clash that shattered it into harmless sparks, the residual force hurtling toward her foes.

Lyrith reacted swiftly, conjuring a portal that swallowed Abigail's energy outburst whole, its edges pulsating with an eerie violet light. "Well, look at that," she said, her voice dripping with playful malice. "Is that defiance I see?" Her amusement was a taunt, baiting Abigail's rage further.

"If you love the boy so much, we could make him an experimental subject too," Lyrith sneered, her words a calculated barb designed to provoke. "You two could keep each other company in the lab—how touching."

Abigail bit back a retort, her focus shifting inward as an imprint materialized on her right arm, a glowing insignia shaped like a cascading waterfall. From it, a surge of revitalizing energy flooded her body, suppressing the usual debilitating weakness inflicted by the dungeon core's toll. The sensation was electric, a newfound clarity that steadied her trembling limbs and sharpened her senses.

Draken's masked gaze fixed on the insignia, a frown creasing his hidden features, displeasure radiating from him like a dark aura. "What in the world's universal will?" Lyrith exclaimed, her voice tinged with indignation. "I thought you despised Dracula's lineage!" Her frustration was palpable, as if the universe itself had betrayed her expectations.

Abigail closed her eyes, savoring the newfound control over her body and the core's volatile energy. The blessing of the insignia allowed her to siphon power without the crippling backlash that had plagued her, a lifeline that held her form together against the core's destructive strain. "Don't worry, Liam," she vowed, her voice steady with unshakable resolve. "I'll protect you, no matter what it takes." Her words were a solemn oath, binding her to the boy who had become her family.

Facing her adversaries, Abigail unleashed the full might of the dungeon core, drawing every ounce of its god-tier aura. Her skin began to peel under the immense pressure, the radiant green energy leaking from her in waves that warped the air, her eyes blazing like twin emeralds set aflame. Pain seared through her, a furnace of agony as the core's power threatened to tear her apart, but the insignia's blessing dulled the torment, anchoring her body against collapse.

Lyrith and Draken stared at her, their expressions shifting to grim seriousness as they felt the overwhelming force of her aura, a divine tempest that rivaled the might of deities. "This is going to be a long day of ass-kicking," Lyrith muttered, a wry smile curling her lips, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Draken remained expressionless, his mask a stoic facade, but beneath it simmered a seething rage, a demon wrestling with the creeping doubt of victory against an opponent who had transcended her mortal limits.

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