ã€ŠLegends of Pandorus I: Song of A Crimson Angelã€‹


 flames

    Pandorus is in flames.

    In the Centre of the World, two great powers clash. The gargantuan magical might of the Estian Consortiumis sorely tested against its biggest adversary yet, the Republic of Zorne, enigmatic aristocrats who harbour a bloody secret. Routine raids are starting to be conducted oncities and states of both countries.

    The King of Tassel, Supreme Leader of the Consortium sits, corrupt and fat, on the throne. Many appeal but none are answered. Thousands die on the battlefield and resentment is breeding. A lone, unsatisfied group of mages decide that enough is enough.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Meanwhile, Zorne is fighting harder than before, with even the lowliest grunt under the terrible, spellbinding thrall of the Undead Archon Lamiar, though none know of his twilight nature. Under the city, deep in the bowels of the earth, terrible things are carried out in the name of knowledge, and screams pierce the thick blackness of the dungeons.

    Caught in the crossfire is a boy, born of both sides but wanted by neither. A failed experiment, a reject to be disposed of, he walks in the twilight of blood-drinkers, not fully dead, but not fully alive either. He has become so much less, but so much more, changed by the anvil of pain and suffering. He is destined for greatness, to turn the tides of history, but first he must slake the burning thirst for revenge devouring him from the inside.

    And Pandorus continues to burn.

 and he began to pray

    The boy huddled in a trembling heap in the corner of the wardrobe. His short sword, broken and stained with offal and blood, lay useless to one side and his pistol nested, out of bullets, in his shirt. His hands covered his mouth, trying to contain an inevitable scream, while tears and mucus stained his face. He bit down on his own tongue hard, drawing blood as an arrow thudded into the wall behind him, no further than three inches from his head. Scrambling to the other side of his room, he pressed his eyes to a small hole that led to the outside.

    The sight he was greeted with was burned like a brand into his brain.

    Bodies, all bearing the badge of the Estian Volunteer Strike Company, were piled up in the far corner. Not a single one was in one piece. Legs, arms and other extremities were cruelly crushed, twisted or hacked off. The boy started as he caught one body, left for dead, twitch and open its mouth in a weak mockery of a scream. The face was so viciously mashed, nose gone and eyes squished like bags of goo, that it was impossible to tell the gender. The boy decided to think of it as male.

    A screaming young brigadier, no older than fourteen, was dragged into the center of the room by a man whose head was obscured by a black helmet. Staring up fearfully into the sightless eye-slits, the boy howled as a heavy bastard sword came crashing down, slicing off one leg. The other one was crushed like an egg, hanging limply by a few pitiful strands of muscle and sinew. Down came the sword again, and the sound of agony that escaped the boy¡¯s lips was best described as a screech-gasp. ¡°My legs! My legs! Oh Gaia, my le¡ª¡± The boy¡¯s wails degenerated into a gargling scream as the man reached down and grabbed his tongue. ¡°You put too much energy into screaming, boy.¡± With abnormal vigour, the black-clad demon twisted his arm and the boy came crashing down to the ground¡ªminus his tongue. His screams become gargling rattles as he choked on his own blood, blood and foam flicking his blue-tinged lips. The boy¡¯s eyes shrunk into pinpoints. By the time he had returned to his senses, he felt a warmth in his crotch.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    He had pissed himself. The puddle spread and his bladder emptied in pure terror. He put an eye to the hole again and he saw the soldier duck to the ground as shots buried themselves in a wall. "Fucking gunners..." The boy jerked in shock as another arrow thunked somewhere near him, accidentally kicking the door.Oh no please no no no no...

    The soldier turned, attracted to the noise. Like ahunting dog sniffing for prey, he turned, slowly and purposefully, leaving the corpse behind him. A choked cackle rose from the bottomless depths of his headgear and he strodeslowly to the door the boy was huddling behind.

    As he heard the footsteps thump towards him, the boy laced his hands, opened his lips, and in a trembling voice, began to pray.

 that day, the sky burned

    The sky burned as the boy was dragged out, limp and unresisting, into the outside. Roiling red clouds flaked across the sky as large undead bats fluttered, their wings long rotted off, staying airborne by some fell, ancient magic. Men were heaved out of houses and beheaded by the tall black-clad demons. It was an image underserving of even hell.

    The boy heard a hoarse scream of a young girl coming from behind a house, accompanied by the pleasured groans of an older man. The screams abruptly ceased, devolving into hopeless sobs that oozed with abject despair.

    ¡°It won¡¯t go deeper.¡±

    ¡°Cut her wider open then.¡±

    The wails began anew as the boy heard a sound. A fleshy, cutting sound. A bloody sound. ¡°Stop! I¡¯m begging you! Please! It hurts! It hurts! Mother! Help me! Make him stop! Make the bad man stop! Stop!¡±

    ¡°Shut up, you noisy bitch. I did your mother before you, remember?¡± A slap cracked through the air, silencing the protests but not the screams. Every second felt like an aeon in this image of Armageddon.

    A thousand eternities later, the screams ceased. ¡°This one¡¯s done. Smells like rotting blood.¡± Only then did they boy realise that his captor was tugging at him. Bowing his head, he continued to walk on.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The boy was loaded into a wooden wagon drawn by a storage amalgamation of horse and centipede. There were already around twenty others in there, all of them women, some clothed, some naked and covered in dirty blankets. Like sheep, he thought. Lambs to the slaughter. The image made him laugh for some terrible, unknown reason, and he hated himself for doing so. The floor was rough and covered in a forest ¡ª no, a blanket ¡ª of splinters. ¡°Sit down.¡±

    The boy sat down.

    ¡°Raid¡¯s over, time for grub. This one is precious though. Leave him, but you ¡ª Kell ¡ª you can have the others.¡± At this word, the man behind him snarled and moved forward in a blur of speed, sinking his knife. into the neck of the nearest woman. Screams quickly bled into gasps and deep, red, rich jugular blood arced out into the air, a gory fountain. Just like the beer fountain at the festival last year. The boy shuddered and quickly pushed the thought out of his head. Hurriedly, as if afraid the fountain would stop, the monster snapped up his visor, revealing lifeless eyes in a parched face, and gulped at the stream of vitae. He quickly moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. ¡°Good pickings, everyone.¡±

    As all the women died, gasping and clutching vainly onto their blankets, twitching, the boy did not move. Not even when blood spattered onto his face and got in his eyes. Not even as a jerking woman came to a stop in front of his feet. All he did was stare forward with his dead eyes, looking but no longer seeing. Stared forward as the wagon began to move. Stared forward as it stopped and he was jerked to his feet an eternity later. Stared forward as he was pushed and prodded into a tall black building, tall obsidian spires arcing towards the sky, as if wanting to take it and devour it whole. Stared forward as he walked into the yawning doors, gaping like the maw of some unspeakable, ancient horror.

    And the sky continued to burn.

 adapting well

    In the dim light from the candles flickering off the damp walls of the castle, High Academician Delphurg ran. It had started off as a brisk walk until he looked at the portable chronometer sitting on his wrist. ¡°Damn, I¡¯m late.¡± Just a second later, the head researcher had turned into a blur of speed, grey robes fluttering behind him, running at the velocity only true vampires were capable of attaining. Several minutes later, he suddenly screeched to a halt in front of an ornate fortium door. This sudden change in acceleration would have crushed the organs of a normal human, but as Delphurg always liked to put it, ¡°The dead can¡¯t die twice.¡± Knocking three times on the door, as was the custom in Zorne, he pushed it all three hundred pounds of it with his little finger open and strode in.

    ¡°Take a seat, Academician. You¡¯re two minutes and thirty-eight seconds late.¡± The raspy voice of Lord Lamiar Sharnsk, the current Undead Archon of Zorne, seemed to amplify in the shadowed room. ¡°I deeply apologise, my liege.The dungeon stairs, as we all know, are extremely hard to climb, especially for an older one like me.¡±

    ¡°Oh please. You¡¯re only thirty hundred and forty. I still remember your siring like it was yesterday. How you screamed and begged. It was deeply amusing. Now,¡± the leader clapped his hands, ¡°Back to the question. How is test subject D-1447 doing?¡±

    Delphurg bowed again and continued. ¡°After insertion of the test chemical¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pardon me. Which infusion did you give him?¡±

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    ¡°I gave him my own derivation of the Zaarkad-16 serum. Specially brewed for his physiology. Anyway, there were initial,¡± Delphurg paused for a while. ¡°Complications during the blood-drain and re-vitalising process, the subject has displayed a level of survivability beyond any of the others. In fact, it¡¯s as if he cannot die. I request permission to continue experiments on the subject to determine his thresholds and parameters.¡±

    ¡°Granted. Just don¡¯t¡ªdon¡¯t do any more damage than necessary.¡±

    ¡°Here, I have a pic-crystal of the latest parameter testing.¡±

    ¡°What procedure did you use?¡±

    ¡°I used a modified version of 147-Asmodeus, which I combined with 220-Kali.¡±

    ¡°Gods. You must really have it in for him.¡±

    ¡°I just want to make sure I don¡¯t deliver trash to your majesty. I hope this one doesn¡¯t turn out like the one before him.¡±

    ¡°And the one thousand, four hundred and forty-five before her.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Delphurg?¡±

    ¡°My liege.¡±

    ¡°What are your personal thoughts about 1447?¡±

    Delphurg smiled, a gruesome affair that displayed his mouth of jagged black fangs. ¡°Really, I must say that his regeneration rate is phenomenal. More than mine, and, I think, more than your majesty¡¯s. No offence, my lord.¡±

    ¡°None taken. I meant your personal thoughts on this subject.¡±

    ¡°My personal thoughts? I think I kind of like him. He¡¯s adapting really well. I¡¯ve got great plans for him. Come, let¡¯s watch the pic-crystal.¡±

    As if in response to the hushed incantation and the long finger caressing it, the crystal started playing, and a long, chilling, drawn-out shriek was emitted. Delphurg started to laugh.

    This went on for many minutes.

 the man

    <hr><hr>

    The boy sat, stripped to the waist, in a unnaturally normal wooden chair. Unnatural in the sense that it was the only normal thing in the ill-lit chamber around him. All over the stone-cobbled room hung various implements of fell purpose, some long and spiked, some short and blunt. In the corner, an oily fire burnt, consuming the wood that dropped in via the chimney, stretching up to Gaia knows where high above. His hair hung in long strands from his head, one even reaching his chin. It was a far cry from the short, cropped hair that he had sported two weeks ago.

    Two weeks.

    Two weeks since they pushed him into the castle and into this room. Two weeks since they stuck that tube into him. Two weeks since what seemed like all the blood had been drawn out of his body, and a black pulsing liquid that looked like mud and felt like fire had been forced into his veins. How he had screamed and struggled, begged and pleaded, anything, anything to stop the pain. Two weeks since the Man had come, daily, without fail.

    Two weeks of hell.

    As he tried to lift his head, a searing pain ripped through his body, reminding him of the spike that had been jammed into his backbone a day before. It was still inside, his regenerative powers growing the skin over it and trapping it in its fleshy tomb, doing the jailor more harm than it did the prisoner. His body hung limp and he started to cry.

    The powers that he had developed after the black infusion, the ¡°gifts¡± as the Man had called it, were more of a curse than a blessing. ¡°Maybe by tomorrow, the Blood Arts will manifest,¡± he heard the Man mutter as he left once. He had no idea what these were. He just hoped, hoped as much as his worn sanity, broken by what seemed like an eternity of pain, would allow. Maybe the Man would not come today. Maybe they would let him out. Maybe, just maybe¡­

    The door groaned as it opened slowly, a spear of harsh orange light stabbing into the room. As the imposing silhouette stepped into the room, the boy involuntarily began shuddering as the fear, gnawing at his stomach, rose to the surface.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Hello, 1447. Shall we begin? My king says that your Blood Arts should have manifested by now, but do I see it? Well, do I?¡±

    The boy tried to open his mouth to plead, to reason, maybe even to insult, but only a terrified babble escaped his cracked lips.

    The Man slapped him, cracking his head back and causing the pain in his back to flare up uncontrollably again. ¡°Why? Why were you so promising? Why haven¡¯t the Blood Arts manifested yet? You useless scum. I thought you would be the best. I told everyone you would be the best. Now look at you! Pathetic! Weakling! You¡¯re only good at regrowing! Honestly, I don¡¯tknow why I take the time.¡± Another kick to the side. The boy opened his mouth again, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes.

    ¡°Please¡­no more¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s that? No more? Oh no, that wouldn¡¯t do. You see, pain helps us vampires to train our Blood Arts. I am helping you. Also, more importantly, I find it fun.¡±

    ¡°So, shall we begin?¡±

    The Man whipped a long scalpel of the wall. ¡°First, the regeneration test.¡± Without a warning, he drew it back and jabbed it deep into the boy¡¯s eye, twisting.

    ¡°AAAAGH!¡± The boy recoiled and thrashed uncontrollably, accentuating the agony in his back. He howled and wailed, his fingers drumming rapidly and reflexively on the handle of his chair. His cries died down into sobs as his abilities kicked in and the scalpel was pushed out of his head, covered in blood and glistening grey matter.

    ¡°Please¡­ I don¡¯t know anything. Let me¡­ go. I¡¯ll do anything¡­ so please¡­¡±

    ¡°How many times must I tell you this. I am not doing this because I want to know your secrets. I couldn¡¯t care less, in fact.¡±

    ¡°Then why¡­¡±

    ¡°Simple.¡± The Man grinned, showing off his ashy black teeth. ¡°I like doing it.¡±

    He produced a vial filled with sand from his robes. ¡°This is new. I want to try it.¡± Then, taking the scalpel, he sliced a thin fold in the boy¡¯s torso and poured the entire vial in.¡±

    ¡°GUUUGH! NO STOP STOP STOP PLEASE STOP PLEASE STOP PLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOP¡­¡± The boy writhed in unimaginable agony as the sand inflamed his open wound. To make matters worse, his shoulders began splitting for no apparent reason, and thin red tendrils sprouted out of the gaping wounds.

    Nice. Finally, the Blood Arts. So all it took was a little push, no?¡± The Man offered the boy an amiable smile, before slicing out the entire chunk of flesh covered in sand, prompting more howling. ¡°Blood Arts allow you to control your blood and move it. I suppose we¡¯ll be doing today¡¯s lineup for the next week then. He turned to leave. ¡°Oh yes, I have a surprise for you tomorrow.

    The terror was too great, enveloping the boy and crushing into his very soul. The boy devolved into wracking wails of absolute hopelessness as his tormentor left the room, closing the door softly.

    ¡°I told you everything¡­ didn¡¯t I?¡±

 monster

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you...¡± the boy whispered through ravaged lips. ¡°Hmm? What¡¯s that?¡± The Man inclined his head down to listen to the listless noise.

    ¡°I said I¡¯ll kill you...you monster.¡±

    ¡°Me? A monster? That¡¯s actually quite funny, compared to you, 1447. How can I be a monster? You¡¯re the one that can¡¯t even control your Blood Arts. You¡¯re the one who laughs for hours on end at nothing in particular. You¡¯re the one that killed that little girl!¡±

    The boy¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t...no choice...hungry...¡±

    ¡°Look at you. You can¡¯t even talk straight. Let me get this clear. You killed her. You were hungry so you bit into her neck. You tore out her throat. No one is responsible for her death except you and you alone.¡±

    ¡°Not..my fault...you brought her...in...I...¡±

    ¡°Killed her. If you weren¡¯t born, she would have been alive. If I weren¡¯t, you would have found someone else and killed him sooner or later.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°I...¡±

    The Man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object and tossed it into the boy¡¯s lap. ¡°That¡¯s your battalionmate¡¯s . The boy that got his tongue pulled out. You could have saved him, but you didn¡¯t. You chose to hide and piss yourself. That¡¯s why he died. If you had at least tried to help him, he might have lived. But you obviously value your sorry ass over anything else. In that sense, 1447, you¡¯re the lowest of all monsters.¡±

    ¡°No...¡± The boy started crying.

    ¡°All right, 1447. Time for something new.¡± The Man brought his palms together, then moved them away from each other and passed them over the boy¡¯s arm.

    He only realised something was wrong when his fingers hit the floor.

    ¡°AAAGH! My fingers! My fingers!¡± The boy writhed frantically as blood spurted from the stumps of his appendages. ¡°See? Those are strings formed from blood. They¡¯re thin enough to cut through even Dhampyre flesh, which is typically stronger than normal, true-born vampires. It¡¯s good to learn but you won¡¯t be going anywhere in a long, long, time!¡±

    Chuckling, the Man strode out. The trembling boy huddled in his seat, shivering in agony.

    I want to die, he thought for the umpteenth time. But his mind, twisted and warped by the anvil of suffering, finally snapped, giving obscene birth to a perverted, evil desire towards the torture heaped upon him that day.

    How can I use this?

 vampire

    Slam!

    The cell door flew off its hinges, shattering into dust on the brick-and-mortar wall. With slow thups of bare feet slapping on wet concrete, a figure wreathed in a hazy red aura strode out, emanating an aura of menace and purpose. Turning his head from side to side, a flash of dirty yellow torchlight played across his emaciated figure.

    His hair was slashed with shock white.

    Four hours earlier

    "Hello, 1447. It''s the sand procedure today. Enjoy..."

    "Shut up, you old fuck."

    The reply came as a snarl from the white-haired boy. The Man stopped in mid-laugh, his face setting into a rigid grin as if all his blood had congealed. With some effort, he released his muscles and stared and the boy, his deadly gaze piercing deep into the boy''s eyes. However, instead of flinching away like usual, the boy resolutely met his glare with a tomb-stare of his own.

    "Fuck you."

    "The hell? Let me get this clear, boy. In this room. I am the King. The ruler. Nobody fucks with me. In this room, I am God!"

    As he moved to strike the boy with his hand, the captive opened his mouth and spat out a mass of red substance that quickly dissipated into nothing. However, this had the queer effect of making the Man stop mid-slap.

    "My arm..."

    Fell neatly into chunks of offal, spattering deeo crimson onto the floor.

    "Ouch...you piece of shit." The Man stepped back in revulsion. "I''d advise you not to move anymore, old man."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Go to Hell!"

    Like obscene worms, the chunks of arm wriggled, then jumped into place, reforming from the Man''s elbow forward. Not stopping for breath, the Man drove his rock-hard fist at the speed of sound into the boy''s face. The boy smiled.

    "Got you."

    As the boy''s head snapped backwards, guarded from obliteration by his Dhampyre physique, he clenched his teeth, snapping the blood-strings that he had spat out earlier. Assisted by the prodigious force of the backwards motion of their owner''s head abd the sudden tension of severance, the whip-thin tendrils accelerated to supersonic speers, sending invisible death cutting in every direction.

    "Aggggh!"

    The Man''s body was ravaged by the flying whips, severing fingers from hands and flaying fleshing from bone with murderous effortlessness. His legs were sent flying, arms split into wet chunks of meat, and his torso pitched forward, landing at the boy''s feet.

    "You moron."

    "Little fucker...just you wait..."

    The Man still managed to talk, even with his lungs bisected. "Interesting. If I stab you, will you stop whining?"

    The boy extended his hand, furrowed his brow in concentration, and slowly, his palm split, little tendrils of blood slithered out, coming together to form a scabby spear. Pupils shrinking, a sadistic smile spread on his face.

    "Do I do it like this?"

    "YIIIIIIGGGH! Fuck you, fuck, fuck..." The Man screamed as the spear slammed into his solar plexus. "How do I retract it?" the boy wondered, focusing on the task at hand. However, instead of breaking down and slithering back into his hand, the spear shot out tendrils perpendicular to itself, stabbing into the Man and eliciting a new wave of cursing and screaming.

    "Screw you, 1447..."

    The boy''s pupils dilated. I have a name. I''m not your fucking test subject anymore. I have a name. I have a name. Fuck you and your numbers, old man, I have a fucking name! I''m not fucking 1447! I''m Axel!"

    Ripping the barbed spear out through flesh and bone, the boy stabbed again and again in an ecstasy of rage, causing more writhing and spurting blood. By the time he was done, howls had died into gurgles, and even those had faded into stony, tomb-like silence.

    "So hungry...fuck it." With cherry-red staining his snow-white hair, Axel dipped his head to his nemesis''s ruined throat and drank deeply, inhaling the meat and gristle.

    "I am...a vampire."

    KILL AND EAT.

 thanks for the meal

    In the streets of Zorne, blood was spilling.

    A policeman in a matte helmet screamed as he was downed by a huge red spike. Upon transfixing the body to the wall, the sanguinous spear deformed into tendrils of blood, swirling together and coming back to the owner.

    As the blood, red blood, delicious blood, entered Axel through his split fingertips, the Dhampyre smiled.

    ¡°Halt!¡±

    As the ravenous predator looked up from his latest victim, eyes flashing like balefire. A figure in a long black coat stood up the street, lapels billowing behind him like the wasted wings of some skeletal raven. ¡°Subject D-1447, you have sinned against the Blood Archon by interfering with the transformation experiments and killing your handler, High Academician Delphurg. As of now and always, you are the property of the Republic of Zorne. I, Arbitrator 401, put you under indefinite arrest.¡± Axel smiled raised his hands, generating a red mist that seeped into his immediate surroundings. Moved by the droplets of blood in the surroundings, pieces of rock leapt up into the grounds as if they had a mind of its own, then launched themself at high speed towards the Arbitrator.

    The man threw out an arm, forming a flowing red cloak of blood the wrapped around his body, emerging from his shoulder. It caught Axel¡¯s bullets with ease, absorbing the impact into its soft, supple, surface. At a thought, the cloak rapidly changed form, pushing the rock out of itself and forming a gauntlet around its owner¡¯s right hand as the Arbitrator charged at Axel. Rather than moving aside, Axel simply stood as the punch, red-clad death, sped at him.

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    Axel reeled back, his jaw crushed under the tremendous force. However, apart from swaying, he did not move whatsoever, instead snapping straight back up.

    ¡±You¡¯re strong...¡±

    Axel¡¯s managed jaw rapidly reformed, sticking back into place. With a light chuckle, he dodged the roundhouse kick aimed at his head and threw a half-hearted punch in return. The Arbitrator easily evaded and grabbed his arm. Axel smiled amiably and jerked himself to one side, breaking his own arm. The jut in the snapped limb rapidly swerved towards the man, catching him in the face. Axel quickly followed up with a knee to the crotch, throwing the man into the air and emitting a disturbing squish noise. ¡°Gah!¡±

    ¡°...But not that strong.¡±

    Axel slipped to one side, a long sword shooting out from the sole of his palm. With a blur, his arm shifted in a long arc, slamming through the body of the unfortunate victim.

    Snick

    ¡°Sgguurg¡±

    A fountain of vitae spurted out from the bisected halves of the man. Axel retrieved his blood and stared at his broken arm. ¡°I can¡¯t fight like that.¡± He broke into a jog, knocking aside the occasional passer-by and quickly slithering into the nearest building.

    Lamiar Orphanage

    Axel was greeted by a crowd of crying children, huddled against the wall. A vampire crouched over them, spikes protruding from her shoulders.

    ¡°Get way from them!¡± The woman, no, the thing, hissed. ¡°Protecting your spawn. Seeing you monsters play house makes me sick.¡± A ball of blood exploded from Axel¡¯s right forearm. Rapidly solidifying into a wrecking-ball, it slashed forward on a muscular tendril, dashing the vampires head into the wall. ¡°I need food, now...¡± Axel mused.

    Turning to the children, Axel saw a muddle of confused and sobbing orphans. ¡°You guys are just like me, huh?¡± His face softened, then broke into a happy smile.

    Axel strode out of the orphanage, arm healed, chuckling. ¡°I guess that¡¯s what happens to weaklings like me.¡± Turning his blood-spattered face to the orphanage, his gaunt visage jerked into a satisfied, loving grin.

    Another spell-chariot of Arbitrators was pulled up.

    Turning to his new adversaries, Axel silently thanked the children, his benefactors.

    ¡±My thanks for the meal.¡±

 the hunt

    ¡°Ouch...¡±

    Axel stared unhappily at his severed fingers, the bony chunks falling to the grass silently, speckling the green carpet red. He brought his stumpy hand up as red strand swirled in the air, slowly banding into crimson tendrils that attached to his finger-stumps and grew into fresh new appendages. ¡°These strings are hard to get right.¡±

    In the three weeks since he escaped Zorne, drenching half the city in blood, Axel had lived in the murky forest ringing the vampire city, known as the Greenmaw. It might have been extremely dangerous to a human or even an unprepared blood-drinker, but so far Axel hadn¡¯t seen anything that challenged his survival. As a bonus, the forest was strewn with the not-so-rotten corpses of the various unfortunates that entered its depth in some ardent quest for foolish glory, saving the Dhampyre the need to hunt at the expense of drinking dirty blood.

    Axel had taken advantage of the deserted forest to practice thinning his blood strings to the point of monofilamentality, practicing on the denizens of the forest. Their blood provided an exotic flavour, but were hard to catch.

    ¡°Ah, a tree hawk.¡± Before his transformation, Axel was positively terrified of these pests. It has the body of a thin plucked chicken, but with scales. Where its arms and legs grew were sharp crustacean claws. Its tubular neck supported a skeletal-looking head which was in fact a huge sensory organ. The little terror was blind, relying on air waves created by movement and the mana-trace present in all things. It had picked up some prey-trace by the look of its tense, alert attitude.

    Suddenly, it pushed off the trunk it hung from at high speed, flying to the left of Axel. Its arms and legs spread out, revealing membranes between them that it used to steer and glide. The predator collided with a bark moth, basically a triangle of flesh with claws underneath, screaming loudly. The prey let out a screech of its own, but its musculature had collapse from the impact, and it could only produce a pathetic yelp, filled with fear of death.

    From the neck of the tree hawk, a small, two-pronged, bony needle extended on another fleshy wire. This was the tree hawk¡¯s mouth. It drew its stinger back, then stabbed it ferociously into the bark moth¡¯s back.

    The bark north, close to death, could only flop weakly and let out another plaintive cry. The mouth of the tree hawk was embedded to its base in its flesh. Axel knew that the bottom needle produced a solvent that would rapidly liquify the prey¡¯s internal organs, turning it into a bag a soup, which the tree hawk would sip from at leisure through its top needle. Axel stared at the drooping body of the unfortunate bark moth in morbid fascination as it slowly lost all form, slopping down to the floor, where the tree hawk pursued.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Just as the tree hawk prepared to enjoy its meal, Axel flashed his hands through the air. From his fingers extended red strings arcing out quickly. Slicing across the tree hawk, the strings rebounded faster than Axel expected and sliced deep into his other hand. ¡°Shit!¡± Axel drew the strings back and watched as his wrist, hanging by a thin sinew, reattached itself. Meanwhile, the tree hawk was not unscathed, its lower legs whipped out savagely from beneath it. It made a call that sounded like wood knocking on wood and started to crawl away agonizingly slowly.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Annoyed that the tree hawk had not been killed outright for his trouble, Axel walked over to it and kicked it, hard, into a tree. The animal splatted into the trunk with a loud squeal, bursting and strewing its innards all over Axel. The Dhampyre bent down and started licking his hands.

    ¡°Mmm.. gamey.¡±

    ¡°Halt, sir!¡±

    Axel looked up at the approaching hoofbeats. ¡°You are in within the territory of some very important people!¡±

    Axel peered curiously. As far as he remembered, the Greenmaw was a no-man¡¯s land between Zorne and the ruins to the north. ¡°And who might that be?¡±

    The rider smiled, displaying a mouth of dazzling white teeth while reaching for a pearly swordhilt at his leather belt. ¡°Us!¡±

    Axel stepped back, raising his palms in placation. ¡°I¡¯m just a passing hunter. I don¡¯t want to cause any trouble. I¡¯ll leave if you want.¡±

    The stranger frowned. ¡°No, no, I don¡¯t want you to leave.¡± The smile again. ¡°I¡ªI mean we¡ªwant your things!¡± At that, three more people, also brightly clad in red and purple, strode out of the surrounding tree cover.

    Axel laughed. ¡°What kind of highwayman works in a forest?¡± The bandit¡¯s smile didn¡¯t budge. ¡°You have no right to talk, sir. We¡¯ll start with those coins by your belt!¡± Axel looked down at the string of Zorne crowns that he pinched from a dead Arbitrator in, well, Zorne. ¡°Sure...¡± Unclipping the string he held it out to the leader. ¡°Thanks. In the meantime, take off your shirt.¡± As the bandit¡¯s grasping hands clasped the coins, Axel quickly grabbed the arm and pulled down, smashing the bandit into the floor and breaking his legs into pulp. The man screamed in pain. His three friends closed on Axel, swords drawn. Axel smiled and raised his palms. ¡°Time to get it right.¡±

    He swished his palms to his side and a slice of red cut through the air. The three thugs stopped, confused by the sudden and high-speed movement. A second later, they fell into chunks of gristle and organs to the ground, spurting viscous blood high into the air. Axel walked over to the injured leader and stirred his finger through the man¡¯s mess of legs, poking at raw nerve on mine. The bandit writhed and howled in agony. Axel lifted the unfortunate by his hair. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Axel smiled, displaying his feline, vampiristic teeth. ¡°A passing hunter. It looks like I¡¯ve just found some prey.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit! Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, a vampire¡¯s got me, help! Someone! Someone fucking help!¡±

    Axel drew away in disgust. ¡°Quiet, food.¡±

    The Dhampyre opened his mouth and bit down.

 bring you along

    Axel smiled as the forest wolf ran straight at him, jaws open and slavering, the intent to kill mercilessly burning in its dirty red eyes. Paws thudding on the ground in a rhythmic motion, the obscene monstrosity lowered its head, bringing its two demonic horns down to bear, and then charged.

    [Blood Strings]

    From Axel''s hands flew thin filaments of crimson, lashing themselves to the trees right and left of the charging dog. More strings leapt from the anchored tendrils, creating a crisscrossed web of blood in front of the wolf.

    By the time the cocky whelp had realised something was wrong, it was too late.

    It plowed into the trip-strings with a yapping bark, or, to be more accurate, the trap plowed into it. Ib a few seconds the threads, thin as a blade and possessing all of their metal cousin''s cutting strength, had sliced deep through flesh and sinew, whipping bones into pieces and rending muscle deeply. The forest wolf slammed into the ground and let out a pathetic, agonised whimper, then lay still. Axel walked over and started ripping the skin from the carcass, which he stowed in a pile to be washed in the nearby river, ready for tanning.

    "Time to eat."

    Bending his head, Axel silently thanked the wolf for his food, then started to drink with loud, bestial slurps.

    "Hey!"

    Axel turned his head to see a hooded man standing behind him, no more than twenty-five years old. "You''re vampire. I saw it. I saw the blood. And," He grinned, "I''m going to kill you."

    Axel snorted. "You won''t be the first." Throughout his hike through the Greenmaw, the Dhampyre had met many young fools, ardent for some desperate glory to impress friends or a date, or perhaps hunters tricked by his young age. Either way, none of them were a match for him, and had provided some delicious blood. "Who are you?"

    "Simplysomeone who wants to right wrongs."

    I''m wrong? Who the fuck does this pup think he is? Axel licked his lips. "Well, Mr. Righting-Wrongs, you look delicious."

    He charged, claws stabbing out through his knuckles, and slashed down. The man wasn''t there. As the sharp edges embedded deeply into the ground, the man blurred sideways to the left. Axel snapped his neck to the side, shocked.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The fuck?

    Axel snarled and charged towards the offending figure, claws poised to rip him in half. Instead of tearing into flesh, however, Axel cut only thin air as his opponent jumped up. A sharp pain blossomed in the Dhampyre''s side and he crashed to the ground. Axel lay there, stunned and in pain.

    How? Only silver weapons can harm Dhampyres. The Man told me that.

    Idiot.

    The voice rammed into his head. "H-how..." Axel felt the robe-clad figure staring at him from under the hood, a bloody metal claw in his hand. "Telepathy, huh...Just who are you?"

    The figure pulled back the hood to reveal a young woman, no older than him in age. "Christine Adelfrost, at your service. I''m a C-Rank Vampire Hunter."

    "The hell?" In the Eagle Consortium, D-Ranked warriors were rare, let alone C-Ranked ones. They were practically heroes. "A pipsqueak like you..."

    "Yep. A pipsqueak like me." Christine pointed her claw at Axel''s face. "A lesson before you die. Don''t underestimate people."

    Axel moved with snakelike vigour, spinning on the ground and kicking Christine into a nearby tree. "What are you, somewannabe herothat kills vampires for kicks?" The Dhampyre advanced on the hunter, whose eyes widened in fear for a reflexive moment, but quickly hardened.

    "Why, you little..."

    "Go to hell!" The little hunter''s voice was shot through with anguish and rage. Axel drew back. Courage in the face of death was something he respected. He decided to probe a little rather than continue fighting.

    "What did we do that merits you the right to hunt us like wolves?"

    "What did my father and mother do that merited you guys the right to kill them?"

    "Uh..."

    "We were just farmers!" she spat. "We did nothing to you! Why did you have to try to kill us? They didn''t even drink from them, just threw people aside like trash...how can you say you have the right to live when you don''t give it to others?"

    "..."

    The girl closed her eyes. "Kill me, then, hellspawn. Show the world what a monster you are." Axel raised his hands angrily, scowling. She shrunk back, but gazed defiantly back all the more.

    "... I won''t." Axel lowered his hands.

    "Huh?"

    "I''m not...a monster. I won''t be lumped in with those that kill for fun. I''m not that kind of person."

    "Prove it then. You might just be afraid."

    Axel returned her stare, refusing to back down.

    Axel thought for a moment. "If I don''t kill you, you''ll just go back and bring more hunter friends."

    "Damn right."

    "But if I kill you, your friends will come looking for you anyway."

    The girl smiled. "Damned if you do, damned if you don''t."

    Axel scowled. "I''ve really gotten myself into a situation."

    "Yes, you have."

    "Shut up."

    Axel turned around, grinning. "Then I''ll just bring you along."

    The girl started to back away, then remembered she was against a tree. "W-wait! No!"

    "Or I can kill you!"

    The girl furrowed her eyebrows, then stared at him angrily. "Fine. But three rules. First, you don''t touch me. Second, you don''t talk to me unless absolutely necessary. Third, you stay away from me. At least three feet."

    "What gives you the right to make the rules?" But Axel didn''t contest, and as he stood up and walked away, beckoning to the girl, he failed to notice the glint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

 not so bad

    In the black of night, a strange duo tramped through the Greenmaw. A half-thing and a human. Axel looked behind him at the diminutive little girl trailing him, somehow being able to keep pace with him despite his superhuman speed. Even though they were traveling at night, when the sun''s rays weren''t around to irritate the Dhampyre''s skin, Christine moved with unerring skill, always training her ice-blue eyes on Axel. Those eyes, radiating freezing cold, could have made a grown-man''s skin crawl.

    "How intense..." Axel thought while paling slightly (as if he could).

    "We''ll make camp here for the night." As soon as those words were uttered, Christine jumped, catlike, onto a tree branch. Axel stared at her for a second, then leaped up as well.

    "Forest wolves and things around here, vamp." Christine smirked. "Don''t want you poisoning the entire forest."

    "Screw you," snapped Axel.

    As Christine wrapped her dark cloak around herself, Axel leant back and stared at the sky. He didn''t need to sleep, not as a vampire, but he still could, if he wanted to.

    He didn''t want to.

    This girl is...different.

    She doesn''t harbour any killing intent against me. Not anymore, at least.

    Not after the first few days, when she had glared daggers at him the entire week. It had taken three times. Three times he fought alongside her against the local wildlife, or bandits, or some equally annoying pests. Then she had begun to relax and stop casting hateful glances at him. She was still weird though. Once he was practicing his blood strings, and turned around to watch her unnatural-blue eyes staring at him, choreographing his every move like an owl.

    People were weird. No reason for her not to be.

    Axel leaned back and stared at the sky. Due to being out in a wilderness that would have eaten conventioanl travellers and settlers alive, the Greenmaw was unpopulated, and as a result, no smog clogged the view of the sky. Stars glimmered like little dots of water suspended over a black shroud, and for once, they didn''t feel cold and distant.

    He stayed that way until dawn.

    "Ow!" The poor Dhampyre jerked awake as he felt the sun stinging his forearm. Drawing it backwards, he leapt down from the high tree branch, he landed in the forest floor, where most of the light was shaded by the canopy. Pulling his cloak over himself, he paced below Christine''s tree and waited.

    "Good morning."

    Axel hissed and turned around to see his companion standing on the floor. "How the hell--" He was sure he''d seen her body on the branch as he leapt. How did she manage to get down without a sound?The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Are you coming?" She began to move away, flitting from tree to tree. Axel quickly followed. She was his only hope of getting out.

    Half a day later, they decided to take a small break. Axel killed a horn-hoof and divided it as such: meat for Christine, blood for him. It worked out, at least for the past few days.

    "Hello."

    "Oh come on--"

    "What the hell--"

    Both turned to face the man who had spoken behind them. "Not another damn bandit."

    "This is getting repetitive."

    Axel clenched his fist, and three red, scabby claws shot out from between his knuckles. "Go away, or I''ll kill you."

    The man didn''t react. No Oh god, a vampire! or You monster!

    Not very entertaining.

    Axel charged. Focusing the strength in his legs, he exploded forward before Christine could even react, pivoting mid-air and slashing down viciously with all the strength in his body. The man, clad in a tattered black robe, raised his hands. As the fabric slid down, it exposed his pale forearms.

    "Yes! Surrender!" Axel yelled. Jokingly.

    However, it was with less-than-joking force that Axel was smashed aside.

    As soon as he came within striking distance of the man and cut down with his claws, his opponent sidestepped with astounding speed and punched him in the ribs. Axel flew and crashed into a tree.

    He had been crashing into trees often lately. Maybe it was because trees were the only things around to crash into.

    "What the--"

    The man was on him again, like a bat from the depths of hell. Eyes covered in a red film, the bared forearm smashed into Axel''s solar plexus. The Dhampyre coughed and yelled as he felt his organs get crushed. However, instead of withdrawing the fist, the man pushed it in deeper, and Axel howled as he felt the foreign fingers grasp his spine.

    A jerk later and Axel lay on the floor twitching, with three inches of his spine in his adversary''s hands. Licking it fondly, the man slurped up the blood, saying between gulps: "I''m here on the orders of the Great Archon Lamiar. To kill you. You are no longer a successful experiment as you have betrayed the Archon. Your blood is tainted and must be erased."

    "A vampire...are you kidding me?"

    In a moment, Axel Roegel had been totally defeated.

    Smiling, the man raised his arm, summoning a long blade of congealed blood.

    He never brought it down.

    A brown streak passed behind him and something glinted. An arm fell to the ground.

    "How..."

    Christine descended on him again, like a banshee. Her blue eyes glinted, stony with hate.

    "Vvvvvaaammppirreee."

    The vampire gasped.

    [Congealing Stars]

    Sudden globs of blood discharged from the man''s skin and zoomed towards Christine, solidifying into little spiked balls. There were over fifty. Axel felt his stomach sinking as he realised she couldn''t dodge them all.

    Waltz of the Sun and Moon Blade Art: [Crescent Blitz]

    Christine swung her sword in effortless half-arcs, slicing every star into red bursts. "Wow..." Axel had never seen a user of the Blade Arts before. They were swordsmen trained in ancient techniques of weapon-wielding that gifted them with unnatural and amazingly strong abilities.

    [Full Moon Decapitation]

    Christine dashed forward with a similar speed Axel employed earlier and spun in a tight arc, making her body as small a target to hit as possible. Holding her sword straight out, she passed by the vampire before he even had a chance to gasp.

    Nothing happened. Then blood spurted from an infinitesimal crack in the man''s neck.

    "Agh.."

    [Perfect Alignment Thrust]

    Christine''s sword stabbed straight into the vampire''s heart, undoing the fell magics binding him together. In a few moments, he was an unresponsive heap.

    "So that''s the power of a vampire hunter..."

    She stooped down and hacked off a hunk of flesh from the corpse. Walking over to Axel, who lay, unable to move, she gently set it down beside him. "Eat. Eat and heal."

    As Axel took small bites of the flesh, aided by his companion, he felt his spine slowly regrowing.

    Maybe this world isn''t so bad after all.

 why

    "Fuck... How did this happen?"

    Axel walked home, dragging a corpse of a horn-hoof. "Here," he snapped, dumping it at the feet of the girl. I haven''t touched it," he said quickly, when her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. Lowering her gaze slowly, she whipped out a hunting knife and slowly began to butcher the animal, slicing it up in expert arcs. Axel turned away and started to look for another quarry, this time for his own sustenance. He was stopped by a stone twinking against the back of his head. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Christine holding out a bowl of red liquid. "You don''t have to hunt," she called. "One is enough."

    That was the third day they were travelling together.

    Over the next two months, they spent thir days milling about in the Greenmaw, hunting when they had to, fending off bandits and other annoyances, and getting to know each other.

    Axel sat down next the Christine, who was stoking a roaring fire, crackling and crisping. Although the light hurt his eyes, he felt strangely warm and dozey.

    "You know," Christine turned to look at him sleepily. "You''re not as bad as I first thought."

    Axel thought he would never be more comfortable in that moment, firelight dancing with shadows in a playful tango.

    "Where are we going?"

    "I''m trying to make it to Consortium territory. Maybe I can catch an airship back to Tassel."

    "You might want to try Flerschdorf. It''s about," Christine pulled out a star-compass and stared through it, fiddling. "Thirty miles from here. There''s quite a large fleet of airships stationed there."

    "Mmm." Axel nestled his face in his knees.

    "Is it too bright?" Christine took out a stick and stirred the coals up, extinguishing some of the flames and smothering their bonfire to a sleepy orange glow.

    Axel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

    He stared at this human girl, so like him, but a world apart. Even with her entire family crushed and taken, she could still find it in her to sit next to one of her enemies.

    Axel respected that.

    "Actually, Dhampyre, what''s your name?"

    "Ax--Axel. Axel Roengel."

    "That''s a nice name. It means Crimson Angel, you know that? Roengel."

    "Yes."

    "Axel, are you going to leave soon?"

    "Wait--what do you mean by that? Do you want to leave? Are to tired of me?"

    "No, just asking."

    "Promise?" Axel quietened.

    Christine smiled. "Promise."

    These memories swirled together in Axel''s mind as he was kicked against a tree. Christine, all traces of warmth gone, pinned her knife to his neck, pressing, hurting.

    "Chris...tine?"

    The hooded figure stood in front of him, blue eyes glowing like hateful icicles in the night. "Silence, Dhampyre."

    "Wait! What.."

    The girl giggled. "Silly, pitiful, little animal. You look like a puppy that''s just been kicked in the ribs!"

    "No...! What are you doing?"

    "Why, killing you of course."

    "But--but we promised?"

    "Oh?" Her lips curled up in a hateful sneer. "Was my acting that good?"Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "You mean...you mean all you said was a lie?" Axel''s shock was rapidly melting, solidifying into anger.

    "Yep! A lie!"

    "Now lie still, pig. I''m going to gut you like a fish!"

    Axel surged forward, grabbing Christine''s leg and throwing her against the floor.

    "Gods...For these two months, I walked with you, I stayed with you, I trusted you! What the fuck?"

    Christine''s figure blurred as Axel advanced on her. Having seen this trick before. Axel quickly guarded himself, casting glances in every direction. A brown blur whizzed around him, too fast for the eye to see.

    "O great Lume, lord of the skies, lend me your light today! Smite my enemies and burn them with your holy light!" Axel caught a glimpse of twin blue streaks filled with unbridled hatred. "Bemoan not your fate, for the flames of redemption bring pain and mercy in equal measure!"

    "Holy Smite!"

    A white beam shot out from the darkness, beaning Axel in the chest and throwing him backwards. Axel glances down and saw his chest smoking, singed by the blast of prayer magic.

    [Sanguine Whip] [Crimson Blade]

    Blood broke the skin of the ball of his palm, cording together and binding into a tight, red, spiked whip. A second weapon formed from his other hand, this time from his elbow, turning his forearm into a large, dangerouly sharp blade three feet long. Swinging the whip around, he tried catching the hunter jumping around him.

    The blur smashed into him, throwing the Dhampyre off his feet. Staggering, he quickly brought his large blade around to counter the attack. Blood scraped on silver, throwing bright orange sparks into the air. The blade was deflected off to one side, Christine using the opportunity to slash at Axel''s face, forcing him to duck. He wasn''t fast enough, however, and a burning pain rapidly grew in his cheek. His right eye filled with tears.

    Growling, Axel swung his whip at Christine again. "Gaia, Mother of All Life, bestow upon me your protection, Ward away the blows of the enemy with your holy presence!" The sanguine weapon glanced off a dome of light.

    Enemy? I''m the enemy?

    "Why don''t you just die, vampire?" Christine''s voice was high and mocking. "You''re the enemy of all mankind! A pest! Something to be killed! Trampled!"

    "Destroyed!"

    Axel screamed, a fell sound that cut the night air like a banshee''s keen.

    Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

    Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

    Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhwwwwhwhyyhywhywhywhyhyhyywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywwhyhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywwhwhywwhwhwhwhwwhwhyyhyyywhyyyhyywhyhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

    "Fuck you, you little shit! When I talk, you don''t answer!"

    "Look at that weirdo. Even his parents didn''t want him!"

    "Even if you join the army and get killed, you''ll at least be useful for once."

    "You useless maggot. Why can''t you follow simple orders..."

    "Hello, 2447."

    First them.

    Now her.

    "I''ll kill you." Axel''s pale face slowly broke into a smile. Withdrawing his hand weapons, he drove his foot into the dirt, and lances of red exploded in every direction. The blur hissed and shot up into the sky, the plunged down. From this angle, he could see Christine''s hateful face and the knife pointed at him. Jumping aside, he made a pulling motion in the air.

    [Blood Strings]

    As Christine came down, she felt herself caught between thin, invisible strands. Slashing her knife wildly, she tried to cut herself free. But the bonds rapidly hardened, and as Axel pulled on the strings, the force multiplied by using the lance as pulleys, she felt them cutting into her body, slowly, painfully.

    Her eyes widened in fear and agony as the strings sliiced through her clothes and armor easily and deep into her body. A few scraps of cloth fluttered to the ground, accompanied by drips of blood. Coughing out blood, she managed to choke out, "No! Please, I wasn''t thinking straight! I''m sorry! I''m sorry!"

    Axel hesitated. For a split second, but he still hesitated.

    "I''m sorry, Axel!"

    The Dhampyre''s face hardened. No hesitation.

    No compassion.

    No forgiveness.

    Kill and eat.

    With a final tug, Christine was sliced, pleading and screaming, into dozens of pieces. As flesh and blood spattered the floor, Axel sank to his knees, exhausted by the long fight. The scabious constructs exploded into mists of blood as the fell magic binding them dissipated. Now, when he could think, the anger and the rage at being betrayed abated slowly, replaced with a dull, throbbing grief.

    Crawling over to the carcass of the girl that he though he was his first friend, he picked up half of her face and cradled it, rocking from back to forth. The smell of the blood was already starting to overwhelm him, saliva building up in his mouth and the base of his canines, the curse of his race, starting to ache, urging him to sink his teeth into flesh.

    "Why? Christine, why?"

    Just before the thirst overtook him and he no longer knew what he was doing, Axel dropped his head and started to sob, resisting the urge to scream his anguish to the uncaring world.

    But no one heard him cry, save for the unfeeling pale face of the autumn moon and the cold stars, glimmering with distant, uncaring light.

 no matter what

    Axel trudged forward, keeping his head low and hidden under his black cloak. Wintertime was approaching in Estia, and even as a half-undead, the Dhampyre still felt the freezing cold stabbing into his body and biting into his bones. He grimaced as his fangs started to ache, reminding him that he had not drunk in three days. Unlike humans, vampires could endure the pain of hunger longer. A lot longer, with some benign drinkers feeding only one or two times a year. Nevertheless, all vampires were equally reviled by humans and that put the Republic of Zorne under the slings and stones of scorn too, since Estia had long suspected its longtime neighbour of harbouring less-than-human creatures within its high dark walls. However, this was only a suspicion. A rumour passed in the dim light of bars by men who had drunk more than they should.

    Axel cared little for that. Don''t trust rumours, said Axel''s commanding officer to the yound soldiers, terrified at the prospect of meeting blood-drinkers on the field. He fell that day, that crimson-stained, hellish day, to the nightborn inhumans of that black country. Rumours? The entire place was crawling with them. Of course, the majority of the population were normal, if slightly dark-minded, humans, but they were only kept around as food for the hellspawn that was the aristocracy. Few were "gifted" with immortality, as the Man put it once to him, poking in his intestines with a red-hot rod.

    A gift, though Axel bitterly. What kind of gift is this, where I have to hide from everyone for fear of being scorned, when the very sunlight stings my skin, and I have to survive by killing? What sick mind would call this shithole of a life a gift?

    In the few weeks since the betrayal of Christine, Axel had wandered around the Greenmaw. Under the pretence of leading him to Flerschdorf, the traitorous little girl had led him deeper into the forest, and he was now utterly lost. Axel still felt a pain in his chest whenever he thought of her, unable to feel anything but grief as her face before her death swam up in his mind.

    He hated that. Hated that he let an enemy so close to him that she hurt him inside as well as outside. Well, never again, Axel thought.

    For from now on, everyone was an enemy. The world itself was an enemy. Axel decided that he would never love anything, since loving had only brought him pain. It wracked his heart every day, the thought of betrayal and the memories of lies.

    He had always been spat on, mocked, turned away by everyone. His parents, who threw him out when he was seven on the steps of that orphanage because they didn''t have money or time for him. The orphanage was hardly better. The heads were hard, pinched people that would rather spend their grant from the King on them selves than on feeding the children. The children, turned tough and merciless by such uncaring upbringing. Every one of them ridiculed Axel in one way or another. For being too short, for being too weak, for being deficient in one way or another. And Karl. The arrogant little brat that convinced him that at least someone in that hell-hole was his friend, then stepped up and pissed on him from above with the rest of the children. It eventually got so bad that Axel enlisted in the army, the only job available to a parentless rat like him, to escape that forbidding place. But these experiences hurt Axel, not broke him. The Man had been the catalyst. His desire to cause pain to others for enjoyment both confused and disgusted Axel. A being that simply existed to take from others was a being better off dead. From him, Axel realised that true evil, black and spiteful, existed in the world. And finally, Christine. Her face still haunted Axel at night. For what, he did not know, but the experience of her betrayal broke him. Eventually, all broken things mend, but there are cracks and dips and the thing doesn''t fit together like before. This was what Axel had become: an amalgamation of crushed pieces so haphazard and thrown-together that he didn''t even know himself anymore.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Didn''t even know what he wanted.

    Was going back to Estia really good for him?

    Death seemed like bliss compared to the cold hardship of life.

    However, Axel believed that life existed for a reason: to live. And as long as his heart beated, no matter what he became, he was going to, to spite the world itself if nothing else. His heart was a shell of what he became, stony and unfeeling, for it neede to be, lest it get torn apart again. The only thing in his chest was a flame of black rage, enough to burn down the entire world. And burn down Pandorus it would, if it had to.

    But only if it had to. No matter what Axel was, at heart, he still could understand that mindless killing only devolves one down a path into madness. A path he was unwilling to take. No matter what.

    Axel started to feel hungry. It was time to feed.

    Tassel, capital city of Estia.

    Magus Ashenborne stared up into the ceiling of his room, giving his eyes a much-needed break. On his table was a flat sheet of paper, scrawled with a large magic circle. The paper fizzed and smoked, a reaction to the usage of the arcane power coursing through the symbols on it.

    "Apprentice Arcanist Magus!"

    The young man turned around to see his superior, Arcanist Endel. "Yes, sir?"

    "Any luck?"

    "Can''t find her, sir, lost track once her tag was damaged couple of weeks ago, but I was able to trace an unexplained mana source somewhere deep in the Greenmaw. It''s huge, high-Mesos level. It must have been hidden for the past few months or weeks."

    "The Greenmaw, huh? Looks like we''ve got something. A powerful, rogue mage in the woods."

    "But sir?"

    "Yes?"

    "The signature''s mana emission is different from an Estian mage''s, or arcanist''s. It''s a different type, one that doesn''t shape mana like our doctrine does."

    "And that means?"

    "Wait a second, sir." Magus placed his hands on the circle and concentrated again. Deep hues of yellow, and purple, and green, of every colour really, swirling and shifting, crackled across the paper. It caught fire and was quickly being devoured by the hungry, arcane flames. Abruptly, the arcanist withdrew his hands.

    "It''s thaumaturgy, sir. Blood Arts. And we don''t have the manaprint in our logs." Magus gestured to a thick leatherbound red tome.

    "A vampire, huh? Probably downed Adelfrost. How strong must he be?"

    Magus felt a surge of rage, even though he never met the girl. She was only fifteen or sixteen. What infernal creature could kill someone like her. Although she was a hunter, she was just doing her job.

    "Good job on that magnificent search spell, kid. I''m going to alert the Hunters at Flerschdorf. They can take an airship to his location. You''ll be the attached navigator arcanist. Your clearance level will be upgraded to Nu to Lambda-level, but only for this mission, as you will be expected to lead sometimes as a navigator."

    Magus swelled with pride. "Yes sir."

    The Tassel Arcanist Third Division was a nice place to work.

    The Greenmaw

    Axel drank deeply from the two-horn, acutely aware that in the massive effort to take down the great beast, he had emitted an extremely powerful mana signature. People will come searching. Vampire hunters and vampires themselves.

    Axel stood up and quickly walked away from the kill, having quenched his thirst and satisfied his hunger. He had made up his mind. He would get to Flerschdorf. Even if he had to cut down a thousand men. He would go home, to Tassel.

    No matter what.

 meeting

    "You''ve come."

    Axel the Dhampyre stood in a copse of trees, observing the airship that glided silently over him. It was small and long, only having one gas-bladder, and traded armor and arms for speed and maneuverability.

    Axel recognised it too. The zeppelin Lambence, an escort ship of the Vampire Hunters of Estia. Being the second smallest class of airship, it was not primed for war, rather as a transport vehicle. Powered by a Geoffrey-Frederick flight core, it was one of the first new airship designs developed based on recovered blueprints. This made it a widely known ship all over Estia.

    Axel felt rather honoured that they had decided to throw such a famous toy his way.

    A mechanical clunk sounded, confusing Axel. Normally the sound of an airship''s descent was a gaseous whoosh, could it be possible that something in it was broken. What a shame. Axel smiled sadly. He was really looking forward to a fair fight.

    Blam!

    Axel hissed and jumped aside, clearing the copse as the ship''s guns pivoted downwards and fired, smashing into the ground and churning up clods of dirt. Pulling out a splinter from his bicep, the vampire stared up and scowled.

    "Come down and fight, assholes!"

    As if in response, five figures vaulted out of the side of the ship in one mighty leap, spreading out to impact below.

    Dropping at this height? They must be mad.

    Or really, really, really good.

    The five Hunters thudded into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. When the screen cleared, instead of blood and guts, were the men, unharmed, standing arm-deep craters. A circle of runes swirled ethereally around their feet.

    "Impact absorption? Nice."

    One of the men, this time unhooded, smiled. "Impressed, vampire?" Now we''re going to kill you for doing Mistress Christine in." His face twitched.

    "Mistress? Is she your senior?"

    "Oh yes." The man spoke reverently. "She''s a Circle. Number seven, to be exact." Suddenly his voice was charged with hate. "Until you killed her."

    The Circles were a council of seven warriors that governed the Vampire Hunters. Trained in the arts of vampire hunting, they practised their craft to the highest degree, unleashing deadly powers to smite the undead. Axel felt dissapointed that they were all Estia had to offer, especially after he defeated one in about fifteen minutes.

    They all attacked at once. Unsheathing their silver blades, the hunters charged him, cutting, stabbing and slashing. Axel waved from side to side, easily avoiding the blows. After fighting Christine, these men were amateurs at best, their blows sluggish and clumsy. Spinning like a dervish, he summoned two blades and slashed wildly.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Within five seconds, the attackers lay in a gory circle around him. Staring up at the obnoxious hovering airships, Axel yelled, "Any more?"

    "Just two, in fact."

    Another person jumped out, trailing fluttering robes, followed by a larger, more compactly dressed one. Touching down lightly at almost the same time, the latter strode towards Axel, hand on the blade strapped to his waist.

    "What? You''re fighting me alone?"

    "No, not really." The man spoke calmly and levelly, never taking his eyes of Axel. "The arcanist back there will help." The robed young man, almost a boy, stared at Axel, eyes smouldering with eldritch fire.

    "...You''re cocky for a weakling."

    Swish

    "Eh?"

    Axel stared dumbly at the stump of his right arm. Turning around, he saw the swordsman standing behind him, facing away, sword hung loosely at his side.

    "He moved so fast that there''s no blood on his blade..."

    True enough, the shining silver weapon was still spotless, having slashed so fast that blood simply flowed past it.

    Axel collected himself, forming a thick lance of blood and charged the man. "Eat this!"

    Quick as a snake, the hunter spun, slamming his blade into Axel''s and holding it there. "If you''re looking for a contest of strength..." Axel grinned.

    "Then I''ll definitely win!"

    This was the wrong thing to say. The man quickly cut to the side with perfect form, severing his weapon.

    Christine could only use one Perfect Alignment as a trump card, but this guy...

    [Perfect Alignment] [Perfect Alignment] [Perfect Alignment]

    The cuts came hard and fast, executed with deadly grace.

    He''s going for the heart... If he hits me once, I''m dead!

    Axel desperately tried to dodge the attacks. "What are you? A Circle?"

    "Yes. Circle Number Six, Jorge Benson."

    Six? What the hell? One rank brings so much difference?

    [Riptide]

    The sword in Jorge''s hand spun until it became a blur. Exploding forward, the Vampire Hunter created a cloud of circular slashes that Axel barely managed to dodge.

    Once he goes past, I''ll slash him!

    Axel prepared his hand, calling his blood to form a blade.

    But instead of carrying forward like how Axel predicted, the Circle planted his foot into the dirt beside Axel, stopping thousands of pounds of force, and spun round. Before Axel even started to try and do a cut, he sped forward and executed the same move. The unprepared Dhampyre was sliced dozens of times and crumpled.

    This guy is on a totally new level!

    Raising the blade, Jorge switched to a backhand grip and positioned for a thrust into Axel''s heart.

    This is how it ends, huh?

    And then he remembered. Remembered the trek through the Greenmaw. Remembered the leer of the Man. Remembered the blood-stained day when the sky burned. And he knew.

    I...have to live. And I will.

    At any cost.

    Axel spun upwards, kicking up into Jorge''s chin. And met air.

    The Hunter blurred backwards, squatting down and slicing the Dhampyre''s legs off.

    "How..."

    "Wait!" The Circle turned, resting the silver blade on Axel''s chin. As if he could even move, the pain from the silver-laced wounds incapacitating him totally.

    The arcanist looked over Axel. "I think...I think we can leave him alive."

    "Here?"

    "Of course not! You can leave him with my master. He could be a source of information on Zorne."

    As if I''d help you. I hate Zorne, but I hate you too.

    The younger man looked down. "Of course, the decision is yours. Sir."

    Jorge leaned over Axel, releasing the pressure on his chin. "Hmm. Interesting. You don''t smell like a vampire. Too human. Yet you use the fell magics of the twiceborn."

    "Strange half-thing. Maybe you can tell us something we don''t know." Grabbing something from his belt, the Hunter jabbed it into Axel''s neck. As the world spun and shifted out of proportion, Axel heard Jorge''s elongating head say something.

    "Take him. We make for Gertford immediately."

 captivity

    "You''re not going to cut me up?"

    Axel was pretty amazed at the fact that he had not been dismembered, hacked apart, or otherwise brutalised for the past four hours once he arrived at Gertford on the dirigible.

    "Yes. This is the fourth time I''ve told you that."

    "Will you let me out?"

    Magus sighed. "No."

    "What a shame."

    Axel sat in a small cell, recessed in to an alcove, underground of the White Tower in Gertford. There were multiple Towers in every city, the headqurters of the division of Vampire Hunters. Axel reckoned that this was the first time that a vampire went so deep into its vaunted halls.

    Not that he wanted to go in or anything.

    There was nothing good for a vamp beyond those doors. And he didn''t expect to be let out either. If he wanted to be freed, it would have to be of his own actions, violent or not.

    And he damn well wanted to be free.

    If he was going to get out, however, he couldn''t go out killing and biting. Axel was a vampire, but he was no fool. Everything required patience and planning. He had to wait, coiled like a snake, ready to strike at the first opening. But first there had to be an opening.

    If the Circle was still there, Axel had a negative percentage of a successful escape plan.

    Oh well, he could wait. Vampires were immortal, and humans, he figured, were not. He should know. He had been one himself.

    "Vampire."

    A guard had appeared outside his cell. "Put this on." In the man''s hand was a silver shackle with spikes on the inside. If Axel tried to move with that on, it would tear into his neck, restricting blood flow and killing him.

    Although immortal, vampires were not invincible. Enough hurt in the right place and they would die.

    Axel put it on.

    "Follow me." The cell door swung open, and Axel was dragged along, trailing behind the man to avoid getting gruesomely decapitated.

    For all his hatred towards the world, Axel was still averse to dying.

    Following behind, Axel walked through lightless corridors and tall, empty halls.

    "Nice place you got here."

    The guard ignored him.

    They came to a stop at a normal oaken door. The guard knocked on it three times, pausing for a while between each knock. "Now, when you open the door, the only thing stopping the entire room from filling with silver shards is the mana presence of the Circle, so you better not try anything funny.

    As if I could, Axel thought, glancing at his deadly restraints.

    Walking into the room, Axel caught sight of his captor sitting behind a table. A totally normal room, with books and papers strewn on the floor and a bookshelf at the side. Resting in fron of Jorge Benson, Circle Number Six, was his sword.

    "Well, good morning to you, vampire."

    "Wish I could say the same, but I haven''t seen the sun''s rays in the half-year since you assholes left me to die."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    The Circle''s eyebrows shot up. "You used to be...I have heard rumours of a Dhampyre, but I never thought he would be right here, in front of me."

    "I used to be human. That''s right." Axel snarled. "Until your King''s great military acumen," Axel spat the words venomously, "thought it best to send one light volunteer strike company against an entire squad of Zorne vampires!"

    "We had no way of knowing." The Circle spoke mildly, which infuriated Axel to no end.

    "Then answer me. Why was there no rescue? No backup squad?" Axel realised he had been straining against his chain, tiny pinpricks of blood appearing on his neck.

    "Backup was slaughtered as they rushed to help. By one man."

    "What?"

    "The two survivors testify. They said he moved like a shadow, flitting in and out. In the first few second, a dozen men had their throats torn out."

    "Monsters..."

    "Are you not a Twilight Walker as well?"

    Axel clenched his fists. "Say that again. I dare you."

    The Circle leant back and observed Axel unhurriedly. "I''d advise you keep your cool. I did not want to leave you alive, and you are only standing here by virtue of the arcanist that happened to pity you."

    "Don''t lump me in with the insects in Zorne. I''m not a monster."

    "Say that to Circle Seven."

    Axel''s head snapped up, muscles taut. In a low, dangerous voice, he asked, "Do you know what happened down there in the Greenmaw, old man?"

    No response.

    "That lying little shit came up to me. Tried to kill me, but I decided to spare her. Thought that she would actually be someone worth being with. Do you know what it feels like to be betrayed, hunter? You have never felt pain in your life, have you? You have never, ever been hunted and reviled, have you? And yet you sit up there on your throne of righteousness, callously deeming vampires evil and your own species good? Do you know," Axel paused, "What it feels like to be a pest, to be tossed aside and marked for death just because of what you are?"

    Jorge raised a sleeve. His forearms were covered in crisscrossed, black scars. "I do. Do you know who did this to me?"

    "..."

    "I''m not discounting what happened to you. I am simply stating facts. You are a vampire. And that makes you the enemy of the Consortium."

    "I''m not..."

    "You are, like it or not. Just like how I am the heir of the Benson family. I didn''t ask to be the son of the man who purged an entire vampire city. Look where it got me," Jorge indicated his mutilated flesh. "And look where it has gotten you. A boy, standing in a sea of blood."

    "Shut up...shut up!"

    Quick as a whip, the Circle flung something at Axel. Slicing past his cheek, the knife embedded itself into the wall behind him. The Dhampyre winced at the sting in his cheek.

    "Watch. Your. Mouth."

    Axel looked up and instantly quailed. There was a fire in the Circle''s eyes, a calm one, but so hot that it burned into Axel''s very soul. However, the Circle''s demeanour never changed, a slight smile gracing his lips, sitting erect and still.

    "I don''t like you, vamp, and I''m sure you don''t like me either, but you are a prisoner. And I can kill you when I want it, in the way I want to. And trust me, being a vampire itself warrants a very slow way to die by my hand."

    What''s this guy''s problem? What did I do to him?

    "There is something very important you have, however, that prevents me from ending you."

    "And what is that?"

    "When you are having your beauty sleep, I took the liberty of drawing your blood. We had it matched with the known vampire bloodlines in our archives. Du Vont. Crestique. Mordecai. That kind of thing."

    "Yes?"

    "You possess the blood of a vampire that has not walked this world for the past three thousand years, so terrible that even Zorne tried to kill him. Not a derivative, so not passed on through normal means. It was injected straight into your body, am I right?"

    Axel grimaced at the memory. "Yes."

    "Right now, the blood of the first vampire flows in your body. The blood of the Crimson Thirst himself."

    Nightshade, capital of Zorne

    "Would you like to tell me why you have not killed the boy?"

    "S-sir, he is...too..."

    "Too s-strong, sir. We simply are unable to best him."

    "Then quit your probing and send more troops! Bombard him if you need to!" We have airships for a reason!"

    "Yes, sir."

    "Out! And kill him quickly! We can''t afford to waste more time."

    The chastened captain scrambled out hastily, eager to avoid further escalation and increase the chance of lost limbs. Lamiar slipped a cold hand under his robes and pulled out an item, taking great care not to let the icy rage coursing through him crush it.

    It was one of the only objects retrieved from the unrecognisable carcass of Academician Delphurg. A simple glass phial, stained with a deep red liquid, sticky and viscous. Caustic, too. Old blood had that property and this wasvery old blood.

    Cruore. The fell liquid that sustained the twilight life of the vampires. Getting stronger and thicker as it grew older, this particular phial had stains that were so spongy they were nearly solid, and so crimson that it was nearly black.

    The blood of his former master, the one that he had worked for centuries to overthrow, toiling with his machinations and manipulations for unimaginable years. The blood of the one who had given all vampires life. The Crimson Thirst. The Hell-Bat. TheDrinker. Many names were used over the ages, to obscure the terrible syllable that the ancient monster answered to.

    Kain.

 taking sides

    "So I''m offering you a proposition."

    "Go ahead. I''m listening."

    Although I don''t want to, Axel wanted to say. But angry or not, he didn''t want sharp silver assortments being thrown at him. So he kept it down.

    "You will be seconded to the Vampire Hunters of Estia. You will work with us, for us, under the direct control of me, and the other Circles. You will help us hunt down vampires, who will no doubt be drawn to you due to the nature of your blood. And when they come," The Circle smiled affably. "You will kill them. With us."

    "And why would I agree?"

    "Because you have no choice. That much is clear."

    "Fine." Axel sighed. I''ve really made a mess of it all. But I can probably escape. One of these days.

    "Due to the fact that Arcanist Magus made the suggestion to use you, you will be working with him in a small squad designed to bring out each other''s talents. Keep in mind that we can see what they see. We can hear what they hear. Make one move against them, and we kill you. Preemptively."

    "All right. But promise me one thing. If we ever see the vampire that goes by the name Lamiar, I get to kill him."

    "I''ll promise no such thing."

    "Why should I help you!"

    "Don''t help us. Help yourself by not dying. What does it matter if it helps us too?"

    "...Fine." Axel scowled. "Now what."

    Benson smiled. "Now your training. With me."

    ------

    "The test is simple. Your training lasts until you can throw me out of the circle." Jorge stood in a ring, marked with red, on one of the many training dais in the hall.

    He''s a human. Without his sword, he''s nothing.

    "Ready? Here I come."

    Axel walked up to Jorge and punched him.

    Instantly, the Circle grabbed his hand and spun on it as an axis. Axel felt himself lose control of his arm, and the Circle pivoted on the fist''s velocity, then sent it back into Axel''s stomach.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Crunch

    Axel staggered backwards, staring at Jorge with disbelief. "How did you do that..."

    "Come at me again."

    This time, Axel ran parallel to Jorge, then abruptly changed direction, running in a V shape. He built up in to a series of blind dashes around the Circle, painting his afterimage onto the eyes of bystanders.

    He won''t be able to see me coming.

    The Circle made ocassional jabs at the blur that was Axel, but none hit him, instead coming into contact with his ghost image. He was getting better at hitting Axel though, showing more prediction in his moves.

    How do you like my full power, old man?

    Axel abruptly changed direction as he headed straight for Jorge. Parallel became perpendicular as he put all his strenght into dashing right at the enemy. In less than a fraction of a second, he crossed the ten-meter dais and threw a punch. Then he realised.

    "What if I kill you?"

    Axel''s face slammed into the ground, his charging force redirected downwards.

    "Nevermind."

    "Now use your Blood Arts."

    "What? Do you have a death wish?" Axel was incredulous.

    "It won''t make that much of a difference, trust me. I''ll use my sword."

    Now Axel was annoyed. "Fine!"

    [Blood Strings]

    A small pinprick of blood appeared on each of Axel''s fingers, engorging until they were about thumb-sized. They flew out, attached on thin strings, weighting them down and providing leverage. Drawing them back to him, Axel spun his arms in two tight circles.

    "Get down!"

    The weights flew around at breakneck speeds, one of them even smashing through a pillar without slowing down one bit. However, the most dangerous threat were the strings, carving deep through anything they touched. Spectators watching the fight lost their goggle-eyedness and dived for cover.

    "Block this!"

    Jorge slashed down.

    Seriously? One slash isn''t going to cut my strings.

    [Perfect Aligned][Rippling Ribbon Slashes]

    The Circle twisted, redirecting the velocity of the slash and sending it upwards. The cuts grew faster and faster as momentum built up, creating an impenetrable wall of slicing blades.

    "Wha..?"

    Axel gaped as his strings were all severed effortlessly. Jorge abruptly stopped, bunching his muscles, then jerked his sword forward. The sudden release of force, combined with a leap, brough the Circle''s blade right to Axel''s throat.

    [Tidal Thrust]

    "See? No difference."

    "The problem with you, vamp, is that your Blood Arts are highly basic. All you can do is shape your blood into various things. Strings. Swords. I''ve never seen strings before, but it''s still really easy to beat. Coupled with your lack of analytical thinking in fights and impulsive behaviour, you''ll last about three seconds in a real fight."

    "What?"

    "Basically you''re an impulsive dumbass that hits first and thinks later. Which is bad."

    "Oh." Axel was getting mad now. "How do you suggest I fix that."

    "I''m not a vampire." The Circle smiled slyly. "You go find your own teacher."

    "...Thanks. You''re so damn helpful, you know that?"

    "Yeah, I do."

    ------

    "Have you found the boy?"

    "Yes sir. He is in Gertford. With the Vampire Hunters."

    "The Vampire Hunter? What the hell is he doing with them?"

    "Apparently they are training him, it seems. They would use our work against us."

    "How impudent. Raze Gertford to the ground."

 Pandorus Notes: Vampires

    Vampires are creatures of the night that stalk Pandorus. They can only subsist on blood and live in fear of the sun. The biology of these extraordinary creatures will now be explored.

    What is a Vampire?

    Vampires are humans or other humanoid races that have had their blood contaminated by vampire blood, cruore. Cruore is normal blood that is saturated with V-haematids, special cells that give vampires particular powers. When a vampire bites a human and then introduces cruore to the wound, the haematids are carried to the heart, where they bind with the organ and force it to create more haematids. True vampirism is attained when the blood-to-haematid ratio is 5:3, which takes about twelve to eighteen hours. Another way to create vampires is by draining a human of all blood and introducing cruore into the blood vessels. The heart is forced to pump it around, and the transformation is greatly accelerated to around half an hour. However, the haematids do not bind propoerly, which may result in the newborn half-vampire or Dhampyre being unable to control his powers, leading to death. Breeding between vampires produces vampire babies, however due to social reasons and their carnivorous biology, only one in 250 pregnancies result in live births, so most vampires, do not practice this method of reproduction.

    Vampire Powers

    All vampires have V-haematids in their body, which are mana-saturated cells. However, these cells contain a certain kind of mana trace that makes them very skewed to one side: black and dark magic. Special vamp magic is known as Blood Arts. Who''s to say what''s dark, anyway? Dhampyres have an accelerated maturity (~3 months) and growth, but at the cost of killing themselves with sheer speed of change.

    Blood Gifts: V-haematids in vampire blood seep into their bodies, carrying extra oxygen, etc, etc. All vampires have these skills and they increase when trained.

    Superhuman Speed: A mature vampire (~8 years old) can maximally move about 5 times the top speed of an adult human (225 kph).

    Superhuman Strength: A mature vampire can lift a human off the ground with one hand, or pierce a relaxed human abdomen.

    Superhuman Resistance: Vampires cannot be hurt by normal materials traveling under 100 kph.However, they can be hurt by augustine ores, prismatic ores, mortal ores, soul ores, enchanted, blessed or cursed weapons. Remember, anything over 100 kph can damage them.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.  Regenerative Factor: Vampires heal at about 7.5 times faster than humans.

    Examples of Blood Arts

    Coagulate: Hardens the enemy''s blood. Used by mean vampires (see the Mordecai family).

    Blood Blades: Summons blades of clotted blood from the user''s shoulders, which can be thrown or used from offense or defense.

    Blood Bolt: Shoots a bolt of blood, which weakens the enemy over time by virtue of the V-haematids.

    Gorepool: Summons a boiling pool of blood from the ground. All who bathe in it are healed, but at a cost: being touched by dark magicks for a bunch of days.

    Summon Kin: A Du Vont favourite. Summons fell wolves, direbats and other bunches of nasties.

    Festering Touch: Improves the corrosive properties of cruore tenfold, burning at anything the vampire hits. The Crestique family, who are wimps, use this.

    Vampire Weaknesses

    Vampires utilise V-haematids, as mentioned above. However, these high-performance cells have various drawbacks.

    Weakness to Sunlight: V-haematids build up large amounts of energy and mana, however, UV radiation from the sun causes the explosive decay of this stored energy as radiation. This burns the vampire and causes minor burns to anyone around it. So don''t stand next to a vampire before sunrise.

    Weakness to Silver: V-haematids react with silver to form silver hydroxide, or aqua silva, which corrodes at vampire flesh and prevents healing. Not to mention, this trait makes cutting vampires with silver even easier than cutting people.

    Weakness to Light-based or Clerical (Holy) Magic: As creatures born in twilight, light and warmth are anathema to these creatures. However, this does not mean that they are inherently evil, or that all angels are good, as evidenced by the Angel of Saddanon.

    Weakness to Fire: V-haematids are highly flammable. Ow.

    Weakness to Being Staked in the Heart: This isn''t so much a weakness, but more of a way to kill vampires forever. An ancient enough vampire (nosferatu) can share his consciousness among his haematids, so ~1000 year old vampires can be revived from a sample of their blood. However, staking the heart with can undo the magic, causing a mana backlash that kills all the V-haematids. The stake must stay in the heart though, to prevent it from healing.

    Dependency on Blood: Of course. V-haematids are converted from a mixture of plasma and white blood cells, which vampires don''t have, as all their white blood cells in a neophyte are hunted down by the V-haematids, which serve a similar role. Without V-haematids, the vampire dies. A vampire can be consumed by mindless lust when hungry enough. And yes, enough normal damage to a vampire sends him into a catatonic state, where he slowly bleeds to death.

    Of course, there are exceptions, which are myriad in this dark, evil world.

    --Taken from the Annales Signatu in the White Tower, Gertford

 smoke and flame

    "Hey, Jorge?"

    "Yeah?"

    "You better come out and see this."

    Axel stood, his face paler than it normally was, on the balcony of the White Tower of Gertford. Normally he would have never ventured out into the garish sunlight, but this was an exception. He had seen something that rooted him to the spot. His discomfort outweighed what he felt towards the object of interest.

    What he felt wasfear.

    The objects in question were two massive silhouettes that hung in air, cruising silently towards Gertford. Oblong in shape, several spines stuck out of them, but they were still too far away to make out anything particular.

    "Okay, I''m here." Jorge strolled out next to Axel. "Not everyday you take a sun-tan..."

    The Circle''s jab was cut short by the silent shapes.

    "Oh, shit."

    "Yeah. Shit is right. And we''re in bucketloads of it."

    The two shadows drew closer and closer until Axel''s superhuman sight could get a better look at it. Dark red and blue in colour, they soon revealed their identity.

    Airships. Zorne''sKruzeres, to be exact,balanced and powerful ships that were a common sight in any battlefield. Except that this was no battlefield. Gertford was a city, a city that the Vampire Hunters operated of, but a city nonetheless. And cities had civilians. Gertford had women. Children. Innocent masses thronging the streets, blissfully unaware to their approaching death.

    By now, one of the cruisers stopped advancing and turned, facing its side. As the late afternoon sun caught the light on the length of its hull, showing one word.

    Metzger.Butcher. One who sliced, chopped, and hacked mercilessly, rending limbs and sloughing flesh from bone.

    Jorge''s face blanched. Even a Circle couldn''t stand against heavy ordnance. "Come with me." He yanked Axel back into the Tower. The Dhampyre felt a moment of relief as the sun''s rays stopped prickling his skin. He looked down at his arms and found them mildly sunburned, much to his dismay.

    The duo scaled several flights of stairs, lit by flickering candlielight. There were no windows in the White Tower. As a result, its inside was a stark contrast to the dazzling connotation of its name. When Axel asked why on his first day, Jorge replied: "Less holes for people to shoot in at us."

    Reaching a wooden door, Jorge pushed it open with one hand and dashed in. The room behind was tall and dimly lit, with dark wooden beams reaching to the ceiling and converging into a frame, from which hung a large bell about as tall as a man and four times as wide.

    The signal bell,thought Axel.It''s huge.

    Jorge grabbed the rope dangling from the bell, dropped it from his trembling hands, cursed, picked it up again. Grunting, he yanked on it once. Twice, thrice.

    Long short short.Incoming firepower, evacuate to a safe place.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    The signal was picked up by other bell towers in the city, the ghostly echoes of the chimes sounding muffled in the enclosed space. Running out of the signal room, Jorge bounded up another flight of stairs until he came to another balcony. Axel followed suit, throwing himself on the parapet and casting glances in every direction.

    The sun had turned the muddy orange of evening, and the streets were clogged with civilians trying to get to a safe place. "Gertford is impregnable," ran the newsrags, "and highly unlikely to be attacked. Its superior defences can repel a land assault of considerable ordnance and it is situated a safe distance from the nearest shore. Its recessed location also make it a highly undesirable target."

    Well-defended from land and sea. However, no one said anything aboutair.When it came to airpower, Estia was severely limited in comparison to Zorne. And now the civilians of Gertford would pay the price.

    The twoKruzereshad drawn close enough to see that the spines on their sides were the unmistakable chilling shape of bombardment cannons.

    "Goddamn it...why are they so slow?" Jorge muttered. The civilians of Gertford were unprepared for an attack. Steeped in hubris and the illusion of their invulnerability, they had proudly ignored drills and safety briefings. Mired in their arrogance, they were now bogged down in it, creating a sluggish response. Even now the tiny figures on the ground moved with a certain kind of lassitude, as if they could not accept the present.

    Jorge ran to a nearby com-horn. Grabbing the curved trumped-like device from its housing, he pressed the button on its box and yelled into it, broadcasting his voice to the entire Tower.

    "This is Circle Number Six. Two incoming Zorne airships have been spotted. They are carrying what appears to be bombardment ordnance. All those who can fight, assemble in Hall One. I repeat, assemble in Hall One." Slamming the horn back down, he proceeded to run down the stairs, beginning the long descent back to Hall One on the ground. "Follow me?"

    Hall One was crowded with stony, silent warriors. Equipped with all manner of weapons, they stood in rank, quiet and disciplined, in stark contrast to the panicked rabble that was the residents of Gertford. Even so, it was easy to see that they were uneasy and in some cases, demoralised. The legendary Vampire Hunters of Gertford werescared.Jorge walked into their midst, the crowd parting to let him through.

    "Fellow hunters! I am addressing you today because of an imminent threat that looms over us all. I''m sure you all know of the Zorne airships that are menacing this city. They are many, and we are few. They are strong, and we are weak. But they lack our drive. Our tenacity. Our humanity. The humanity that drives us to fight against all odds. The humanity that forces us to our feet against unspeakable foes and unbelievable odds. The humanity that enables us to sacrifice. And that''s what I''m asking you to do today. Sacrifice. I might die. You might die." Jorge paused, his voice trembling but stoic. "But they can''t kill us all. And many more will live because of," he paused. "Because of--of today. Post tenebris lux!"

    The Hunters raised their weapons and shouted their age-old battle cry. "POST TENEBRIS LUX!"

    Jorge strode out of the hall, followed by a mass of reinvigorated and charged troops. Running out into the city with them, the first thing Axel noticed was that it had gotten late. The sun hovered low in the horizon, and the two deadly airships hung almost above Gertford. Axel realised that civilians were still running around on the streets. Previously, he might have been worried. But post-Delphurg Axel simply observed this dispassionately. He looked up as Jorge approached him.

    "Look, I know that it''s a bit much to ask of you. But we need all the stopping power we can get. Axel--I''m asking you to fight alongside us."

    "Finally called me by my name, eh? Well, don''t worry, old man. I hate these bastards more than you do. Don''t expect me to look out for your men, though. And keep them out of my way, or they''ll be collateral in no time flat."

    "That''s a relief." Jorge jogged back to the head of the group. Raising his voice, he yelled. "We don''t know what those cruisers will do just yet, so we''re going to sit tight and wait. If they deploy troops, find them and cull them. If they bombard, try and minimise the damage to the civilians. They waited with bated breath for something,anythingto happen. Nothing did.

    The airships hung, silent, in the evening light. The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the world''s long shadow over itself. There was an ethereal, dreamlike moment, that transition between night and day, when it''s not either one but rather a balance.

    Then night fell with ominous finality, and the guns finally roared,sending their deadlyload to paint Gertford in hues of smoke and flame.

 bloodbath

    A fresh wave of shells smashed into the ground around Axel, throwing up clods of dirt, mud, and debris.

    "Shit!"

    Leaping from side to side to avoid the flying shrapnel, the Dhampyre tried his best to run through the cloud of annihilation. But no matter how hard he jumped and dodged, he always found bits of scrap raining down on him.

    Blood Art [Gore Mail]

    At a focused mental push, Axel''s blood became sluggish and sticky in his veins. This reduced his speed, but the complex web of interlocking vessels clogged with coagulated blood made a sort of chain-mail worn under Axel''s skin, protecting his vitals and body from the small pieces of death.

    Better.

    Under Jorge''s suggestion, Axel had tried experimenting with Blood Arts, widening and expanding his knowledge of his budding but formidable powers. He had found out a couple of things. One, Blood Arts were no different from spells cast by mages in terms of state of mind. Two, using them too much had the same drawbacks as over-casting had for a mage: exhaustion, loss of vision, even death. While training, Axel had gained many powers, most of them new, all of them deadly. He was no longer the greenhorn that Jorge fought with. Sometimes he felt sad that he had been able to take Delphurg by surprise. He would have been so much more entertaining to fight at this level.

    "Help..."

    Axel turned to see a woman trapped underneath a burning beam. Walking over slowly, he stared at her.

    "Take the baby...take it...hurry!"

    The mother imploringly thrust a bundle of cloth at Axel.

    "Quick!" The woman screamed as the fire reached her. She thrashed and screamed as the flaming beast slowly consumed her, the screaming baby falling from her twitching fingertips. Axel stared. He wanted to feel anguish. Wanted to be shocked by this scene of extreme cruelty. Wanted to be angry. Sad.

    Anything but this empty nothing that filled him as he watched a mother burn in front of her wailing child.

    "The vampires... they did this."

    Axel did not feel rage. Nor was he ironically grieved by this loss of emotion. He simply wanted revenge. To hurt something. To bring it down lower than him. To make it pay for any number of supposed crimes. Delphurg was in Axel more than he would admit.

    And if he wanted revenge, it was revenge he would damn well get.

    He strode off, leaving the infant behind. It was not a priority. He wanted to get to the airship.

    Blood Art [Metamorph]

    Axel stopped and stood still. Slowly his face started to crack, crumbling and falling away. Each tiny piece wriggled with obscene magic and changed, sprouting filmy red wings that stretched and flexed. Soon enough, all of Axel had turned into a swarm of the insects.

    As a cloud of crimson moths, the Dhampyre took to the sky.

    -----

    "The bombardment is complete and the sixth wave is ready, sir.

    "Hold it. Send the troops into the city. The Archon wants him dead."

    -----

    Jorge was slicing through beams with his chalcite sword, trying to free a trapped boy, when Axel came. The swarm of bugs descended and coalesced into the Dhampyre''s familiar shape, which aroused much confusion.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "What is the vampire doing in our ranks, sir?" A young Hunter strode out to Axel, blade unsheathed. "Shall I kill him?" He seemed eager, wanting to deal death. Axel decided ignore him. "He''s with us," Jorge assured.

    "What''s the situation, old man?"

    The young Hunter bristled. "You will not refer to His Excellency in this fashion!"

    On top of ignoring him, Axel also decided to dislike the young upstart.

    "Not much going on. Try and run around, see what you can save..."

    As suddenly as the bombardment started, it ceased.

    "Is it over?" Axel could not pinpoint the source of the hopeful question.

    In the hellish flames of the burning city of Gertford, orange light was cast, flickering in the steel hulls of the Kruzeres. Axel could easily see chains being flung over the sides of the airships, figures clambering down with almost spider-like ease.

    "Troops. They''re sending soldiers in. Vampires most probably."

    Axel expected Jorge to be scared, frustrated at least, but was surprised to find a grim smile on the Circle''s face.

    "You can''t slice the heads off of heavy artillery, but these bastards... They''re what we''re trained to kill. All Hunters on me!" Jorge set off at a sprint towards the place where the shadows were dropping. Axel followed him, eager to kill vampires too.

    Emerging onto a street from an alley, Axel found vampires pouring into Gertford from the skies.

    "They''re here."

    As the black shapes hit the ground, they darted forward with inhuman speed, smashing into the ranks of the Hunters. Cries of pain and terror went up as many new recruits were rent to shreds by the unbelievable ferocity of the blood-drinkers. Axel raised both his hands.

    [Crimson Blade]

    The blood swords shot out from his palms, sharp and pointed. Axel charged forward with a warcry on his lips, rapidly closing distance with the Zornoi.

    Swish

    Slash

    Crack

    In a few moments several vampires lay on the floor. "If I''d fought these a month earlier," Axel remarked, "I''d be dead." Returning his attention to the fight, Axel called forth some more of his fell magics, enhancing his twilight nature to the full.

    [Blood Strengthening][Red Sight][ Blood Crystallisation: Armor]

    Axel''s blood corded into muscle-like tissue, further increasing his formidable strength. His eyes flared red, their capacity increased three-fold, allowing him to easily distinguish the blurry shapes of the fast-moving vampires. Finally, sanguinous spikes burst from his shoulders, reminiscent of his nascent powers during his time in the torture room under the Black City. The crystallised blood flowed around his torso, forming a red chestplate that wrapped tightly around his upper body, providing protection and mobility.

    The Dhampyre charged forth, utilising his abilities in synchrony, stabbing and hacking as his hands gave voice to a rage that he could not feel. Cruore spattered his face but he kept on going, executing the kin of his tormentors in creative and excruciating ways. A bisection from the groin. The removal of a nose. His prodigious speed and strength, combined with the usage of the dark arts used in the conception of the blood-drinkers, killed many vampires with the same, if not greater, efficiency than a silver blade. This bloodbath was not to last, however.

    As Axel maniacally culled the twilight creatures, a huge cloud of black smoke issued forth from the Metzger. Growing in size until it blotted out the moon, the unnatural mist descended onto the city of Gertford, easily one tenth of its size. Uneasy cries from the Hunters rose as insane cackles issued forth from the vampires as the lunar light was blacked out, leaving a thick darkness. In Axel''s night vision, he could see some Hunters, unused to such pitch-black conditions, stumble around, only to be slaughtered by their nocturnal foes.

    Swirling into a funnel, the cloud sliced through the night air and landed in the street, its onyx, impenetrable surface reflecting the crimson light from the roaring fires all around. Not a single coruscation, however, pierced its dark surface. Axel stopped fighting abruptly and took a few steps back. There was something perverse, something wrong about that cloud. It was tangible in form, but ethereal, almost gossamer-like in its movements. The abnormality it radiated was palpable, and all the Hunters felt it. Even Jorge cautiously eyed it while continuing his battle. Many men, overwhelmed by the aberrant nature of this thing, faltered in their resolve and were quickly cut down.

    The cloud condensed into a small swarm of blackness, swirling and writhing obscenely. Close up Axel could see that it was no cloud. Its surface pulsed with miniscule mouths, black tongues dripping and twisting, like a disgusting sea creature hauled up some inky, forsaken depths.

    The pillar twisted and thrashed, the mouths on it merging and growing in size. Stopping and hovering over the fray, the fell creature struck out with a slimy appendage, dashing a Hunter into the ground, where his head struck stone and cracked open with the sound like a muffled melon being hacked in two. A collective cry of revulsion and fear rose from the Hunters. Even the vampires stopped their slaughter to watch that terrible creature. It pulsed horribly, then, with different voices, the mouths all spoke at once, some rank and shrill, some rasping and guttural.

    "Where is the boy?" the thing asked. "Where is Axel Roengel?"

 the end?

    Dear readers,

    Secariel here. A few days back, I decided to look at this story which I''d spawned half a year ago. And I noticed one thing.

    It was bad.

    There were so many things I wish I could have done better. I realised that as an unexperienced, writer, I was unable to tackle something with the scope of Pandorus. The vision was there, but the execution was graceless, and sometimes downright distasteful.

    It is with reluctance, then, that I announce the discontinuation of this story. There will no longer be any new chapters uploaded to this arc. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I expect that this won''t matter to many people, because I''ve read my own story and seen with my own eyes how it fails to make an impact. But I''m writing this for myself as much as for anyone else. Pandorus was a pet project of mine, and right now I think it needs a fresh start.

    I will now concentrate on garnering experience in writing. For now, I''m writing another sci-fi story title Abyssus. I''m more satisfied with that than this story, which, in my opinion, is a rushed mess. There is no future in this iteration of Axel, a graceless, growth-less character that I only advanced through his increasingly flashy displays of violence.

    So that''s it. I''m axing this story.

    For now. Because vampires, especially Axel, don''t stay dead for long.

    When I feel that I''m truly experienced enough to write about something on such a scale as the vast, bleak world of Pandorus, I will revamp and re-write Axel''s story, hopefully for the better.

    The Crimson Angel will return. This I promise.

    Post Tenebris Lux.