The Blood Feast of the Primal Family

The brownish wand rose and fell with elegant motion, finally pointing at the bat dangling upside down beside the fireplace.

"Crucio." Voldemort intoned silently in his mind.

The magic activated, and the bat immediately screeched as it fell, writhing in agony on the purple-and-black floor.

Great Shuraik twitched at the corner of his eye; Little Shuraik and Blood Ni looked even more terrified.

Only Danylis gazed at Voldemort with adoration.

"Mother's Blood Feast might be ready, perhaps we should go to the hall..."

"No."

Voldemort refused in a low voice, while the "dead" alder wand in his hand still trembled—he was using the time before the Darkest Hour fully receded to revel in Dark Magic.

The room fell into silence again, broken only by the bat's agonized struggles echoing through the space.

"Shuraik, we were friends before I was called the Dark Lord."

Voldemort spoke suddenly, drawing the gazes of several vampires toward him.

"I don't have many friends, but I don't mind."

"In these times, friends do the same things as enemies."

The lingering darkness in Voldemort's eyes flickered with a terrifying light.

And accompanying his low words was the bat's shrill cries.

"What you did today deeply hurt me..."

"Dark Lord, please let me expl—"

"Stop."

Voldemort's low, stern rebuke cut off Great Shuraik's explanation. "I'm just stating a fact. I'm only telling you that you were once my friend. As for the future, we'll see."

With that, before the Darkest Hour faded, Voldemort waved his wand again.

"Avada Kedavra~~"

A green light shot forth; the bat stopped struggling. Voldemort slowly closed his eyes, savoring the power of Dark Magic.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked at Blood Ni—a gaze that startled everyone.

"Obliviate."

Hearing this spell, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Castle Main Hall, the wide chamber was split in two by a long table.

Several important figures of the Primitive Faction were present; Voldemort, with his hood removed, was seated in the seat of honor.

"This is the Appetizer Blood I specially prepared for you, with an exceptionally sweet flavor."

The Countess waved her hand, and a blood slave beside her carried a tray to Voldemort.

On the tray, an antique copper goblet held pale silver blood.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Countess."

Greed filled Voldemort's gaze as he gently lifted the goblet and drank it down in one gulp.

The silvery-white liquid slid into his mouth like mercury, carrying no bloody taste but instead a rich fragrance.

A sound of swallowing echoed from the long table, for this cup of blood was only for Voldemort; no one else had it.

"Is all Unicorn Blood this delicious?"

After closing his eyes for a long time, feeling his soul energy replenished, Voldemort opened his eyes and asked.

"No, only the blood of a three-year-old unicorn is this sweet."

A hint of regret crossed the Countess's face. "It's just a pity that blood from a unicorn of this age isn't suitable for collecting too much, or else when she matures, the blood's flavor becomes unusually rough."

Voldemort smiled and nodded, but inwardly he didn't care.

He wasn't a blood clan, after all; he had no such refined tastes for drinking blood.

"Next is the Cleansing Blood, sourced from Mermaid Neil."

The Countess waved again, and this time everyone received a cup.

But Voldemort's brow furrowed; the mermaids in his memory were hardly pleasant to look at.

As if reading his thoughts, the Countess quickly explained: "Neil comes from warm waters; his appearance isn't ugly. You know, I refuse the blood of any ugly creature."

"Looks are justice. On that point, I'm fortunate to share the Countess's view."

Voldemort said, raising his goblet to toast the others before drinking it down.

The warm blood, not as fragrant as the previous cup, was still quite mellow.

Voldemort savored it for a moment; it offered almost no help to his soul.

"The third course is Thick Blood, from a Harpy. The taste is a bit strong. If you don't like it, you can skip straight to the next cup." As the blood slaves served the blood, the Countess spoke softly.

"A guest follows the host's wishes. I can try."

Voldemort smiled and raised his glass, downing it in one gulp.

It was harsh, and the bloody taste was very strong, which made him frown, and he decided never to drink such Thick Blood again.

"Next is the secondary blood. Given your condition, I have specially prepared the blood of an adult unicorn, from a thirteen-year-old Sinai."

As the Countess introduced it, the Blood Slave brought over the silver blood.

Thoughtfully, Voldemort's cup was much larger than the others', because he truly needed the unicorn blood more.

"You are truly considerate. I thank the Lady and the Count for their hospitality."

Greed once again flickered in Voldemort's eyes as he unhesitatingly downed it in one gulp, then even let out a comfortable, prolonged groan—compared to the blood of a young unicorn, the blood of an adult unicorn was more beneficial to his soul.

"Finally, the main blood. It still belongs to a unicorn, and it is an aged blood from our collection."

The Countess rose, personally taking a cup of dark silver blood and walking toward him.

Voldemort stood politely to greet her, waiting for her introduction.

"This blood belongs to a deceased Unicorn King. Unlike ordinary unicorn blood, even after leaving the beast king's body, this blood still possesses powerful life force. Coupled with preservation through the Bloodline Secret Method, its potency is no weaker than when it was first drawn."

The Countess spoke, raising the cup and offering it before Voldemort.

"I can hardly wait to taste it."

Voldemort smiled as he took it, his gaze falling on the dark silver blood in the cup. The surging life force rushed toward his face, but he did not drink immediately.

"I am curious—what exactly is the curse of unicorn blood?" Fiddling with the cup in his hand, Voldemort asked softly.

"It makes the soul incomplete, or rather, it darkens the soul."

The pale-faced Count spoke, explaining to Voldemort, "The moment its blood touches your lips, you stand on the opposite side of the sacred. That's all. Hehehe..."

With his strange laugh, the other vampires joined in with their own cackling.

They had reason to laugh, for none of them were sacred—including Voldemort.

"Then..." Voldemort slowly raised his cup with a smile, "To the sacred?"

"To the sacred."

The group of vampires chimed in with jeers, though the cups in their hands held not the aged blood, but ordinary unicorn blood.

"Gulp, gulp..."

A large cup of aged blood was swallowed down by Voldemort, followed by a rich life force rising from his stomach, warmth instantly spreading through his entire body.

The blood of the Unicorn King was indeed extraordinary.

"But... this curse is also very powerful." Voldemort murmured, his brow slightly furrowing.

At this moment, the unicorn's curse, almost equal to the overflowing life force, filled his entire body.

Anyone with a bit of insight could tell from this overflowing curse power that he had drunk unicorn blood.

"In a few days, the curse power will weaken. Don't worry," the Count said.

"But in a few days, I have to go see Dumbledore."

Voldemort's words made all the vampires' jaws drop.

The vampires: Dark Lord... this joke is not funny at all.