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According to Jason, it was important to call out errors the moment they happened, before they could become habits. Peter agreed. Repetition without correction was worse than no practice at all.
…
The streets of Rosefall slumbered peacefully. Above, the moons floated half-shrouded by clouds, imposing and watchful, their divine light casting long shadows through the rooftops and narrow alleys. The city, wrapped in silence, remained blissfully unaware of the predator that moved above it.
Lorenthar jumped from rooftop to rooftop like a shadow. His cloak billowed behind him, whispering against the wind as he moved, and not a single footstep disturbed the quiet of the night. His eyes, irises the colour of fresh blood, gleamed faintly beneath the hood drawn low over his face. They remained narrow, constantly watching and calculating. The garrison loomed ahead, the building standing out due to its height compared to the rest of the buildings.
He had no fondness for what he was about to do. It was potentially no different from committing suicide.
‘No. Fondness implies emotion. This is a duty under threat.’ The vampire’s lip curled, revealing a hint of fang. ‘Lady Nyara wouldn’t hesitate to offer to the abyss if the cult is exposed. I can’t let that happen. Suicide might be better than that.’
His breath didn’t mist in the cold. His heart didn’t beat. But still, the tension sat coiled in his chest like a venomous snake. The attack on his thrall’s camp had been surgical, fast and effective. The thrall was a means to an end, but he was also a carefully constructed buffer to keep the cult activities under wraps as a disguise of a vampire wanting human prey. Now that the thrall was dead, he left behind a trail of witnesses, both bandits and victims alike, who now huddled within the city’s garrison.
‘Loose ends, she said.’ The vampire grumbled. ‘Reason dictated that since they didn’t know anything about the cult, they must be left alone, but since when did worshippers of chaos follow reason? ‘
He dropped from the rooftop, landing quietly behind a small stable, and slipped into a tight alley where the shadows were thickest. The garrison’s rear gate was visible from his position. It was shuttered, unlit, and guarded by two men clad in chain mail and cloaks.
One of them shifted, taking a yawn into his gloved hand. The other stared ahead, eyes focused, eyelids twitching just slightly when a mosquito buzzed near his ear.
Lorenthar’s eyes lingered on the latter. ‘Ryslen’
Months ago, Ryslen had been compelled inside an alley, close to the red-light district. A drop of blood, a whispered suggestion under his racial skill, and his loyalty had shifted quite easily.
Lorenthar stepped forward, just enough for the man to glimpse movement from the corner of his eye. The guard turned toward his general direction and stiffened. Recognition settled into his face—not of Lorenthar himself, but of a shape the vampire had implanted into his memories long ago. It was of a trusted secret officer, of whom he couldn’t disobey.
Ryslen gave the barest of nods and turned to his companion. “I need to pee. You stay here.”
He walked toward the shadows, and Lorenthar blended in the darkness, reaching his side. They did not speak as it wasn’t needed with the compulsion still intact.
The vampire passed through the gate door moments later, walking freely inside the garrison with his guide. Ryslen’s companion lay unconscious on the ground behind them.
Inside, the stone corridors were lit sparsely, only a few torches flickering in wall mounts.
Tonight, the vampire was here to kill.
…
Their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the corridor, with Ryslen walking ahead with the rigid bearing of a soldier, Lorenthar trailing behind, soundless and blended into the darkness under the stealth skill. Despite the skill, he kept his cloak drawn close, hood over his face. In truth, they didn’t encounter too many patrols, and those that they did weren’t capable of detecting the vampire.
They continued moving, and soon the scent reached him, of unwashed bodies, blood, piss-stained straw. Lorenthar frowned in disgust but walked ahead at the same pace. A cluster of filthy bandits, still alive despite the slaughter of their camp, appeared in his vision.
Lorenthar raised a hand. Ryslen stopped immediately, waiting without question.
The vampire surged forward, peering through the iron bars of the nearest holding cell, toward the men inside. One was snoring on the floor, another sat upright with vacant eyes, and the last paced back and forth like a caged animal. Lorenthar studied them all in silence.
He gestured once with his hand, and Ryslen moved down the hall, unlocking a side door that led to the room. Within moments, the cell clicked open. None of the bandits even looked up when Lorenthar entered.
Lorenthar moved like a bird of prey through the air—silent, swift, and without hesitation. One by one, he passed by the bandits, his claws coated by blood, piercing their hearts. His strikes were efficient, precise, fueled not by rage, but by necessity, but it still happened in a blink. No sound escaped the room save the wet gurgle of blood and soft patter as it pooled on the stone floor.
Soon, the room was still.
Lorenthar stood in the centre of it, blood spattered across his sleeves, dripping slowly from the tips of his claws. His expression never changed. He turned to Ryslen, who stood at attention by the door, unmoved.
“Burn the bodies once I’m gone,” The vampire said. “Make it look like they’re trying to escape and end up causing the fire by mistake.”
Ryslen nodded, silent under the compulsion.
Lorenthar lingered for a moment longer, glancing at the smear of red where the pacing man had fallen. ‘One half of the mess is done.’
He stepped out of the chamber and back into the corridor, his thoughts sharpening.
The survivors were kept deeper in, closer to the main barracks, all confirmed by Ryslen. Lorenthar moved with greater care now, each of his footfalls deliberate as he kept to the edges where torchlight couldn’t reach. He increased the mana flow to his stealth skill. His cloak rubbed along the stone as he rounded a corner. The hallway here was wider, with two torches set along the wall. A heavy door stood at the far end, guarded by two alert guards.
Lorenthar frowned, realising the fact that they weren’t the ones he had compelled. He considered using compulsion in the moment, but he was cautious. The skill worked best on the weak-willed and takes a bit of time.
Instead, he moved into a side alcove and ordered Ryslen to create a commotion in the room they just left to attract the guards, giving him just enough time to pass through.
Seconds passed as he waited, but instead of the commotion that he expected, he sensed a light movement behind him.
Lorenthar turned just in time to see a faint gleam of metal. The sword came in fast, humming with sacred energy. He twisted away, causing the blade to glaze his ribs slightly. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it sure did hurt like hell.
He leapt back, his cloak swirling as he landed in a crouch, fangs bared.
A man walked out from the shadows, clad in full-body armour. The knight gave no greeting, his sword levelled at Lorenthar, expression stone cold. “Vampire. I don’t like uninvited guests breathing in my city.”
Lorenthar smirked, though he kept his body low. Behind him, the guards standing by the gates ran away, most likely afraid of dying in their clash, but they’ll surely inform others of his presence. He didn’t have much time.
“I haven’t breathed in centuries, but I admire your confidence.”
Aldemar advanced with steady steps. “State your business, blood sucking parasite. I don’t have the patience to play your games. What do you want from the survivors? You wouldn’t have come here if you were just looking to feed.”
Lorenthar’s expression flickered. For a brief moment, the crimson in his eyes darkened from resentment for the cult woman.
The knight’s blade flared with holy light when no reply came from the vampire. Aldemar lunged forward.
The clash was brutal. Both men were powerhouses in the second tier. One could count the number of people stronger than them in the city on fingers.
Lorenthar darted to the side, faster than the eyes could follow, but Aldemar’s blade was relentless in the chase. Their exchanges sent sparks flying from stone and steel. Lorenthar used his claws, fangs bared, blood curling around him, while Aldemar countered with faith-forged techniques and paladin-centred skills.
The vampire might not want to admit it due to his ego and pride, but he fell short in front of the man who stood in front of him. Every strike that touched Lorenthar burned, the kind of burn that left more than a scar. It drained his strength and lowered his healing ability.
He ducked under a swing and raked claws across Aldemar’s arm, tearing through chainmail. Blood welled up, but the knight didn’t even grunt, showing better healing capabilities than a pure-blooded vampire at this moment. He counterattacked with a swing, catching Lorenthar in the side, and the vampire stumbled back with a hiss.
His body was already knitting itself back together, but slower than usual and with a much higher cost. The holy energy had lingered, clinging to his wounds like tree sap.
The knight pressed forward relentlessly, strike after strike, walls breaking around them as he pushed Lorenthar deeper into the corridor.
‘No time. I can’t win this here.’ Lorenthar grunted, feinting a desperate slash. Then he dropped low, blood spilling from his mouth as he hissed a spell under his breath.
A swirl of blood burst outward, and in the same instant, Lorenthar’s body seemed to melt, turning into dozens of shrieking bats, their wings flapping wildly, scattering across the corridor, all looking for a different escape.
Aldemar shielded his eyes and slashed through the swarm, cutting down a few, who turned into blood vapour. The rest went free, flying everywhere. By the time the knight killed a few more, the corridor was empty.
Outside, one small bat—wounded and trailing blood—slipped through a broken window, vanished into the night.
Aldemar stood in place, sword clenched, jaw tight, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t speak, but a slight disappointment was clear in his eyes. The vampire had escaped, not unscathed, but escaped nonetheless. He could only hope that the wounds inflicted by him would keep the blood parasite away from the city for some time.
…
The bat reshaped with a silent gasp. Flesh pulled and bones lengthened, all covered in a growing pool of blood. In moments, Lorenthar stood upright again, his body naked and barefoot, bathed in blood and trembling. He ended up leaning forward, one hand bracing against the damp wall, uncaring of its dirtiness. The encounter with the holy knight commander was too close to his liking.
The burn on his side hadn’t faded, and using this method of escape had left him even weaker. It was a versatile skill for escaping from a trouble situation, but it consumed a lot of his health points. Aldemar’s sword had left a deeper mark than he expected, not just on his body, but on his pride. He felt utterly ashamed. To think a pureblood like him was cornered like that.
He spat to the side, painted the wall in a red splash, more in disgust rather than a need to empty his mouth of blood. Some distance away, the slimes and rats moved away, as if sensing his anger.
He started to move, feet smeared with filth as he advanced, causing his face to morph in disgust. He moved on instinct, following a path he’d used before, which led to a sealed-off crypt near the east quarter. There, a chamber remained untouched and warded. It wasn’t much, but it was safe enough that he could heal in peace.
A chitter echoed from up ahead, causing Lorenthar to freeze in place. The sound came again. This time, he heard it clearly—bone scraping stone. Then he saw it: a skeleton shuffling from around a corner, naked bone, held together by the glow of magic in the eye sockets of its skull. A rusted sword rested in its hand.
…End of Chapter…
Vol. 2 Ch. 32: Blood and bones.
Recurring characters:
Aldemar: Leader of the holy knights of Avaris in Rosefall.
Lorenthar: The vampire that we recently met.
Lady Nyara: Arch cultist in abyss cult.
Comments
Kartik sharma
Did you encounter any issues like Wisp? Asking in case it is a problem from my side.
RoyLee’sReubens
Thanks for the chapter!
Kartik sharma
Can you elaborate further about the problem?
Will-o'- the-Wisp
Something seems wrong with the post. I don’t think Im seeing it correctly , or the notification. Maybe my Patreon is acting up
