SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God Chapter 741 You will never be the King!

A smirk played on Damon's lips as he idly spun a droplet of blood on his palm. All eyes were fixed on him, their gazes wide with disbelief, jaws slack.

It was only natural.

For the small pool of blood he toyed with was no less than the ancestor's own blood.

The very drop that had been vigilantly protected for countless generations. The sacred heirloom that every noble within the clan yearned to possess. The wellspring of power capable of altering the world's destiny.

This crimson bead, suspended just above his hand, rotated with a slow, deliberate motion. With every turn, subtle tremors of immense pressure emanated throughout the chamber. The ancient etchings adorning the throne room walls pulsed in response, their luminescence intensifying as if acknowledging the blood's inherent authority.

A number of the nobles recoiled involuntarily.

"That... that cannot be!"

"How is this possible?!"

"The ancestor's blood is meant to awaken only for the true heir! He was already deemed unworthy! He should not be able to even approach such a treasure!"

Samarishit's face had become ashen.

His gaze remained fixated on the floating droplet, burning with a mixture of shock and righteous anger.

"That belongs to the throne," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Damon arched a single eyebrow. "Does it now?" The droplet completed another spin. A low rumble vibrated from the throne behind him, as if responding to Damon's touch.

Damon settled back, a picture of nonchalance. "You truly don't grasp the fundamentals, do you?" he stated with perfect calm. "The throne does not command the blood."

With a delicate flick of his finger, the crimson drop ascended, positioning itself directly before his face. "The blood commands the throne."

A surge of ancient power washed over the chamber. Several of the weaker nobles immediately buckled, falling to their knees. Even the C-rank elders found themselves struggling to maintain their balance.

Samarishit's aura erupted, a violent display as he fought against the overwhelming pressure radiating from the droplet. "That power... it was meant to be mine," he uttered numbly.

Damon let out a soft chuckle. "You mean the power you intended to seize after my 'unfortunate' demise?" His gaze swept across the assembled nobles. "I must admit," he continued, his tone light, "your scheme was rather elaborate. Eliminating the heir, claiming the throne, and then presenting yourself as the clan's savior."

The nobles stiffened visibly. Damon's smile broadened infinitesimally. "Unfortunately for your aspirations... I succeeded in awakening the blood."

"Silence! That changes nothing! You slaughtered many of our kin! You shall atone for your transgressions! The blood will never accept a base wretch like you! You have lost your way! You shall never be King!" Samarishit retorted furiously.

Immediately after his outburst, another voice chimed in. "Indeed! Long live King Samarishit! While you may have earned the blood's acknowledgment, it does not equate to the capacity to wield its might! Lord Samarishit, you must test him! Force him to reveal the full extent of the ancestor's blood's power! Do not allow this foul sinner to escape justice! Prove your worth!"

Samarishit turned his head towards the noble who had spoken. A peculiar expression crossed his face, as the speaker was Lord Benalitish, a figure usually known for his extreme reticence. This was likely the most he had uttered in the past decade. Nevertheless... his point held significant weight.

A few others shared this sentiment, and one by one, other nobles voiced their agreement.

"Can you invoke the clan's blessing? Every single member of the clan should receive one!"

"Yes!" another noble immediately shouted. "The ancestor's blood provides protection for the entire clan. If you are truly its chosen heir, then demonstrate it!"

"Activate the domain blessing!"

"Reinforce the castle's protective barrier!"

The clamor of voices escalated. If Damon proved incapable of wielding the true authority of the ancestor's blood, then all that had transpired thus far was merely an elaborate deception.

Samarishit's expression slowly regained its composure. The initial shock receded, replaced by a cold, calculating demeanor. Yes. This was the perfect turn of events.

Even if Damon had somehow managed to make contact with the ancestor's blood, it did not guarantee his ability to command it. The power vested in the throne was not something a degenerate like him could master. Only a true monarch could command the clan's ultimate treasure, their ancestor's blood. If Damon faltered now, the entire court would descend upon him.

Samarishit squared his shoulders and advanced. "Indeed," he stated with measured calmness. "Prove it." His gaze was locked firmly on Damon.

"The ancestor's blood embodies his will. It bestows blessings upon the entire bloodline of this clan. If you are truly its designated heir… unleash the blessing."

All eyes shifted to Damon, expectantly awaiting his inevitable failure and humiliation.

Meanwhile, Damon remained seated on the throne, idly twirling the crimson droplet suspended above his palm. He let their clamorous shouts wash over him, choosing not to interrupt, as if he were merely observing a gaggle of unruly children squabbling over a trifle.

This was precisely the outcome he had orchestrated. While an appearance of utter calm and detachment was maintained, internally, Damon exerted considerable effort to unravel the mysteries locked within the singular drop of blood.

The initial phase of his grand scheme had unfolded flawlessly. Damon had embarked on a ruthless killing spree, absorbing the blood of clan members indiscriminately, harboring the fervent hope of acquiring the bloodline of a significant figure.

Which King, after all, would refrain from indulging his desires? While isolated exceptions might exist, vampires were, by their very nature, a race prone to excess. It stood to reason that numerous illegitimate sons of the ruling King were likely scattered throughout the clan.

Damon had placed his gamble on these very probabilities, and fortune, in this instance, smiled upon him. He finally managed to sense the drop of blood and establish a connection with it. Yet, in the very next moment, the infernal thing seemed to douse his burgeoning excitement with a deluge of cold reality. His elation waned considerably upon discovering he could extract absolutely nothing from the blood. It remained, stubbornly, just a drop of blood, nothing more.

He required further instruction, additional insights to fully unlock its potential. To this end, he devised another stratagem, not overly intricate, but demonstrably effective nonetheless.

Judging from the enraged pronouncements and indignant demands echoing from the assembled vampires, activating the 'blessing' aspect of the blood ought to be the most straightforward endeavor, likely the very feat most heirs managed to accomplish. "I suppose I shall attempt the same." Damon drew a deep, steadying breath and concentrated his will.

The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity, yet Damon reaped nothing from his strenuous efforts. The drop of ancestral blood continued its languid float above his outstretched palm, rotating with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if imbued with an independent consciousness. One second.

Two.

Five.

Utterly nothing transpired.

The gathered nobles began exchanging disquieted glances.

Initially, apprehension tempered their observation, a hesitant uncertainty as to whether the power simply required additional time to manifest. However, as the moments bled into an increasingly prolonged duration, insidious doubt began to resurface in their eyes. Then, a solitary chuckle broke the taut silence.

"He is incapable of succeeding."

Another noble emitted a derisive snort. "Naturally, he cannot. He is that utterly useless wastrel. He employed some forbidden technique to somehow awaken the blood, yet now, he possesses nothing further."

"I had suspected as much."

"A mere thief masquerading as royalty."

Samarishit slowly assumed an upright posture, the oppressive tension that had previously burdened his shoulders dissipating, replaced by the return of a smug, confident smile. "So, this is the extent of your capabilities?" he inquired with measured calm. His voice, effortlessly carrying across the grand chamber, resonated with undisguised disdain. "You can abscond with the relic, but you are powerless to command it."

A smattering of nobles erupted into open laughter.

"Pathetic."

"You had the audacity to mock the court with such a transparently flimsy ploy?"

"Did you genuinely believe you could deceive the will of our ancestors?"

Samarishit advanced another step, his formidable aura swelling once more. "Do you comprehend now?" he articulated with frigid clarity. "The throne has unequivocally renounced you." His gaze, sharp and penetrating, shifted towards the hovering droplet of blood. "The blood of our ancestors will never embrace an individual such as yourself."

A chorus of nobles voiced their eager assent.

"Indeed! Strike him down!"

"Reclaim the blood!"

"Execute the traitor!"

Damon slowly raised his head. A faint sigh escaped his lips. "You individuals are truly quite impatient."

Before any of the assembled figures could muster a reaction, he effortlessly closed his fingers around the suspended drop. The entirety of the throne room vibrated with unseen force. A subtle undulation of power spread outwards, originating from his position and continuing its outward expansion to encompass the entirety of the settlement.

Every vampire present experienced its presence. It was ethereal, almost gentle in its nature, yet their very blood seemed to quicken within their veins. A fleeting, diaphanous crimson aura enveloped each of them for a brief instance before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The nobles blinked, bewildered by the sudden sensory input. One of the vigilant captains lowered his gaze to his own hands, a palpable sensation registering. He felt it distinctly – an enhanced strength, a heightened speed. An astounding clarity of mind, absent for years, suddenly permeated his thoughts!

"The blessing! He has successfully activated the ancestral blessing!"