?“Um... What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked, standing in the center of a training hall that looked like a cross between a NASA laboratory and a high-end gym.

  ?“As we’ve already explained,” Claire sighed, tapping her tablet with a stylus. “Please try to use your power.”

  ?“You keep saying ‘power,’ but I don’t feel like I have any superpowers,” I mumbled, looking down at my hands. These were the same hands that had been gripping the cheap handlebars of a delivery bike just days ago. “I’m just a new guy, remember?”

  ?As I continued to grumble, my mind drifted back to the start of the day.

  ?Earlier That Morning

  ?Stretch.

  ?“Man, what a great sleep...”

  ?That was what I wanted to say. That was what a human would say. But as the first rays of dawn began to peek over the New York skyline, I realized I hadn't slept a single wink. I wasn't tired. I wasn't groggy. I was just... awake.

  ?“How do vampires even do this?” I muttered to the empty penthouse. “Do I need to buy a coffin? Does the sunlight actually melt me, or is it just that ‘itch’ Vaughn mentioned?”

  ?I was standing in the kitchen, half-heartedly reaching for the coffee maker out of sheer habit, when the doorbell echoed through the foyer.

  ?Don’t tell me he’s already here.

  ?I pulled the door open, expecting the cold, mechanical wall of a man who loved the word "Sit." Instead, I found Vaughn leaning against the doorframe. His charcoal suit was replaced by a slightly more casual—but still obscenely expensive—leather jacket.

  ?“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Vaughn said, a sharp smirk playing on his lips. “Ready for the ride?”

  ?I froze, the empty coffee mug dangling from my fingers. “...”

  ?It took me back to our first meeting, but it raised a massive red flag in my mind. Was this the same man? The guy who had punched me in the face and treated me like a bio-hazard?

  ?“Hey, Vaughn... are you really the same guy?” I asked, squinting at him. “You’re not some kind of secret duplicate or a shapeshifter, right?”

  ?“What makes you think that?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and walking past me into the suite.

  ?“It’s just... the whole ‘Sleeping Beauty’ thing. And the lack of you telling me to ‘Sit.’ It’s a bit of a tonal shift.”

  ?“Newborns are usually hysterical,” Vaughn said, glancing at the untouched bed. “Once they prove they aren't going to eat the neighbors, I tend to dial back the 'Enforcer' act. It’s exhausting to be that serious all the time. Now, are we going or what?”

  ?As we walked out, I cast one last glance back at the ultra-luxe suite. Goodbye to the Italian marble, the sandalwood scent, and the only comfortable bed I had ever been in. I’d never forget the short, surreal time I spent there—the "last night" of a man who no longer needed to sleep.

  ?Once we were in the car and driving toward HQ, I decided to break the silence with a question that had been gnawing at me.

  ?“What exactly is an ‘Enforcer,’ anyway?”

  ?Vaughn, who had old-school headphones plugged into his flip phone, pulled one bud out and looked at me.

  ?“An Enforcer is the one who upholds the laws for the lower vampires. Like me. We’re the police, the judge, and sometimes the executioner for those who can't control their hunger.”

  ?The Training Grounds

  ?“I’ve been waiting for you, Kang Eun-Woo. Shall we continue where we left off?”

  ?Claire welcomed us at the same station as before. Her tone had returned to its usual clinical sharpness. No more small talk. No more pity.

  ?I swallowed hard, the dryness in my throat betraying my nerves.

  ?“Today, we are going to assess your capabilities and find a position that fits your profile,” she stated, her eyes never leaving her tablet. “From now on, do not expect to leave this place until you are truly ready. You are no longer a guest, Eun-Woo. You are a trainee.”

  ?The sudden shift to dead seriousness made the air in the room feel heavier. “O-okay.”

  ?“Now. Do it,” she commanded.

  ?“Do... what?”

  ?“Use your powers.”

  ?I blinked, looking from her to Vaughn, who was leaning against a wall, watching me like a spectator at a boring circus act.

  ?“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice rising an octave. “I’ve been a vampire for three days. My only 'power' so far is not dying when I'm chopped into pieces. How am I supposed to just 'do it'?”

  ?“As we’ve already explained,” Claire sighed, tapping her tablet with an impatient stylus, looking ready to snap the device in half.

  ?“Okay, okay, calm down,” Vaughn interrupted, pushing off the wall and raising his hands in a rare gesture of peace. He stepped between me and Claire. “Let’s treat this like the university lecture you never finished. Sit—no, wait. Actually, stand. You need to be focused for this.”

  ?He leaned against a nearby training pillar and began to count off on his fingers, his voice dropping into a professional, instructional tone that contrasted with his earlier aloofness.

  ?“Blood Manipulation isn’t just one trick, kid. It’s a spectrum. Depending on your personality, your genetics, and your Sire, your blood will naturally want to follow one of four primary paths."

  ?He held up four fingers.

  ?"We call them the Four Pillars of the Ichor.”

  The Four Pillars

  ?Vaughn leaned casually against the pillar, ticking off the first finger.

  ?1. The Augmenters (Physical Type)

  ?“First up, the Augmenters. They’re your standard front-line tanks. They use blood circulation to overclock their own biology. By speeding up the flow and super-charging their muscles with Ichor, they achieve explosive strength, unbreakable skin, or speed that borders on teleportation. It’s pure, raw physical dominance.”

  ?He raised a second finger.

  ?2. The Forgers (Hardening Type)

  ?“Then you have the Forgers. These types alter the molecular density of their blood once it leaves the body—or even while it’s still inside. They harden it into steel-like blades, shields, or spikes. If you can imagine a weapon, a Forger can bleed it into existence.”

  ?3. The Weavers (Fluid Type)

  ?“Third, the Weavers. Unlike Forgers, they don’t harden anything. They have absolute control over the fluid state. Think telekinetic whips or pressurized mist. It’s less about brute force and more about precision—binding enemies, suffocating them, or striking from impossible angles.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  ?Vaughn paused for a second, his expression darkening slightly as he raised the fourth finger.

  ?4. The Sovereigns (Controller Type)

  ?“The rarest and most dangerous are the Sovereigns. They don't just move blood; they command the will within it. Usually by introducing their own blood into a target’s system, they can hijack a person's nervous system. They turn enemies into meat puppets.”

  ?Vaughn stopped counting and looked me dead in the eye, his sunglasses reflecting my overwhelmed expression.

  ?“Beyond these, there are 'Anomalies'—freaks with traits that don't fit the mold. But with your B+ Quality, we expect you to show talent in at least one of these pillars. So, stop complaining about the lack of a manual and start experimenting.”

  ?Claire looked up from her tablet, her gaze sharp. “We need to know which path your blood chooses, Kang Eun-Woo. If you can't manifest a Pillar, you're just a very fast, very expensive corpse.”

  ?I looked down at my hands.

  ?Augmenter. Forger. Weaver. Sovereign.

  ?It felt like I was staring at a character selection screen in an RPG. But this wasn't a game. If I wanted to be the ‘Hero’ I promised my mother I'd be... if I wanted to survive in this city of monsters, I had to manifest one. I had to be something more than just prey.

  ?“Fine,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I reached inward, searching for that strange, humming heat I had felt before. “How do I start?”

  ?“Trial and error,” Vaughn said, sounding entirely too bored for someone watching a man undergo a biological awakening. “Try each one. Let’s see which one sticks.”

  ?“That’s it? No secret technique? No ancient scroll?”

  ?“That is all. Now, shut up and focus.” Vaughn crossed his arms. “Start with the basics. Circulate your blood inward. Push it through your heart and force it out to your muscles. Redline it.”

  ?I shut my eyes tighter, forcing a nod. I visualized the Ichor rushing through my veins like fuel in a nitro-boosted engine. I tried to mentally shove the flow, commanding it to triple its speed, bracing myself for the explosive, bone-breaking strength of an Augmenter to take hold.

  ?“Are you doing it yet?” Vaughn asked after a minute of heavy silence.

  ?I nodded vigorously, my face burning red from the sheer, humiliating effort of concentration.

  ?“I can’t see any difference,” Vaughn grunted. He turned his head slightly. “Claire, what are the sensors saying?”

  ?Claire didn't even look up from her screen. “Nothing. His vitals are steady. Parameters are… normal enough.”

  ?“Good,” Vaughn said, and I could have sworn I heard a sigh of relief in his voice. “We aren't the same type. We already have enough close-combat muscle-heads in this sector. Next, try to harden it.”

  ?“Hardening? How?”

  ?“Cut your arm,” Vaughn commanded, as casually as if asking me to tie my shoe. “Let the blood spill, then try to freeze its molecular density. Force it to be solid.”

  ?I hesitated, the survival instinct of my former human self flaring up. Then, I gritted my teeth. I used my fingernail—which felt sharper, more predatory than I remembered—to slice a thin line across my forearm. A bead of dark, rich blood welled up, stinging sharply as it trailed down my skin.

  ?I stared at the crimson liquid, focusing every ounce of my B+ willpower on it. Harden. Become a blade. Become a needle. Just stop being a liquid!

  ?The blood began to move.

  ?It didn't drip to the floor. Instead, it defied gravity, swirling around my wrist in unique, graceful loops. It took on strange, intricate shapes—spirals and ribbons that woven themselves into the air—but it remained glistening and wet. It was beautiful. But it was soft.

  ?“Is this... it?” I asked, watching the blood dance around my hand like a living thread of silk.

  ?“I see,” Vaughn said, his voice returning to its usual gravelly rasp. “You're a Weaver. Claire, looks like you’ve got yourself a new friend.”

  ?Claire finally looked away from her tablet. Her silver-tinted eyes locked onto the swirling Ichor around my arm. A small, knowing smirk touched her lips.

  ?“I... I was trying to harden it!” I shouted, my concentration snapping. The blood lost its form and splashed onto the sterile floor. “I wanted to make a sword! Or a shield!”

  ?“Stop whining!” Vaughn barked, his voice cutting through my complaint like a blade. “Most Newborns bleed themselves dry for weeks trying to find a spark. You manifested a Pillar in five minutes. Show some gratitude.”

  ?“But I wanted the rush! The impact!” I complained, gesturing helplessly at the mess on the floor. I felt like I’d been promised a bazooka and handed a ball of knitting yarn. “I wanted something that felt... heroic!”

  ?“Don’t be a crybaby now, Eun-Woo,” Vaughn said, his voice echoing in the vast training hall as he turned toward the perimeter. “You’re a Weaver. It’s the most versatile class there is. Besides, being a hero isn't about the weapon; it's about the man holding it. Now, clean up your blood. We’re moving on to the next test.”

  ?I stood there, still processing the word. Weaver.

  ?I wasn't a tank. I wasn't a swordsman. I was someone who handled the fluid, the flow. A support class? Or something else?

  ?Claire stepped forward, standing directly in front of me. For some reason, a primal alarm bell rang in my head, warning me that I wasn't going to like what happened next. But looking at the slight, predatory curve of her lips, it was clear she was going to enjoy it immensely.

  ?“Now,” Claire said, her voice dropping into a cold, academic tone. “It is time for you to learn to properly heal yourself.”

  ?“Heal myself?” I scoffed, wiping a smudge of stray ichor from my chin. “Didn't I already do that when you guys butchered me like a sausage in the white room?”

  ?“Mr. Sausage, that was a passive response,” Claire corrected, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Your body was desperate to survive, so it knit itself back together blindly. Now, you will learn Active Regeneration. In the field, against the opponents you’ll face, you must choose which wounds to close first and which parts of your body to abandon to save the core.”

  ?“Opponents? Who am I supposed to be—”

  ?“Now, Claire,” Vaughn interrupted from the sidelines, his arms crossed.

  ?“Wait—what?!”

  ?With the signal, Claire made a lightning-fast motion, biting the tip of her index finger. A single droplet of blood bloomed, then elongated with terrifying speed. Before I could even blink, a vibrant, crimson whip made of pure, high-pressure blood lashed out.

  ?CRACK.

  ?The whip struck my chest, the impact echoing through my ribs like a gunshot. Even though I was a vampire, the pain was visceral, white-hot, and shockingly real. I didn't just feel the cut; I felt the kinetic energy trying to liquefy my internal organs.

  ?“Ihhgggg!” The air was forced out of my lungs in a strangled gasp.

  ?The assault didn't stop. Claire moved like a dancer, her blood-whip a blur of fluid geometry. She was a Weaver in her element. By the time the lashing ended, I was a shredded mess, collapsing to my knees as the pristine floor beneath me turned red.

  ?“Now,” Vaughn’s voice boomed over my heavy breathing. “Heal your wounds. Manually.”

  ?“Heal? How?!” I gasped, clutching my shredded shoulder. My fingers slipped on the wet gore.

  ?“Don’t just let it happen,” Vaughn commanded, stepping closer. “Focus on the damaged tissue. Command the Ichor to bridge the gaps. Focus on your skin, then the muscle. And keep your eyes on Claire—if you pay attention to her attacks, you might actually learn how a real Weaver moves.”

  ?I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes and diving into the internal map of my own body. I could feel it now—the blood vessels running like hot wires through my frame. I pushed the energy, forcing the lacerations on my chest to knit shut. It wasn't the slow, natural healing of a human; it was a conscious, painful stitching of my own meat.

  ?I slowly stood up. My skin was smooth again, pale and unbroken, though my overcoat was now little more than rags.

  ?“Good,” Claire said. Her finger was still bleeding, the whip coiling around her wrist like a living, crimson snake. “Again.”

  ?The next hour was a descent into a specific kind of hell. Claire didn't just beat me; she targeted me with surgical precision.

  ?“Only the left side!” Crack.

  ?“Now only the right!” Snap.

  ?“Stop healing your chest! Prioritize the arm!”

  ?“Just the fingers, Eun-Woo! Focus!”

  ?By the time they finally stopped, I was standing in the center of the hall, drenched in my own blood and gasping for air I didn't even technically need. My clothes were ruined, but my mind was sharper. I looked at my hands—they were steady. I could feel every vein, every capillary, every drop of the B+ quality blood that hummed within me like a charged battery.

  ?I looked up at them, my gaze no longer that of a confused student, but of someone who was beginning to understand the price of this new life.

  ?“Good. You really got yourself a premium starter pack here, didn’t you?” Vaughn chuckled, but the sound was distant, muffled as if I were underwater. “But it looks like we’ve officially hit your limit.”

  ?“What are you talking about? I’m—”

  ?Before I could finish the sentence, the world tilted.

  ?The light from the LED panels smeared into blinding streaks of white. My limbs—the ones that had felt so light and powerful just seconds ago—suddenly felt like pillars of solid lead. It was a crushing weight, pulling me down toward the center of the earth. I felt like a stone sinking deep into a dark, freezing ocean.

  ?“Let me introduce you to ‘The Fatigue’,” Vaughn’s voice rumbled, sounding miles away.

  ?That was the last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole and I hit the training room floor.

  AFTERMATH

  ?“It seems like he’s completely gone. He hit his limit way before we reached the end of the session.”

  ?Claire knelt beside Kang Eun-Woo’s unconscious body, her fingers pressing against the pulse point on his neck. Not that there was a heartbeat to find, but she was checking the flow of Ichor beneath his skin. Satisfied, she stood up, brushing invisible dust off her slacks, and turned to Vaughn.

  ?“What was that?” Vaughn asked, his voice flat.

  ?“What are you talking about?” Claire replied, leaning back against a pillar and pulling out her phone.

  ?“Don’t play dumb, Claire.”

  ?“...”

  ?“You didn’t explain a single thing to him. You threw him into the deep end with a B+ anchor tied to his feet,” Vaughn said, his eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “You also seemed to be enjoying yourself while whipping his ass. You were pushing him to see if he’d break, weren’t you?”

  ?Claire didn't look up from her phone, but a faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on the corner of her mouth. “It’s your imagination, Vaughn. I’m just a dedicated teacher.”

  ?“Right. Of course you are,” he retorted sarcastically. He looked back down at the unconscious boy. “Let's carry you somewhere else.”

  Which Vampire Class (Pillar) would you choose?