TVD: The Seventh Original

I wanted to name this chapter journey to the west but is sounded a bit corny...

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Early Spring, 1070, Japan

After a night with Yue, Isaac left the temple with Meixing at around three in the morning. He didn't want to say goodbye again. They were heading toward Mount Fuji, home to the dragons, where Kazan, his mate Kona, and their daughter, Nikko, resided.

Isaac had stumbled upon Kazan twenty years earlier while scouting for a new cave to keep his growing number of supernatural captives. He'd inadvertently awakened the angry dragon from his slumber, and Kazan's initial reaction was to try to roast Isaac alive. But in a flash, Isaac vanished like a ghost, catching the dragon off guard.

He struck at Kazan's left eye with his katana, leaving a thin cut stretching from brow to cheek as the blade met the dragon's iron-like eyelash, thick enough to shield his glowing orange eye from blindness. Furious, Kazan prepared to lunge, but froze mid-pounce when he heard the human's clearly excited voice.

"A dragon! To think I'd actually meet one… That's so cool!"

It was a strange turn of events, and even now, neither of them was exactly sure how it happened, but the two ended up talking, drinking, and eventually forging a powerful friendship. Their commonalities as strong, solitary beings may have had something to do with it.

After exchanging greetings, Meixing cast a protection spell around Kazan's cave, preparing for the inevitable arrival of Malivour, whose hunger would no doubt be insatiable. She had previously set similar spells around several of his pack's gathering spots, which would, in turn, protect the kitsunes and other allied species. They might have to hide for a while, but the barrier would be more than enough to ward off the endlessly hungry golem.

With that task complete, Isaac shared one last drink with his good friend, making a promise to meet again in two hundred years. By then, the dragon should awaken once more from his century long slumber, and he guessed that he would still be occupied in the west before that. After the farewells, he and Meixing set off westward, but this time at a leisurely pace, chatting along the way.

He had first met Meixing during a hunting trip in western Japan. Newly arrived by ship from China, she had encountered a lustful local lord who invited her to his castle and drugged her.

Isaac, searching for prey in the area, happened to come across one of the lord's concubines whom he had seen trading Chinese children as slaves and abusing them. He was just about to take her down when he overheard the lord's condescending voice from a nearby room.

"Daring to defy me, slut? I'll show you what you're truly worth."

The lord didn't get far. Isaac, hearing the cliché line and detecting the drugged food with his keen senses, materialized behind him, katana flashing in the candlelight, and with a swift slash, left the lord's head on the ground, still frozen in its perverse grin.

When Meixing woke the next day, she vowed to repay Isaac by following him until her debt was met—though, to her, that could only mean saving his life. Despite his protests, she remained steadfast, and he soon accepted her company upon realizing she was a witch. In his search for a witch in Japan, he had come up empty; neither locals nor supernatural beings had ever seen one.

Isaac considered himself mostly honorable and kind, though he wasn't foolish. If a witch offered to work with him, for free no less, he wouldn't refuse.

For eight years, Meixing had stayed by his side, invaluable with her knowledge of herbs, metallurgy, and magic. She taught him whatever he wanted to know. From how runes could strengthen weapons and how fate could be read in the elements and the sky, to the intricacies of spells and rituals that only witches could perform. For Isaac, who had loved fiction in his past life, the magical world was even more fascinating than he'd imagined.

Typically reserved around others, Meixing would talk for hours about magic when it was just the two of them. Isaac sensed she'd experienced something traumatic long before the night he saved her. He had asked once, but he respected her refusal to discuss it, understanding she would confide in him if she ever wished to.

On this journey, they spoke of an idea Isaac had: a magical tattoo. Meixing pondered aloud in Chinese as they walked. Though she spoke Japanese, she used her native tongue for discussions of magic.

By now, Isaac was fluent in her dialect, a mid-western variant. Along with English, Old English, Japanese, his tribe's Native American, Norse, and Spanish, he now spoke seven languages and once he reached Europe, he planned to learn a few more.

Occasionally, Meixing raised issues only to find solutions after a moment or two of pondering. After almost an hour, she finally nodded, a determined look on her face.

"I can do it. But it will require special needles that Japan doesn't have."

"Then it's good we're leaving soon." Isaac gave her a smile; if his plan worked, he would be rid of at least one potential problem. "Are you ready to return home?"

The witch's expression became complicated, but after a few seconds, she nodded with resolve.

Nodding back, Isaac gave one last look eastward as the sun rose over the mountain. In a single breath, he transformed into a 1.75-meter-tall beast, his shiny fur glittering in the morning light. The transformation took only about four seconds, and by now, the pain was negligible. He even seemed to have grown slightly since fifty years ago.

His vampiric nature's attribute of growing stronger with time was evident, as he was about twenty percent stronger than before, though he didn't know if this pace of growth would continue forever.

Indicating with a tilt of his head for Meixing to hop on, the two headed westward at an extreme speed. His current top speed in wolf form was nearly 500 km/h, which would have taken him only two or three hours to reach Japan's edge if he could maintain it, that is. Unfortunately, he could only sustain such speed for a few minutes at a time before needing blood or a brief rest.

Instead, he settled on running at around 250 km/h, a pace he could maintain for three times as long with the same amount of rest, making it far more practical for long-distance travel. After several hours, they arrived at Japan's western shore. Now back in his human form, Isaac took the clothes Meixing carried for him, dressing as he let out a tired sigh.

He had never run such a long distance before—around 1,100 km—and it was truly exhausting. He had done so without any blood in between, as he was particular about his drinking habits. Except for only drinking the blood of women, he also only drank fresh from the source. He had tried storing blood in a jar or pouring it into a glass, but somehow, it never tasted quite as good.

Isaac had developed a strange sense of pride about it, as if drinking anything in less than perfect condition was beneath him. Not that he wouldn't if he had to; he just never had to. So to feed, he would either need to find a fresh target or drink from someone consistently.

Years ago, he'd discovered that his bite could sire new werewolves, so he had conducted various experiments on his captives to learn to control the venom. He also found that his venom had an extremely toxic effect on other supernatural creatures and that supernatural blood often tasted better, with some exceptions.

He figured that this was particular to him, as the vampires in the show didn't seem to notice any difference. Though it might just be some inconsistencies between tv show and his new reality. He couldn't really be sure.

Sitting beside him, Meixing observed him quietly before extending her wrist.

"Just a little," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Looking at her hand, he could hear her pulse, and with a grateful smile, he gently sank his teeth into her wrist, savoring the taste of her blood. Isaac closed his eyes, appreciating the flavor. It was his first time tasting a witch's blood, and it was absolutely delicious.

"Thank you." He spoke softly after he finished, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't know," she replied briefly, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

Shrugging, Isaac stood up and began to scan the trees. "Let's get to work. We have a ship to build."

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Late Spring, 1070, Coast of Shanghai

On the shore of a trading town on China's east coast, a Viking-style ship docked, startling the nearby fishermen returning from their morning haul. The ship's design, unusual and foreign, drew attention, and soon a crowd gathered by the port. The boat's open design allowed an easy view of its passengers—a man and woman standing at the bow.

The man, dressed in a sleek black yukata with dark green leaves, stood out immediately with his striking olive-toned skin. Beside him was a woman dressed in a red and gold robe, whose attire alone marked her as a noble. Her presence caused an even bigger stir, as the locals recognized the familiar style, suited only to those of high birth.

As Isaac stepped off the boat, he offered a hand to Meixing, who took it with a slight smile. They began walking through the town, gathering curious glances from every side.

"So, how does it feel to be back after eight years?" Isaac asked, growing bored of the orderly yet familiar wooden houses lining the streets.

"My home is in the west," Meixing corrected with a frown, covering her nose. "The city doesn't have this smell."

Isaac had to admit the odor here was overpowering, a stench of rotting fish and damp wood clinging to the air. Though it did bring back some memories from his time in the fishing village, he hadn't been to one in many years, not since the death of the old healer.

"Don't worry, we'll be gone by tomorrow," he said, smiling to reassure her. "I just need some fresh blood for the journey. I haven't had a full meal in almost a month. You may be tasty, but since you refuse to drink from me, I have to hold back."

"If I remember your bragging correctly, you said you don't need blood all too often… something about an experiment where you didn't feed for a year and were only slightly weakened…" She threw him a teasing glance.

"Fifty percent weaker is not slight…" Isaac muttered.

"You'd still be able to take on three turned werewolves with your eyes closed—or so you claimed."

"That's not the point… Fine, I don't need to feed, but I want to. Happy? I'm still doing it."

"Thrilled." Meixing giggled and walked a few steps ahead, leaving Isaac behind, glancing up at the sky as he pondered his life choices.

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Its been quite a while since I last posted, a few things happened that made me stop... Not gonna talk about it anymore.

Anyway, I have more than twelve more chapters ready and I'll be posting once every two or three days for the near period.