The "Magicless" Blood Bag Is The Supreme Mage

For four years, I lived as the adopted orphan of the noble Hayes family, treated as nothing more than a living blood bag for my sister, Yvonne.

They claimed Yvonne was dying and needed my core essence to survive. In reality, she was entirely healthy, suffering only the backfire of an illegal ritual used to steal my pureblood vitality.

While Yvonne played the fragile, weeping victim on her silk bed, my adoptive mother drove silver needles deep into my veins.

Everyone in the house praised Yvonne's angelic nature and sneered at me as an ungrateful, magicless stray.

When I finally refused to be their livestock, they launched a massive smear campaign in the national newspaper.

"She is a jealous monster who deliberately abandoned her dying sister," the headlines screamed.

They assumed a penniless, anemic girl with no backing would quickly crawl back to their door, begging for table scraps and offering up her veins again.

They had no idea who was actually walking in this starved body now.

The memories of Nyx, the elite Chief Enforcer of the Magic Council, had just awakened within my fragile shell.

I calmly ripped the extraction needle from my flesh and went straight to the Registry to burn our magical adoption contract to ashes.

They wanted to destroy my reputation and drain me dry?

I would build my own empire and collect every single ounce of stolen blood back from them. With interest.